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#yes I am out here blogging about black sails in the year of our lord 2022 what about it
itsjustadiversion · 2 years
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ok so i have a lot of thoughts about how the pirate war with england/civilization in black sails is flint’s war and none of it would have happened without him and where other characters stand relative to actually bringing the war about/committing to it. but that's a wholeass essay, so this post is just touching on some of my thoughts after having just rewatched the first episode of the fourth season.
so, firstly: it struck me how much it feels like people are trying to take flint’s war away from him/take credit for it in this episode? flint and billy’s whole argument in miranda's house is about flint’s desire to control the battle plan versus billy's determination to take the lead (and point out that while flint is an asset he's not essential to the story/coming fight anymore in billy's view). while billy is right to claim some authority for how he’s shaped what’s currently happening on nassau, and tbh, he’s probably the pirate* most committed to the war aside from flint, he would never have been able to bring everything about on his own. hell, he probably would never have thought about the war the way he does now if not for flint (see: flint's speech to billy about how civilization is coming and means to exterminate them in season one). it's obvious from early on how much billy internalized flint's worldview, esp post his encounter with the Scarborough's captain in season two. but that just underscores how billy is adopting the war from flint; he never would have initiated it/gotten to this point without flint.
then there's the scene with madi and silver in bed, and madi’s line about how if she were a “no good pirate” she’d follow silver. i think she’s justified in thinking like that bc so far what does she know of flint? everything she knows of him is filtered through silver’s worries and paranoia. meanwhile silver she sees caring about his men and the people around him—and she’s right, he is a good leader! but he’s definitively not the man to lead this war (as she’ll find out much too late). i mean this is going into a whole other post about how silver is flint’s foil, the man with no past versus the man whose every action is defined by his, but at the end of the day it helps show that silver could never fight and win this war! he just doesn’t have the motivation/drive for it; he’s too pragmatic to find reason to fight a seemingly hopeless war, and he definitely never would have started one. there is one man who spent the past three seasons battling all odds and losing everything to get everyone to this point, and it wasn’t silver (though he was along for most of the ride, sometimes to his chagrin). at the end of the day, this is very much flint’s war.
that’s not to say no one else has vested interest in the war or that no one else believes in it, but that it simply couldn’t have happened without flint. so it’s interesting seeing how willing characters are in this episode to kind of take it away from him? hand it to silver or claim it as their own. but at the same time, it also makes a strange sort of sense. because i know how this is going to end, and that’s with the war being stolen from flint by the person everyone was trying to hand it to. so flint begins to take backseat in his own war right as it's actually coming to fruition to foreshadow how it will end. and it’s funny bc i think the first time i watched season four it felt to me like flint was fading out of the spotlight, and now as i rewatch i can kind of make sense of why. the writers are hinting at it right from the start. in a show where control of the narrative is so important, the tragedy here is that this war that flint fought so hard to bring about, of which he was the author and protagonist, is not his any longer.
*i specify pirate bc madi is otherwise i think most invested in the fight and her motivations are very clear. but, on the other hand, she might never have gotten involved in the fight if flint hadn’t arrived on her shore. and re: the other pirates, i think it’s pretty clear vane was the only one who had his own personal reasons/principles for getting involved. everyone else kind of got dragged into it (or, in the case of blackbeard and jack to some extent, continued to fight in someone else’s memory). they likely never would have launched a war on their own, and i don’t think even vane would’ve thought of it w/out flint. flint is the catalyst here, and (not to sound too much like silver in season three lol) he really did kind of will the war into existence.
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ohmystarsy · 4 years
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all the tag games I’ve been tagged in in the last few months
as the title says - I’ve finally found some quiet time to do all of them, thank you all for tagging me!!! it is always a pleasure and I LOVE those tag games, just life has been really busy recently, even more so during that whole pandemic thing.
I put all of them under read more, bc there’s  A LOT of text. the tag games include:
name ten favourite characters from ten different things, tagged by @majoris
name your seven comfort movies, tagged by @majoris and @natowe
quarantine Q&A, tagged by @ithilnarmo
20 questions about yourself, tagged by @jennyyfishh
I was tagged by @majoris​ for name ten favorite characters from ten different things (tv, movies, books, etc.), then tag ten people.
favourites are the worst! but I will try my best neverthless.
Eames from “Inception” (idk, he is flirty af but also has rly bad taste in clothes and I love that; it might be also Tom Hardy thing tho)
Thor from MCU (just. the kindest of Avengers? says women rights? struggles with what it means to be “worthy”? pls)
Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach from “The Witcher” (I just love evil blonds with redemptions arcs who suffer throughout the whole series bc they made some bad mistakes in the past; also yes I have always headcanoned him as blond, idk why)
Leia Organa from “Star Wars” (an Icon, what else should I add?)
James Flint from “Black Sails” (gay pirate disaster that we all deserved and it was given)
Clara Oswald from “Doctor Who” (idk I just always related to het the most from all companions that I’ve seen. I love her fearlessness, her bossy side and that she takes no bullshit from the Doctor)
Sansa Stark from “Game of Thrones” (I hate what the show did to her, but I always loved her in books; how she starts as this silly, annoying girl and then grows and grows and outgrows everyone else)
Phryne Fisher from “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries” (I just love this show and this woman; I’ve never seen a characterisation as this one; at one side she is never serious and she often plays silly woman, but that is only a facade for the world??? and she never cares about what others think of her, I’d love to be like her when I grow up, if I wasn’t already a grown-up)
Roy Mustang from “Fullmetal Alchemist” (I mean. I’ve never knew a manga character could be so hot. Also he’s a snarky bastard, but that’s what we love about him don’t we.)
(Purple) Hawke from “Dragon Age” (idk I just like this sarcastic little shit)
I was tagged by @majoris and @natowe​ to name my seven comfort movies (and god it’s gonna be difficult bc I rarely watch movies but here we go)
Inception
King Arthur: A Legend of the Sword
Lord of The Rings: Two Towers
Brooklyn 99 (I know, not a movie, but this is actually what I usually watch for comfort - I think I’ve seen season one like 10 times at this point)
Thor Ragnarok
Mamma Mia!
Star Wars: The Force Awakens
(generally when I’m in need of comfort movie I just look for some action movie this is how I roll, fighting on the screen makes me calm *shrug emoji*)
I was tagged by @ithilnarmo​ for quarantine Q&A
1.  Are you staying home from work/school? Yes, I am, although there was some battle with this (long story). Luckily the project I work on is on the final stage (it’s already being built), so it’s actually possible to do everything from home and also a team I’m on is super communicative and it all goes rather smoothly.
2.  If you are staying home, who is there with you? I live with my sister, who is now finishing her Master’s Degree, so we are in this together! (There is also occasionally a dog on our neighbours’ balcony just next to us and it’s always a highlight of a day.)
3.  Are you a homebody? Before this pandemic I thought I am, but now I think I just don’t like clubbing and partying lmao, bc I just ITCH to travel or just go outside and walk in the city and I CAN’T.
4. An event that you looked forward to that got cancelled? Well, not an event, but several of my plans for spring and holidays got cancelled. I was supposed to go the Baltic Sea and Gdańsk in spring (on seperate occassions) and then I and my friend had to cancel our holidays to Faroe Islands in May/June, because it will probably be still too early to travel.
5. What movie have you watched recently? I think it was “Escape from the ‘Liberty’ Cinema”, which is hella weird Polish movie from 1990, just after end of communism. It tells a story about a censor who starts to question his job bc suddenly the actors in the movie that is being shown in one of the cinemas rebel (inside a movie) and don’t want to play it anymore. Really weird. Really.
6. What shows are you watching? Brooklyn 99 for like tenth time.
7. What music are you listening to? Same as usual.
8. What are you reading? I’m reading “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf (my fav book ever), for a month now, bc 1) I don’t have much time now I just work all the time, 2) I read it in English and can only read like 10 pages at once. but it’s SO GOOD, guys. so good.
9. What are you doing for self care? lmao don’t have time for that. I try to take breaks from work, sometimes go outside or at least step outside to balcony (and stare at the neighbours’ dog), I cook dinner every two days and a NICE stuff, so at least food brings me joy, and I try to sleep regularly, although I do a poor job on that.
aaaaand I was tagged by @jennyyfishh for 20 questions about myself
1. Nickname: I actually don’t have any, it doesn’t work like that in Polish (Kasia is already what you’d call a nickname from my full name Katarzyna, but this is just how we call all Katarzynas) (sometimes I wonder what is the point of the full names if we never use it in speech lmao)
2. Zodiac Sign: Scorpio!
3. Height: around 170cm
4. Languages: Polish and English; I was kinda conversational in German some years ago but now forgot all of it, I’d probably understand some of Ukrainian and Russian if I really tried (was learning Russian for three years and Ukrainian is just similar enough to Polish) and learnt some Swedish too, but again, don’t remember anything rn
5. Nationality: Polish
6. Favourite season: spring
7. Favourite flower: daffodil and tulip
8. Favourite scent: verbena, petrichor, sea
9. Favourite color: yellow
10. Favourite animal: dog probably
11. Favourite fictional character: look at tag game number one on this long list : )
12. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!
13. Average hours of sleep: 6-7, but my body wants 10
14. Dog or cat: both, actually; now I’d rather take cat than dog, but that’s only bc I live in small apartment and am out of it for too long
15. Number of blankets you sleep with: one??? second blanket is for really freezing winters only (like -10/-20 celcius degrees)
16. Dream tip: what does it mean even? idk man, sometimes if you wake up from rly good dream, if you think about it hard and fall asleep quickly you can still return to it
17. Blog established: probably somewhen in 2011? idk what is time anyway
18. Followers: 2051
19. Random fact: oh god idk, ok I will maybe say sth I’m rly proud of, which is that my short story was published in an anthology in year 2017. I still can’t believe my name is printed there.
(where is 20th question tho???)
ok, I am tagging for all of those above: @shirewalker @sorrydearie @natowe @cptnjaneway @iaskier @spectralarchers @majoris @jennyyfishh @ithilnarmo @ohhelga @marsza @stupidape just choose whichever of those above you’d like to do or just ignore it completely : )
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avatarsarny · 5 years
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Post S8 Arya/Gendry? With a cherry on top?
Well, anon, since you asked so nicely. Just in time, bc I really needed to get this out of my system. This is for @gendrie, @gendryadempsie, and @starrynightshade, whose blogs and fics have kept me sane over the past few weeks of D&D’s clownery. Thank you guys for feeding us with that sweet sweet Gendrya content throughout :)
For context: In my head, everything ended similarly to D&D’s bad fanfic version with some notable adjustments: Jon is not exiled to the (nonexistent) Night’s Watch; he decides against being king and goes to bring the Wildlings back down to the North with Tormund (bc the lands beyond the wall are a barren wasteland wtf) and thereafter settles at Winterfell to be Hand to Queen Sansa. Bran is made King of the 6 kingdoms as he was in the show, with Tyrion as his Hand and ruling with his council. Jaime did not turn on Brienne in the last moment, didn’t erase years of character development, and instead left to kill Cersei himself, finally realizing the disease she really was, and became Queenslayer for the good of the realm. He survives Daenerys’ attack on KL and is serving Bran in the new Kingsguard, under Brienne the Commander. 
Finally, Arya does not randomly decide to become Christopher Columbarya and sail the ocean blue, erasing years of her own journey to finally be home with her family again, no sirs, she finds Gendry after the sack of KL, after she realizes what Sandor was trying to tell her to do, to choose life, and tells him to ask her again. You can guess the rest from what you read below :)
And in keeping with the pack survives narrative (bc that’s what good writing is about!! Consistency!!) the Starks remain closer than ever, visit each other often, and don’t end up alone and separated! Hope yall enjoy!
P.S… Okoye. You’ll see why soon. definitely not taken straight outta black panther Ahem. Continue.
“And reinforcements from the Stormlands will arrive tomorrow, Your Grace, if I’m not mistaken. Lord Buckler of Bronzegate sent me a raven saying twenty ships worth of food and supplies will be here just after sunrise.”
Bran nods in approval and looks up at the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the newly - reconstructed King’s solar. Daenerys’ rampage had left little of the Red Keep standing, but some of the personal chambers had remained mostly intact, so the new King and his council lived in close quarters for the past three months while they supervised the city’s recovery. There were still many injured and many more starving, so Bran called upon every Lord and leader in Westeros, high and low, to contribute whatever they could to the city’s smallfolk; who had suffered the most.
Bran glances over at the man across him. His blue eyes are bright with belonging and purpose, his dark hair is gradually breaking free of the short crop he had sported when Bran had first met him, and he wears fine leathers in same way his father and uncles had, only this time adorned with clawlike marks on the shoulders of his tunic.
The young King smiles at this observation. Stags don’t have claws. But he can think of another animal that does. 
Gendry catches his King’s gaze. “What is it, Your Grace?”
Bran’s smile grows ever so slightly. “When is my sister returning, my Lord? It’s been a fortnight since her last raven.”
Gendry sighs and looks out a window, where the city gates rise from the sea of ruined buildings far out in the distance on one end, and the azure waters of Blackwater Bay lay calm and still. “I’m not sure. She said she wouldn’t leave Queen Sansa at Winterfell until she’s made sure she’ll be well protected.”
“Won’t Jon be there soon?”
Gendry blinks. “Yes - er - I didn’t know that until this morning - got a raven from Tormund. How’d you find out?”
Bran throws him an unimpressed glance. “Well I am the three eyed raven. I flew over Jon and Tormund’s group last night. They’ve settled the Wildlings in some unoccupied lands about a day’s ride from Winterfell. Sansa wants Jon to be her Hand, and it looks like Jon’s agreed to it.”
Gendry nods slowly, trying to process the King’s extraordinary statement in a way he can understand. “I’ve heard of your abilities, Your Grace, but forgive me, I’m not sure how one flies when they can’t even walk. But if what you say is true, then you can see where your sisters are, too, can’t you?” He grins then, and maybe in front of a different King he’d be punished for his audacity, but Bran is no ordinary King. And Gendry has never been one to worship the ground at a highborn’s feet. 
But he’ll fight for any one of the Starks. Arya and her family time and again showed kindness and mercy to the common folk, and beneath their ferocious direwolf fangs they shared a gentleness for the innocent that Gendry had rarely seen among the rich and powerful. Even Sansa, the Red Wolf of the North, held a great tenderness concealed beneath her icy, calculating exterior, and people everywhere adored her for it.
Bran’s smile widens into a true grin, then. A feat so rare Gendry thinks he should get Grand Maester Samwell to check on their King’s health. 
“Yes, I can see everything. Anything, anywhere, at any point in time. But sometimes it’s nice to put it all away for a while, and be a normal man. Or at least act like it,” he replies. “I did see Arya, by the way. It appears she’ll be staying in Winterfell for a few more weeks before she starts her journey back here.”
Gendry’s face falls, but he catches himself and hopes the King doesn’t notice. The least she could do is send a raven, but she’s been oddly silent since her last message to him, and he’s getting worried. If she doesn’t send more word soon, he’ll go off to Winterfell himself.
Bran quirks a brow at him. “Storm’s End needs someone like you, someone who will take care of the people. Your uncles left the Stormlands in such disarray, but the Stormlords are willing to follow your command. Don’t worry about my sister, she can handle herself.” He smiles serenely at the former blacksmith.
 But what about me? Gendry thinks. Does she not understand that every day we’re separated feels like an eternity to me?
None of it will mean anything, if you aren’t with me, so be with me…
It will be nearly four months since Arya left to help Sansa settle into her role as Queen in the North. Four months since he last held her in his arms, since he tasted her on his lips and felt the warmth of her smile, since he saw the heat and tenderness in her gaze she reserved only for him. 
She had sought him out after the Dragon Queen had stormed King’s Landing, after Jon drove a dagger through his aunt’s heart and liberated all who would come under her tyranny. She had been covered in ash and blood and he’d never felt more fear in his entire life, that he would have to watch her die like this, but she was mostly unhurt, the blood had not been hers, not all of it.
“Ask me again,” She’d rasped, coughing out grey soot and clutching at him for dear life. “I thought I wouldn’t come back from Kings Landing. I was going to die there, and I couldn’t do that to you, I had to refuse,” She whispered, tears falling from her eyes and down her grimy face. “I couldn’t hurt you.”
And oh, she had never looked more beautiful, he had never loved her more fiercely than he did in that moment, not even on that night they thought would be their last, when she had kissed him down in the Winterfell stores and made breathless, frantic love to him. “You could never hurt me, love,” he’d said, wiping her tears away and crushing her to his chest. “I know you don’t want to be a Lady, I’ve always known. We can go wherever you like. Do whatever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere you go, till the end of my days,” he promised, and released her so he could kneel before her in the ash and dust. “My life means nothing without my family. Please be my wife. Please be my family, Arya of House Stark.”
And with that, she’d tackled him into the rubble with all the strength she could muster, and kissed him senseless. “I love you,” She’d breathed against his lips, “I will be your family. Your - your wife,” she broke off in a quiet moan, as he moved to press searing kisses down her throat. She held his face in her hands, stilling his sweet movements to look earnestly up at him. “And I will lead by your side, Gendry of House Baratheon.”
He stared at her in shock, his hands coming up to bracket her own. “You - you want to rule the Stormlands with me?”
Arya smiled at him, even though it hurt to do so and her face was bleeding. “I want to be here for the people who can’t protect themselves. I want to make our world a better place than the one we grew up in…I couldn’t save them in King’s Landing,” she’d paused as more tears trailed down her cheeks, and he dutifully brushed them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. She would tell him about the girl and her mother, later. The little family that had saved her from the stampede, only to end up burnt beyond recognition in the end. “I have to make sure this never happens again.”
Gendry kissed her forehead, the bit of it that wasn’t cut open. “As m’lady commands,” he’d murmured, threading their fingers together. “Now let’s get you a maester.”
“I also need to teach you how to use a fork, none of those idiot lords will respect you otherwise.”
He laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “I’ll need all the help I can get. I don’t know any other rich girls willing to teach me.”
Part 2 coming soon :)
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haillenarte · 6 years
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white day 2018;
Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2018 Developer’s Blog post.
First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: this post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.
Also, I have heard that a few people did rough translations of this post already, but I did not cross-reference anybody’s translations when writing this post. I probably should have. It would have gone a lot quicker.
Happy White Day, Kupo!
March 14, 2018
Well met, kupo!
‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle... or rather, his aspiring apprentice!
I worked ever so hard to deliver the realm’s confessions of love this Valentione’s Day, kupo — the only time of year we postmoogles fly about in the open without concealing ourselves!
Rest assured, your passion-packed gifts of chocolate made their way safely into the hands of your friends and foes alike! Why, we postmoogles were so busy that my wings cramped up!
Let me tell you how it went, kupo.
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First, I flew over to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona.
When Mistress Y’shtola saw me at the door, she said, “My, what a prodigious number of packages. More tokens of affection from your many lady loves, Thancred?”
Master Thancred got all embarrassed, kupo. “There’s no need to glare at me so,” he protested. “This is all a misunderstanding, I assure you!”
And he was right — not all of it was for him! Mistress Y’shtola and Master Alphinaud got plenty of presents, too!
But you know who got the most chocolate, kupo? Why, it was Mistress Alisaie!
Alphinaud didn’t seem too surprised, kupo. “Impressive as always, dear sister,” he said. “Now that I think on it, you had quite a number of admirers when we were yet students in Sharlayan, did you not?”
“Yes, dear brother,” Mistress Alisaie snapped, “I was always being stopped in the halls by admirers... your admirers! I was being mistaken for you!”
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After that, I flew over to Fortemps Manor, in Ishgard.
Count Edmont was very kind, kupo! I was struggling to fly under a giant pile of perfectly-wrapped presents, but he said he’d take them off my hands. “My son will be much pleased,” he said.
I was a little concerned about Lord Emmanellain, but Honoroit told me not to worry about it, kupo. “My lord is simply upset that he has received nothing,” he said, “as is the case each and every year.”
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Then I went around the neighborhood, kupo!
I had lots of gifts for Ser Aymeric, but some of them were gifts for the people of Ishgard in general. So I asked him if I could leave those in his care, and he said yes!
“I suppose we should be proud that Valentione’s Day was born from Ishgardian customs,” Ser Aymeric said. And I absolutely agree, kupo! I have fun delivering everyone’s letters of love, too!
I had a few more packages for Ser Estinien, and I didn’t know where to put them, kupopo...
But when I asked where I could find him, Aymeric laughed. “That... is a difficult question,” he said. “Well, if his name is writ large on the package, and you leave it by the window, I imagine he might come by and pick it up.”
I guess that’s not the strangest mailbox I’ve ever had to use, kupo...
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From Coerthas, I went through the Black Shroud and found my way to Buscarron’s Druthers.
“Gifts for Laurentius?” Buscarron asked me. “That brainless fool... Fine, I’ll keep ‘em with the stuff that was addressed to Yuyuhase.”
That was a load off my pom, kupo! But when I asked him if he’d help me make my delivery to, erm, L-Lord Ramuh, Buscarron said his hands were tied. “Wait, even primals get presents?” he grumbled. “’Fraid you’ll have to ask the Sylphs to help you with that...”
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The weather in the Shroud is nice and cool, kupo, but then I had to fly all the way to hot, hot Ul’dah to deliver more mail... blech.
I think Lord Lolorito quirked an eyebrow at me, but I really couldn’t tell because of his mask, kupo. “Am I being bribed in broad daylight, now?” he asked.
I got kind of scared, so I blurted out that they weren’t bribes — they were declarations of love!
He was probably smirking behind his moustache, but all he said was, “I suppose hearts are worth more than their weights in gil every now and then. Leave them at the door.”
Phew! Another successful delivery made, kupo!
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Of course, I also made my way to lively Ala Mhigo — you know, the not-so-little one, kupo. Big Ala Mhigo?
General Aldynn said it’s nice every now and then to celebrate the holidays! “All this excitement reminds me of Ul’dah’s bustling markets,” he said. “Is that one for Lyse?”
It sure was, kupo! I had lots of other packages to give out, but Lyse said she’d hold on to them. “All of these presents are so beautiful!” she said. “Let’s hand them out together later!”
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And then, and then! Your humble apprentice postmoogle finally got to board a ship and sail across the great ocean, kupo!
I felt like I was developing what they call the professional spirit, kupo... Maybe I’m even more professional than the deputy postmoogle?
Just kidding, kupo. He’d confiscate my bag and cap if he heard that...
But I made my way to Doma, and it was amazing!
Valentione’s Day seemed like a new concept to Isse, but he was sure surprised about it, kupo. He was all — “S-So this one’s for me? Really?”
He was so flustered, he was fluttering about even more than I was, kupo! It made Lord Hien laugh. “What pleasant customs our Eorzean friends have!” Hien said. “Come now, Isse, hold your head high and accept your admirers’ gifts with pride.”
Even Lady Yugiri told Isse he’d earned it, kupo! Though if I’m being honest, the majority of those packages were addressed to Lord Hien.
From there, I made my way to the Azim Steppe...
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I-It was dead silent, kupo...
Magnai just stared at me the whole time... e-even when I said that I’d brought him presents... or, um, offerings?
“So what you are telling me, pig,” he finally said, “is that even people of other nations have acknowledged the supremacy of the Sun?”
I was so nervous I didn’t know how to answer, but luckily, the other Oronir had my pom, kupo! “Most radiant brother!” someone called out. “Perhaps this is that kind of thing!”
“Yes,” another chimed in, “perhaps some bashful yet beautiful maiden has entrusted her feelings to the delivery services of this pig!”
“Let us show these admirers of your radiance the glory and generosity of Father Azim by inviting them here to dine with us!” someone else added.
And then I heard a couple of them muttering, “And with any luck, you will find your Nhaama at long last...”
But I’m not a pig, kupo... I’m not...
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I was dead tired after that, kupo... I felt fried to a crisp by the Sun...
That’s why I took a break at a famous hot spring! And after I recharged myself, I had one final stop to make in Kugane!
I had to find Asahi, the Ambassador Plenipom-whatsit, at the Garlean consulate. I thought it might be like delivering to Magnai again, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He even smiled and thanked me for bringing him his Valentione’s Day chocolates, kupo.
I felt like I could trust him, so I told him that I had a huuuuge pile of presents for someone named Zenos! But I was a little intimidated by all the imperial soldiers, kupo... and I didn’t want to get too close...
“No need to worry,” Asahi said. “You may leave them with me — they will be quite safe in my hands. Rest assured, I will most certainly see them delivered for you.”
His... friend, kupo? That Maxima man? Well, he stepped in to take everything out of my mailbag! “Lord Asahi,” he said, “please, leave such menial tasks to me. You needn’t concern yourself with this.”
“...Of course,” Asahi replied after a lengthy pause. “My thanks, Maxima.”
...Kupopo? Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe that was a bad idea...?
Well, whatever! That was my super busy Valentione’s Day, kupo!
There’s so much more I could tell you about, but rest assured, we postmoogles delivered love to every corner of the realm!
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Valentione’s Day is so full of love every year!
But you know what, kupo?
Even if it’s not a special day, and there aren’t any presents to give or receive, love is always flowing between people.
It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s why I’m always happy, kupo! Just thinking about it brings a tear to my eye!
Oh, but guess what, kupo? I’ve got a letter addressed to you, too!
I’ll read it to you, okay? Ready? Here goes!
“From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” — Somebody who loves you
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Red Rose - Chapter 10
Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 CH. 10 Ch. 11  Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16
Summary: Charlotte and Drake meet again after eight years, as the event makes them remember someone thought to be long forgotten. Maxwell and Riley go to a bad neighborhood and get into some trouble, but also meet new friends.
Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.
Notes: Hey, peeps! Missed me much? Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Also, it will be an emotional week for some of our LIs. Maybe.
Oh, by the way, if you happen not to be able to read this text for there are some weird signs amidst text, do not fret! Just click on ‘Read More’. It should be perfectly legible at the blog.
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Vienna, Spring 2006
“I was beginning to believe you were murdered.” Linda Rosa smiled at him, teasingly.
Drake grumbled. “Told ya I was busy this week.”
“Yes, you told me, but that don’t keep me from missing you, does it?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He turned his face to her. “I missed you, too.”
They kissed, trying to dispel the week of absence.
When they broke apart, Linda Rosa asks: “Which reminds me, you never told me what you have been doing these last few days.”
“A friend of mine was in town. I was with him.” Drake told her while she sat at his lap.
She pursed her lips, though. “And I couldn’t have met him?”
“No,” He said, in all seriousness. “I prefer keeping you all to myself.” He kissed her frowning lips.
Sha gave a soft laugh. “Okay, okay, I get your point. Anyways, I have great news for you!”
He grumbled, motioning for her to continue.
“Do you have any plans for the Summer?” She asked, expectantly.
“Nope.” He said.
“Well, now you do!” She said, handing him an envelope. “We’re going on a road trip!”
“What?” He opened the envelope. Inside there were two Eurail passes.
“I sold some paintings this week, Drake!” She celebrated. “With the money I bought these. We’ll be going to Italy, Croatia, Serbia, Greece, Turkey. And the best part is: I booked a Cordonian leg! I’ll get to meet your sister!”
He turned pale at the mention of his homeland.
“No!” It escaped from him before he could control his mouth.
Linda Rosa’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“I don’t think we should go on this trip.” Drake said, resolute.
“Why?” She asked, confused.
He controlled himself not to stumble on his words. “You shouldn’t be wasting your money like that, Linda Rosa!”
She scoffed. “To want to spend time with my boyfriend is hardly a waste. Besides, these tickets are promotional, personal and non-refundable. If we don’t go, we’ll lose them.”
“Well, you should have consulted with me!” He outcries.
“That would be hardly a surprise, would it not?!” She barked. “Besides, you were busy getting chummy with your friend, I couldn’t reach you even if I tried.”
“You should still ask me before you do something like that! What if I was busy?!” He argued.
“But you said so yourself you aren’t!” She screamed, but then sighed. “Drake, the problem is us going to Cordonia, isn’t it?”
He coughed. “Of course it isn’t!”
“Good Lord, Drake! You should at least lie better! You’re a lawyer, for God’s sake!”
“Rosa, please, I…”
She cut him off. “Look, Drake, I don’t know why you’re reluctant for me meeting your family, but we’ve been dating for half a year. Besides, I love you. I want to be with you. But I have the feeling you’re embarrassed of me. I want to meet your family, where you came from. So I’d like for you to consider it.”
She took her bag and left Drake alone at the park.
He felt like a screw-up.
Orikum Marina, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
“Charlotte?” Riley approached. “What are you doing here?”
She did not answer, just stood up and hugged the black-haired woman, crying on her shoulder.
“Oh, Lord, Charlotte, what on Earth has happened?”
She just sobbed harder.
“You’re worrying me, Charlotte.” Riley stroked the other woman’s back. “What is it? Is it Federigo?”
She hiccupped. “No, it’s not him.”
“Karen? Ludwig?” She offered.
Charlotte snickered through her tears. “It’s weird hearing them being called like that.”
“It is their names, isn’t it?” Riley elbowed, teasingly.
“I guess they are used to being called Their Honors or Mother and Father.”
“Or wife and husband.” The black-haired mocked, using voices.
Charlotte laughed, despite herself. “I miss them, sometimes.”
“I do too, sometimes. Despite everything.” Riley smiled, melancholic. “What happened, Charlotte? Why are you crying so much? I’m worried for you.”
“I…” She started saying but stopped. Finally, she continued: “It’s nothing, I just saw you sailing, and I… I remembered something, something foolish and I started crying.”
“But, Charlotte, how foolish can it be? You were crying!”
Charlotte motioned to respond, but they were cut off by a voice.
“Riley?”
“Hana!” The black-haired responded.
“What are you doing here?” She looked at the blonde woman, in confusion.
“I am sorry, miss.” Charlotte said, rapidly picking up the cue. “I seem to have caused you trouble. Thank you for helping me, but I’ll excuse myself now.”
“No, not at all!” Riley denied. “Do you need any further assistance, miss?”
“No, but I thank you. Excuse me.” She left.
Hana came closer. “Riley, do you know who she is?!”
She made a confused face. “No, she was just crying over there, and I tried calming her down. I never got her name.”
“She’s Duchess Charlotte Amelie Torelli of Guastalla!” Hana exclaimed. “Her family is one of the wealthiest in Europe!”
“Oh, no! I had no idea!” Riley lied through her teeth. “Oh, what if I offended her somehow?!”
The notion almost drove a smile to her lips. Her, caring about whether Charlotte’s feelings were hurt. Oh, what would her 2009-self say?
“I’m sure she has nothing but good things to say about you, Riley.” Hana dismissed. “Who else would attend to a crying woman in the middle of a busy event like that? She’s probably very grateful.”
Riley smiled, in pretend-shyness. “When you put it like that…” She took a breath and continued: “Were you looking for me, Hana?”
“Yes, actually.” She looked crestfallen. “My parents said I was supposed to host a viewing party at my boat this morning, but they overestimated my popularity. Olivia’s really got her hooks in the ladies here. My parents invited dozens of nobles, but no-one accepted.”
“That’s regrettable to hear.” Riley said, in a compassionate note.
“It’s okay, I have lots of champagne, appetizers and a viewing deck, all for myself.” She took a breath and then kept speaking, in a shyer tone. “I was thinking if you wouldn’t like to accompany me?”
Riley smiled wolfishly at her. “And ditch Olivia’s party? Hell yeah!”
Hana got very excited with her response. “Then I’m glad to come to your rescue. Please, follow me.”
They returned to the gate area and boarded Hana’s yacht. Riley noticed it was much more luxurious than the Beaumont’s. The deck seemed more spacious and the wood of the decoration was better-kept. At the deck, there were decadent strawberries and champagne set out next to cushioned seats and silken pillows.
Hana mock-bowed. “Welcome to my humble yacht.”
Riley lifted her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t use that adjective.”
“It’s a public appearance and my family wants to look good in front of the Royal Family.” Hana dismissed. “They think it’s of the utmost importance that I impress everyone here, no matter how extravagant the display is.”
“I’m sure you succeed.” Riley said. “I’m no connoisseur, but I am pretty sure this bottle of champagne is worth a week’s wage.”
“Well, what is mine is yours.” Hana invited, excitedly. “Please enjoy whatever you want.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
They each picked up a flute and cheered.
Looking around, Riley could see a dozen waiters and several crates of champagne. “This is actually a lot of booze, even for a party.” She commented, mildly impressed.
“Well, the ship is new and hasn’t been named yet. Naming it would’ve been cause for a celebration.” Hana said. “But since you’re here, I’m hoping you’ll help me christen it.”
“You want my help?” Riley said, somewhat incredulous.
“Yeah! It’ll be fun!”
“O-kay, then.” The black-haired said and thought for a while. “Electra, perhaps?”
“After the Iliad?” Hana asked. “Isn’t it a little… tragic?”
“Well, yeah, but despite everything, Electra was a fierce, determined woman, I think it’s a good omen.” Riley said. “Besides, it’s a dope name for a boat, don’t you think?”
Hana thought for a second. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. Electra, it is! Now, we must officially christen her.”
Riley picked up an unopened champagne bottle and said: “Let’s do it together.”
“Alright. We both named it, after all.”
Each girl placed a hand on the bottle, near the spout. After a count of three, they smashed the glass against the railing of the boat. The foamy beverage ran down the hull.
“And with that, we christen you Electra.” Riley smiled.
“Oh, look!” Hana pointed to the water. “The races are about to start! The boats are taking their positions.”
In the distance, boats gather at the starting line, their colored sails dotting the horizon.
“Which boat do you think it’ll win?” Hana asked.
“Dunno, but I’ll bet on the star-spangled one just for the Hell of it.”
Hana elbowed Riley teasingly. “Feeling the call of homeland?”
“It’s more because I know next to nothing about sailing, and that one jumped to my eye, but sure, let’s go with yours.”
The Asian laughed but was soon muffled by the starting pistol shot. “There they go!” She says.
“How far out they go?” Riley wondered.
“Around the bay.” Hana provided. “We won’t see them for a couple of hours. It’s a long race.” Her smile turned devilish. “In the meantime, want to take the boat out for a ride?”
“Oh, Lord, please!”
Hana gives an order to the crew and soon enough they were lounging with champagne flutes on their hands and the sea breeze on their hairs.
“The view up here is amazing!” Riley commented.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Hana said, earnestly. “Riley… thank you for coming to my party.”
“Oh, no. Thank YOU. I’m having a blast.”
Hana smiled self-consciously. “Oh, please, you’re the one who’s making this a party. Otherwise, it would be just me crying into the champagne.”
“Banish the thought!” She mocked.
Soon enough, the first of the returning sailboats appear.
“Here comes the ships!” Riley pointed to the tiny dot on the distance.
“Let’s head back to the marina to see the winner.”
As it turns out, Riley was wrong on her guess. “Darn it! I was so sure I’d win!” She jokingly said. “Look at those smiles.” She pointed to the winning crew, receiving the honors from the Royal Family.
“They look so happy.” Hana commented. “It’s just… my whole life I’ve done nothing but lose.”
“I find it hard to believe, Hana. You’re good in everything you do.”
“Nothing that really counts.” She grumbled. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my family’s respect. They think I’m a complete failure.”
“Then screw them. You don’t need other people’s approval, the only person you have to please is yourself.” Riley dismissed, between champagne gulps. “Don’t live other people’s lives, you don’t get time off from being you.”
“There’s wisdom in that…” Hana conceded, begrudgingly. “But I wouldn’t mind some praise from people close to me.”
Riley looked at the crates of champagne and said: “You know, we could have our own victory celebration.”
“What for?”
“Do you have anything better to do right now? Let’s celebrate life, celebrate celebrations. Sometimes you just gotta celebrate!”
Riley picked up a bottle, shook it and opened with a pop, splashing Hana with the liquid.
“And the winner of the Formula 1 Grand Prix is… HANA LEE!”
The tanned-skin woman screamed in surprise, but soon jumped away from the beverage, laughing.
“That was a sneaking attack!” The woman protested.
“What about it?” Riley smiled, wickedly.
Hana grabbed a bottle, shakes it, then returns fire. “Gotcha!”
They run around the deck until the last of the bottles runs dry.
“I cannot believe the Regatta is already over!” Hana sat down, exhausted, though happily. “I was really dreading today… but thanks to you, it was more fun than I ever expected!”
“You won’t be hearing any complaints from me.” Riley said, kindly. “I had a lot of fun too.”
“Good.” The other smiled.
The boat moored on the docks, and the girls got off it. They walked to the Royal Box, where the other girls were gathering.
“Now the real party begins!” Hana excitedly said.
“I figure!” Riley responded. “Maxwell told me how excited he is for the beach party.”
“It’s not just a party, it is an extravaganza!” Olivia meddled.
Riley raised an eyebrow. “The difference is?”
Olivia narrowed her eyes but did not say a word. Penelope, however, sighed dreamily. “I am happy that this party means more time with the Prince!”
The black-haired just rolled her eyes and walked a little ways off the girl crowd, Hana in tow. Soon enough, Maxwell appears out of nowhere.
“Are you ready for the BEACH EXTRAVAGANZA?!” He asked, excitedly.
“As long as I don’t have to accomplish some absurd task, like become a firebreather or save a village from a tsunami, I am, thank you for asking.” Riley responded.
Maxwell hugged her shoulders. “Don’t worry! It’ll be just a fun party in the most gorgeous beach in the country. Even better, it’s on Sason Island, a secluded Navy base, so there will be no chance of being anyone else there.”
“Thank goodness for that!” Riley cheered.
Hana seemed glad too. “That sounds amazing! The water’s so unbelievably beautiful. I cannot wait to get out of this dress and into my bikini!”
“I knew I was forgetting something.” Maxwell looked at Riley with puppy eyes. “Riley, you didn’t happen to bring a swimsuit, did you?”
She raised an unamused eyebrow at him. “No, I didn’t.”
“We can buy one at the village?” He offered.
“Fine, let’s go.” Riley picked up her purse from Maxwell’s offering hands. “Hana, we’ll probably meet you there.”
“Okay!” She chirped. “See you!”
Vienna, Spring 2006
“You’re an idiot.” The voice resounded over the phone.
“Savannah, you’re my sister. You were supposed to take my side.” Drake said, not betraying his own opinion that yes, he was an idiot.
“I would, but you are an idiot.” She responded, in a definite tone. “Drake, there’s nothing in Cordonia to be ashamed of.”
He sighed. “I’m not ashamed of anything, Savannah.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, too.” She used a knowing voice.
He done a double take.
She then continued. “Rosa loves you. Just because she’s coming to Cordonia, it doesn’t mean she’ll fall madly in love with Liam or Leo or Bertrand. She said it herself, she loves you, not them. Have a little faith, goodness.”
He sighed. “I know, I know.”
“If you’re struggling with that so much, why not to come to Cordonia and not visit the Royal Palace? I mean, you could stay at a hotel, away from here, and we’d meet for dinner. Two nights, she’ll be happy, I’ll get to meet the girl who made my surly brother a bumbling fool, and there will be no chance she’ll meet Liam.”
Drake reflected for a second. “This is actually a good idea.”
“I know,” She said, smugly. “You have a genius of a sister.”
He smiled. “I do.”
“Besides,” She continued. “The odds are you wouldn’t be able to meet Liam even if you wanted to.”
“Constantine’s still slave-driving him?” Drake scoffed.
“Don’t speak like that!” Savannah chastened. “He’s the King!”
“Whatever you say, Savannah, whatever you say.” He dismissed.
“Why does he even is so keen in training Prince Liam, anyways? Leo’s the heir.” Savannah wondered out loud.
“It’s how Constantine show love, I suppose. Besides, Leo’s incompetent. Someone should take responsibility over the country. Might as well be Liam.”
“I guess we’re getting a little off-topic here.” Savannah said, trying to ignore Drake’s anti-monarchism. “Go call Rosa!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call her. See ya, sis.”
“Bye-bye!” She hung up.
Orikum Marina, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
After leaving Riley and Hana, Charlotte found another bench at the marina to sit down and watch the bay. There was little to do back at her hotel, and she wasn’t ready to go back to Italy just yet.
However, her luck that afternoon was rotten. “Charlotte!” She heard her name being called on a deep voice.
She looked over to the source of the sound. “Oh, God.” She whispered to herself.
“Drake.” She acknowledged. “Long time no see.”
It was Drake Walker. Charlotte didn’t see him for almost ten years, thankfully. And it did not take much to infer both of them did not enjoyed their earlier encounters.
“Cut the crap, Rosenberg.” He sneered. “What are you doing here?”
She scoffed. “When it became your business? I didn’t get the memo.”
“It became my business when you had the idea of coming to Avlona of all places.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “If you absolutely must know, I was enjoying the regatta. I was, until you came up to me.”
“Now it’s over. Leave.” He commanded.
She laughed, ironically. “When did you purchase the marina?”
“People of your lair only bring disgrace, Rosenberg. Just leave.”
“Little Drake’s still sore about Rosie?” Charlotte baby-talked with him, raising to her feet. “That’s on you, you know that.”
“Go to Hell, Charlotte.” He barked.
“Anywhere you are, there’s Hell.” She smirked, deviant.
He fumed but did not say a thing. She came closer to him and placed her hand on his face and stroked his cheek. “You know, I met your new girlfriend. Lovely girl, this Riley.”
He grabbed her hand. “Stay away from her.” He said, menacing.
“Drakie-poo always spoils my fun.” She laughed. “But it seems I’ve overstayed my welcome. See you soon, Walker.”
She picked up her purse and left.
Orikum, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
They walked from the marina gates to a small community in the outskirts of Avlona, composed mainly of old fishermen’s homes and shanty houses.
“I don’t think tourists were supposed to see this part of town.” Riley commented.
“Probably not…” Maxwell grimaced. “But you needn’t worry! I’m here to protect you if anyone tries anything! And I know there’s a boutique near a church here.”
“Not that I really mind, but is it, like, a brand name?” Riley shyly asked. “I know you said it’s an island and there will be no intruders, but Olivia will do her very best to humiliate me, no need to help her on that department.”
“It’s fancy, sure! I won’t steer you wrong.” He soothed her. “There’s this stylist who lives around here and designs beachwear. He says the fishermen’s village give him inspiration.”
“Fishermen?” Riley was confused. “How can they fish with the marina right over there?”
Maxwell turned particularly uncomfortable.
“Oh, I get it.” Riley narrowed her eyes in contempt. “They don’t.”
“Yeah… since they built it back in the 1970’s, this place has really gone under.” He said. “But the old square is still very nice!”
She glared at Maxwell but didn’t say a thing. A short walk later they enter the town’s boutique. The brunet went straight to the bikini rack and picked one up.
“It’s the only one your size.” He handed it to her.
“Let us see that.”
It was a white, one-piece swimsuit. She took off her marine clothing and put it on. Riley was growing nervous, as she used a size enlargement bodice under her clothes and an insole to disguise her measurements, but the swimsuit covered it all. Actually, it indulged her vanity, as it showed her beautiful natural legs and gave a nice, youthful lift to her breasts.
Riley also picked up a cover-up, just to be absolutely sure no-one would see the bodice underneath it.
Dressed up, she got out of the fitting room. “How do I look, Maxwell?”
He blushed and stuttered. “That… looks good on you.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Oh, by the way, do you have a swimsuit?”
He smiled sheepishly. “No, I forgot.”
“Well, then let’s buy one for you, too.”
“No. I mean… Bertrand would get real mad if we spent money on that.”
“Maxwell, if that’s really the problem, I can buy it for you. I won’t go hungry because of a trunk.”
“No!” He got restless. “I-I couldn’t! I was supposed to buy you stuff, not the other way around…”
“O-kay, then, I won’t pressure you.” She said, somewhat bothered. “Let’s go?”
They paid for their purchase and left the store.
As they were walking through the village, they heard a commotion a few meters ahead. It was a man, leaning against a Greek-license car, harassing two girls on an alley.
Not waiting for Maxwell to keep her from intervening, Riley strutted ahead. “Hey, what is going on!”
The man sneered. “None of your business, girl! Go along and leave.”
She glared at him. “I much disagree. In fact, it seems you were bothering these girls over here.”
Maxwell ran to her. “Riley, please, let’s go.”
“Yeah, obey your man, bitch.” The stranger mocked.
Maxwell glared at him but kept trying to convince her to leave.
“You did not answer my question, sir.” Riley barbed. “What are you doing to these girls?”
He scoffed. “They’re hookers, and they’re cheating me out of my money.” Just as he finishes speaking, a devious smile appears on his face. “Perhaps, if you’re so worried about them, you’d like to take their place.”
He grabbed her arm.
“Hey!” Maxwell cried. “Let go of her!”
The man glared at Maxwell and threw a punch at him, who tumbled backwards with the impact.
“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Riley screamed at him. She got a taser from her purse and electrified him from behind.
The potency of the device and the sensitive spot on the man’s body made him fall face first on the pavement, grumbling.
“Do. Not. EVER. Punch Maxwell.” She growled at him. “And you fucking broke my nail!”
She kicked him on the stomach with her pointy heel shoe, which made him grumble and fall flat once again.
With the man taken care of, the three girls run to Maxwell.
“Oh, Lord, Maxwell!” Riley cried. “Are you alright?!”
“Yeah…” He smiled, his nose bloody. “I’m fine.”
“Your nose is broken! We got to take you to the hospital, quick.”
“I have house nearby.” One of the girls, a blonde, said. “Come, bring man.”
Avlona, Cordonia, Summer 2006
It was mid-afternoon in Cordonia’s capital city. The sun was merciless as always, the air was stiff and suffocating over the city. Drake and Linda Rosa, just like anyone else around them, were sweating like pigs and trying desperately to alleviate the intense heat.
The redhead, however, was smiling like never before.
“Rosa, please.” Drake complained. “You’ve just arrived from Dubrovnik. I cannot either bear or believe you’re excited about Avlona. Especially the port area.”
The neighborhood surrounding the port was greatly degraded. It was home to the bad and worst of Valonian society. Most tourists that came with them on the ferry were quick to disappear inside a cab heading to the heights around the Royal Palace and the financial district, or over the hills to Vougliameni.
The couple, however, was traveling on a budget, and could not afford fancy hotels in trendy neighborhoods. A very tight one, considering Drake insisted in paying for their accommodations during their vacation. So, he charged himself with the task of finding a hotel for them to stay in Cordonia which was clean, minimally comfortable, and far, far away from Brigade Hill. He chose a cheap one two or three squares from the ferry terminal, simple, yet respectable.
“Don’t be a party pooper, D.” She teased. “I’m happy to be here, with you.”
He smiled, in spite of himself. “Well, don’t be so giddy. We’re at a dump. Save your excitement for the touristic parts.”
“A shame we could only stay for such a short time.” Linda Rosa lamented.
“Those extra few days in Udine were worth it.” Drake commented, in faux-disinterest. “Besides, if we stay for too long in Cordonia, we’ll end up missing our train back to Austria.”
In reality, though, Drake had done what he could and somethings he really could not to delay their trip before the Cordonian leg and to rush their departure from his homeland.
“I suppose, though two days feel like an awful short amount of time! We’ll be barely able see a thing. Are you sure you weren’t able to book that palace tour?”
“Nope, they were full for today and tomorrow we wouldn’t be able to catch our ferry to Greece.” He lied through his teeth. “Don’t worry, Rosa, we’ll see plenty of stuff around town.”
“Yeah!” She cheered. “You’re completely right!”
“Besides,” He pointed to the distance. “You’re able to check the palace from here, anyways.”
The golden pavilion dominated the city’s horizon. It glistened in the Summer’s midday Sun on top of the hill. The mast on the building’s roof, Drake joyfully noticed, was devoid of its flag, a clear sign the King was away.
“It’s absolutely beautiful!” She breathed.
The Royal Family usually fled from the Summer’s heat at Applewood, hidden amongst the valleys between Neokastron and Tirkan, at the heart of the country. It was rare for either Regina, Constantine or even Leo to emerge from their self-imposed exile before the latter days of September.
It was mid-July, though, the perfect time of year to come to Cordonia and not meeting the King.
They got to their hotel, checked in and put their bags into the room. Linda Rosa laid into their bed. “I still don’t understand why we had to stay at a hotel.”
“My sister lives with some relatives.” He explained, once more. “They aren’t very nice folks and wouldn’t look kindly in me bringing guests over.”
“If they’re that nasty, I’m sorry for your sister having to live with them.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sorry for her, too.”
Later that night, they met Savannah at a small restaurant near Anastasis Cathedral, in the heart of the city. The streets were bustling with life, Drake and Linda Rosa having some difficulty in walking through the narrow paths, no-one seemed very keen in staying indoors with such warm weather.
Their meeting place was a quaint, delightful salon, going back to the 1920’s. They served Grecian food, and their clients were mostly people of the land. Linda Rosa found that somewhat strange, as they were in a highly-touristic area.
“Such a lovely place, Drake!” She beamed at him.
He smirked. “I’m glad you like it. They serve great food.” He checked his clock. “I guess Savannah’s running late. Would you like to order now?”
“I’d like some wine, actually.” She said.
He motioned for the waiter to take their order.
They talked over their chalices for a while, when Linda Rosa’s phone rung. She excused herself and went outside to answer.
“Hello.” She answered.
“Good evening, dearest.”
“Mother?!” She answered, surprised. “Is something on the matter?”
“No, not at all.” She dismissed. “I’ve just been wondering if you’d join us this Summer.”
She sighed. “Mother, I’ve discussed that with you and father at length. I am traveling with my boyfriend this season. I’ll be home as soon as we finish our tour.”
“I know, I know, but we miss you.” She said. “I know we had our differences these last few months, but we love you. We hope you’ll be able to join us soon.”
“I miss you too, mother.” The redhead said, meekly. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I see…” The oldest said, dejected. “I’ll leave you to your date. Have a nice time, dearest.”
“Bye, mother.” She hung up.
Linda Rosa leaned against the wall for a while, trying to recover her peace of mind.
Feeling sufficiently calm, she stood straight. She looked around before entering at the restaurant again, when she sees someone she did not think she’d meet again.
“I cannot believe it!” She screamed. “Liam! Over here!”
The blond man was surrounded by a couple of men in suits, he, himself, in formal attire. Down the street, there was some kind of commotion, considering the amount of people gathered. He looked around, fearfully and confused, not that Linda Rosa had noticed the latter. When Liam finally locked eyes in the redhead, he smiled and strutted his way there.
“Linda Rosa!” He greeted. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m vacationing!” She said, joyfully. “With all that money you gave me, I decided to treat myself. I wasn’t aware you’d be staying here, or else I’d sent a message.”
“I was supposed to be off at the country, actually.” He responded, somewhat bashfully. “But my father sent me here on some business.”
“How nice!” She commented. “Anyways, I was just about to head in. I’m dining with my boyfriend. Wouldn’t you like to join us?”
He paled. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose. I did not know you had a boyfriend, though.”
Linda Rosa blushed. “Yeah, I do.”
Just as if on cue, Drake came out the door. “Rosa, are you okay?”
The brunet stopped on his tracks, though, as he locks his eyes on the man talking with her girlfriend.
“Drake?” Liam asked, astonished. “You’re Miss Valois’ boyfriend?”
The surly man narrowed his eyes. “Yes, yes I am.” He then turned to the girl. “Rosa, where have you met Liam?”
“You know each other?!” She commented, surprised. “It is a small world, indeed! Liam’s a customer from the gallery! He purchased those paintings I told you about.”
The brunet had to take a moment to process the information. After all the trouble he had been through to keep his girlfriend from encountering his friends, Liam in particular. Little did he know; the young nobleman fell through the cracks.
Drake grunted. “I see.”
Feeling the animosity in the air, Liam excused himself. “I am most sorry to leave you, but I must go. I am waited for. It was delightful to meet you, miss Valois. Don’t be a stranger, Drake.”
The girl waved cheerfully, while the man barely acknowledged.
“Such a coincidence, right?!” She said, still somewhat stupefied.
“Linda Rosa, what there is between you and that man?” Drake asked, with barely-contained hostility.
“Why, nothing.” She said, confused. “He’d been to the gallery, we had some coffee, talked and he bought some pieces.”
“Lies!” He hollowed. “Tell me the truth, Linda Rosa! What was you doing with the Prince of Cordonia?!”
“Wait, what? Is this some kind of nickname or so?”
“Don’t even try, that move is not going to work on me.” He sneered. “He’s Prince Liam of Cordonia, the youngest son of the King and you know that!”
“You must be kidding me!” She breathed out. “He never told me that.”
He scoffed. “If he did, it’d make a difference?”
“Well, no, but perhaps I’d be more mindful of what I said.” She said, somewhat confused. “How do you even know him? What was he doing here?”
“Oh, shut up, Linda Rosa. You know it all, perhaps always did. You knew Liam was my friend, you knew he was royalty, and I was just a stepping stone in your way to become a princess.”
She looked pointedly at her boyfriend. “Drake, if you have something to tell me, just do it. Spare me of your snarky insinuations.”
“You like Liam.” He accused. “I bet you wish you slept with him while he was in Austria.”
“That’s just preposterous, Drake.” She said in such a patronizing tone that made him look like a stupid child.
“You’re rich, Linda Rosa, just rich. You’re awfully chummy with Liam not five minutes ago. Do you really expect me to believe that you’re just friends with him?!”
“Yes, yes, I do, because I am!” She shouted. “Where is this even coming from, Walker?! Do I look like some kind of double-timing prostitute?! Am I such a repugnant person to serve only as a gaping hole for a dick?!”
“Bingo!” He ironized. “You’re nothing but a whore, Linda Rosa. A crown-chasing, common whore!”
She slapped him hard.
“Listen, Drake, and listen to me good. I have never laid a finger upon that man, nor have I ever wished otherwise. The only shame I have is to have ever sullied myself with the likes of you.” She said, in that calm that comes with intense rage.
“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
“I guess there’s nothing else to be said, then.” She picked up her purse and walked away.
Orikum, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
Faced with little choice, Riley complied with the blonde’s offer to take them to her place and the two girls led them to a three-floor shanty. It seemed the two of them shared a small room at the ground floor of the building. The apartment was neat, but it was very small and had a seemingly-permanent stench on the air.
“Sit him here.” The blonde pointed to a chair, while preparing a first-aid kit.
Maxwell complied.
“Who are you?” Riley asked.
The blonde once again answered. “I am Katya, and this is Zarina.” She pointed to the other girl, a tanned brunette.
“You have an accent. Where are you from?” She asked.
Maxwell grumbled when Katya started to mess with his nose. “I’m from Belarus.”
Riley made a noise in acknowledgement. She then turned to Zarina. “And you? Are you Cordonian?”
“Don’t bother, lady.” Katya said. “Zarina is from Kosovo, she doesn’t speak French.”
“Oh, does she speak Greek? English? German?” Riley offered.
“No, she speaks Albanian, Bulgarian and Russian.”
“How did you even get here?” She inquired.
Katya demeaned. “Pimp said we be going to Britain, but instead brought us here. I came with fourteen girls, and I don’t see them since. Zarina crossed on her own, this is only job she could find.”
Riley observed Katya’s hand working on Maxwell’s nose. She was steady, efficient and precise. “Katya, how do you know how to heal a broken nose?”
“I was nurse in Belarus.” She shrugged. “I can’t find job in Belarus, so I came.”
Riley eyed the girl. She was very young, 25 at most, and Zarina seemed even younger.
“Done.” The blonde announced, and Maxwell groaned.
“Are you okay, Maxwell?” Riley asked, worriedly.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Battle scars are sexy, aren’t they?” He joked.
She hugged him. “I’m glad, Maxwell, I’m sorry for what happened.”
He smiled at her and hugged her back.
“And thank you, Katya. You did not have to help us.” Riley thanked the blonde woman.
“I thank you, lady.” She said. “People like you don’t usually care for us, and if you had not helped, we would be in trouble.”
Riley smiled at them. “Don’t worry about that. In fact,” She took a card from her purse. “If you need me, call this number. You shouldn’t be forced to live like that.”
Katya grimaced, but took the card anyways. Zarina served them some tea, and the two Beaumont’s took a cup and drunk it.
Riley hummed. “It is very good! What is it?”
“It is raspberry leaves tea.” Katya provided.
“Could you thank Zarina for me?” Riley asked.
Katya speaks in Russian with Zarina, who bows. “She says you honor her.” The blonde said.
Riley and Maxwell finish their tea and say their goodbyes.
They were leaving the village when Riley called. “Maxwell?”
“Yes?” He responded.
“Why do you lie to me?” She asked.
“What?” He said, stupefied. “What do you mean?”
Riley frowned her forehead. “Maxwell, I’m not stupid. I’ve noticed you and Bertrand try to keep things from me. When we were attacked in Scutari, you bullied the policemen, so they wouldn’t tell me why they were protesting. You never told me what kind of tasks I’ll face until January, and today, if you had your way, I’d not know about this village.”
He sighed. “Are you mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. But, Maxwell, I have to know where I’m going in to. If everything goes well, I’m going to be Queen, and as such, I couldn’t have the luxury of going blind into the government.”
“I know, I know.” He said, anguished. “But I… I am worried that if I show you the bad parts of Cordonia, if I show you here is no fairytale land, you’ll leave.”
Riley placed her right hand on his shoulder, halting their walking. She faced him, looked him straight into his eyes.
“Oh, Maxwell.” She hugged him. He hugged her back, fiercely. When they broke apart, she continued: “I’m not going to leave, I’m going to see this season through, and I’ll be doing my very best. I won’t be abandoning you or Bertrand.”
He smiled, melancholically. “I’m sorry, Riley.”
“That’s okay, dear. Just promise me you’ll do better.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He beamed at her. “Now, let’s go. We must get you to the island before the party is all over.”
When they reached the marina, Maxwell went down the deck, trying to find an available boat to take them to Sason Island.
Alone and after checking for anybody who could overhear her conversation, she fished out her phone from her purse and dialed a number. “Hello, it’s me. I have a plan, and you’ll be helping me.”
Athens, Greece, Summer 2006
Linda Rosa gracefully gathered her belongings from her room that fateful night and fetched a cab to Argyrocastron, where she dutifully waited for her flight.
Her passport was stamped at customs, and she still held onto her neutral expression. Her suitcase dutifully rolled behind her as she walked through the arrivals lobby.
Her face was stony still, when she finally locked eyes with the one she was looking for.
Teary-eyed, she ran to the young woman, some fifty steps away from her. The woman opened her arms, invitingly, and hugged her tightly.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, trying to console Linda Rosa.
The redhead was as flushed as the color of her own hair. “I hate him. I fucking hate him.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She patted her back. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel, we’ll run a bath for you, order some comfort food and later we’ll go to the beach. The Sun heals.”
She sobbed. “Thank you, Charlotte. Thank you for coming and get me.”
“No prob. Come, come!” She cheered and picked up her stuff.
Red Rose - Masterlist
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mikebigby-blog · 6 years
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Netflix Legend of Zelda full season 1 outline
I am pants-shittingly excited about the possibility of a live-action Legend of Zelda series on Netflix.  You’ve heard the rumours.  I’ve heard the rumours.  And I have shitted all of my pants.  I only have pants with shit in them now.  I know what you’re saying out-loud to your computer like a weirdo as you read this blog alone; you’re saying “Mike, just wash your pants” but then I wouldn’t be wearing the pants and the shit would go on the floor.  Think before you speak.
Anyway, this is a serious blog.  Please don’t be put off by my shitty pants, I won’t mention them again from here on out.  
Just imagine.  An actually good live-action Legend of Zelda TV show.
 I have dreamed of this since I was a 11 year old kid when I “wrote” and “directed” an Ocarina of Time movie using my dad’s 20kg VHS cam-corder.  I never finished that movie, so this is literally unfinished business for me.
As the title of this blog suggests, for fun, I’ve put together a treatment for what I think a Legend of Zelda series could be.
If you don’t like it, no worries.  It’s not much more than fan-fiction.  If you DO like it, I dunno, share it with your friends or something.
Format, tone and general thoughts
I think the tone of the show should be light-hearted, weird, occasionally funny, and ultimately epic.  That’s what Zelda is.  I see it as Game of Thrones meets Dirk Gently, kinda.  
I personally think this should be live-action, but it doesn’t have to be, a cartoon would be cool.
I’m suggesting ten eps per season and as many seasons as possible.  In my opinion we should stay with the same Link, Zelda and Ganondorf, but there’s no real reason why the show couldn’t jump multiple generations with each season like the games do.
This treatment consists of a scene-by-scene of the pilot, and outline of episodes two and three, and basically extended log-lines for episodes four to ten.  Sorry they’re not all scene-by-scenes, it was already a lot of (fun) work to draft this and besides, I don’t think you’d want to read that much anyway.
Please bear in mind that it’s all about the execution.  These are still just ideas.  If the show was developed, things would get more complex, ledes would be excavated and everything would be amped up to make every episode as compelling as possible.  So imagine everything I say is better than it is lol.
Finally, I’ve tried to draw from / reference as many of the games as possible.  I think the show, and even this blog post, should absolutely reward fans of the franchise.
Context
We need to start off with some Hyrule Historia to set this pitch in context.  One of the things that most grounds Game of Thrones is its world’s rich history and that’s something the Zelda franchise shares.  So I want to set up some legends and lore upfront.
NB In the actual show this should not be revealed in narration or an opening scroll.  It’s primary purpose is to inform the world of Hyrule and its characters’ motivations.  It will be revealed to the audience slowly and sparingly through reference and allusion over the season.
Here we go:
Two thousand years before the events of our story, the last person to wield the power of the Triforce unified the warring tribes of the land into one principality; Hyrule.  This is not your average divide-and-conquer legend, this is something far more incredible; a conquer and unification.  The legend of an absolute badass.  The legend of Boudicca and King Arthur and Alexander the Great and William the Conqueror all rolled into one.  This is the in-world Legend of Zelda.  
That’s right, the first monarch of Hyrule was a Queen named Zelda (Breath of Wild fans: I consciously chose not to make this character the Goddess Hylia for the sake of simplicity).  Zelda brought decisive peace to the land by being unquestionably awesome, ending an ancient war between the country’s great races.  Together, the leaders of these once-warring tribes - the Gorons, the Zorras, the Ritos, Sheikah, Gerudo and the Hylians - worked with Zelda to capture the titanic, elemental monstrosities and demons they each summoned to fight on their behalf and contain them in purpose-built stone enclosures.  That’s right.  Temples.  Dungeons.  You get the idea. 
Flash forward two thousand years and this awesome history is relegated to the status of myth.  Yes, the temples still stand, but they are decrepit and overrun with flora and fauna.
These days the ancient Zelda’s direct descendent, Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, sits upon the throne.  A wise and just ruler who, in his youth, fought bravely to quash an uprising from the worshippers of Din the Destroyer, and successfully restored his subjects rights to religious freedoms without threat of persecution.  The three major religions worship alongside each other in peace once again.  
But, in recent years, the king has grown old and feeble.
OK that’s all the history stuff out of the way so we can get on with the episodes!  It’s exciting isn’t it? I’m excited!  Are you excited?  IT’S EXCITING!
Episode 1: The Phantom Menace I’m Just Kidding That’s Not The Title Of The Episode
FADE IN on a beautiful white ship (10 history points if you get this reference) as it sails the night-time waters of the Great Bay of Hyrule Channel.  There’s no moon so it’s particularly dark, and the wind is so calm the sailors have taken to the oars.
The ship is like an island of light and life in the vast, dark nothingness - think of those wide night-time shots in James Cameron’s Titanic.  But this is more jovial.  The hundred or so passengers and crew sing and whoop and holler by the light of the ship’s candles.  Everyone’s clearly having a good, wine-fuelled time. We catch a glimpse of a young / strong / handsome / regal looking dude, singled out by his unusual pensiveness in the face of all this merriment. This is Daltus, son of King Daphnes and heir to the throne of Hyrule.
CREEEAAAKKKKK what the hell was that?  For a moment, the party is silenced…..
Nothing. Phew. The singing soon continues…  But for us the soundtrack subtly clues us into a feeling of unease.  
We zoom out to a wide-shot far enough away that the ship looks like a toy and the noise of the passengers is reduced to nothing.  From here we can just about make out the coast, more than a few miles away - too far to swim - and a great stone temple, half submerged, wholly forgotten.
SUDDENLY - punching out from the black depths without warning, a great tentacle looms up over the ship. The party is thrown into silence for a beat before screams and panic erupt like an explosion.
It’s absolute pandemonium on board as a second tentacle rips into the sky on the other side of the ship.  Daltus, cool as a cucumber, pulls out his sword.  But what can he do?  Nothing.  We all know what’s coming.  
The tentacles crash down onto the deck, each with the weight of a London bus, cleaving the splintered ship in half.
We get a glimpse of the great leviathan as it pulls the crumpling ship down under the newly formed waves.  For you die-hard fans, this is GYORG.  
CUT TO a young princess holding court in her father’s throne room, hearing the plights of the townsfolk she has granted an audience to.  
Yea you guessed it, this is Zelda, and she’s clearly a smart cookie and is fair and respectful to the townsfolk she speaks with.  At her right hand is her guardian and teacher, the Aristotle to her Alexander the Great, Impa.  A middle-aged Sheikah woman.  
By the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows (which, by the way, tell the story of the ancient Zelda (an Easter egg, not obvious)) we know it’s the following day.
In comes this dishevelled old dude who urgently recounts the story of a sunken ship… Our sunken ship! But wait, no, his account is wrong.  He says Daltus supplied the crew with drink, that doesn’t sound right.  Woah woah, what’s he saying now?  The ship’s port-side hit a submerged rock because the crew was drunk?  That’s not at all what happened!  He is the only survivor he says, well… that part could be true.
An emotional Zelda beseeches the man “What happened to Lord this and that? did he survive?”  The old man shakes his head.  “What of lady blah blah?”  he shakes his head.  She’s building up the courage to ask the question.  It’s clear from her foggy eyes, she knows the answer.  “…My brother?” HE SHAKE HE DAMN HEAD.
Devastation.  Stoic, suppressed, sure, but devastation nonetheless.  She takes a moment to swallow her grief.
“What of Lord Ganondorf?”  WELL, says the man, some disembarked before the ship set sail, not confident of the drunken crew’s ability to sail.  Ganondorf among them.
Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!
Boom.  Next scene.  We’re getting rural now.  We are nowhere near the regal Hyrule castle, this is a luscious woodland on the other side of the kingdom.
We’re looking at a badass silhouette of a heroic figure, mounted on horseback, with a sword in one (LEFT) hand and a shield in the other.  The horse takes a few steps forward into the daylight streaming in through the canopy… not so badass.  Wooden sword, toy shield.  This is not much more than a kid.  Maybe 16 or 17.
BUT SUDDENLY the horse bolts, the kid hollas a very Link-like battle cry as he jumps off the horse and descends upon what can only be described as scarecrows, crudely mocked up to look like Moblins.  
He batters them in a fun-to-watch but technically unskilled brawl, slipping over here and there.  This is not a hero.  This is a kid.  This is a dreamer.  This is, you guessed it, Link.
He’s interrupted / embarrassed by his uncle, Alfon, and reprimanded for not getting on with his chores.  We see a glimpse of farm-life and, although Link clearly loves and respects his uncle, we know for a fact Link would rather be out there adventuring.  This is Luke Skywalker in the Act I of A New Hope.   
We also meet Malon, a milkmaid with whom Link has an adorkable relationship.  She fires seeds at him from a homemade slingshot in the same way kids pull pigtails on playgrounds.  It’s cute.
Back in Hyrule town Impa is sleuthing.  She doesn’t buy the old man’s tale because she’s SMART as HELL and follows him using her Sheikah skills as he goes about his business through our Flea-Bottom-equivalent.  He goes to a dive-bar inn, a dingy brothel… gross but, as of yet, nothing out of the ordinary for a creepy old dude.  
But then, strangely, he slips into an abandoned house, looking over his shoulder more times than an honest man would.  Impa follows.  We witness him in conversation with a shadowy figure with a woman’s voice, he asks for payment - presumably in return for lying about Daltus’ ship - and holds out his hand in expectation.  Schwing.  He drops to the floor.  We’ve just witnessed this guy’s sudden and brutal execution at the hands of the shadowy figure, who is revealed to be… a Gerudo assassin (!!!) ostensibly tying up some loose ends.  I promise I won’t use the word ‘ostensibly’ again.
Now we get some real action.  The Gerudo bails and Impa launches into full-on chase mode.  They duck and dive across rooftops.  They fight in the streets.  It’s clear that Gerudos aren’t as skilled as the Sheikah in this kind of ninja acrobatics.  In her prime, Impa would own this fight, but the Gerudo assassin is younger and fitter, evening up the odds.  
Before you ask, no this is not a no-stakes CGI extravaganza like a Daniel Craig Bondtage (just invented this word, it means Bond montage) or the Assassin’s Creed movie. This is real.  It feels real.  When they jump down off even 6 foot walls, it hurts.  Remember, Impa is a middle-aged woman.
What I’m saying is: it’s a thrilling, evenly matched fight which ends when Impa seizes an opportunity to dump tackle the sucker.  The race is over.  The interrogation is ON!
Meanwhile, in the castle the aging King is sitting top-table, with Zelda at his right hand in a privy council meeting.  All of the major races are represented around the table.  
Daphnes is looking frail.  He’s clearly too weak to be out of bed, but he’s found the strength from the loss of his son and the urgency of the situation.  
In light of recent events, he’s attempting to secure Zelda as successor to the throne.  The Gerudo representative vehemently protests the idea of a woman on the throne, demanding that “your cousin, Ganondorf, is next in line.”  Plot. Thickened.
As you might expect, this goes down about as well as a piss flavoured milkshake, especially with Darunia, the Goron representative.  Zelda makes an incredible, impassioned speech, invoking the story of her ancestor and damn she’s good.  She’s an orator on Henry V’s level. She wins over passionate Darunia and the cold, logical, but ultimately nice old Rito dude.
But despite having the loyalists round the table convinced, ultimately, the consensus is an unmarried woman, even a woman descended from the great Zelda of old, cannot inherit the throne.  Out-fucking-rageous.
Just as we’re feeling that all is lost and Ganondorf will inherit the throne, Impa BURSTS into the room - thank GOD!  She’s badly beaten and bloody, but it doesn’t slow her down.  She has proof of a plot against the crown, Daltus was murdered… by Ganondorf!  Dun dun DUN!
Voices are raised around the table, shit is hitting the fan and emotions are running high.  Impa tells the story of Daltus’ voyage as we saw it only with one added detail - forces under the command of Ganondorf intentionally released a great beast of old into the bay.  Everyone is stunned.   It’s hard to believe.  The beasts… from the stories? They’re real?  They’re still alive after two thousand years? WHAT?!  
When the question of cross examining the assassin inevitably arises, however, Impa sheepishly admits that she’s dead. Oops.  The Gerudo rep feigns offense and bones the fuck outta there.  No one really knows whether to believe this or not, but Darunia is convinced.
Back at the farm we catch up with Link after his chores are all done.  He’s back in his makeshift training area, this time under the supervision of Uncle Alfon who’s equipped with a real sword and Hylian shield.  OK so maybe he isn’t the helpless Uncle Owen Skywalker of this story (is that his last name? Is Uncle Owen Anakin’s brother or Padme’s?  Don’t look that up, it’s not important.  Keep reading.)
It’s apparent that, after witnessing the woeful display of swordsmanship earlier in the day, Alfon has finally acquiesced to Link’s repeated requests for training.  And guess what?  He is skilled.  And we get to watch him FLEX in an exciting training sequence.  
Malon, just like us, is spending her free time watching this, firing the occasional seed at our hero to distract him from the spar at inopportune moments.
This really is worlds away from the capital.
In Hyrule, ya boy Ganondorf and his followers make a play for the throne, big style.  He’s obviously caught wind of the talk at the privy council, a la the Gerudo rep who left in a huff, so he’s making a move less subtle than he would have liked but he’s still keeping it within the confines of the castle. He doesn’t yet have the forces to fight an all-out war.
This is the first time we see Ganondorf on screen and let me tell you, it’s frightening.  He’s a mountain of a man / Gerudo - the absolute personification of intimidating.  And his coup is bloody.  Everyone either dies or submits.  The king is slain. It doesn’t seem like anyone has made it out the castle alive, as is Ganondorf’s plan. 
We find out Ganondorf’s motivations and the source of his followers undying devotion to him; religion.  The worshippers of Din the Destroyer were apparently unhappy with the outcome of the recent civil war, which, as we know, granted all three major religions - worshippers of Din, Nayru and Farore - the freedom to do so. The Gerudo’s, led by Ganondorf, have been drawing plans against the crown for a generation.  But we get the sense this is just a vehicle for him, his true motivation is pure, unbridled lust for power.
Ganondorf makes it clear that he intends to force Zelda to marry him to consolidate his rule. Impa defends her with all her might but is bested by him and tossed aside, presumed dead. The mere fact that Zelda wasn’t immediately down to clown is enough to send Ganondorf into brutal rage and he slaughters the kindly Rito man from the privy council.  Zelda is imprisoned as the new regime takes hold.
Daaaaaamn son.
Back on the farm.  Rumour of the coup has already got around, but no one much cares except for those who remember the civil war, and yea that includes captain badass Uncle Alfon.
A traveller arrives, an old war buddy of Alfon’s.  He speaks of a rebellion led by the Goron, Darunia.  He must’ve made it out of the castle alive!  Alfon is totally up for knocking some heads and packs up his shit, takes the sword and shield and the horse Link was riding when we were first introduced to him.  This is an emotional moment.  Link is desperate to join but Alfon shoots him down, he is, after all, only a kid.  A kid who sucks at fighting.  Gotta commend him for his bravery though.
Alfon goes to war once again, entrusting the farm to Link and Malon.
Some time later, at the castle, Ganondorf is out quashing the uprising.  We follow a mysterious figure as he, or she, makes her way through the castle ninja-Sheikah-style, dragging a limp body along for the ride.  Fans of the series will recognise this character from their clothing.  This is Sheik.  And Sheik is rad.  
Sheik fucks up some guards and escapes the castle in a stealthy-cool sequence leading all the way out to Hyrule field, where he witnesses Ganondorf return victorious with prisoners in tow - including Darunia and Uncle Alfon.
Ganondorf orders the prisoners be taken to a concentration camp at Kakariko Village, and Darunia be sealed “in the mountain”.  As the prisoner convoy leaves, Sheik and her limp friend surreptitiously hitch a ride.
Meanwhile, at the farm, there are clearly wide-ranging consequences as a result of the coup.  Taxes have been raised.  Goods are seized by Ganondorf’s marauding forces.  Shit’s bad son.
Link is doing his chores half heartedly, head clearly stuck on the fact he’s not heard anything of his uncle’s rebellion.  He thinks about setting out to find Alfon but Malon talks him down.
All of a sudden, a ripple of shock / horror rips through the little rural community they’re within.  The traveller - Alfon’s war buddy - has returned, on Alfon’s horse.  Everyone who looks upon him is stunned.  He looks like shit.  
He shares the fate of the rebellion with Link, including that they have been taken to the concentration camp at Kakariko Village, and abruptly dies of his wounds. 
That’s it.  Link’s mind is made up. He packs a bag with food, grabs his wooden sword a shield and gets ready to set off on an epic quest.  
Just before he leaves, Malon, tears in her eyes, tries one last time to beg him to stay.  But she sees there’s no use in it.  She tosses him her slingshot.
“It’s dangerous to go alone.  Take this.”
FADE OUT 
DAAAAAMN son.
If you’ve stuck it out this far, good work.  Thank you.  I appreciate your attention.  
Honestly, I’m amazed you made it past the first paragraph, you know, the one about the shit that’s in my pants.  
Let’s keep going.  And sorry for bringing up my shitty pants again.
Episode 2: Attack of the Clones ok I guess we’re sticking with this Star Wars thing, sorry, I hate it too
Link travels through the dangerous open land of Hyrule in the direction of Kakariko village but is pretty much immediately discovered by Ganondorf’s (human) marauding forces.  He draws his wooden shield and they are immediately destroyed by the biggest, meanest marauder in the gang.  They erupt in laughter.  He draws his slingshot.  The marauders absolutely crack up, they can’t breathe, who is this kid?  Link fires, straight up blinding the grizzly one.  
Not so funny anymore.
Link is overpowered and bundled into a mobile-cell with a young Goron, Darbus, and a sheikah child named Granté.  Crucial allies going forward obviously.  
Anyway, as prisoners, guess where they’re going?  That’s right, the concentration camp at Kakariko village – exactly where we wanted to go.  Lucky…. Kind of.  
We arrive at Kakariko, a village on the foot of Death Mountain, and it’s like nothing we’ve seen yet.  It’s a totally ransacked settlement, entirely overtaken by Ganondorf’s forces a la Tywin Lannister’s occupation of Harrenhal.  But it’s not just a prison, it’s clearly the base of operations for some kind of mining / weapon smelting operation with armed workers travelling up and down Death Mountain trail.
Link learns the hard way that there’s consequences to blinding people that are bigger than you and is beaten, bloodied and bruised.  He’s about to give up hope as he is thrown into a squalid little cell, overfull with other prisoners.   One of whom is ALFON!  WE LOVE THAT GUY!  HELL YEAH!
But Alfon has been badly injured and in such disgusting conditions, without any form of medical treatment, his wound has become infected.  It’s pretty clear this dude is gonna die, and boy is it emotional.  Link’s crying, you’re crying, I’m crying.  There’s not a dry eye in the house.  Or even outside the house.   
With his dying words, Alfon manages to instill in Link a powerful need to avenge him and an immense sense of duty to ‘save Princess Zelda’.  Alfon urges Link to escape and raise another rebellion. To do so, he is told, he will need Darunia’s support.
With renewed enthusiasm, Link makes an attempt at escape.  And, you know what?  He’s actually successful, making it all the way to the armoury, where he grabs his slingshot and leaves his wooden sword and shield in favour of his uncle’s steel equivalent.  Oh shit, my boy EQUIPPED.
Covert as hell, he saves Darbus and Granté and together they make a break for the gates leading to the Death Mountain trail.  Meanwhile, in the darkness and unnoticed by our heroes, shadowy figures silently take out guards here and there.
The gang is on the home straight now, they’re about to make a break for it when suddenly they spot guards up ahead.  Slowly and quietly they try to pass them without being noticed when a chicken trots up and pecks Link’s boot.  He tries to wordlessly shoo it away, but it keeps pecking.  In a moment of frustration, he boots it one.  
Bad idea.  
Scores of chickens swoop in and go nuts attacking Link, drawing the attention of the guards.  The chickens flutter off and the real fight is on.  This time, equipped with a real sword and shield, Link is actually pretty effective, as are Granté and Darbus (who is literally a walking rock).  You’d have thought they just might win if it weren’t for the 15 extra guards joining the fray.  OH SHIT!
Just as it seems all is lost, the guards drop dead.  What the hell?  The shadowy figures emerge and are revealed to be… a Sheikah clan led by SHEIK and IMPA!  
The prisoners are liberated and everyone rejoices.  Big Act III party and debrief.  You get the idea.
FADE OUT 
Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith I guess
Some days later, the Sheikah have set up something of a honey trap at Kakariko village, where marauders bring their prisoners only to be ambushed by the liberated milita.  They are running a pretty tight ship and have blocked passage to Death Mountain.  
It’s immediately apparent that the Sheikah in charge - i.e. Impa and Sheik - do not think much of Link.
Fortunately, Granté is able to convince them to grant him and Darbus passage through to Death Mountain trail.  Granté elects to stay behind for the time being to help this little resistance movement and be with his people.  Goodbye Granté, it’s been nice.
Our B story in this ep splits off here.  After Link and Darbus leave, we follow Sheik, who is revealed to be Zelda in disguise.  As she deftly interrogates Ganondorf’s forces, she uncovers some stake-raising info about a prophecy Ganondorf is trying to fulfil that sees her head off in the direction of Dragon Roost, homeland of the Rito.  But while she’s gone, the Sheikah lose control of the village and there’s a big ol’ brawl on.  This is weaved in throughout the episode; I’ve just summarised here for time.   
Back to the A story.  The Death Mountain trail is testing.  It’s increasingly steep.  The paths are old and treacherous.  They pass a lot of huge boulders.  They encounter some of Ganondorf’s forces who have been trapped up the mountain since the Sheikah revolt.   
They eventually make it to the entrance of one of the ancient temples but It’s blocked by a big – and I mean big rock – that is just impossible to move.  I know what you’re thinking, If only Link had some magic gauntlets… well HE DOESN’T FOLKS.  This is insurmountable.  He’s not going to surmount this one.  Because it’s insurmountable.   
As night falls, the two dejected friends set up camp and we get to know our characters a little better as they share stories around a campfire.  Time for a LIGHT touch of exposition which will be worked in really well:
Darbus explains that Gorons, like the Gerudo, worship the fire-god, Din, but they were happy to live in peace with the worshippers of Nayru and Farore.  This is why Darunia took Ganondorf’s seizing-of-the-throne-on-religious-grounds so personally.  
We also find out that Goron’s are really hard to kill, they are rocks after all, and this is why Ganondorf has elected to lock Darunia away instead of doing the obvious thing.   But this fact is weird because, there’s almost no Gorons left, they’re kind of an endangered species.
While Darbus is telling a particularly demonstrative story, dramatised by the long shadows cast by the torch he hold in his hand, he accidentally holds the fire too close to the big rock.  Not normally an issue, but this time…
THE BIG ROCK WAKES UP YO.  IT’S A GIANT GORON!  HELL YEAH!  OH WAIT, shit, he’s a bit grumpy about being woken up / burnt on the ass cheek.  Cue a massive, awesome stomp and dodge sequence - well Link dodges, Dalbus gets stomped right into the ground.  It’s cool and funny and we’ve never seen anything like it on TV before.
Anyway, once the giant goron has properly woken up, we find out his name is Daruk and he’s actually a nice guy.  He’s been asleep since not much after the first age (near the time of the original Zelda) and he’s pretty mad to hear about Ganondorf and Darunia etc. and the thought that he might have been picked up and moved to block the entrance is particularly offensive to him.  
He let’s them pass and goes on his own quest to wake up his brothers - all the boulders lying around the place.
FADE OUT
OK folks we’re moving onto much shorter outlines from here on out, should be quicker to get through.  Hope you can stick with me!
Episode 4: A New Hope
A Story - the fire temple:  Link and Darbus face a road of trials in the fire temple as they try to find and recover Darunia.  They discover a large boulder and Link does everything he can to wake it up, including whispering sweet things to it.  But it turns out to be just a boulder.  Darbus calls him a racist.  They eventually find Darunia, who is crushed by his recent defeat and doesn’t believe he can raise the forces to take on Ganondorf.  Together they fight a giant Dodongo, one of the titanic beasts of old.  It’s extremely cool and difficult but they somehow pull it off.  They emerge victorious to find Daruk has raised something of an army of Gorons.  Game on.
B Story - Her name was Rito and she dances in the sand:  Zelda makes her way to Dragon Roost which, by the way, is like, another mountain, slightly smaller and different in shape to Death Mountain, and with a giant egg on top of it.   She’s there to parley with the Rito Queen, Medli - who is only about 10 years old - about being granted access to their records (Rito are like, natural librarians) to learn more about this whole prophecy thing.  But Medli is a capricious little brat who’s pretty annoyed about her father, the kindly old Rito dude, being killed in Zelda’s presence and blames her for it.
C Story - Ganondorf’s diary:  Some political-intrigue here as the new administration makes plans to unify the land under Ganondorf.  We get an insight into Ganondorf’s plan.  Something about the Triforce, a shadow realm, and something about him being a vessel for something something, I think he said… Ganon.
Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back yep we’re still doing this star wars thing
A Story - off to see the sea: Link and the Goron army head down to Kakariko and CRUSH the revolt of Ganondorf’s forces, saving Impa and the rest of the Sheikah.  They hatch a plan to raise armies all over the land to rebell against Ganondorf.  The Gorons stay behind to build their numbers and strength in that area of the map.  Link visits Alfon in the slightly-over-flowing Kakariko graveyard before setting off in the direction of the Great Bay with Impa where they find all Zorra-hands are on deck trying to deal with the GYORG situation.
B Story - Des-pa-Rito: Zelda is charged with the murder of the Rito king and fights extremely effectively in a trial-by-combat.  By winning, she gains the respect of Medli and is granted access to their records.  Zelda discovers a prophecy about GANON, an other-worldy beast of great power and the enemy of the Zelda of old.  She suspects Ganondorf plans to summon him into our realm and she’s dead set on stopping him.  She also learns of the Master Sword, the only worldly sword that can damage the beast and which once belonged to her ancestor.  It was last left in a sacred temple what is now an overgrown ancient woodland.  
C Story - Going Ganon: In a sick, bloody ritual, like the dead body parts of wildlings in ep 1 of GoT, Ganondorf unseals Ganon’s ethereal prison, and is possessed by it, granting him absolute knowledge of the Triforce and how to attain it.
Episode 6: Return of the Jedi
A Story - water temple: Impa intuitively believes there’s something in the temple that can be used to restrain GYORG and sends Link in after it.  The whole place is booby-trapped to hell because, you know, you’re not supposed to go in there.   
B Story - More like burRito: Zelda presents her findings to Medli but, although she has forgiven Zelda, she refuses to aid in the upcoming war against Ganondorf.  Zelda sends a messenger bird back to where she thinks Impa is - Kakariko - and heads off in the direction of the ancient woodland.  Before she can get there, she is accosted by a band of Gerudos.  They don’t recognise her in her Sheik gear so she pretends to join them and it works for a while, but, right at the end of the ep, her secret is discovered.  Cliffhanger. 
C Story - a mission from a god: Ganondorf / Ganon now knows he needs to unite with Zelda and Link to seal the deal and take control of the Triforce.
Episode 7: The (Tri)Force Awakens see what I did there
A Story - gone fishing: Impa’s hunch was right and Link is successful in retrieving an ancient, gigantic trawling net.  Together they engage GYORG and ultimately recapture it.
B Story - Getting Gerdoed: Zelda makes a break for the ancient woodlands.  She fights, runs, fights s’more and is ultimately captured by the Gerudos before she can find the sword.  She is marched to Hyrule castle.
C Story - an army and a leggy: Ganon’s machinations get interrupted when he gets wind of a large Goron army at Kakariko.  His own forces have grown in strength and number by now so he’s not too worried.  They march. 
Episode 8: The Last Jedi (we’re running low on ep titles)
A Story - team building:  With GYORG back in his play pen, Impa and Link attempt to secure the Zorra’s support in the upcoming war with Ganondorf.   
B Story - home sweet home: Zelda is returned to Hyrule castle and locked up a bit tighter than last time.
C Story - war boys: Ganon’s forces march to Kakariko en masse, ready to break necks and cash cheques, when Ganon receives a message that Zelda is captured.  He leaves the army and heads back to the castle.
Episode 9: Episode IX yea I know but this is genuinely the working title of it though
A Story - the master sword: Link and Impa set off to Kakariko, arriving as Ganondorf’s forces get there.  The war is about to begin when Impa receives Zelda’s message which has been waiting for her there since two episodes ago.  She learns about the prophecy and sends Link to the ancient woodlands to find the Master Sword.  In the woodlands, Link is accosted by a Yoda-on-Degoba-level-annoying Skullkid.  The SkullKid is mischievous and annoying but ultimately leads Link to the Master Sword.
B Story - the smell of napalm in the morning: The war kicks off.  Filmed like the Battle of the Bastards but following Link’s various allies from throughout the season.  Even with their rock-hard bods, the Gorons are being overpowered.  But then the Zorras arrive and it evens out the odds.
C Story - creepy cousin: Ganon and Zelda have an intense chat.  He reveals his plans, but not in a traditional James Bond villain way.  In a cool and also sensical way.  LIGHT exposition.
Episode 10: The Force Shits its Pants I made this title up but it’s what the tenth star wars film should be called imo
A Story - Tri forced: Link arrives.  This is the first time he gets to be face-to-face with Ganondorf and even Zelda out of her Sheik costume.  Zelda is like “YOU? You’re the hero Ganondorf’s been going on about?  The dumbass from Kakariko?”  Link is like “Well… excuse me, princess.”  The fight starts and Link is battered.  He immediately loses.  Of course he does.  He’s not even that good at fighting.  Ganondorf takes possession of the Triforce and his physical form takes that of Ganon’s.  A shockwave explodes out from the castle, terraforming the world into the Dark Realm (think: the Upside Down from Stranger Things)…
B Story - the big fight: The Goron, Zorra, Sheikah alliance is winning when a wave of darkness envelopes them.  Marauders turn into moblins like a werewolf in the full moon, Gerudo transform into flying beasts.  The air support in particular gives the forces of evil an edge and the balance sways yet again… fuck.
A Story: Link refuses to stop fighting, even though Ganondorf has become the great beast that is Ganon.  But he’s still getting his ass handed to him.  
B Story:  The Rito arrive and even up the odds again.
A Story: Zelda distracts Ganon and Link is able to drive the sword into his mouth and win. Ganondorf dies, the Dark Realm recedes back into itself taking Ganon with it.
Epilogue:  Order is restored.  Zelda becomes queen.  Race relations are at an all time high.  Link returns home to Malon.  Big party.
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Post credit sequence: In the woodland, the Skullkid accosts another traveller in the same way he accosted Link.  But this traveller is… a creepy mask salesman.
FADE OUT!
Phew, wow.  That’s a wrap folks. Well done.  If you got this far, seriously, thank you.  Now follow me on twitter.
Mike xxx
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avatarsarny · 5 years
Text
and summer comes again
ao3
The finished version of this. How GoT ended in my head, because D&D's bad fanfic version can go in the dumpster where it belongs. For @gendrie, @gendrywatersseaworth, @gendryadempsie, and @starrynightshade, whose blogs and fics have kept me sane these past few weeks of clownery and terrible show writing lol. Thanks for feeding us so well with that good good Gendrya content throughout!
For context: In my head, everything ended similarly to the show version with some notable adjustments: Jon is not exiled to the (nonexistent) Night’s Watch; he decides against being king and goes to bring the Wildlings back down to the North with Tormund (bc the lands beyond the wall are a barren wasteland wtf) and thereafter settles at Winterfell to be Hand to Queen Sansa. Bran is made King of the 6 kingdoms as he was in the show, with Tyrion as his Hand and ruling with his council. Jaime did not turn on Brienne in the last moment, didn’t erase years of character development, and instead left to kill Cersei himself, finally realizing the disease she really was, and became Queenslayer for the good of the realm. He survives Daenerys’ attack on KL and is serving Bran in the new Kingsguard, under Brienne the Commander. 
Finally, Arya does not randomly decide to become Christopher Columbarya and sail the ocean blue, erasing years of her own journey to finally be home with her family again, no sirs, she finds Gendry after the sack of KL, after she realizes what Sandor was trying to tell her to do, to choose life, and tells him to ask her again. You can guess the rest from what you read below :)
And in keeping with the pack survives narrative (bc that’s what good writing is about!! Consistency!!) the Starks remain closer than ever, visit each other often, and don’t end up alone and separated! Hope you guys enjoy.
P.S. - can you spot the Okoye reference? Definitely not straight outta black panther
“And reinforcements from the Stormlands will arrive tomorrow, Your Grace, if I’m not mistaken. Lord Buckler of Bronzegate sent me a raven saying twenty ships worth of food and supplies will be here just after sunrise.”
Bran nods in approval and looks up at the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the newly - reconstructed Royal Council solar. Daenerys’ rampage had left little of the Red Keep standing, but some of the personal chambers had remained mostly intact, so the new King and his council lived in close quarters for the past three months while they supervised the city’s recovery. There were still many injured and many more starving, so Bran called upon every Lord and leader in Westeros, high and low, to contribute whatever they could to the city’s smallfolk; who had suffered the most.
Bran glances over at the man across him. His blue eyes are bright with belonging and purpose, his dark hair is gradually breaking free of the short crop he had sported when Bran had first met him, and he wears fine leathers in same way his father and uncles had, only this time adorned with clawlike marks on the shoulders of his tunic.
The young King smiles at this observation. Stags don’t have claws. But he can think of another animal that does.
Gendry catches his gaze. “What is it, Your Grace?”
Bran’s smile grows ever so slightly. “When is my sister returning, my Lord? It’s been a fortnight since her last raven.”
Gendry sighs and looks out a window, where the city gates rise from the sea of ruined buildings far out in the distance on one end, and the azure waters of Blackwater Bay lay calm and still on the other. “I’m not sure. She said she wouldn’t leave Queen Sansa at Winterfell until she’s made sure she’ll be well protected.”
“Won’t Jon be there soon?”
Gendry blinks. “Yes - er - I didn’t know that until this morning - got a raven from Tormund. How’d you find out?”
Bran throws him an unimpressed glance. “Well I am the three eyed raven. I flew over Jon and Tormund’s group last night. They’ve settled the Wildlings in some unoccupied lands about a day’s ride from Winterfell. Sansa wants Jon to be her Hand, and it looks like Jon’s agreed to it.”
Gendry nods slowly, trying to process the King’s extraordinary statement in a way he can understand. “I’ve heard of your abilities, Your Grace, but forgive me, I’m not sure how one flies when they can’t even walk. But if what you say is true, then you can see where your sisters are, too, can’t you?” He grins then, and maybe in front of a different King he’d be punished for his audacity, but Bran is no ordinary King. And Gendry has never been one to worship the ground at a highborn’s feet.
But he’ll fight for any one of the Starks. Arya and her family time and again showed kindness and mercy to the common folk, and beneath their ferocious direwolf fangs they shared a gentleness for the innocent that Gendry had rarely seen among the rich and powerful. Even Sansa, the Red Wolf of the North, held a great tenderness concealed beneath her icy, calculating exterior, and people everywhere adored her for it.
Bran’s smile widens into a true grin, then - a feat so rare Gendry thinks he should get Grand Maester Samwell to check on their King’s health.
“Yes, I can see everything. Anything, anywhere, at any point in time. But sometimes it’s nice to put it all away for a while, and be a normal man. Or at least act like it,” he replies. “I did see Arya, by the way. It appears she’ll be staying in Winterfell for a few more weeks before she starts her journey back here.”
Gendry’s face falls, but he catches himself and hopes the King doesn’t notice. The least she could do is send a raven, but she’s been oddly silent since her last message to him, and he’s getting worried. If she doesn’t send more word soon, he’ll go off to Winterfell himself.
Bran quirks a brow at him. “Storm’s End needs someone like you, someone who will take care of the people. Your uncles left the Stormlands in such disarray, but the Stormlords are willing to follow your command. Don’t worry about my sister, she can handle herself.” He smiles serenely at the former blacksmith.
But what about me? Gendry thinks. Does she not understand that every day we’re separated feels like an eternity to me?
None of it will mean anything, if you aren’t with me, so be with me…
It will be nearly four months since Arya left to help Sansa settle into her role as Queen in the North. Four months since he last held her in his arms, since he tasted her on his lips and felt the warmth of her smile, since he saw the heat and tenderness in her gaze she reserved only for him.
She had sought him out after the Dragon Queen had stormed King’s Landing, after Jon drove a dagger through his aunt’s heart and liberated all who would come under her tyranny. She had been covered in ash and blood and he’d never felt more fear in his entire life, that he would have to watch her die like this, but she was mostly unhurt, the blood had not been hers, not all of it.
“Ask me again,” She’d rasped, coughing out grey soot and clutching at him for dear life. “I thought I wouldn’t come back from Kings Landing. I was going to die there, and I couldn’t do that to you, I had to refuse,” She whispered, tears falling from her eyes and down her grimy face. “I couldn’t hurt you.”
And oh, she had never looked more beautiful, he had never loved her more fiercely than he did in that moment, not even on that night they thought would be their last, when she had kissed him down in the Winterfell stores and made breathless, frantic love to him. “You could never hurt me, love,” he’d said, gently wiping her tears away and crushing her to his chest. “I know you don’t want to be a Lady, I’ve always known. We can go wherever you like. Do whatever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere you go, till the end of my days,” he promised, and released her so he could kneel before her in the ash and dust. “My life means nothing without my family. Please be my wife. Please be my family, Arya of House Stark.”
And with that, she’d tackled him into the rubble with all the strength she could muster, and kissed him senseless. “I love you,” She’d breathed against his lips,“I will be your family. Your - your wife,” she broke off in a quiet moan, as he moved to press searing kisses down her throat. She held his face in her hands, stilling his sweet movements to look earnestly up at him. “And I will lead by your side, Gendry of House Baratheon.”
He’d stared at her in shock, his hands coming up to bracket her own. “You - you want to rule the Stormlands with me?”
Arya smiled at him, even though it had hurt to do so and her face was bleeding. “I want to be here for the people who can’t protect themselves. I want to make our world a better place than the one we grew up in…I couldn’t save them in King’s Landing,” she’d paused as more tears tumbled down her cheeks, and he dutifully brushed them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. She would tell him about the girl and her mother, later. The little family that had saved her from the stampede, only to end up burnt beyond recognition in the end. “I have to make sure this never happens again.”
Gendry kissed her forehead, the bit of it that wasn’t cut open. “As M'lady commands,” he’d murmured, threading their fingers together. “Now let’s get you a maester.”
“I also need to teach you how to use a fork, none of those idiot lords will respect you otherwise.”
He'd laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “I’ll need all the help I can get. I don’t know any other rich girls willing to teach me.”
“Lord Gendry?” the King addresses him, drawing his attention away from the cloudless sky, out of his reverie.
Gendry starts. “Sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t catch that. I was just - thinking about how we could allocate the food to the city once it arrives tomorrow. I’m thinking we should just set up the distribution points along the docks, that way we won’t need to spend half a day hauling it all through the streets to get to everyone. Most of the needy are already down there, which makes our jobs easier.”
He said all this rather quickly.
Bran smirks. “Well, I hope this helps you see why you’re the best man for the job. You grew up here. You know the people. And you care, which is the only qualification that matters, in the end.”
Gendry turns to his King. “I still don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I know nothing of ruling or leading people, or throwing fancy feasts, or running castles.”
“But you remember what it’s like to live as an outcast, among the very worst of men, to live in the dirt and the muck, and what it’s like to go hungry for weeks on end. You want a world where the powerful protect the weak.” Bran says quietly. “My sister knows this, too. The realm could use more people like you.”
Gendry lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “I..well, thank you, Your Grace.” He straightens up then, and smooths out the map of King’s Landing he’d been going over before King Bran had entered the room. “Then I will give the realm everything I have to make it a better place. I won’t hesitate.”
Bran nods in affirmative. “I’ll be depending on you a lot, Lord Baratheon.”
Someone knocks on the doors of the solar just then; Ser Brienne walks through the threshold and bows her head in greeting.
“Your guest is here to meet you, Your Grace. Shall I bring them in?” Her eyes slide over to rest on Gendry, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “It’s good to see you, Lord Gendry. You look well.”
“As well I could be, Ser Brienne,” he smiles at her. He nearly admits that he could look better, much better, if only his little she-wolf were here with him, and not a thousand miles beyond his reach. But given Brienne’s fierce protectiveness over Arya, he thinks better of it. He’s not sure he could best the formidable Lady Knight in a fight, even with a hammer.
He’d only gotten two days, just two measly days with Arya, before she’d gone north with Sansa. When he sees her again (if ever, he thinks just a little sourly, for she may decide to stay in Winterfell for good, and forget about him, and marry a handsome Northern Lord who knows exactly what he’s doing, especially how to eat with proper utensils.)
Seven hells, he is pathetic.
Bran nods, his smirk growing wider than ever. “Please bring them in.”
Gendry takes this as his cue to leave, and starts gathering up his things. Maybe he’ll seek out Ser Davos and convince him to grab a large jug of ale with him. The Onion Knight always knew what to say.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small figure stroll into the solar, clad in a floor-length gown, with a sword at her hip.
“My King,” the young woman says softly, kneeling in front of Bran, before turning to Gendry. “My love.”
Gendry’s jaw drops to the floor, and so do the maps he holds in his arms.
He wheels around to see Arya Stark rushing forward to squeeze Bran in a tight hug.
“I missed you, little brother. Sansa is happy and safe, Jon is with her now.”
Bran seems to lighten up ever so slightly at the sight of her, a ghost of the boy he used to be flits across his normally blank features, the boy who had looked upon his warrior sister with awe and immense pride, who had wanted to be as good a fighter as she was, well before they knew what fighting really was. He wraps his arms around Arya to squeeze her back.
Gendry stands there, taking his betrothed in for the first time in months. She’s wearing a dress, Gods help him, the long skirts billow out from her waist and clings to her petite figure in a way that sharply forces him to remember he’s in the presence of civilized company, and he immediately tries to control his breathing.
Her hair is just a little longer than the last time he saw her, falling loosely down her back, save for the Northern braids woven at the crown of her head. For once, she looks like the warrior princess she is, and Gendry couldn’t tear his eyes from her if he tried.
Bran releases his sister. “I’m happy to hear. It’s been quiet here without you. Although I’m sure Lord Baratheon here felt that more than anyone.”
Arya turns to him then, raising one dark brow and raking her storm - grey eyes over him. Just as she’d done back in Winterfell, watching from the shadows as he worked the dragonglass into weapons against the dead, before she had made him hers forever. Gendry barely suppresses a shiver.
“Have I surprised you, my Lord?” She laughs, her eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “I’ll bet you thought you’d have a few more weeks of peace without me.”
Peace? He thinks incredulously. He’s felt anything but in her absence.
Gendry moves to open his mouth in a retort, but their King interrupts.
“Ser Brienne, I must go off to the upper floors and survey today’s reconstruction progress, and Lord Tyrion has called a council meeting after lunch. If you would be so kind as to take me there?”
Brienne looks from Arya to Gendry to the young King, and valiantly attempts to conceal her knowing grin. “Of course, Your Grace.”
On their way out, Bran pauses and looks to the pair still standing in the solar. “I’ll be waiting to hear all about Winterfell and how Queen Sansa is faring at dinner tonight. For now though, I suggest you take care of the pressing matter before you. See you in the Great Hall later.” He waves his sister goodbye, and Brienne hastily converts her snort into a cough as she pushes his wheelchair out the doors.
Gendry flushes beet - red as he stares after the King. Arya flashes her betrothed a wolfish grin and steps closer to him. As a girl, she’d loved to rile him up and annoy him till he’d chase her through the forest and muss her boyish locks in revenge. Now, she gets an even bigger thrill simply seeing him blush like a maiden, because of her.
She must do it more often.
“I like this,” she says, bringing her small hands up to run along the clawlike marks in his leather tunic. “What inspired this break from Baratheon clothing tradition?”
“What inspired yours?” He breathes, bringing his own hands to circle her waist, and pull her even closer. “Who forced you into wearing this?” He grins, gesturing to the garment that hugs her form and fans out from her hips, embroidered with leaves and direwolf motifs all over the sleeves and skirts.
Arya scowls just a little. “Sansa. She made it for me and ordered me to wear it on my journey home. Does my Lord like it?” She asks coyly, scanning his gaze for his reaction.
She needn’t have asked.
His eyes are dark and wanting as they travel over her form, and she suddenly feels so, so warm. Gendry, for his part, makes a mental note to send the Queen in the North a large pile of gold upon his return to Storm’s End.
“You’re always beautiful,” he murmurs, “No matter what you’re wearing. Or when you’re wearing nothing at all.” She presses herself flush against him at that, and he has to shut his eyes to keep his thoughts coherent. “I’m very thankful to your sister right now. Hail Queen Sansa, first of her name. May she make you many more dresses to wear. I’m a grateful man.”
“I’m glad. I have suffered so in this gown. At least one of us is pleased,” she quips, rolling her eyes.
Gendry can’t quite take it anymore, he moves to capture her lips with his own; he needs to taste her once again, needs to breathe in her scent of wildflowers and leather and the spring breeze of the outdoors. He’s just about to close the gap between them when she suddenly wriggles out of his arms.
Oh, Arya has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the utterly woebegone expression that crosses Gendry’s face as she pulls away.
“Arya,” he nearly whimpers in exasperation. He looks so forlorn that she almost loses her resolve, but she steels herself and moves away.
“Spar with me,” She asks breathlessly.
“What?” He blinks down at her, dumbstruck.
“I’ve gone four months without a worthy opponent. No one at Winterfell is good enough to best me, except perhaps Jon. And I managed to throw him on his back just before I left to come here.” She says, just a little smugly.
Gendry quirks a brow at her. “And you think I’m the one who could best you, my Lady? I’m not a soldier, as you know.”
She locks her dark gaze with his own and moves so that they’re mere inches apart, once again. “No,” She says softly, her hands come to cup his cheeks, stroking the rough stubble that grows there, “But you’re a fighter.”
He smiles at the reference, and leans into her touch. Her hands are soft and cool against his burning skin.
“Meet me in the garden courtyard later. The one with the view of the sea. Bring your hammer. But feel free to leave your leather shirt behind, as lovely as it is.” With that, she pulls his face down to her own, kissing him deeply, her sweet mouth hot and wet, melting against him and causing all sense to leak out of his mind.
Their kiss is over far too soon for Gendry’s liking, and she saunters out of the solar. “I’ll be waiting, Milord,” she says, grinning at him over her shoulder, and then she’s gone.
Gendry sighs and stares up at the high, vaulted ceiling. “I’m a dead man,” he chuckles to the empty room.
The sun is high overhead as Tyrion and Jaime stroll past the balconies overlooking the vast palace gardens. There’s a warm breeze coming off the sea, signaling the winter’s end, and the encroaching summer.
It’s enough to put a spring in nearly everyone’s step. After the wars ended and Bran was made King, peace descended upon Westeros, and people everywhere watched with cautious optimism in their hearts as the summer flowers began to bloom and the winter chills slowly faded away.
The charred remains of the Red Keep’s gardens had been replaced with exotic plants from every known part of the world, and were open to all who wished to enter, be they the poorest smallfolk or the King himself. But today, the paths and courtyards criss-crossing the greenery were mostly empty, with the rebuilding efforts taking up most of the city’s free time.
Tyrion pauses to look over a particularly scenic vantage point. “I’d say winter is well and truly over, brother.”
Jaime smirks, and nods. “Strange that the Starks, who never shut up about winter, would be the ones to end it.”
Tyrion chuckles. “I’m not in the least bit complaining.”
Jaime smiles down at his younger brother. “Neither am I.”
The relative quiet is broken then, by clashes of steel and shouts of triumph. Jaime and Tyrion throw each other bewildered glances, before starting off in the direction of the commotion.
“D’you think someone’s trying to break into the Red Keep again?” Tyrion wonders aloud.
“Just another day on the job,” Jaime drawls.
The Lannister brothers turn a corner before skidding to a halt on a landing overlooking a large circular courtyard.
“Well well! It appears our Lady Stark has returned from the North.” Tyrion pants, bending over to catch his breath. “I’m very glad I was informed beforehand of her arrival.” He deadpans. “I do love being in the know of what goes on in this city.”
Jaime squints curiously down into the courtyard. “It also appears she’s challenged her own betrothed to a duel.” His eyes widen at the sight below him.
A panting Arya Stark, brandishing that skinny little sword she refused to part with, circles a much larger - and barechested - Gendry Baratheon, who wields a warhammer and stares his future wife down, trying to calculate her next move.
Tyrion looks upon them with great interest. “It’s like looking at a pair of ghosts,” he says quietly.
Jaime throws his brother a questioning glance. “What d’you mean?”
“Look at them. Really look. Who do they remind you of?”
Jaime turns back to the sparring pair below them. And then it hits him.
“Robert and Lyanna,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how he missed it before, but now the resemblance is jarringly uncanny.
Gendry - broad shouldered and muscular, looks every bit like young Robert once did, with thick black hair that falls into trademark Baratheon blue eyes. He even wields a hammer in the same way his father did, though he’d never laid eyes on the former King, much less seen the way he’d fought.
Arya, with her dark hair falling wildly about her face, the gleam in her grey Stark eyes, and the grace with which she moves as she swerves away from Gendry’s blows with ease reminds Jaime sharply of how the late Lady Lyanna, the wild Northern beauty, had moved on horseback, with her bow and arrows.
Tyrion smiles sadly at the realization on his brother’s face. “They were a match doomed, and Robert began the war that changed the entire continent for his Lady Lyanna. But the future for these two appears much brighter. This Baratheon isn’t at all like his father, and she possesses the foresight her aunt never had. One generation had thousands die fighting in the wars they started, the next helped save many thousands more.” He says, watching them pensively.
Jaime only hums in agreement, still intently observing the pair below. The play-fight between the young couple is getting more intense by the second. Amid the flurry of steel and limbs, they’re clearly taking care not to actually hurt one another, but they’re just as certainly not going easy on each other, either.
Gendry swings his hammer at the girl with all the famed Baratheon strength he inherited from his father, but Arya is far too quick for him, and she laughs at his attempts to disarm her.
“You’re too slow,” she taunts, darting left and pretending to cut him across the belly with Needle. “Dead.” He swipes at her.
Arya dodges his blows again, then smacks her blade harmlessly against the back of his neck. “Dead again, Milord,” she grins up at him.
Gendry circles her, growling in frustration, catching her eye and nearly making her gasp at the raw desire she sees burning in his gaze.
She focuses her attention on the way his raven hair is long enough now to fall across his brow, and watches the play of muscles in his broad chest, slick with sweat, as he draws in rapid breaths and sneaks heated glances at her when he thinks she isn’t looking.
She’s missed him so much.
Her guard falls just long enough to be her downfall, as Gendry seizes her momentary pause to grab Needle from her hands and toss it aside, and proceeds to tackle her onto the painted mosaic floor of the courtyard.
Up on the terrace, Jaime and Tyrion look on in stunned silence. Arya Stark, the Princess that was Promised, the she-wolf who had slayed the Night King, taken down in a mock fight by non other than a former Baratheon bastard.
“What’s got you two so suddenly interested in the gardens?”
The Lannister brothers whirl around to see the new Master of Ships walking curiously toward them.
“His Grace is looking for you both to take lunch with him. Have either of you seen Lord Gendry? I’ve been meaning to ask the lad to come eat meals with me, he’s been looking a little - er - overwhelmed lately.”
Tyrion chortles. “Your lad has just managed to knock Azor Ahai herself to the ground in a duel, Ser Davos. It was quite a thing to see.”
The Onion Knight’s eyes widen in surprise. “So she’s back, then?” He looks down from the edge of the balcony to see Gendry pin Lady Arya beneath his arms. “I guess he won’t be eating with me, now.” He watches them wrestle with a fond, sad smile.
Jaime smirks down at the pair again. “I’m not sure this match is quite over yet.”
Gendry straddles one of her legs and lays an arm across her chest, securing her beneath him so that she can’t move from his grip. He grins cheekily down at her, pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly as black as his hair. “You should’ve stood sideface, M’Lady.”
Arya stares defiantly up at him, before the mask is dropped completely, and she breaks into a giggle. “So I’ve heard.”
The sound of her bubbling laughter is the sweetest music to his ears. “Although I’m not sure how much smaller a target I could get than you,” he murmurs.
Their resounding laughter echoes across the deserted gardens, and while Arya’s got him distracted, she twists her hips and flips Gendry onto his back in a swift, deadly maneuver, her Valyrian steel dagger presses up against his throat in a flash.
Check and mate.
He blinks dazedly up at her, mesmerized by the way she straddles his waist, her triumphant victory gleaming in his she-wolf’s eyes. The sight brings back wonderful memories of that first night, when she’d pushed him atop those sacks of grain and made him lose himself over and over in her.
“I win,” she whispers, breathing hard, and she releases her hold on his wrists to sheath her dagger.
“You’ve won,” Gendry agrees. “Show me how you did that.”
She smirks down at him, crossing her arms over her chest, her legs still wrapped around his hips. “Not before I claim my prize,” she says, and the lilt in her voice makes his heart hammer in his chest. He suddenly remembers how long they’ve been apart. Too damn long.
“And what’s that?” He inquires softly, gazing up at her astride him.
Arya hums, innocently tilting her head and shifting her hips just so against him, and his eyes flutter shut in bliss.
Far above them, the three men watching quickly avert their eyes and turn away in varying degrees of mortification.
Jaime snickers, shaking his head. “That wasn’t a fight we were watching. That was foreplay.”
Tyrion loudly clears his throat. “Well, Ser Davos, you’re welcome to take lunch with us instead, seeing as Lord Gendry is rather occupied at the moment.”
The Onion Knight smiles ruefully down at the King’s Hand as the three of them make their way to the Great Hall. “They grow up too fast.”
Arya flicks her gaze up to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Their adoring fans are gone.
Good, she thinks. Not that she will ever be ashamed to show her love for Gendry, to touch him freely in front of others, but this moment, here in the warm sunlight as the sea breeze ruffles through their hair, belongs to them and them alone.
She trails her hands slowly up over the hard planes of his glistening chest, biting her lip as she admires the sight of him flushed beneath her, in broad daylight.
“I missed you, love.” she admits in his ear, emitting a low gasp when Gendry reaches up to grasp her hips and press her down onto him.
He’s firm and throbbing against her belly, and the blush spreading over Arya’s face does nothing to help calm the fire coursing through his veins.
He tenderly brushes her hair away from her face. “I was afraid you weren’t coming back. That you were going to stay at Winterfell and forget me.”
She smiles softly and leans down to press her forehead against his. “As though I could ever forget you. Not even the House of Black and White could erase you from my memory. And they tried, believe me.”
He trails warm fingers against her cheeks, down to her chin, and guides her mouth to his. “My family, my wife,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her as though he were a man dying of thirst in a desert, and she’s the life-giving oasis that saved him.
Arya brings her fingers up to tangle in his hair. “Not yet,” she reminds him breathlessly between kisses. “A whole three months to go until I meet you in the godswood.”
“Aye, that’s true,” he mumbles, his tongue coaxing her lips apart and swallowing her moans, “but you’re my wife, even so. And you’ve been my only family for years now.”
Because Gendry can’t bring himself to give a shit about the ceremonies. He is hers, and she is his, and they’ve been married ever since she stumbled into his arms after the burning of King’s Landing, as far as he’s concerned.
She pulls away from their kiss to regard him with large eyes. Suddenly, Arya seems much more like a shy doe than the fierce she-wolf he’d been sparring with, and a wave of protectiveness washes over Gendry.
Arya swallows. “I never imagined I’d ever get married. I didn’t want to just be a womb for some stupid old lord to produce sons. So many women have been chained into it by our society, I didn’t want to be one of them. I never thought I’d fall in love, not before I met you.” She pauses.
Gendry nods, kisses her knuckles, and waits for her to continue.
She leans in to brush her lips against his. “You always protected me, you could’ve been a bully like all the rest but you were kind and good. I was just a scared little girl, but you made me feel less alone. You were such a stubborn bull, but you were my best friend in the whole world.” She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears welling up at the memories. “I would’ve died back then, had it not been for you.”
There’s a lump in Gendry’s throat. “Arya,” he breathes, and he surges forward to kiss her more fiercely than ever. “You saved me too, so many times,” he says roughly. “I never would’ve left you on your own, I should’ve listened to your distrust of the Brotherhood. After Davos helped me escape the Red Woman, I tried so hard to find out where you’d gone. A part of me did die that day, when I heard you’d been killed at the Twins. I never forgave myself for my stupidity.”
Arya hugs him close. “I’m here. I have you, now.”
Gendry holds her tight, and he’s never letting her go again. “You have me, now and always.” he promises.
Arya smiles against his mouth, and she pulls away to beam at him. “I need a bath.” She whispers, running her hands down his bare torso. “I’m very sweaty, and tired from my long journey. Help me wash, husband mine?” Her eyes grow large again as she looks at him imploringly.
Gendry moves to stand, but he keeps Arya in place when she tries to climb off him. He grips his hammer and holds his Lady in his arms, and she lets him carry her back to the Red Keep.
Hours later, Arya wakes up to the late afternoon sun streaming through the curtains of the chambers she’d lived in the last time she had been in King’s Landing, when her father was still Hand to King Robert Baratheon, and she and Sansa were still mortal enemies, back when she was still learning water dancing from Syrio Forel. Before her world and family were torn apart by Cersei, before she’d run into Hot Pie and Lommy, before Gendry had come to her aid and asked her where she’d stolen her Needle.
All of it seems like another lifetime ago, like the past few years have been a dream, like she’ll wake up any minute now, in the same bed, and she’ll be 11 again and still have a Father and a Mother, and Robb and Rickon.
Arya turns to her side; the sheets are cool against her bare skin, but she is very warm, thanks to Gendry who is wrapped around her, with his nose buried in her hair as he sleeps on.
Had she been told, years ago when they were still being hunted through the Riverlands by Lannister men, that she would be married to her stubborn Bull, and that she’d be waking up next to him in the Red Keep not as a prisoner waiting to be killed, but as the Princess (however much she loathed that title) of the Six Kingdoms and the North, and that her crippled little brother would be the Sovereign himself, she would have laughed in their face and pushed them into the dirt for spewing out such a nonsensical lie.
That Sansa would be Queen in the North, and love Arya enough to want her little sister to sleep in the same bed as her every night after they reunited, to make up for the years of lost time, the years when sisters become friends.
That she would see her beloved Jon again, her brother for always, no matter whose son he was, and that she’d see him happy at Winterfell, supporting Sansa’s rule as her most trusted advisor.
That Gendry would look at her like she’s his sun-and-stars, with gazes full of awe and love and unending hunger, instead of the grubby little girl he’d spent two years protecting, mussing up her hair and teasing her and perpetually getting on her nerves.
Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.
Gendry shifts in his sleep, and instinctively moves closer to her warmth, securing her fully in the circle of his arms.
Arya leans back, ever so slightly, so that she can get a better view of him. She reaches out to trace a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose, over his rough, stubbled jaw, over his lips, which are still pink from her kisses hours before.
Blue eyes, bluer than the famous Braavosi canals she’d spent so long near, crack open to regard her, and the lips she’s tracing press a gentle kiss to her fingers.
“Hello,” Gendry croaks, and he stretches a little before smiling tiredly down at her. “Did you sleep well?”
Arya flashes him a satisfied grin. “Better than I’ve had in four months.”
She sighs into his mouth when he leans down to capture her lips for perhaps the hundredth time that day, but it still feels as thrilling as the first time. She melts beneath him as he rolls over to gently press her into the sheets.
He’d been feverishly attentive to her during their bath, taking care to wash every inch of her skin and pressing searing kisses all over her. His strong hands had held her hips still as she sat in his lap and washed his hair for him, trying unsuccessfully to deter her sweet, torturous movements above him, but he’d groaned in defeat when Arya reached down between them.
“Wait,” Gendry had hissed when her fingers closed around him to take him inside her. He kissed down the side of her jaw to suckle her earlobe. “Want to take care of you,” he’d mumbled, his warm breath tickling her neck, his fingers reaching between her legs to stroke her slick heat, rubbing lazy circles around her clit and sending tidal waves of sweet pleasure coursing though her.
“Gendry…” she’d tossed her head back in pure bliss as he slipped a calloused finger into her, and then another. The hot coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter as he worked her, and she whimpered against his lips as he stroked against something that made her see stars.
He’d grinned up at her. “Yes, love?”
“Gendry, I want…” she’d panted, “I want…”
He kissed down her throat, curled his fingers inside her, and suddenly the tight coil deep in her belly snapped, and Arya fell over the edge crying out his name.
Gendry laughed softly, holding her quivering body against him, helping her come back down to earth. “That?”
She’d grabbed his chin to kiss the smirk from his lips, and he instantly melted into her mouth.
“You. I want you,” she’d corrected, “I’ve wanted nothing else but the feel of you inside me and your taste on my lips for months, husband.” She admitted sweetly, and he’d never been so damn hard in his life.
He’d flushed at her confession, and gazed up at her in pure adoration. He couldn’t deny her anything, not anymore.
“As M’Lady commands,” Gendry breathed, and made love to her over and over, until they collapsed into bed hours later, utterly spent and sated.
They’re just reacquainting themselves with each other when a low growl rumbles from Arya’s stomach, and they break apart, bursting into laughter.
“And here I was, thinking I’d finally satisfied you,” Gendry sighs, pushing himself off her and holding out a hand to pull her up with him.
“Nonsense. To gratify me in the way you’re insinuating, you’d have to have me like this three times a day, every day,” Arya smiles, her eyes glittering with mirth.
Gendry’s mouth falls open at her words. “Gods, Arya. Don’t tempt me.” His hands come up to trace the scars crossing her belly, the scars he’d spent ages lavishing his attention and his warm lips upon.
She hums in reply, and kisses his cheek before leaping off the bed to pull on her breeches.
He watches her from his perch against the pillows. “What would you like to eat? I’ll go bring whatever you want from the kitchens.”
Arya pauses to pull her tunic over her head. “Thanks, but I think my brother wanted us to take supper with him.”
Gendry nods, and looks out the windows to see the sun starting to sink closer to the edge of the horizon, casting deep orange bands of light over the sea in the distance. “Then we should get going.” He climbs off the bed in search of his discarded clothing.
He manages to find his breeches and his undershirt, but his leather tunic is nowhere in sight. He turns around to find Arya holding it, she's smoothing it out on the bed, running her fingers over the jagged slashes on its shoulders, an immensely soft expression on her face.
Gendry moves so that he’s pressed up behind her, and winds his arms around her middle. “Those weren’t there originally,” he says quietly, and he dips his head to kiss the back of her neck. “I wanted everyone to know I was yours without actually saying it. I think they got the message well enough, because the other Stormlords haven’t brought up marriage proposals ever since.”
Arya turns in his arms to peer up at him with tender eyes. “I should wear something of yours, then. Make it even.” She whispers.
Gendry kisses her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips. “Always trying to one-up me,” he teases, and dodges when she aims a smack at his head.
“You’re getting better at that, I see.”
“M’lady’s a good teacher,” Gendry quips back. He takes her hands in his own. “I’d give you my cloak to keep, but tradition says I must save it until our wedding.” He grins and tilts his head, considering her. “I’ll make you a new hilt for your Valyrian steel dagger. Make it black and yellow, if you like,” he murmurs.
Arya reaches up to plant one more lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.” She smiles, and pulls him by the hands out the door.
Daylight still lingers in the sky outside as Arya pushes open the large oak doors to the Great Hall, a clear sign of winter’s final death. The days during the last few years had steadily declined in length, growing shorter and shorter until the entire world had only a handful of hours in which their candles and lanterns remained unlit.
Until the end of the Long Night, when Arya thrust her dagger deep into the Night King's frozen heart, and destroyed Death himself.
Dawn had returned to shine down upon the world, and the warming rays of the sun brought life and greenery and hope back to Westeros.
Arya and Gendry walk in to find the newly-rebuilt Hall deserted, the long tables empty, save for a few members of the Royal court on the far end. Gendry glances at her, his brows knitting together in confusion. She wordlessly shrugs at him.
“Excuse me Milord, Princess Arya,” (the Princess in question grits her teeth at the title) says a kitchen boy carrying a large platter of fruits and cheese. “His Grace wished to take a private supper out on the upper terrace. He wants you to join him there. Please follow me.”
The kitchen boy leads them up through the castle, up many flights of new stairs, until they reach an unfamiliar landing that faces two intricately carved wooden doors.
Gendry pushes them open to help the kitchen boy pass through, and they find themselves standing on a vast open balcony, high over the rest of the Red Keep, with candles and lanterns glittering everywhere as the sunset turns the sky around them pink.
There’s a single long table in the middle of the terrace, and there Bran is seated, along with Brienne, Podrick, Davos, the Lannister brothers, Samwell Tarly and his Wildling wife Gilly, and (to no one’s great pleasure) Lord Bronn of Highgarden. The young King looks up and smiles at the newcomers.
“Welcome, sister,” he pats the empty seat next to him at the head of the table. “And Lord Gendry,” he nods. “We had a bit of a change in dinner plans, so I sent Terry here to fetch you.”
Arya smiles at her brother, and takes her place beside him, and Gendry seats himself on her other side. Terry the kitchen boy sets down the enormous platter with some difficulty, and for his effort, Arya slips him a large strawberry pastry from a nearby plate. “Thank you.” she tells him kindly, and the young lad blushes furiously at being directly addressed by the Bringer of the Dawn herself, taking the sweet from her with slightly shaking hands, and he all but flees from the room.
Gendry watches the exchange with a fond smile. “You highborns aren’t so bad after all,” he concedes. Arya elbows him in the ribs, and he laughs.
The bright orange-pink of the sinking sun fades to pale purple dusk, and the candlelight casts warm glows all around the table as they all tuck into their food, engaging each other in familiar conversation over the clatter of plates and cutlery.
Halfway through the first course of creamy soup Bran inquires Arya about their sister in the North.
“Is Sansa happy, there?” Bran asks slowly. “I know she didn’t want our family separated.”
“She is,” Arya assures him, “She’s already had Winterfell and Winter Town rebuilt, and she’s overseeing the allocation of lands to the Windlings, with Jon’s help. I think,” she pauses, looking out at the city over the edge of the balcony, “I think this is what she was always meant to be. A Queen. She’s never felt more at home than she does now.”
“She was,” Bran agrees. “I try to check up on her when I’m flying as a raven. She looked happy the last time I saw her, but also a little down. I’m sure it’s because she misses you.”
“She misses you too. She worries for her little brother down South, in what she describes as a rotten nest of vipers.”
Tyrion, who had been listening in ever since their conversation turned to Sansa, now spoke up. “She wasn’t wrong, Lady Arya,” he says with a sad smile, “She’d suffered the most while she was trapped here as my sister’s prisoner. It’s because of this that I, and the rest of us sitting here, are trying our best to rid this capital of those very snakes. We want to do our part to leave that world behind us, and amend for our pasts.”
Arya looks out over the others eating at their table. Once upon a time, she would have felt in danger among them, especially with Jaime Lannister, but so much has happened since then, so much has changed, that she not only feels comfortable sitting here with them, but at peace.
With a pang, she thinks of how scared Sansa must have felt, during those years she was held in this very castle, and what horrors she went through. Arya wishes her sister could see the Red Keep now, under their brother’s rule, and how it’s nearly unrecognizable from those days when it was ruled under tyranny and greed, and the Lannister Queen’s insatiable lust for power.
“Sansa didn’t want me to leave,” Arya whispers, then. Bran gives her a small smile, for he’d known this, too. “She didn’t want me to come back down here, she’d wanted me to stay in Winterfell with her and Jon.”
Gendry puts down his fork, and Arya feels his eyes on her. “I told her, that my family wasn’t just in Winterfell. I needed to come back and watch over you here,” She tells her brother softly, and reaches beneath the table to grip Gendry’s hand. “And I made a promise, to be Lord Baratheon’s wife. I’m his family, too.”
Gendry’s heart swells, and suddenly it’s too big for his chest, and he squeezes her fingers in return.
“We know,” drawls Jaime Lannister nearby. “No one here is in doubt of that. Incidentally, when is the happy day? We’re all dying for a bit of merriment, although this afternoon seemed plenty merry for you two.” His eyes flash with a hint of a smirk over his goblet of wine.
“Were you impressed by our fighting skills that much, Ser Jaime, to watch us for as long as you did?” Arya replies coolly. Jaime’s eyes widen in shock.
Gendry nearly spits out his ale. “He saw us?” He sputters. He hadn’t merely sparred with his Lady in those gardens, they’d also… he flushes at the thought. This gods-damned castle really did have eyes everywhere.
“Oh, it wasn’t just Ser Jaime,” Arya informs him brightly. “I believe Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos were present, too.”
Gendry whips his head around to throw Davos a look that could have roasted him.
The Onion Knight feverishly shakes his head in denial. “No no, my boy, I only happened to stumble upon you two by accident, believe me lad, I had no intention of - “
Arya leans across to place a hand on the old smuggler’s arm. “It’s alright, Ser Davos. Don’t worry about it.” When the anxious expression still doesn’t leave the Knight’s face, she smiles. “Come eat meals with us from now on, Ser. Gendry doesn’t admit it, but he’s missed you these past few weeks.” She’s grown rather fond of the man who had taken such good care of her beloved Jon and her Gendry.
Gendry drops the act at once, and nods at his now-father figure. “It’s true. I’ve been so busy running between here and Stormlands, but I’d be lying if I didn’t miss your company and your considerable wisdom.”
Davos bursts out into laughter, smiling at the best Baratheon he’s ever known, after his little Shireen. “Not sure about the wisdom part, but I’d be glad to provide you with my company and bad jokes for as long as you want.”
“Still, you haven’t told us when your happy day is,” wheedles Jaime, who has since recovered from his shock and has now gone right back to being a thorn in Arya's side.
“In about three months, Ser Jaime.” replies Gendry, looking at Arya. He squeezes her fingers again, her hand so small and warm in his own. “We’ll be married at Winterfell. When’s yours?” He shoots back.
The entire table hides their grins, and even the King himself spoons more stew into his mouth to keep his expression neutral.
Brienne turns pink, and Jaime’s face bypasses it entirely to burn scarlet. Arya decides to rescue them, if only because she loves the tall, blue-eyed Lady Knight across her.
“Sansa would be happy to see you married at Winterfell, too.” She gently tells Brienne. “She misses you a lot. Come North with us when we go.”
The Kingsguard Commander looks over at her King. “If Your Grace will allow, it will be my honor to see Queen Sansa again.” She turns to cast Jaime a shy smile, “and if you have no objection to it,” she says softly.
Arya swears she’s never seen Jaime look at anyone so tenderly. “I will go wherever you go, Ser Brienne,” he says simply. “Anywhere, as long as I get to marry you, and call you mine.”
Brienne blushes as red as Jaime does, unable to keep the joy off her face. Podrick pats her hand beside her. “Your Grace, I will be happy to remain here with the other Kingsguard while Sers Brienne and Jaime go North.” He pipes up.
Brienne swiftly turns to her former squire, now a young and capable Knight whom she loves like a little brother. “But I want you to be there too, Podrick,” she says quietly. “You can’t miss your own commander’s wedding, after all,” she declares, and Podrick beams at her.
Bran waves his assent. “You may come with us to Winterfell in three months’ time. The Grand Maester and our Master of Coin will manage affairs here until our return.”
Samwell nods eagerly. “Worry not, Your Grace, Lord Bronn and I will take care of everything.” He wilts a little then, as Bronn shoots him a withering look.
“Yes yes, you all go ahead and run off to your weddings and your celebrations, we’ll do all your work for you and run the Six Kingdoms in the meanwhile,” drawls the Master of Coin. “At least the North will be paying for these things, Highgarden can’t afford to be doling out gold for parties and funding the realm at the same time.” He grumbles under his breath.
The rest of the conversation fades into jumbled words in Arya’s ears, as she leans back in her seat to watch the twilight blanket the city and the sea in the distance in purple hues, and the stars are beginning to wink into existence far above them. The night air is cool, but the numerous candles provide warmth, and the weight of delicious food in her belly is a welcome feeling after nearly three weeks of riding down the Kingsroad from Winterfell.
Arya blinks slowly, her eyelids becoming heavier by the minute. She’s not sleepy, she will stay awake and alert to pay attention to the very important discussions taking place, she’s a damned Faceless assassin for gods’ sake…
Gendry feels something small and warm press into his side, and he looks down see his wife-to-be leaning against him as though he were a particularly comfortable pillow.
Arya’s pulled from her doze just long enough to register Gendry’s arm wrapping around her. “Shall I take you to bed, M’lady?” He whispers, his breath warm in her ear, his smile clear in his voice.
She hums softly in protest, her eyelids refusing to remain open any longer. “M’ awake,” she mumbles, “M’ just resting my eyes for a while.” A yawn promptly betrays her words.
Little Arya Stark would have never allowed herself to fall asleep in the company of anyone but her family, would rather have died than expose such vulnerability, but she isn’t worried tonight. The people at this table are her pack now, too. The Lannister lions sitting nearby are tame.
This place is no longer the den of venomous snakes where her family had suffered so much. It is a stronghold that protects the ones she loves the most, her old friends and new, and as long as she lives, she will honor her promise to Sandor Clegane. She will choose her family, her life, and give everything she has to ensure their happiness. But for now, Arya Stark will rest.
Gendry presses a kiss to the crown of her head, like her Lord father used to, every night before he tucked her into bed.
During moments like these, she can swear her Father sent Gendry to watch over her in his place.
“Awake. Of course.” Gendry chuckles into her hair. “With your eyes closed. Don’t start snoring on us, M’Lady.” Arya mumbles an incoherent retort, aiming a kick to his shin with all the accuracy of a drunken archer firing arrows into the night, and her leg meets nothing but air.
Gendry now laughs in earnest, the sound reverberates deep in his chest and gently lulls her to sleep, nestled in his arms.
The others at the table smile at the sight, and take care to speak in hushed tones for the rest of the evening.
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