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cienie-isengardu · 4 months

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[MK1] Bi-Han & Kuai Liang. Good brother? Evil brother? Nah, just different reactions to trauma, part 1

Author's note: the first part is not directly focused on Kuai Liang and Bi-Han as characters but at the worldbuilding, our knowledge about Lin Kuei and tradition that shaped Sub-Zero & Scorpion, and Liu Kang's acceptance of things as they are.

Lately it feels like Lin Kuei fandom split into either Bi-Han’s supporters or Kuai Liang’s supporters and the dispute over who is a good brother and who is not is an ongoing issue. This is greatly upsetting because both men have their share of flaws that sometimes fans exaggerate to demonize one or another. For me though, the brotherly conflict is not about who is good and who is bad, not even who is right and who is wrong, but about how two men groomed since childhood to be a living weapon deal with the trauma in totally opposite ways. As in, one is rebelling against the tradition and the other willing to uphold the system.

With Smoke, the adoptive yet no less traumatized brother, stuck in the middle of that.

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang being survivors of a great psychological and physical abuse is the most true for previous timelines, however hear me out - just because Lin Kuei falls now under Liu Kang’s authority it does not automatically erase the possibility of both brothers experiencing things that no child should. To better illustrate my point, let’s take a moment and look at the Empress Sindel and Umgadi system.

Sindel in general is presented as the ruler who does not seek an open conflict with Earthrealm and whom Liu Kang openly admires. As Fire Lord said himself, Sindel was destined to “rule Outworld firmly, but fairly” and it is her rule that brings peace to the otherwise conflicted Outworld

Liu Kang, story mode: Its past has been difficult. Though the last thousand years of Empress Sindel's reign have been a true golden age... the memories of that strife still linger.

and

Sindel's Bio: Her early reign marked the start of a new Golden Age.

That is what the character's Bio and the main story mode outright says or implies about Sindel.

But then intro dialogues bring a different side of the beloved Queen. The people infected by Tarkat illness are exiled, their property confiscated by Sindel’s edict

Kitana: When you became ill, your assets were taken? Baraka: As required by your mother's edict, Princess.

and in result forced to slowly die in poverty far away from healthy citizens. Those who sympathize with suffering infected people and won’t “report them for quarantine” are treated like criminals, as was seen when Li Mei and her men disrupted the Royal Family’s procession while leading arrested and tied up people.

The bad treatment of infected people, according to Mileena and Baraka endings, will improve thanks to the new Empress, who not only reaches a hand to suffering but would go so far to reveal her own illness to reduce social stigma against the sick. Mileena is seen as hot-headed, violent and not the best material for a Queen compared to Sindel, the supposed wise and kind ruler or even compared to her younger sister, Kitana. But it is the brash Empress that would actually make an effort to change her Empire for better.

Similar things can be said about the Umgadi system, which forces Outworld families to give up their first-born daughters for a training that will turn their children into living weapons to uphold the Royal Family’s rule

Liu Kang, story mode: Umgadi, like Tanya, are warrior priestesses... Selected from the first born daughters of Outworld. From infancy, they are trained to defend the royal family."

The daughters in question will never know their biological family or where they were born to ensure their absolute loyalty to the Royal Family, even though not every candidate will finish their training. Once they obtain the title of Umgadi, they can’t marry or be in a relationship, we have no idea if they even are paid anything for their service. So far Li Mei is the only known woman to leave Umgadi, and she did so due to the death of Sindel’s husband for which she was unfairly blamed. And again, the tie-in material implies that the change to Umgadi system will happen because of Mileena, who is willing to reform an organization that is deeply rooted in Edenian tradition, not the “kind and good” Queen Sindel.

So just because a character is set on the Good Guys Side, it does not mean the said character is crystally good with no flaw at all or that breaking up with tradition is inherently evil, because the tradition alone is just a system of beliefs, practices or behaviors established in the past and passed down from one generation to another within a group of people or society and not a determinant of being good or bad.

Now, the important thing - Umgadi and Lin Kuei are very similar organizations. The similarities are especially true for old timeline(s) Lin Kuei, as we have more or less idea how training adepts looked through the ages. However, what we learned through sources about Liu Kang’s version of the clan still brings a lot of parallels to Umgadi - and I think we all can agree that objective speaking, the Umgadi system is very unfair to first-born daughters and benefits only the Royal Family.

Through the story mode and intro dialogues, Liu Kang does not question the nature of the Umgadi system. Quite the opposite, the intro between Geras and Tanya suggests that Umgadi was Liu Kang’s innovation

Geras: The Umgadi was one of Liu Kang’s best innovations. Tanya: My order sprung from his mind?

A man who does not see anything wrong with enrolling little girls into never-ending servitude to the Royal Family, logically thinking, won't question the process of making Lin Kuei warriors nor the nature of their duty.

In previous timelines, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang as children were kidnapped and forced into the life of assassins by their own father (original timeline) or unspecified Lin Kuei member, presumably grandfather (alternative timeline). Their choice was to adapt to this hardship or die and so they survived and both became great warriors on their own. The fandom has been torn about their brotherhood for years, as if Bi-Han was a good brother or not. Personally, I do not think this was even a matter of one brother being inherently good and another inherently evil, as both men are the result of the abusive environment in which they grew up. And I truly can’t stress this enough - Bi-Han and Kuai Liang were survivors of great abuse and pathology more than anything else.

Now, in Liu Kang’s timeline Bi-Han and Kuai Liang were born into a place of power, as both are sons of Grandmaster. Sub-Zero as the oldest was meant to inherit the leadership once his father would pass away, or possibly abdicate. So in theory, Fire Lord improved the living of both brothers. However, the same as the previous, both men weren’t given a choice, as Lin Kuei clan is bound to serve Earthrealm while their existence is kept in secret.

Liu Kang said: “The Lin Kuei is a centuries old clan dedicated to Earthrealm’s defense” while Sub-Zero’s Bio adds “As the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster, Sub-Zero leads his ancient warrior clan in the defense of Earthrealm from external threats. For centuries, it has been their solemn task” and this is the tradition that will define the whole life of Bi-Han and Kuai Liang. Because they, as sons of Grandmaster, were expected to uphold and continue that service.

We do not have a full picture of how Lin Kuei daily life or training looks like in Liu Kang’s timeline, but the sources give some idea. And so we have an examples from story mode

Scorpion to Kung Lao: We're trained differently. It takes years to master our ways."

and intro dialogues

Sub Zero: The Lin Kuei are trained from childhood.

confirming both brothers were prepared for their role as Earthrealm Defenders (Liu Kang’s Special Forces) since they were children. Scorpion’s words alone brings another vital clue, as “trained differently” is what distinguishes both brothers from Liu Kang’s chosen Champions. We could see a glimpse of that during the Lin Kuei mission in Ying Fortress, as both Sub-Zero and Scorpion did not hesitate to kill their enemy and Kuai Liang’s “fit of rage” illustrates well how brutal Lin Kuei can be in a fight.

As story mode and intro dialogues point out, Lin Kuei weren’t trained for the glorious yet honorable Mortal Kombat Tournament, as members of this clan have never been chosen to represent Earthrealm

Kitana: Why are Lin Kuei never Earthrealm champions? Sub-Zero: So that Outworld doesn't lose every tournament.

but they were trained to eliminate any threat to Earthrealm’s safety, be it by killing or capturing those whose activity concerned Liu Kang. As could be seen with the Lin Kuei brothers mission to capture Shang Tsung.

Intro dialogue Sub-Zero vs Reiko adds another detail about process of making Lin Kuei warriors:

Sub-Zero: To kill, one must be cold-blooded. Reiko: My veins are as iced as yours, Sub-Zero.

Thus we may assume Lin Kuei training was not just about a physical aspect but psychological one as well. Both brothers were prepared from childhood to kill - while that was never demanded from Earthrealm Champions. In story mode Liu Kang said:

“No tournament participant has ever been grievously injured or killed."

and

“I would never send my champions unwittingly into mortal kombat."

so I assume the reason Liu Kang send his Champions to search for Shang Tsung was A) threat of the sorcerer that wasn’t supposed to learn magic in the first place and B) they were in Outworld, so he couldn’t call for Lin Kuei without Sindel’s knowledge.

Another detail about Lin Kuei comes from Scorpion vs Nitara intro dialogue

Nitara: Had you ever known hunger, you wouldn't judge us. Scorpion: I have, and I will.

and though we don’t have an idea if Kuai Liang was forced to endure hunger due to training - as happened in old version of Lin Kuei according to Mortal Kombat novel by Jeff Rovin:

Many young people died during training: some could not hold their breath for five minutes and drowned, others weren’t fast enough to avoid the weapons of the masters, some starved or froze or dehydrated when they were stranded, naked, in deserts or on mountaintops and told to make their way home. But those who survived were the Lin Kuei.

Or was that a reference to economic problems of Scorpion’s clan, which at some point faced so great famine that it touched even the son(s) of the ruling family. Whatever the case, it gives us a sense of hardship endured by Lin Kuei members.

This leads us to another detail - father’s teaching (tradition) mentioned by Kuai Liang and Tomas through the story mode:

Kuai Liang: Glory? We fight for duty.

and

Tomas: Our clan doesn't govern. It serves.

while intro dialogues adds

Raiden: The Lin Kuei won't be allowed to govern. Sub-Zero: We will not be frozen out, Raiden.

Furthermore it is important to note that every Liu Kang’s Champion had their own life outside the fighting - Johnny was an actor, Kung Lao and Raiden were farmers, Kenshi was Yakuza on path to redemption and saving his clan. Lin Kuei? Not so much, as Bi-Han’s Bio points out Sub-Zero leads his ancient warrior clan in the defense of Earthrealm from external threats. For centuries, it has been their solemn task.

After the Tournament, the Champions easily will return to their life - in the case of Johnny, benefit greatly by making his own movies based on the events, while the Lin Kuei would come back to the never ending training in preparation to defend Earthrealm and repeating the cycle by pushing their children into the same service. And it would go like that for generations, if not for the Titan Shang Tsung’s meddling that interrupted the “natural” order of things.

Let’s establish another thing - namely Lin Kuei duty in recent centuries.

Sub-Zero’s Bio suggest the Earthrealm hasn’t be threatened in generations:

But Earthrealm hasn’t been threatened in generations, and Sub-Zero sees no point in limiting his clan to preparing for dangers that may never come. Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei will come out of the shadows and fight for its place as one of Earthrealm’s great nations.

This lack of need to dispatch Lin Kuei to eliminate threat is supported by intro dialogues:

Reptile: The battle against the sorcerers was your first real fight. Smoke: It was a baptism by fire, Syzoth.

and

Kenshi: How is it you haven't been to Outworld? Scorpion: Earthrealm's defense has never required it.

However Bi-Han alone suggest something else:

Story mode: After years of idleness, it pleases me to again face kombat."

And so do the information about their mother:

Sindel: Both your parents were excellent fighters. Scorpion: I can only hope to live up to their example.

Sindel in another intro says, she knew the previous Grandmaster

Sindel: I knew your father. He was a great man. Sub-Zero: Yet he never understood the Lin Kuei's potential.

So I think it is safe to assume Sindel was familiar enough with Bi-Han and Kuai Liang’s mother to praise her skills and is not just praising her out of politeness. But the thing is, Kitana’s intro confirms the Lin Kuei warriors weren’t chosen for the Mortal Kombat Tournament, so how did Sindel know if their mother was an excellent fighter? That to me suggests she either witnessed it outside the Tournament or it was reported to her and the latter may imply Bi-Han’s mother took part in eliminating the threat on Liu Kang’s order, maybe even in Outworld. We know from source material that Outworlders do not tolerate Earthrealm’s unauthorized activity on their land. However in the story mode alone, Sindel herself admitted that Liu Kang’s “interventions have kept Outworld at peace for centuries”

while the vast tie-in material agrees that Sindel’s Court is full of intrigues and dangers - both to the Queen and her daughters. So, if Liu Kang is a close friend of King Jerrod and Queen Sindel, it doesn’t feel that far stretched to think Lin Kuei could be dispatched to ensure the Royal Family's - and in greater perspective - Earthrealm’s safety.

Now, if there was no need for Lin Kuei service in the latest generations, why a woman

considered to be an excellent fighter - thus presumably in great shape

who also happens to be wife of Grandmaster - thus presumably having access to the best medical care the clan could offer

died in some unspecified time before main story happened? That doesn’t sound like a natural death, as Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are what? In their 30s at the worst? Which gives the chance she was a middle-aged woman, not an old person who dies out of age. The Grandmaster alone, also an excellent fighter, died in an accident, though story mode does not tell us what kind of accident it was supposed to be. Did it happen on a hunting trip? During mission on Liu Kang’s order?

So again, for a supposedly peaceful time, it seems like Kuai Liang and Tomas are those who did not have much part in Lin Kuei activity - in contrast to Bi-Han and presumably their parents.

Going further, the sources claims Lin Kuei clan is dedicated to defend Earthrealm from external threats, and indeed Lin Kuei warriors fought against vampires (Nitara’s people)

Bi-Han, story mode: As a boy I heard tales of battles against your kind. I had thought them tall ones.

and apparently their might is know in Outworld

General Shao: Finally, the chance to test the Lin Kuei's mettle. Sub-Zero: It will end with your humiliation.

However Lin Kuei apparently took part in solving the internal problems too, if Sub-Zero vs Kenshi dialogue is something to go by:

Kenshi: My ancestors say they've tangled with yours. Sub-Zero: Has it occurred to you to ask them why?

For a quick summary, through the sources, we learn that Lin Kuei:

were meant to serve, not govern

trained from childhood not just to be an excellent fighters but to be capable of killing

do not have a life outside their duty the way Earthrealm Champions do

endured hardship (hunger)

each generation is trained to perform their duty

and presumably, even in supposedly peaceful times, the fighters may not survive to an old age nor die in a natural way (the fate of mother and Grandmaster).

So I think that objectively speaking, we can agree that Lin Kuei does not benefit much from its service to Earthrealm, while Liu Kang got an excellent Special Forces that kept Earthrealm safe for centuries.

[Next part] Bi-Han and Kuai Liang and how Lin Kuei training affected who they are.

#mortal kombat #lin kuei #kuai liang #bi han #sub zero #scorpion #liu kang #sindel #umgadi #sorry for the introduction to worldbuilding through sindel and umgadi but this is the best example #why characters being on good side shouldn't mean they have never wronged others #and why being a lin kuei is not an easy thing #even in liu kang's timeline

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iturbide · 11 months

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*reads tags on the last post*

...ok but now I'm actually curious about your issues with TOTK👀

okay so to be per, fectly clear: Tears of the Kingdom is a really fun game. I've been playing a lot of it, aimlessly wandering around, exploring the Depths, finding shrines, doing side quests, and so on. At this point I've cleared the four regional quests, a bonus mainline quest I wasn't supposed to know about yet I found the shrine early and had enough hearts to open the door, what can I say, I'm curious, I have the Master Sword, and I think most of what's left is armor upgrades and wrapping up the main story.

But also I have been spoiled since the game came out about what's in store and boy do I see a lot of similar narrative issues to my gripes with Fire Emblem.

So we might as well start off small with how TotK actively rewrites its history in ways that are even more extreme than Skyward Sword. Skyward Sword introduced Hylia and Demise as concepts, with Hylia inheriting the Triforce from the Golden Goddesses of Din, Nayru, and Farore and tasked with protecting it, while Demise appeared as a demonic entity intent on taking that power for himself. As of Skyward Sword, Zelda was written as the mortal reincarnation of Hylia, thereby retroactively contextualizing her powers. The Triforce has been a power source sought after and fought over through every prior entry in the series, and even though BotW didn't make outright reference to it, the Triforce was clearly present on Zelda's hand when her powers awakened and appeared in full when she sealed Calamity Ganon at the end of the game.

And Tears of the Kingdom does away with it completely.

Hylia is mentioned as the only goddess. The Golden Goddesses aren't referred to at all. There is no Triforce at all, it's instead been replaced by the Zonai 'Secret Stones' even in the ancient past, despite the fact that we saw the Triforce at the end of the last game. It was right there. Zelda is also no longer the reincarnation of the goddess: instead her powers are re-explained as being the product of the historic marriage between the Zonai Sage of Light and the Hylian Sage of Time, giving her command over both (but she's considered only the Sage of Time for some reason?).

Also, BotW pretty heavily implied that Hyrule was a matriarchy: it's the queens and princesses who have the sacred power, so it stands to reason that Zelda's mother was actually the one in charge of Hyrule before her death, and the king only stepped into the leadership role on a temporary basis until Zelda came into her powers (hence that pointed "heir to a throne of nothing but failure" remark in one of the memories). But despite there being a Hylian queen right there in the ancient past, the game firmly establishes that Rauru is the one with the power, and Sonia is just his consort, a priestess who he chose to marry.

And then there's the Shiekah. Throughout all of BotW we were surrounded by these amazing machines, ancient technology crafted by the Shiekah and unearthed in working condition after a myriad in the ground which are still running and wreaking havoc a hundred years after the Calamity. We start the game in a Shiekah Shrine that literally saved Link's life and allowed him to recover from what should have been fatal wounds, though it did take a hundred years to do so.

And all of that is gone in TotK. Not a trace of it remains: the shrines have all been wiped from the face of the earth, the Divine Beasts are nowhere to be found, the Shiekah Towers have evaporated into thin air -- and the shrine that saved our lives is completely gone, replaced by a hot spring. It still bears the name of the Shrine of Awakening, but none of the miraculous technology remains.

Personally, the idea that either Purah or Zelda would consider the Skyview Towers worthy of dismantling that Shrine completely shatters my suspension of disbelief. They're both scientists: they should want to study all of that in detail to understand how it works, not destroy it for glitchy impersonations of the old towers I hate the Skyview Tower miniquests so much.

(Let me tell you, it was absolutely chilling for me to get to Rito Village and see an empty place where I clearly remembered there being a shrine. The Shiekah presence in history has basically been wiped out in TotK outside of Kakariko Village, and I don't like what that says considering that the Shiekah were also victims of a genocide by the ancient king of Hyrule.)

And then there's the imperialism. I have my issues with Three Houses and every ending needing Fodlan to be united under a single banner, though it's most egregious in CF where Edelgard's stated purpose is returning Fodlan to its proper state unified under the Imperial Standard. TotK is worse. There have been some excellent breakdowns of the narrative implications, touching on everything from the loaded imagery and black-and-white narrative purpose of Ganondorf and the Gerudo (dark-skinned evil desert dwellers who oppose the good and glorious worshipers of the goddess...where have I heard that before...) to the game showing outright that the other races of Hyrule were treated as lesser vassals in the ancient past (the Sages being masked and therefore erasing their individual identities, receiving the Secret Stones that Rauru had been hoarding only when Rauru needed help to fight Ganondorf and thereupon swearing their very lives and the lives of their people to him and his empire???). They're great analyses, they've been living in my brain for weeks.

But I think the thing that I'm most mad about is that the narrative bends over backwards to keep anything from changing. At the start of the game, Link's arm is so badly damaged by the Gloom that he nearly dies and he spends the rest of the game with Rauru's arm in place of his own...but then, in the end, he magically gets his original arm back no worse for the wear. Zelda, in an attempt to empower and restore the Master Sword, turns herself into a dragon, a process that we are told outright in the narrative will cause her to lose herself and is therefore irreversible...but then, in the end, she magically returns to her human form thanks to her ghost ancestors somehow reversing this supposedly irreversible process. And on top of all that, Hyrule itself is exactly the same when all is said and done: there's no change to the power structures, no independence for the other races who choose to come together in the spirit of cooperation like we saw at Tarrey Town -- instead, the four Sages once again swear their support and fealty to the Princess of Hyrule.

Personally? I like a narrative where the characters and the world change over the course of it. That's one of the things that I thought was so meaningful about BotW: while most of the gameplay takes place in the present, the true start of the game is 100 years in the past, allowing us to see how the Calamity affected Hyrule, the devastation it wrought and the continued struggles of those who survived through the century that followed. We end the game with Zelda once more free, where she had been locked in combat with the Calamity; with the spirits of the Champions at peace, where they had been trapped by the Blight within the Divine Beasts; and with Hyrule finally at peace and beginning to recover now that the Calamity has been sealed away. I still think it's ridiculous that they don't actually show any of Link's scars in the game (especially since we are at one point forced to strip to prove that we are who we say we are, and they say point blank I would recognize those scars anywhere when there are no fucking scars), but at least things have changed over the course of the narrative!

But nothing changes in TotK. The status quo remains untouched and unquestioned. And it just feels...bad to me. Insincere, maybe. Unrealistic, sterilized, manufactured. It's a narrative that says there's nothing to question, that everything going back to the way it always was is the right and proper way of things, because clearly the Hyrule Empire is the right and proper rule. And I just don't like that.

#answered #unsuspecting-person #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #totk critical #i see a lot of familiar narrative beats in totk #that i have also seen in fire emblem #narrative beats that make me super uncomfortable #and for as fun as the game is to play #there's stuff about this story that really unsettles me #but also: i hate the zonai devices and i hate the building #i didn't even use a damn horse through most of botw #i continue to not use a horse through totk #i walk everywhere on foot and enjoy the scenery #i build only when i have no other choice #it's a pain in the ass and i get no joy out of it #that's very much a me problem though #i have the same issues trying to play minecraft

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houseofhurricane · 2 years

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Rules for Spies: Chapter One

Summary: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more.

Chapter Word Count: 5,246

Warnings: No warnings for this chapter, but this fic includes mature consensual sexual situations, references to past assault, and torture.

Art & Banner: cosmikla

All chapters are available on Archive of Our Own. All previous chapters linked here.

“I think you should include Gwyn on this mission,” Rhys says, and Azriel has to work to keep his composure.

“Gwyn isn’t a spy.” He thumps his finger on the map, over Koschei’s lake. For the past four hours, the two of them have been discussing everything they know about the death-lord on the continent. His new alliance with Beron, only discovered through careful maneuvering between Eris and Rhys. What this partnership might mean to their fragile peace, the treaty with its endless revisions, still unsigned.

Cassian had left after the first two hours when it became evident that, for the moment, there was no threat of open battle, no need to raise an army. Azriel had been disappointed to lose the buffer between himself and Rhys but tried not to let it show, attempting to keep his focus on the strategy, the interweaving of the facts, the ways they might gain more knowledge and act.

He’s trying to put what happened last Solstice behind him, the summons away from Elain and the subsequent dressing down, and has mostly succeeded. He’s excised Elain from his life as requested and has firmly tamped down any lingering frustration towards Rhys. And it’s been easier than he would’ve anticipated, even when Elain no longer looked at him too long, even with the recent evidence that she has moved on. Still, his shadows have clustered tight around him for the duration of this meeting, their darkness almost tangible.

For a second, reaching for a more delicate yet comprehensive way to tell Rhys that his plan is awful, Azriel thinks of Gwyn, the way she looks in the training ring, her large teal eyes focused on her target, and something constricts inside him, thinking of her transposition into his typical environment. The blood and the horror which he moves through too easily.

“She’s a trained warrior. A Carynthian, like you.” Rhys’ face is too innocent. He’s plotting something. Not knowing the specifics makes Azriel want to gnash his teeth.

“Did she ask you for such an assignment?”

“I had a meeting with Clotho yesterday, and she suggested that Gwyn might be ready to leave the library.”

“There are a thousand less dangerous projects. To be a spy--”

Rhys holds up his hand.

“You’re the spymaster, brother, but my understanding is that a spy is often successful when they’re unexpected. After all, we can’t all rely on our shadows.”

“There are still many other options.”

Rhys looks down at the map between them, circles his fingertip around the Autumn Court. Azriel has had to pull his spies twice since Hybern, even hovered as close to the Forest House as he dared while sending his own shadows, and still the secrets of that place elude him. He’s not used to operating so blindly, and Rhys knows it as calls out the fact with a gesture.

“There are rumours that a child in Sangravah had sirenic powers.”

“How did you hear about it?” Rhys was Under the Mountain when Gwyn was born.

“You’d be amazed by what shows up in temple records. Especially when the priestess writing them was fond of airing all her thoughts on the daily goings-on. You might also be surprised by what I end up reading when Nyx refuses to sleep.”

What his brother doesn’t say is that the garrulous priestess had been killed by Hybern soldiers before either Azriel or Rhys arrived at the temple. There are so many awful histories that lurk behind their offhand comments.

“And you think Gwyn was that child?”

“This power is most common in nymphs. She and her sister were the only two with the likely heritage.”

“Sirenic powers require careful training,” he says, but the words are only a stop-gap and Rhys knows it, too. If Gwyn has managed at the library for more than three years without turning the other priestesses into her minions, she keeps her power on a tight leash. If she is in fact the one with the sirenic powers. If they didn’t didn’t die with her sister, or one of the other victims at the temple.

And if there was a person in this court with those powers, able to control them, it would undoubtedly expand their knowledge. He could likely stop wielding Truth-Teller in the dark recesses of the Court of Nightmares.

Rhys says nothing, but Azriel knows that his brother, after their five centuries of friendship, can read even the scraps of thoughts he allows on his face.

“I’ll speak with her,” he says, turning back to the map.

If there is an alternative, one that doesn’t put an innocent in danger, Azriel will try and find it before morning.

Gwyn still has forty-eight minutes left before she can return to the library. For the past month, Clotho has gently encouraged her to take short walks through Velaris, to reacquaint herself with the outside world. I think you’re ready, Gwyneth, she’d written on her slate, and Gwyn had been unable to keep from blushing at the encouragement. Clotho has seen where she started, knew every day when Gwyn felt unable to rise from her bed or to speak.

But each minute on the street leaves her anxious, looking over her shoulder at the sound of every footstep, nervous after every extended silence. She’d been making progress with occasional visits outside the library, but after the Blood Rite, Gwyn’s old fears had returned. Though she’d survived, ostensibly triumphant, she’d seen what could happen when she left the library, her little cell in the dormitory.

Still, she’s trying to get better, to become more brave. Nesta had offered to walk with her but Gwyn smiled and said no, tried to make it sound as if the outings would not be too difficult. Nesta cannot shield her from everything, as much as her friend would be more than willing to try.

Now she wanders Velaris, taking note of every faerie she passes, trying to will herself to keep a little smile on her face even while she pulls her coat tight around herself against the winter wind, as if the thick wool could be a substitute for armor. She hums under her breath, careful with the notes she chooses, making sure they are ordinary, a comfort only to herself.

She is meeting Emerie as soon as she returns to the library. Her friend will know if she’s missing. And it’s very possible that nothing bad will happen and they will spend an hour talking about Emerie’s visit to the healer Madja recommended, the one who might be able to restore function to her wings.

Gwyn is imagining this visit, the new jasmine tea and research findings she’ll offer Emerie, when she finds herself in front of a bookstore. In the past few weeks, she’s passed by tempting shops filled with jewels and clothing, and restaurants that beckon with delicious aromas, but the overfilled stacks of books make it impossible for Gwyn to continue on the street.

She drags her fingertips along the glossy spines, breathes the smell of new paper and fresh bindings deep into her lungs.

There are books of all kinds, maps of the world and dense political histories, but Gwyn heads straight for the romances that are tucked into the back corner of the shop. Her savings from her library stipend are not insignificant, and Gwyn decides she’ll treat herself to a stack of novels. She’d never tell Nesta or Emerie, let alone the House of Wind, but she’s getting a little bored of Sellyn Drake. What Gwyn loves in a romance is tension, the moment before a kiss, when everything in the world seems suffused with longing. She enjoys the smuttier portions, too, but not the way Drake’s novels rush to the bedroom, as if the sex is the only point.

Thankfully it turns out that there are quite a few excellent romance novelists in Prythian, and Gwyn is adding a third book to her stack when she hears a low voice call her name.

She knows that rumbling tone deep in her bones, and hopes she doesn’t turn an embarrassing shade of pink as she lifts a hand to acknowledge Azriel.

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” she says, as he walks towards her. His steps are silent, like he doesn’t walk on the same ground as everyone else.

“I was looking for you. Clotho suggested you might be here, or at Muriel’s.”

Gwyn had visited the tea shop yesterday, and her mind had cast about wildly as she sipped her tea. She’d left Muriel a stack of coins on the table before she’d fled. Sometimes her progress towards the outside world seems frighteningly slow.

The silence has gone thick and awkward between them, so Gwyn raises her eyebrows.

“Why are you looking for me, shadowsinger?”

The shadows swirl around him, making a sound like a distant whisper. Gwyn always wonders if she’s imagining it.

“We can speak after you’ve finished here.” His mouth curves into the hint of a smile, pleasant and perhaps a bit amused. “I could use a few new books.”

It’s only when he’s left, walking towards the political histories, that Gwyn realizes what’s on the covers behind her: shirtless males studded with muscle, swooning females, couples in the midst of an embrace. Not exactly the way she wanted Azriel to spot her.

Still, she collects herself enough to assemble a stack of seven volumes, and is just walking to the counter where the bookseller awaits when Azriel intercepts her, takes her books and two thick tomes of his own to the register.

“I can’t imagine your stipend is very generous,” he says softly as she opens her mouth to object. “And I’m about to ask you for a favor.”

Gwyn considers insisting, because her stipend is, in fact, quite ample, but then, she likes the idea of Azriel buying her books.

It’s a new thing, her interest in him, and though it’s unsettled her at times over the past few months, the feeling isn’t unwelcome. Not when she catches his eye in training and they share a reaction to something Cassian said or when he smiles at one of her own small triumphs, and certainly not now, when he hands her a hefty paper bag filled with new romances. Not when she thought she might never desire a male again, after the Hybern soldiers attacked.

“What’s this favor?” she asks, as soon as they’re on the street, his shadows darting away from him, perhaps to scan the area nearby for danger.

“Rhys asked me to include you on a mission.”

Gwyn knows that whatever this entails, she will end up dirty or bloodied or sore, and still she can’t help the grin on her face. That she could be of use in this world, to the people who rescued her and gave her a home.

“That’s amazing.”

He frowns, and despite the sunlight, his shadows cluster toward him.

“You haven’t asked what the mission entails.”

“I didn’t think you’d tell me in the middle of the street,” she says, aware that she hasn’t stopped smiling. “Anyway, what’s all this training for if I’m never going to use it?”

“Surviving, for one thing.” He doesn’t look quite as somber when he says it, and Gwyn considers that a victory, the way the hint of a smile plays on his lips, makes the perfect angles of his face come to life.

“I’ve nearly mastered that part. What’s next?”

Azriel stops walking for a moment and turns to her. Gwyn expects him to say something, probably too serious by far for the joy that rises in her at the appearance of this opportunity.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I don’t want to live my whole life in the library.”

She can feel the song of her power rising in her. It’s always a temptation when she wants something. Because she could convince him, if she wanted, that she would be excellently suited to this mission, whatever it is. She could erase every doubt from his mind. She’d only need to find the correct notes.

Instead she tamps her magic down inside her, and raises her chin a little as she meets his hazel eyes, flecked with gold in the late autumn sunlight. He knows she’s a survivor, a Valkyrie and a Carynthian, too. He’s watched every step and drop of sweat and panting breath that went into her victories. That should be enough.

Finally, he nods.

“Can you always leave the library at this time?”

She resists the urge to rejoice at the tacit acceptance. It’s very likely that a Valkyrie doesn’t dance in the streets when she’s asked on her first mission.

“Clotho and Merrill will allow it,” she says instead, crossing her arms over her chest to shield against the wind. “Where will we meet?”

“Can you make it to the Rainbow? Feyre has a studio and it will be unused at that time. The walls are warded thick.”

“I’d expect nothing less of the High Lady. The walk takes nearly an hour, though,” Gwyn says, although perhaps she’s wrong. She’s never been to that part of Velaris. She’s barely seen the city. “But I can find a way.”

“I can fly you, if that would be all right.”

She thinks of being pressed against Azriel’s body, held tight against the wind as he flies across the city, and she feels her cheeks heat.

“That would be fine,” she says.

“You’re certain?”

“About flying, or the mission?”

“There are other ways to leave the library. You could write a book,” he says, tilting his chin towards the bag that dangles from her fingers, a smile raising his lips. “Clotho says you’re an excellent researcher. And Nesta has said you’re quite the writer.”

She hums, trying to gather her thoughts, and sees the shadows shift around Azriel. As if they’re watching her.

“I could do those things, and I like them. But this -- I just think that if I could help people, the way you and Cassian and Morrigan and the High Lord do, that would make me feel…” She does not want to say, would never mean, that all of this was worth it. She would give anything to have Catrin in this world. But if she could make good on the fact that she is still alive, that would mean something. “It would make me feel useful. Like all this training wasn’t just for myself.”

Now when she meets his eye, it’s like those moments when they glance at each other during training, when they’re in perfect agreement for an extended, shining moment.

Azriel extends his hand, his Siphon gleaming cobalt and his fingers bare even in this cold, the scars an intricate mark of whatever he himself has survived.

“Welcome to the mission, Gwyn,” he says, and she wants to savor it, the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers, his long fingers brushing her wrist. The approval she sees in those lovely eyes. She could swear she sees one of his shadows make its way up her arm.

When she starts for the library, she assumes that he’ll go his own way, off to whatever his afternoon contains, but instead he walks with her, offering to carry her bag of books. It’s only a courtesy, the same as she’d do for Nesta or Emerie, but she likes it anyway.

She asks about his selections, teasing him about the size and age of the tomes, and he tells her that political histories are often very useful in his line of work. How the allegiances and battles of centuries ago seem very recent to certain minds.

“So you’re saying you enjoy old court gossip.”

“It’s history,” he says, and she’s delighted at the hint of sheepishness that’s crept into his voice.

“Only if an esteemed scholar writes it.”

The ensuing debate takes them all the way to the library, Azriel telling her about one of his first missions and how old Prythian histories had helped him find a particularly nasty being that wreaked havoc on the border between the Night and Day Courts, and Gwyn pointing out that the old rivalry between two ancient High Lords he mentioned was practically fodder for a romance novel, even before you considered the bride they’d both offered for.

Azriel is actually laughing when they walk up to the library doors, which is of course the moment that Emerie arrives and sees him hand her the bag that’s heavy with her books. He greets her and says goodbye to both of them the same as he does when their morning training sessions end, but Gwyn can tell from Emerie’s face that her friend isn’t going to drop the subject.

Not after Gwyn finally confessed her insignificant little crush.

Gwyn only regrets for a second that she didn’t have the chance to invite him in, didn’t find some way to continue the conversation, before she pulls Emerie into the library.

“Tell me about your appointment,” she says as they walk to the dormitory kitchen.

To her credit, Emerie makes it through five minutes talking about the healer before she holds her hand up.

“You’re not going to make me talk about the travesty that is getting my wings fixed without telling me what all of that was.”

“I ran into Azriel at a bookshop,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. She wants to tell Emerie about the mission, knows she can’t, at least not yet. And her time with Azriel is something that Gwyn needs a little while to consider for herself. Even though, in the end, all it means is a real use for all that training.

“Please say he bought you that lovely stack.” Emerie has already started going through the titles, nodding with approval as she scans the first few pages. “I’ll send your story to Sellyn Drake.”

“There wouldn’t be nearly enough smut for Sellyn,” she says, fussing with the tea things. “Tell me about the rest of your appointment, Em.”

“Anahit thinks she can actually repair my wings,” Emerie says, setting the books back in the bag. “She’d have to magically duplicate the tendons in my ankles and graft them onto my wings, and it would be lying in bed for weeks while the graft takes, but I think I could find someone to mind the shop if I wanted.”

“Nesta and I would help.” Gwyn reaches out and squeezes her friend’s hand. “We’d do anything you needed.”

“I know you’re serious when you offer to leave the library for more than an hour. But I don’t know if it will work.”

“What if you could fly, though?”

In spite of the fear that still lingers in her deep brown eyes, Emerie’s smile is bright, and as she lays out the rest of the procedure, what it would entail if she were to go through it, Gwyn begins to wonder what it might be, to have this conversation in another place in the world. What it would be like to live outside the library. To know every part of the Rainbow and every corner of Prythian. To go on missions and be useful.

In spite of everything she said to Azriel earlier, the idea is frightening. Still, as she and Emerie contemplate the possibility of flight, Gwyn can’t stop thinking about it.

When Gwyn meets him outside the library, she’s changed out of her robes into pants and boots and a sky blue sweater that peeks out from under the thick teal wool of her coat. He has to tell himself not to let his eyes fall from her face to the long legs revealed by her camel trousers, lithe and curved with the muscles she’s built in training. He likes Gwyn and finds her lovely, but today she’s captivating in a new way, bright and inviting, and it’s hard to keep from staring.

“Nesta loaned me these,” she says, noticing his appraisal. “I thought the robes might be too noticeable.”

“Good instincts,” he says, careful not to hold her gaze too long. He doesn’t want to frighten her, or make her think there is more to this than the meeting they agreed on, but he also has a hard time looking away from the excitement in her teal eyes, the smile her full pink lips are trying unsuccessfully to contain. As if he isn’t about to lay out a brutal mission.

She steps closer to him and gives a little nod, and he scoops her up in his arms, careful to notice whether she flinches from his touch or goes rigid as the city falls away beneath them.

Instead, he watches her angle her chin so that she can take in the view, feels in his arms only the alert perception that he sees when Gwyn is focused in the middle of a training session. It occurs to Azriel that she has no idea what Velaris looks like from above, that she’s never seen it before.

He starts pointing out landmarks to her as they pass down below, and he takes a more circuitous route, through the market district and past the theaters and museums, following the curve of the Sidra that bisects the city. She asks questions that reveal she’s studied the city’s history, but knows nothing that’s happened in Velaris in the last hundred years.

“You could be a creature from a legend, rising after a century-long slumber, ” he jokes, and is unreasonably gratified when she snorts loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“I thought tour guides were supposed to supply more information than teasing.”

“Consider this a preview before the real tour.”

The words slip out before he thinks them through sufficiently. He shouldn’t make these kinds of promises, especially given what he’s about to ask of her. He’s beginning to realize that it’s too easy to say whatever he thinks in Gwyn’s presence, to get too comfortable, and now, when he tries to pinpoint it, he’s not sure when it started, when he started seeking her out during training or thinking, just for seconds at a time, of her bright smile.

Azriel had planned to take a winding path above the Rainbow but instead he aims them right at Feyre’s studio. When they land, Gwyn cranes her neck to take in the neighborhood, and he can’t look away from the smile on her face, taking in the shops and studios for the first time.

“I see why Clotho wanted me to explore the city,” she says, and Azriel thinks, sadly, that this is not exactly correct. As far as he knows, Clotho has never seen Velaris beyond what she can glimpse from the window.

When she’s gotten a good view, and his shadows have determined there are no suspicious eyes or ears on them, he ghosts his fingers over the center of Gwyn’s back, steers her toward the door and up the stairs, to the small sitting room where Feyre and the other teachers relax between lessons. On the low table between the circled couches and chairs, there’s a cardboard box with his name written on it, in Feyre’s handwriting.

He can smell the chocolate cake and fruit tarts inside without even opening the box. Trust his High Lady to turn a mission briefing into something cozier.

“Do you often meet with other spies here?” Gwyn asks, and he can tell that there’s a little strain in her voice. If he were Cassian, he’d call it jealousy.

“I think Feyre wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” he says, opening the box and pushing it towards her. “I normally don’t provide my spies or contacts with refreshments.”

“Please tell the High Lady that I’m grateful.” Gwyn’s cheeks are pink as she selects a fruit tart, pops a strawberry into her mouth. Her tongue catches a drop of custard left on her bottom lip and he forces himself to look away.

It’s safe, his shadows whisper, clustering around him with their report, no eyes or ears except the ones you want.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about the mission?” Gwyn asks. She’s already eaten half the tart.

“I was giving you one last chance to change your mind,” he drawls, even as his shadows whisper liar, let him know they saw what he was watching when he looked at her.

“I want to be useful, remember?” Another bite, another swipe of her tongue against her lips. He swallows.

“There is a death-lord on the continent who cursed the Queen of Scythia. Our would-be ally spends her days as a firebird, her nights as a human woman. The High Lady has promised to try and break her curse, but the spell is ingenious and its creator is too powerful for any of us to defeat.”

“The death-lords are more or less immortal and can’t be killed,” she says, nodding. “I’ve read the legends. What’s his name?”

“Koschei.”

Gwyn pales only a little, but it’s enough to show Azriel that she’s familiar with some of the legends about him.

“He’s bound to that lake on the continent.” She says the words as if she’s not sure whether they’re still true. Whether the death-lord could be lurking around some corner in Velaris.

“He’s still there. But he’s allied himself with Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. We need to find out what Koschei has offered him, what Beron has offered in exchange.”

“You want me to go to the Autumn Court?” Gwyn reaches for her hair, only a few shades deeper than the Vanserra’s.

“I have certain allies in that court who are working to provide those answers. But Rhys wants to show Beron that Koschei isn’t such a valuable ally. He wants us to lead a strike against him.”

“You want me to help you kill a death-lord, then.” To her credit, Gwyn does not look frightened. She wears the same expression that she did after the first time she could not cut the white ribbon in training: determined to find a way.

“Perhaps,” he says, “but first, I’ve heard rumors that the Queen of Scythia is not the only woman he has captured. That he keeps them imprisoned at his lake. Rhys and I want to free them.”

For a moment, Gwyn is quiet, and Azriel is startled to find that he cannot read her expression. Five centuries of practice, and at this moment, he has no idea what she’s thinking.

“You waited until it was politically advantageous to save these women?”

In training, he has heard Gwyn laugh a hundred times, has heard her squeal with excitement or recount some dusty old legend in a way that makes it fascinating. In Sangravah, he heard her scream, and, afterwards, when he’d wrapped her in his cloak, heard the small noises that a terrified person makes when the horror has ostensibly ended.

He has never heard this kind of wrath in her voice.

He holds up his hands on instinct. For a second, he forgets about the scars he bares to her, until he sees the slight widening of her eyes, the pain in them.

“There was a rumor, a vision,” he says, Elain’s scared and skinny face flashing behind his eyes, “but we were only now able to substantiate it.”

“Through your Autumn Court allies.”

He nods. He wants to say more, to explain, but he can’t risk telling her about Eris or his alliance with the Night Court. Not yet.

“We need to find a way into the residence and to pull the women out. Without attracting Koschei’s notice.”

“He would have bound them, wouldn’t he?”

“That’s part of what we need to determine, the kind of spellwork he’s using. My magic isn’t made for untangling such things delicately, but it can shatter a binding spell fairly easily.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. He wants to ask about her own powers, how they might contribute, but judges it too early. If she is willing to take on this mission, while they gather information and strategize, there will be time to ask about those sirenic powers, whether she even bears them.

“I want to help,” she says, her eyes bright, her chin set. She looks to Azriel like a queen preparing for battle. “Where do we start?”

“I’ll make certain adjustments to your training,” he says, removing a piece of cake from the box, now that she’s agreed. He knows how to discuss her training, how to plan a mission. “You haven’t worked enough on stealth or with daggers. They’re a last resort on the battlefield, but a spy works in secret, often at close range.”

“And what will you tell Emerie and Nesta, when I suddenly start receiving these lessons?” He can see the question beneath the question.

“All three of you will learn together. The skills are valuable for anyone.”

“Can I tell them about this?”

“The details stay between us,” he says, resisting the urge to smile, make it a kinder message. He is comfortable with secrets, and even still, there are times when he wants to lay bare his life, although he suspects there is no one who could bear the weight of all he’s kept hidden.

“They’ll have questions about why we’re meeting together.”

“You don’t think telling them you’re working on a mission with me will be enough?”

Her grin flashes, the brightest thing in the room.

“Have you met Nesta and Emerie, shadowsinger?”

“Then this is another lesson in spying, priestess,” he says, the corners of his mouth raising of their own accord. “You’ll need to build your cover.”

“They’ll think we’re--” She covers her face with her hands, but he can still see her pink cheeks, the way the blush extends to her forehead.

“It’s that embarrassing?” he asks, keeping the smile on his face, to relax her. Because of course, given Gwyn’s history, it’s perfectly reasonable that she wouldn’t want people assuming she was sneaking around with the spymaster of the Night Court, of all people. “If you prefer, you can tell them you’re tutoring me in some obscure line of Fae history.”

“You’ve likely lived through it,” she retorts. She moves her hands away from her face. “I suppose if I can’t handle this, I’m not ready for the mission.”

“The problem isn’t your limitations.” He hopes it’s the right word. “If you’re honest about them, we can operate successfully around them.”

“It’s only that…” She trails off, considers him, and her cheeks go pink again. “Nevermind. It will be fine. But I should tell you I don’t like being winnowed. I hate the idea that I’ll be stranded in an unknown place, with no way to leave.”

He lets out a silent breath. They will have to winnow, or it will be impossible to extract the women from Koschei’s lake.

“And if I promise that I will never leave you stranded?”

“Then I think you can winnow me. But only if it’s necessary.”

She extends her hand and he takes it, the calluses on her fingers fitting themselves against the back of his hand.

He braces herself for her disgust at his scars, but instead, she smiles at him, the way she does when she’s mastered a new technique with the sword.

“Let’s free these women,” she says, and although he is the one used to giving orders to his spies, Azriel simply nods, accepts her command.

Notes: Thank you so much for reading Rules for Spies! I'm so excited to share it with you. 🧡 For sneak peeks and theories, follow me on Instagram at house.of.hurricane or TikTok at houseofhurricane.

Taglist: @azrielbedara, @azrielsdarling13, @brown-and-weird, @cozycomfyliving08, @girlbossenergy, @glemiessa, @gwynrielsupremacy, @imsointobooks, @katekatpattywack, @lightwood-bane13,@meher-sumedha, @mystical-blaise, @nansr, @nervousninjasuit, @onemorenightdreamer, @ruthieluvsbooks, @saramoonbeam, @secretlovelybeauty, @shisingh, @soffiiione, @thenerdywriter, @valkyriesbooks, @vassien-supremacy6, @vikingmagic33, @zanywolffriendhairdo

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

for the feysand oneshot, how abouuuutttt............ omg a feysand wedding!!!!! we've been deprived of it and you're the only one i trust to write it correctly :D

Hello my lovely anon! Sorry it took me so long to get to this one, I got a bit swept away yesterday and then I was prepping for the ACoFD upload today, but we got to it in the end! This one was a little tough for me because I may or have not already written a Feysand wedding scene for ACoFD and I didn't want this one to by a copycat.

Anway, here's a short and canon compliant wedding scene starting immediately after the end of chapter 60 in ACoMaF:

Read on AO3

“So I won my wedding ring without even being asked if I wanted to marry you.”

“Perhaps.”

Feyre cocked her head. “Do--do you want me to wear it?”

“Only if you want to.”

“When we go to Hybern… Let’s say things go badly. Will anyone be able to tell that we’re mated? Could they use that against you?”

Rage flickered in his eyes. “If they see us together and can scent us both, they’ll know.”

“And I show up alone, wearing a Night Court wedding ring--”

He snarled softly.

Feyre closed the box, leaving the ring inside. “After we nullify the Cauldron, I want to do it all. Get the bond declared, get married, throw a stupid party and invite everyone in Velaris--all of it.”

Rhys took the box from Feyre’s hands and set it down on the nightstand before herding her toward the bed. “And what if I wanted to go one step beyond that?”

“I’m listening,” she purred as he laid her on the sheets.

And Rhys slowly explained his plan to Feyre as he unwound her in his arms. A whisper of words across the valley of her chest, his tongue and lips emphasizing each promise of devotion. He summarized the vows with his head buried between her legs, and explained the ceremony as their body joined. It was certainly a thorough demonstration. Once Feyre had thoroughly become undone in his embrace, he kissed her lips, her neck, her stomach, her legs, and helped her dress.

Still lost to the stupor of their love-making, they snuck out of the town house with a twin pair of elated grins. Rhys looked about as dazed and in love as Feyre felt. She took the moment to savour the feeling, understanding that it was fleeting. That tomorrow, they’d wake up and go to war. But right now, she was walking through Velaris with her mate at her side and the stars above and everything was as it should be. This taste of bliss, it would be worth whatever tomorrow brings.

When they arrived at the temple, the two of them were nearly giddy, drunk on the love and joy throbbing through the golden thread that tied them together. Their sacred bond. The High Priestess was already waiting at the entrance, having been mentally notified of their arrival by Rhysand. She offered them a pleasant smile beneath the hood of her blue robe and bowed her head respectfully before she led them through the temple.

They were escorted into a room with large moonstone arches in place of windows, the space completely open to the soft, saltwater breeze blowing in from the Sidra. The ceiling above was carved with markings reminiscent of Night Court and at its apex, it opened to the night sky. Feyre stared up in awe, marvelling at the waxing moon that shone through, bright and bold among the star-swept sky. It was the perfect place to offer her heart to her mate and his court.

Feyre turned to face Rhys. He was staring at her, adoration plain on his face, and her face heated to realize that he’d been marvelling her in mirror to her gaping at the temple.

Of the glorious sights in the world, Feyre, your beauty surpasses all.

She raised her brows, stepping closer to her mate to play at adjusting the lapels of his jacket. The sight before me certainly challenges such a statement. She made a point of sweeping her gaze over him, stopping at those heartbreaking eyes that were staring at her with such a soft love. Feyre swallowed thickly, feeling all at once enveloped in warmth, like she’d been bundled in a pool of silk.

Rhys swept his arms around her, encircling her in his embrace as he pulled her closer. Then what a view the pair of us must be, he mused.

The High Priestess had been scurrying about, gathering items for the ceremony, but now she appeared at their side. Any mortal notions about modesty didn’t seem to exist in fae ceremonies, for the priestess seemed almost encouraged by the way Feyre and Rhys were clutching onto each other. She made no move to separate them as she began the proceedings, and Feyre was grateful for being able to stay in Rhysand’s arms, safe and warm and complete.

“Feyre Cursebreaker,” she began, her voice loud and clear. It echoed in the open space of the room, carried through the gentle wind, “do you swear to protect and serve the Night Court; to uphold its laws and stand against its enemies; to lead and govern its people; to be a just ruler; and to bow to no and nothing but your crown?”

Feyre pulled away from Rhysand’s embrace, but kept his hand grasped firmly in her own as she faced the High Priestess. “I swear on my life,” she answered resolutely. “I will protect and serve the Night Court and its people. I will lead and govern as a just ruler, and I will uphold the Night Courts laws and stand against its enemies. I will bow to no and nothing but my crown.”

“Kneel now, Cursebreaker, to your crown and country.” The High Priestess gestured to the symbols carved into the moonstone floor and Feyre realized they were standing on the inside circle of the Night Court emblem, the High Priestess just outside the carving.

Feyre nodded, bowing to her knees before the three stars of Ramiel engraved on the floor. The Priestess retrieved a shallow bowl she’d placed on the ground and raised it before Feyre.

“Drink now, from the water that flows through the streams of Ramiel, and let the Mother bless and protect you as the High Lady of the Night Court.”

Feyre raised her chin and drank from the bowl, letting the cool water stay on her tongue as she sent a silent thank you to the Mother and her Cauldron, for having been blessed with such a place to call home, and such a mate to stand beside. And as she drank, she felt her right hand tingle as a twin to her bargain tattoo etched itself into her skin like a lace glove, marking her as High Lady.

When the High Priestess removed the bowl, Rhys was instantly there, fingers placed under her chin. He used that contact point to raise her back to her feet until their lips met. He kissed her so tenderly it scorched her soul, branded her there irrevocably. No one’s touch would ever feel so harmonious, so magnetic.

Then, Rhys pulled away. For a brief second their eyes met, and the burning reverence she saw in those starkissed eyes was staggering. Her whole body felt ablaze as he dropped to his own knees before her, drawing the back of her hand to his lips. “My Lady,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I will protect and serve. Always. Your word, your command, your will, they are as good as my own, and I will uphold them all. Every breath I take, it will be in your service. Everything that I have, it is yours. Will you take me, as your mate and husband and High Lord?”

“I will,” Feyre said, her voice cracking on the word as she fought against the emotion that clogged her throat, that stung the back of her eyes. Were High Ladies allowed to become blubbering, happy messes in the sacred temples?

Your High Lord has already become one, so I don’t see why High Ladies should be excluded, Rhys murmured. Feyre met his glittering eyes, where tears fell freely down his cheeks. With a sob, Feyre joined him on the floor, both of them kneeling together on the Night Court emblem.

“Will you take me, Rhysand?” Feyre managed to choke out through her tears. “As your mate and wife and High Lady?”

“I already have,” he whispered. “From the moment I met you, and long before that. I have loved you and accepted you as anything you would offer to me. And I always will. My wife, my mate, my High Lady. I love you with everything I am.”

“I love you too, Rhys,” she answered, throwing her arms around his neck to crash her lips to his.

She could taste the salt of their tears, but beyond that she could taste him. Her mate, the soul for her soul, the very person she’d been searching for all her life. And as they burned together on the temple floor, as bright and enduring as the stars themselves, Feyre thought that she was finding more than her other half. She was finding herself, her family, her home, everything that had always felt unattainable and farfetched. For so long she’d never known what it was to be loved, but now, in her husband’s arms, crowned as his equal in every way, she felt so much more than that.

For the first time since turning High Fae, she truly felt immortal. Powerful, everlasting, eternal. High on love and life as she kissed her mate endlessly under the blanket of moonlight. She’d never dreamed she could feel this way, so liberated, so unabatedly happy.

To the people who look up at the stars and wish, Rhys.

To the stars who listen, mate. And the dreams, like this one, that are answered.

Taglist: @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @feybaenc @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @tanvee1231

#Feysand #Feysand wedding scene #canon compliant #ask #prompt fill #acotar #acotar fic #pro Feysand #pro Rhys #pro Feyre #Feysand fic #accepting requests #tooth rotting fluff

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

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Gwynriel antics

Okay writing from Mor’s perspective is actually kind of difficult. There is enough ambiguity around Mor’s sexuality in the series that I try to veer away from her perspective to avoid potentially problematic content. I do think that Mor would struggle when Azriel finds his mate/significant other because he’ll no longer be paying her much attention. At least not in the way she’s used to. Anyways enjoy

The first thing Mor noticed as she entered the living room was that Azriel was in a bad mood. He was brooding, more so than normal while standing in the far corner of the room by the piano. The only person brave enough to engage him in conversation was Nesta, who looked as bitchy as usual. Mor considered consoling him, but reconsidered as his shadows seemed restless. She would never admit it to him, though she presumed he might already know, but his shadows unnerved her. They would never hurt her, but something about them reminded her of the Court of Nightmares. She felt guilty and like a bad friend. The only thought that could console her was the knowledge that no one would be able to get him out of this mood. Nesta may be brave enough to face the mood head on; however, she would never be enough to pull him out of his own mind. It had always bothered Mor that nothing she could do or say would make him feel better.

"How was you trip?" Elain asked sweetly from the couch. Her frilly, pink dress made Elain's beauty less intimidating and more approachable.

She often wondered if that was on purpose. She was the complete opposite from Mor in every way, yet Mor felt grateful to her. Grateful that she had caught and kept, at least partially, the attention of the Shadowsinger. A jealous part of Mor was glad that Elain could not, although she speculated that Elain did not want to either, pull him out of his mood. Mor sat across from Elain on the other couch, taking baby Nyx right from Feyre's lap. Feyre sent a small smile to Mor before returning to her conversation with Rhys. Her legs were tossed over his lap with their sides pressed firmly together. Mor suddenly ached for what they had. The publicity of it, the intimacy of it, and the comfort of it all was something she wanted so desperately, but felt so unattainable. Mor dropped a kiss on Nyx's forehead as he pulled at her hair before answering Elain.

"It was fine. Politics can be so dreadfully boring," she rolled her eyes as she said it. Elain nodded along as if she might understand even though they both knew she didn't. Mor bounced Nyx on her knee to keep him preoccupied.

"Do you know what is wrong?" She lowered her voice while nodding her head in the direction of Azriel. Even though he was behind her, Mor knew who Elain was referring to.

"Your guess is as good as mine." She replied with a shrug. It was almost impossible to tell. Rhysand felt the need to add in his two cents, annoyingly enough.

"Leave it be, Elain. He likes to be left alone when he's like this." Rhysand gave her a hard look that Mor did not understand. Seemingly Elain did because she turned away to stare at the fireplace with a blushing face.

"The party is officially here!" Cassian shouted as he burst through the double doors into the living room.

Gwyn and Emerie, who trailed in after Cassian, made a beeline for Nesta who was still standing next to Azriel. Not so much conversing, but standing in solidarity to their bad moods. Cassian dropped a kiss on Nesta's cheek which had Mor rolling her eyes. She would never understand what a good fae like Cassian ever saw in Nesta. Even at her best, she was miserable. Emerie eventually floated over to Mor.

"How was your trip?" She awkwardly played with the end of her braid as she stood towards the side of the couch. She was clearly struggling with where to sit now that Cassian and Nesta took up the rest of the couch Elain was sitting on.

"Peachy. Dealing with entitled males is my favorite way to spend my time." She said it in an ultra cheery voice as she held up Nyx closer to her face. She was hoping his tiny baby body would block her blush. No need to let the Illyrian female know that Mor was flustered by her attentions. Emerie sent her a brilliant smile.

"So just a normal Tuesday huh?" Mor smiled back at her before moving over. There was a small amount of space between Feyre and Mor, but Emerie's slender body could probably fit.

"Would you like to sit?" Mor motioned to the spot. Emerie hesitated for just a moment before accepting. Her side was smushed to Mor's. She would be lying if she said it didn't elicit a spark in her.

Quiet murmurings in the back of the room drew Mor's attention. As she turned around she saw the priestess, whose name was on the tip of her tongue, talking with Azriel. Brave girl is the only thought that flittered through her head. They both had serious expressions as they discussed something quietly. It was so quiet that even with her fae hearing, she could not make out what they were saying. Azriel's shadows were moving rapidly around him now, making him obvious instead of blending him in like they were meant to be doing. Mor realized that Gwyn was holding a dagger that Azriel was showing her how to handle. He corrected her arm position a few times and she practiced it. Surprisingly, the brooding expression was replaced with one of concentration. He was more focused on teaching her than with whatever he was upset with. Mor cocked her head to analyze the two further only to be called back to attention.

"Mor!" Cassian all but shouted.

"What? Yes?" She turned back to the circle she was part of to see Cassian looking at her expectantly.

"I asked you how your trip was? I haven't seen you since you have gotten back." Cassian tossed an arm around Nesta's shoulder who was in an animated conversation across the couches with Emerie about some book they had both read. Mor was distracted for a moment. What could Emerie see in Nesta as a friend?

"Same old, same old."

Elain moved to grab Nyx from Mor's lap before reclaiming her spot on the ruby colored couch. Without the baby as a buffer, Mor felt exactly how nice it was to have Emerie so close, even if she was paying more attention to Nesta than herself. Elain blew raspberries on Nyx's face when a sound caught Mor's attention once again.

"Cassian!" The priestess, whose name Mor finally remembered was Gwyn, called as she dragged Azriel by the hand to the center of the room. Mor could not stop her eyes from widening and it appeared Elain, Feyre, and Rhys couldn't either. Mor even thought she might have heard a small gasp from Elain. "Tell Azriel that I really managed to escape that knot earlier."

Gwyn's face was barely containing her excitement. When they finally stood next to the couches, Gwyn dropped his hand gently, but did not move away from him. Almost the entire room was raptured by the scene. Azriel's acceptance of her hand holding, the shadows that appeared to guard the redhead as they peered over her shoulders, and the disbelief on his face that took over from the brooding as Gwyn insisted that she accomplished her goal. Cassian laughed while shaking his head.

"She is telling the truth. She's quite crafty with those ropes." Cassian admitted. Azriel's face continued to show his disbelief as he turned his narrowed gaze to Nesta.

"If you don't believe her, I guess she'll have to show you tomorrow." Nesta shrugged. Azriel sent a look to Gwyn that Mor could not exactly decipher. It almost looked like admiration, but there was no way it could be that.

"Why wait?" Gwyn started pulling Azriel back to the doors. "I'll show you now." Azriel allowed Gwyn to tug him around like a rag-doll. Mor could not stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Gwyn!" Emerie whined. "You promised you would stay until we at least ate!"

"Don't let her leave, Azriel!" Nesta shrieked. "She's trying to escape. You are not as clever as you think little missy." Nesta sent one of her nastiest glares towards the two escapees. Shockingly, it only made Gwyn laugh. She turned to Azriel with a slight pout.

"Please? I know you want to see it." She taunted him.

It appeared that those in the room who had not been to training had missed quite the development because as Azriel threw his head back in laughter, Mor, Elain, Feyre, and Rhysand jaw's all dropped in shock. It appeared the priestess was able to accomplish something that none of them had been able to in all their years of knowing the Shadowsinger. She was able to retrieve him from his bad mood. The shadows that seemed so territorial over Gwyn, now rested calmly around the both of them. It surprised Mor how unaffected Gwyn was by them. The interaction was so shocking that none of them could look away.

"You can show me tomorrow." He replied quietly with a smirk. Gwyn sighed but returned to the center of the room.

"Fine, you guys win."

Nesta and Emerie beamed at each other. Even as others recuperated from the shock, Mor felt herself analyzing everything Azriel did after that. Every interaction he paid to the priestess and how that was different from his interactions with her and Elain. She paid attention to how often he laughed and how his shadows acted. All throughout dinner she tried to understand it. What Gwyn could do that Mor could not. She wanted to know for next time, so that it could be Mor that made him smile when he was upset instead of Gwyn. The ugly, jealousy feeling made no sense. But there was a part of her that did not want to share Azriel with anyone, but especially with Gwyn. It was odd how Mor did not feel the same way with Elain.

"What's wrong with your shadows?" Elain asked innocently.

It was the wrong question to ask. The neutral face he had been sporting shifted into a scowl and the shadows retreated altogether. Before he could say something, Gwyn spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong with them. They just want to play." She continued to push her food around on her plate.

"Play?" Rhysand asked with raised eyebrows. He sent a look to Az. An annoyed look, one that rarely ever showed, crossed Azriel's face.

"They are not playing." He enunciated the last word, seemingly for Gwyn's benefit. She simply rolled her eyes as if the Shadowsinger's annoyance was no skin off her back.

"You are just jealous because they like me better." She sent him a mischievous smile before humming a short tune. A traitorous shadow lunged for her. It stopped short and retreated when the tune stopped.

"Gwyn." He whined. Mor ended up choking on her food at the sound. She has never once heard the male whine for any reason. Everyone at the table sent her an amused stare except for Gwyn and Azriel who appeared to be stuck in some sort of staring competition.

"Really, you two? You're worse than Rhys and I were when we were nine." Cassian muttered.

"3 books for Azriel." Nesta piped up.

"Are you serious? No way." Emerie argued in an adorably annoyed way. "Gwyn all the way. You owe me 5 books anyways. I want new leathers."

Mor made certain to note that in the back of her head.

"What are they doing?" Elain asked. Cassian shook his head in amusement.

"Staring contest. First to blink loses."

"Why?" Elain looked amused. Actually the entire table looked amused at their antics.

"Because they are the two most stubborn Fae to have ever lived." Emerie said with a smile.

The table went extremely silent as they watched the two battle it out. Mor was intrigued to see who would win. A thud under the table was the only sound to be heard.

"No playing dirty." Azriel said without so much as an inclination that he had just been kicked.

"You pulled my hair last time."

"Because you threw a dagger at me the time before. I'd say mine was much milder."

Rhysand laughed a loud and hearty laugh that caused the two of them to blink at the exact same time. Nyx clapped his hands at the excitement.

"Hey!" Gwyn and Azriel yelled simultaneously.

"Dammit." Emerie muttered.

"I'm claiming that win." Gwyn announced with a smug smile.

"Of course you are." Az sent her a glare, but there was no malice behind it.

He did not correct her though, allowing her to claim the win. It was then and there that it hit Mor.

Azriel likes Gwyn.

He isn't in love with her. He isn't pining after her. Mor isn't even sure if he knows it himself yet. But Mor knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he likes the priestess. The slithering jealous feeling only increased tenfold. She sighed heavily. What was wrong with her? She should be happy for her friend.

Shouldn't she?

#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #azriel #acotar #elain archeron #morrigan #acosf #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyx acotar #emerie

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nerajaana · 3 years

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Jonsa metas be like: Extended Cut

The miniature rant version

Yeah. We’re getting tons of romantic content in that corner. Totes. What else is the purpose of Jon Snow’s resurrection? Or rather, what even is the other purpose for Jon Snow’s existence, if not a prop to make their innocent-compassionate-empathetic af precious birb a Princess/Queen/GodEmpress?

(if they could have their way she’d be ascended to Godhood at this rate)

69? That's your foreshadowing? You wanna convince people your ship's canon based on a mfing position number? What are we, middle schoolers?!

My remaining two braincells cannot handle this poetic parallel😔😩✊🏻

Ok real talk folks.....what’s in that kool aid kid?

Listen, after pulling crap like this, you all have no rights to defend yourselves when we rightfully call you out on this. Absolutely none. No amount of mental gymnastics can justify this.

Presenting to you 🥁🥁🥁 Quotes by Jon comparing his first love to his sister🥁🥁🥁:

“She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore.”

“"If you kill a man, and never meant', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever?”

...... soz there ain’t any about Sansa. I checked in the back and all I promise.

And, hate to break it to ya but, remember Catelyn of Houses Tully and Stark? Yeah, she kinda, y’know, carried the zygote that grew into a fetus over a period of nine months and pushed the said fetus out whom they named Arya. Half of her mother, half a Tully. Thus, half a fish. Pretty sure there’s even a fish reference that jon made towards Arya regarding her swimming.

............So?

Let's give this a serious consideration. Firstly, lemme get this lil point out in the open: foreshadowing is wildly different from coincidences. Coincidence is there being a Jon(nel) and a Sansa in the same time period in the family, just like the current generation. Parallel/foreshadowing would look something like this:- Jon, who's the half brother of Rickon, just like Jonnel was to Cregan's heir Rickon, would marry the older daughter of Rickon (my son my boyyyy <3<3<3) in a distant future. Capisce?

And finally, the icing on the cake. My personal favourite 🙂

Look, it's bad enough that the writer decided to pepper in cursed bits throughout the books that make an incestuous pairing highly likely. (by incest i mean the emotional aspect of it, it's not the cousincest or the aunt-nephew bit that peeves me off. It was a common occurrence in the medieval feudalistic society and is still prevalent in today's day and age). At the end of the day, they grew up as siblings. Fighting over which sister gets the “prize” that's Jon Snow is ridiculous beyond measure. We didn't start off reading these humongous books thinking "oh this would be a splendid time to ship an incest otp uwu" like no. the only reason I didn't break into tears every time Jon had a very non fraternal thought while reading is because i knew by then, for sure that they're cousins and not siblings (y'all either never had siblings or think fictional siblings work on a different wavelength). Take it up with the author, demand why he chose this sister and not the other for his fOrbiDdEn rOmancE trope. Grab him by shoulders and shake an answer out of him. None of us asked for this ffs. We reached to a conclusion based on what's there in print, not what isn't and simply assuming that there are hidden meanings or that the narrator is so fucking unreliable that he's naming one and thinking of the other or something equally delusional. Dude's literal last thought was Stick them with a pointy end. Which, by the way, is strictly between Jon and Arya, just like Needle. Just like the quote "Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle". And "What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?" They're all exclusive to them both and them both only.

To all of these asoiaf experts, I'd like to say one thing: For all of his flaws and fallacies, G.R.R.Martin is a brilliant writer. He's not some stupid Oracle of Delphi, sitting in his little ancient greek cave and spewing nonsense and talking in circles. Writers leave out clues in the open, not hide them under the guise of different fucking names for gods sakes.

I'm all for shipping whoever you wanna ship, gods know i have a never ending list- most of them being rarepairs or crackships. But I don't go around twisting canon into something it isn't and subject to mental gymnastics to the point where nothing makes sense anymore. And, read the bloody books before you firmly place your faith in something. Quora/Reddit/Tumblr metas shouldn't be the basis for it. The language is pretty straightforward- if I, a non native english speaker can get it, then so can you.

Cheers.

#fandom nonsense #fandom dumbassery #use braincells pls #jon snow #arya stark #house stark #rickon stark #sansa stark #anti jonsa stans #anti jonsa #asoiaf #jaan rants #valyrianscrolls

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much.

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link.

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart.

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake.

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift.

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it.

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance.

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form.

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING.

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated.

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing.

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read.

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white.

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know.

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules.

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too.

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head.

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses.

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it.

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all.

#I am OBSESSED #like this has EVERYTHING #and I mean EVERYTHING #the witcher #yenralt #asaps #andrzej sapkowski #The Witcher books #myposts #yennefer #geralt #triss #eskel #trisskel #ciri #wedding

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fanmoose12 · 4 years

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When they meet for the first time, they don’t really recognize each other. There is a sense of familiarity, though, a fleeting feeling that disappears the moment their paths diverge again.

Levi enters the temple, scowling as a smell of a dozen candles enters his nostrils. If he were at any other place, he’d start complaining right away. But this is a place for worship, and even though, he doesn’t truly believe in the power of gods, he’s not brave enough to defy them either.

Despite his best efforts to mask his discomfort, she sees right through him. She giggles, utterly delighted. Levi looks up, his eyes wide. She’s nothing like any other priestess he had met before.

He kneels before her, kissing her hand.

“I came here at my master’s request,” he begins with his head still bowed. It’s a sign of reverence, but also a way to hide his uneasiness. Those brown eyes of hers are too vivid, too bright. Looking at them feels like he’s staring at the sun. He feels that if he gazes for a moment longer, he will never be able to tear his eyes away.

Maybe, that’s the sign on her Oracle's powers. Or, maybe, divine intervention.

“I know why you are here,” she replies, her voice deep and melodic. She comes closer and grabs his arm, making him stand up. “Your master wants to receive a prophecy. He won’t like it.”

“So the war…”

“Will not end in your favor,” she finishes for him. “I’m sorry,” and Levi knows she truly is, can see it in the curve of her lips and the remorse inside her eyes.

“Thank you,” he bows again. He reaches out to touch her hand, simply because he wants to feel the warmth of her palm. She intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand.

She smiles, and Levi has a fleeting thought that in another life, he would have died for that smile.

“Your master won’t listen, right?” she whispers, and her smile turns sad.

“He won’t,” he shakes his head. “So that is our first and last meeting, Oracle.”

“May we meet again, Levi,” she says, and Levi doesn’t quite remember introducing himself to her.

“Watch over us, Hange,” her name slips easily from his lips.

She hasn’t introduced herself either.

***

When they meet for the second time, Levi is but a simple servant. He’s working at house of a Florentine banker. His master is an important, wealthy man, who has more money than he knows what to do with. As his servant, Levi spends his days, scraping the marble floors and wiping the golden ceilings until they glisten like a sun in the sky.

He hears about her before he sees her. She is an artist, a rising star and the talk of the whole city. Some say that she’s a genius, whose hands are blessed by the God. And some say she’s a psycho, whose dangerous, heretical ideas would certainly lead her to the deepest pits of hell. Levi doesn’t really care either way, he was never the one for gossip.

What he cares about, though, is the invitation she receives from his master. She is to paint the master’s daughter, so she will be living in their manor, until she finishes the portrait. And so Levi has to work twice the usual, making sure that everything looks perfect for the important guest.

When he sees her for the first time, she passes him by in a hallway. She is walking by his master’s side, gesticulating wildly as she tells him about her next project. The afternoon sunlight dances on her skin and hair, enveloping her in a warm shine. Levi is utterly mesmerized, and so he allows himself to stop for a second and admire the sight in front of him.

He reprimands himself for it later, when he lies in his bed and all he can see are the cheerful grin and brown, excited eyes.

***

When Hange sees him for the first time, she grabs his face in her hands.

“Oh,” she breathes out, an impossibly wide smile on her face. “You’re magnificent.”

She looks as though she lost her mind, but Levi doesn’t even think about taking a step back. He stares back at her, feeling something tighten in his chest.

“Let me draw you,” she whispers. “Just one drawing, please.”

Levi should say no. He’s busy all day, he doesn’t have the time to cater to the whims of some crazy, bespectacled artists. He means to say no, almost says it.

In the end, he doesn’t have the heart to outright reject her.

“I work during days.”

“I can— I can come to you at night, you don’t have to be awake, I just—” she ruffles her hair, frustrated. “I just really need to draw you.”

She’s clearly asking for too much, and her offer sounds more than a little bit creepy. Still, Levi is reluctant to refuse.

“It’s best if I come into your room at night, mine doesn’t have enough lighting.”

“Of course!” she beams. “I’ll be waiting, thank you so much!”

She looks so earnestly happy, so excited and giddy, Levi’s own lips almost curl in a smile. He lowers his head, hiding his amusement before she can see it.

“My name is Hange,” she offers, still smiling.

He knows it, of course. It’s hard not to, when she’s practically a living legend.

“I’m Levi,” he answers.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she chuckles. She presses a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it firmly, and then she is gone.

Levi stares after her for a solid minute, standing in an empty hallway like an idiot. It was just a simple touch, a common gesture, but it leaves him shaken to his core. It feels familiar, Hange feels familiar in a way he can’t yet comprehend. He feels like they’ve met before, feels like he knows Hange, even though he doesn’t. He just met her, but it doesn’t seem this way.

He closes his eyes and sees Hange, but that’s not— not the Hange he has seen moments ago. She’s not wearing a white puffy shirt and dark leather pants, the Hange in his mind is dressed in brown jacket and bright yellow shirt. She holds two blades in her hands, but they look nothing like the swords Levi is used to seeing. Hange doesn’t just stand either, she’s flying through the air.

And the weirdest thing – Levi’s flying next to her.

***

When he comes to her room late at night, Hange lounges on a couch. There is a glass of wine in her hand and a lazy, dreamy smile on her lips.

As soon as Levi enters her room, she jumps to her feet. The movement is sudden and erratic, and it causes the wine in her hands to spill onto her shirt and the floor beneath her feet.

Levi glowers – he had scraped this carpet clean just days ago - and crosses the room in two short strides.

“Fucking hell, four-eyes,” Hange’s eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth. Levi freezes too, his mind scrambling for an explanation for the weird nickname.

Hange is the first to recover. With a soft chuckle she takes a step back. Her fingers are in her hair and she awkwardly scratches the back of her hand.

“I should change,” she says, more to herself.

Levi wants to protest, wants to offer his help, wants to do at least something. His heart constricts painfully at the thought of Hange leaving him, even though the rational part of him knows that she’ll be gone just for a few minutes. With a considerable effort, he persuades himself to relax and nods.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Hange asks, before she turns around. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible!”

Levi sighs, fighting back a smile. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks!” she chirps and then dashes out of the room.

When she comes back several minutes later, she sits Levi down on her coach.

“Make yourself at home,” she winks, gesturing to a table full of various fruits and sweets.

“I don’t think I sh—”

“Don’t be silly,” Hange chides. “What’s yours is mine.”

"Alright," Levi agrees, popping a grape into his mouth. It's too sweet for his taste, but it's not often that he gets to eat anything better than the scraps of his master's dinner. He decides to savor this moment and eats another grape.

Without wasting any second, Hange takes out the easel and sets out to work. At first, Levi feels awkward. Hange looks straight at him, seemingly unblinking. Her attention is focused solely on him, and Levi desperately tries to stop himself from fidgeting.

"Should I do something?" he blurts out, when Hange starts eyeing him critically.

"Not at all," she answers with a cheeky grin. "Relax and be yourself. Just try not to move too much, alright?"

"Of course," he murmurs and settles back onto soft pillows.

He lets his guard down completely and closes his eyes. Hange is practically a stranger, a person he met just a few days ago, but he feels safe with her. He trusts her, despite his life teaching him that he should never trust anyone, but himself. However, Hange seems different from all the people he has met before. She is different, there is something familiar about her, as though they've known each other for years.

Levi doesn't quite know what to make of it.

Despite his troubling thoughts, he relaxes. The sound of charcoal scrapping against the paper and the softness of the coach underneath him slowly lulls him to sleep.

He wakes up hours later, when Hange gently shakes his shoulder.

"Hey, sleepy head," she says with a smile so pretty, Levi feels an acute desire to taste it on his lips. He almost leans in, but, thankfully stops himself at the last moment. He tries to put the blame for the weird impulse on his still sleepy state, but the excuse sounds hollow even to his own ears.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep. Did I ruin your drawing?" he moves to get up, but Hange's hand on his shoulder presses him back down.

"No, no," she shakes her head ever so slightly, and the strands of her brown locks hit Levi's face. That's what makes him realize their close proximity. Hange's kneeling by the coach, and her nose almost touches his chin. Levi looks down at her, and the feeling is alienating, so weird and wrong, it makes him uncomfortable. Shouldn't it be the other way?

"I've finished it already. It's only a rough draft," she comments self-deprecatingly. "But I wanted you to see it," she hands him the easel. "What do you think?"

Levi looks at the drawing for a long, long moment. Every single person who had ever praised Hange were right, her art skills are phenomenal. Staring at the easel feels like he is staring in the mirror. Hange got every detail right, down to the crease between his eyebrows and the small scar on his left cheek. In the picture, he is holding two blades in each hand, and with a start Levi realizes that that these are the same blades he imagined earlier that day.

"What the hell, four-eyes?" he scowls at her. "Don't you know how a real sword looks like?"

Hange rolls her eyes, her smile never faltering. "I just decided to draw them this way. Don't really know why, though."

Levi doesn't know it too, but he knows there is a connection between his vision and Hange's drawing. He also knows that there is a connection between them. He knows with absolute certainty that it's not the first time he had met Hange.

And something tells him that it won't be the last time either.

Before he can contemplate it any further, though, Hange presses her lips to his. Levi hesitates for just a second, just long enough to settle the easel carefully on the floor. Then he fists his hands in Hange's hair and returns the kiss just as passionately.

*** Later that night, after they did what a servant boy should never do with a high-born artist, they lay together in bed, basking in each other's presence. Hange’s her arms are around Levi, and his cheek is pressed to her chest. The sound of her steady, rhythmic heartbeat is oddly calming.

"There are so many things we don't know yet, Levi. I have so many ideas, so many inventions I want to create..."

Levi listens to her ramblings with a slight curve of his lips. Hange's bright, excited eyes and hopeful words evoke something in him, something akin to nostalgia. He closes his eyes and sees the endless sky and the green hills beneath him. He sits atop a giant wall, and Hange's by his side, her shoulder pressed against his, and she talks and talks and talks, speaking of a better future and new discoveries. He shakes his head and the image disappears. Levi slowly opens his eyes to see Hange stare at him.

"After this commission is over, I want— I want to go to Rome, and then I want to visit Constantinople," there is a wide happy smile on her lips, and Levi reaches out to kiss the corner of her mouth. Hange's smile grows bigger and her gaze becomes softer. "Would you like to go with me, Levi?"

Yes, Levi almost says. But deep down he knows that's impossible. Hange's a genius, a prodigy, and he's just a servant. There are miles, worlds separating them. They've found each other, but they're not meant to be. Not yet.

"No," Levi answers with a rare softness in his voice. "My place is here."

Hange's smile becomes sad, but she nods and presses their foreheads together.

"Then I'll see you in another life?"

"Later, Hange," Levi agrees and allows himself to smile.

***

They're only kids when they meet again in another life. Hange, as always, is bold and energetic and she befriends the gloomy and awkward Levi almost by force. They become practically inseparable ever since. They stay by each other's side throughout childhood, adolescence and early adulthood. The whole town expects them to marry the moment both of them are of age. Levi’s own mother often nudges him to propose to Hange and start a family. And he wants to, he really does, but not now. What they already have is nice enough.

"There is no need to hurry," Hange says, when they sit together under a shadow of an oak tree. The soft morning light makes her look absolutely radiant, and Levi loses himself in watching her smile. He leans in and presses a kiss to it, thinking that Hange is right. There is no need to hurry. They have all the time in the world.

They spend another few years in bliss, carefully toeing the line between friends and lovers, and when the time comes for Hange's twenty-fifth birthday, Levi goes to her house, intent on finally confessing his feelings. He prepares the speech and even robs his mother's garden of a few sunflowers. He feels more than a little bit awkward, he isn't the most eloquent or romantic person, but Hange knows him like no one else does and Levi finds immense comfort in the thought that whenever stupid shit will come out of his mouth, she will be able to understand him all the same.

Whatever words he had prepared and rehearsed, though, die in this throat the moment Hange opens the door. There is a glint in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks that makes her look almost feverish. Levi has a sinking feeling that he knows the reason for it. The crudely drawn pamphlet in Hange's right hand only heightens his suspicion.

"Levi!" she proudly shows him the pamphlet. "They— they are recruiting! The army is going to pass our town on their way to Saratoga and I'm going to join them. I— I will finally have the chance to do something! To fight back the oppressors! To bring freedom to our people!”

Hange’s speech is strangely familiar, in more ways than just one. Obviously, it’s not the first time Levi has heard about her dreams of building a better future for their nation, but as he stares at the righteous fire inside Hange’s eyes, as he tries to picture her in battle, he sees her fighting giant, ugly creatures and not the soldiers in red coats.

Levi blinks a few times, forcing the bizarre vision away. Evidently, Hange’s departure, although not unexpected, leaves him shaken to the core.

"Oh, you brought flowers!" Hange claps her hands in delight. "What's the occasion?"

Levi gives her a flat look. "It's your birthday, shithead."

"Oh, right!" she slaps her forehead. "I totally forgot about that."

"Idiot," Levi flicks her nose, making Hange yelp in pain and cover her face. She glares and he smirks, daring her to retaliate.

She sticks her tongue out and Levi rolls his eyes. He turns around, heading to the kitchen to find the only vase Hange owns.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," she announces, while Levi rummages through the kitchen cabinet. His hand hovers in the air, as he tries to find his breathing.

"I can't go with you," it comes out in a shaking whisper. He lowers his hand and grips the table so tightly, his knuckles become white.

"I know," Hange answers just as quietly. "You have to care for your mother, Levi. I understand." She comes to stand around him, wrapping her arms around his body and pressing her chin into his shoulder. "I'll come back before you know it. Just— wait for me, alright?"

"Wait for you?" Levi echoes, confused.

"Well," Hange chuckles warmly. "Don't go marrying someone else before I get back."

"Idiot," Levi raises his hand and entangles it in her hair. "Everyone knows I'm crazy for you."

"You're crazy for me, huh?" she shifts her face to kiss his cheek. "Is that really so?"

"Unfortunately," Levi replies, turning around and pressing his lips to her.

The sinking feeling inside his chest doesn't disappear, but with Hange in his arms, he almost forgets about it.

***

Hange leaves the next morning, and the hollowness takes over Levi's heart. He worries about her, constantly. Day and night, he wonders how is she doing and what is she doing. Hange writes him, of course. She sends letters, where she talks about her brothers in arms, her superiors and trainings. She tells that the food there is horrible and that she hates waking up before sunrise for the morning drills.

Other than that, though, she seems happy, excited at the prospect of fighting for her motherland. She writes about her new friend - Colonel Erwin Smith. She gushes about his intelligence and courage, and as Levi reads it, he imagines Colonel as blonde, blue-eyed man. He sees him so clearly in his mind, as though they've met before.

In the next letter, Hange confesses that sometimes she feels like she has known Erwin for a very long time. She writes that it seems like they’ve already met before.

"You will like him too," she adds, before she goes on to complain about cold nights and drinking soldiers.

Several months later, Kenny shows up at their doorstep, claiming that he came to see his dear sister. Reluctantly - Kenny's arrival always means trouble - Levi lets him in.

In the evening, his uncle gets drunk and starts talking about a new gig of his.

“I’ve acquired a tavern in the New York,” he smirks proudly. “All the red coats love it. They drink like pigs,” Kenny adds dreamily.

And Levi gets an idea.

As soon as Kenny passes out, he grabs pen and a paper, and starts writing to Hange.

She likes his plan and promises to talk it through with Erwin. He agrees to it without hesitation.

Now, every once in a while - whenever Hange asks him - he goes to help with Kenny's tavern. He pours the drinks and cleans the tables. He listens intently to the talks around him. Sometimes, he drinks with soldiers too - when asking directly, it is much easier to get the information out of them. He is careful not to be too obvious, though. Most of them are drunkards, but not idiots.

It is dangerous to pass the numbers of their ranks, the location of their troops and the plans for their future attacks in the letter, so Hange comes to get them personally. They meet in the forest that surrounds their small town, careful to be as discreet as possible. Hange never stays for long, always in a hurry. But Levi adds some home-cooked meal to each of his messages, and Hange always stays just long enough so they could eat it together.

Only during those short meetings, those fleeting moments Levi feels truly alive.

***

The war lasts longer than any of them had anticipated but Levi is patient. Hange promised she'd come back, and he trusts her. In all the years they've known each other, she had never broken her word.

In the last letter he receives from her, she is optimistic as ever. The war is almost over, she assures him. Soon we'll be together again, she adds. As always, Levi believes her.

In the following week, the news finally reach their town. In the battle of Yorktown, the British surrendered.

Levi smiles for the first time since Hange left.

She is finally coming home.

***

Another week passes, and Levi is in the middle of dough kneading. He hears the knock on the door, and his heart swells. He shouts to his mother that he'll get it and rushes to the door, not even stopping to wipe off his hands. She was never against a little mess, after all.

When he opens the door, however, it's not Hange who stands at the other side of it.

The blonde man with bright blue eyes - Colonel Erwin Smith, Levi realizes immediately - wears a grim, solemn expression.

"I'm sorry," he says. "She was a hero," he adds.

Levi nods, feeling numb, and lets the man in.

He makes them tea and sits Erwin in his kitchen. It's quiet at first. Levi stares down at the table, his hands trembling and his head spinning.

He doesn't understand. It's Hange, Hange, his weird and wonderful Hange. She can't be dead. She can't— she can't just leave him. She promised to return, promised to come back to him.

He slams his cup against the wall. It shutters into dozen pieces. Levi stares at it, unblinking.

Alarmed by the loud sound, his mother runs out of her room. Erwin hurries to calm her down and then he comes back to the kitchen. He cleans the mess Levi made and then firmly squeezes his shoulder.

"Do you have something stronger than this?" he asks, gesturing to the tea.

Levi nods, absentmindedly, and gestures to the cabinet above the sink.

Erwin pours them two glasses of bourbon. Levi downs it instantly. Erwin follows his suit and then he starts talking. He tells him about Hange's days in the army, how brilliant and talented she was, how much dedication she had for their cause.

"Before her death," Erwin begins slowly. "She— she asked me to tell you - she'll find you again. In another life."

"In another life," Levi repeats, his voice hollow and bleak.

*** The next time they meet, Levi is already dying. He doesn't need the doctors in white coats and with stethoscopes in their hands to tell him it's consumption. He knows very well about the disease, has seen many associates and friends, his own mother die from it. He knows what to expect. What he doesn't expect is a smiling, friendly face.

Doctor Hange Zoe is a genius, or so the nurses say. They say she was asked to work in the best clinics of Britain, but she chose St Thomas Hospital, simply because she wished to help the needy. She's weird and eccentric, too intense sometimes, but also gentle and caring. Most of the patients adore her.

"You look awful," she announces chirpily, when she visits Levi's ward for the first time.

“I’m dying,” he answers bluntly.

“Ah, yes,” Hange bites her lip, shoving hands into the pockets of her coat. “Let’s try to do something about it, yeah?”

***

She tries to save him, she really does. Hange spends days and nights by his side, trying remedy after remedy. In the end, nothing is stronger than the disease.

When his time comes, when Levi lies in a creaking hospital bed, he’s a sweaty, trembling mess. Hange doesn’t leave him even then. She frets over him, adjusting his pillow and fixing his blanket.

“I should— maybe, you want a glass of water?” she paces around the ward, nervously ruffling her hair. “Or maybe, I should bring you another blanket? A warmer one? I can ask one of the nurses—”

“Hange,” Levi croaks, lifting his hand to weakly grasp her wrist. “It’s over. You know it, I know it. Just calm the fuck down.”

“But you— you’re dying. How can I be calm about it?”

“Come here,” with the last strength he still possesses, Levi scoots over to make a place for Hange on the bed. She sits by his side and takes his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. Her other hand is in his hair, and her fingers gently push the sweaty strands away.

“It’s okay, Hange,” he looks up at her, his eyes shining with fever and something much, much softer, something that Levi doesn’t want to name. Not now, when he’s on his death bed. “I’ve lived more than I expected to anyway. And I’m glad— glad that I got to meet you. I wish—” he pauses, clearing his throat. When he speaks again, there is a feeble smile on his lips. “I wish we could have stayed in that forest, though.”

“What?” Hange freezes, frowning in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “Just felt like saying this to you.”

It’s probably the fever messing with his head, but this feels familiar. Hange looking down at his weak, incapacitated form, her expression solemn, worried and exhausted. It happened before, Levi is sure of it. And looking into Hange’s wide eyes, he knows – she’s sure of it too.

It isn’t long before he draws his last breath. The last thing he feels is the gentle kiss Hange presses to his forehead. Levi dies with a smile on his lips.

***

When they meet for the next time, they both are finally in their element. They're at war, and amidst all the horror, pain, death and tears, the only thing that keeps Levi together is the knowledge that Hange's here with him and she always has his back.

It's almost unnatural how well they work together. They're two parts of the same mechanism, perfectly synchronized. Hange's the brain and he's the brawl. There is no one else he would rather do it with.

It happens when no one expects it to. It's one of those uneventful days, when the sun shines brightly and the sky is clear.

Levi smokes a cigarette and watches the cadets run drills. Usually Hange stands next to him, teasing the young soldiers. But this morning they've managed to intercept a coded transmission, and she had been mulling over it with Armin for almost three hours now.

Levi is about to take the last drag of his cigarette, when Armin runs out to the training field, his eyes wild.

“T-the enemy!” he shouts and then doubles over, putting hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. “The enemy!” he repeats again. “They’ve discovered the location of our base. They’re coming for us!”

Hange comes to stand behind him, her face grim. “We need to evacuate and quickly. Take only the most valuable.”

“Will we be able to escape?” Jean wonders. “Armin said they’re already coming. How long do we have?”

“Not long,” Hange answers truthfully. “But if you hurry up, you’ll be able to escape.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Connie frowns.

“Someone has to buy some time. I’ll hope up in an aircraft and try to slow them down. Now, shoo, you all. I’ll see you later.”

Levi watches Hange smile and his heart falls. He knows where this is going, knows how this is going to end. He doesn’t wish to repeat it.

“Four-eyes,” he growers. “What the hell—”

“My time has come, Levi,” her lower lip starts shaking and she bites it, refusing to meet his eyes. “I want to look as cool as possible, so just let me go, alright?”

“We can— can do it together, then maybe—”

“No,” Hange resolutely shakes her head. “Levi, they need you. The kids, they’ll need some guidance after I’m gone. Armin is great, but he’s young. Take care of them.”

“Hange,” he knows he won’t be able to stop her. So he accepts it, same as he accepts every part of her, good or bad. They share the same flaw, after all. Their duty always comes first. Their love for freedom and humanity is more important than their love to each other. It’s always been the same, they’ve always been the same.

So Levi presses his fist upon her heart, staring right in her eyes.

“Dedicate your heart,” he whispers. He leaves before he can change his mind. He runs away before Hange can come up with a witty comeback. He gets to work and helps the kids with loading the weaponry before his resolve crumbles.

When he is driving a car, taking all of them away from the fight, he tries to pretend that the sound of crushing aircraft is only in his head. He tells himself that the tears in his eyes are caused by the bright sun ahead of him. He pointedly ignores his broken heart.

***

Their next meeting is the most mundane of them all. In truth, it’s so ordinary that Levi doesn’t quite believe it. It’s hard to call any of them ordinary after all.

There are no deaths this time, no war or diseases, or pain. They are common people with ordinary jobs and plain, devoid of any danger lives.

Levi is a simple office worker, who gets a job at Erwin’s firm after he helps him with solidifying a very important deal.

At his first day at job, Erwin gathers a committee meeting, so he can introduce Levi to his new coworkers.

It’s awkward as hell, and Levi feels like he’s a new boy at school. Considering that he’s almost pushing thirties, it’s a feeling he never thought he’d get to experience ever again.

He only half-listens to Erwin praise him and his past accomplishments , as his attention is more focused on his colleagues. They seem fine, but there is one person in particular who gets most his attention.

She wears a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and her hair is put up in some semblance of a pony-tail. She looks at him, not averting her eyes, even when he looks back. Levi glares at her, prompting her to turn away. It has a diametrically opposite effect, though. The bespectacled weirdo smiles and winks at him.

Levi rolls his eyes and scowls. What is she, a child?

***

She catches him just after the meeting is adjourned.

“Hello,” she draws, curving her lips into a wide grin. “Erwin has told me all about you. He’s very impressed,” she leans closer to him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tell me your secret.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Levi tries to push past her, but the four-eyed weirdo follows after him.

“He says you have incredible diplomatic skills.”

Levi barely resists the urge to scoff. Diplomatic skills his ass. The only reason why Erwin managed to sign off the deal he needed was because he took Levi with him and instructed him to make “the scariest face possible”.

“Fuck off, four-eyes,” Levi flips her off, but she is unrelenting.

“C’mon! Don’t be like that!” Hange pouts. “I just want to know what you did to impress Erwin like that! I’ve been his councilor for almost three years, and he had never praised my diplomacy. Oh, how about that!” Hange grabs his arm and links their hands together. “I’ll treat you to dinner this evening, and you tell me about your secret deal with Erwin?”

“No,” Levi replies, shaking her off. Then he glances at her and raises an eyebrow. “A dinner? Are you trying to hit on me, four-eyes?”

“Why,” she asks, her voice and deep and husky. Levi feels his cheeks turn to red. “Is it working?”

“No,” he answers, even though he actively tries to fight off a smile.

“Please,” Hange whines. “Just one dinner!” she pauses, lifting her face and putting on a thoughtful expression. “And maybe drinks afterwards?”

“Aren’t you asking for too much, four-eyes?”

“Nah,” she says with an infuriating grin. “I know you will agree,”

Levi almost growls in frustration. He just met this weirdo, but she already reads him like a goddamned book. He wants to refuse, just to spite her. Something tells me she won’t back off that easily, though.

He sighs, admitting his defeat. “You’re paying for the dinner and drinks. And,” he raises a finger. “You’re going home to change your clothes. This thing,” he points at her shirt, “reeks.”

“Deal!” she beams. “I’m Hange, by the way,” she extends a hand to him.

“Levi,” he takes her hand in his. Her palm is calloused, but warm. Levi doesn’t want to let go. He does let go, though. There is already an abnormal standing next to him. He doesn’t want to join her ranks.

“Ah, Levi!” Hange puts an arm around his shoulder. “I get a feeling we’re off to a great start here!”

He doesn’t answer, but doesn’t push her away either. Maybe, that’s already an answer.

And as Hange starts leading him through the office, he can’t help but agree with her last words.

Maybe, this time it will finally work out, he thinks. Maybe, in this life they’ll be allowed to live happily.

#HUGE historical innacuracies #just ummmm... ignore them lmao #anyway! hope you like it!!!!!!!!#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji #hange zoe #levi ackerman #snk fanfiction #snk fandom

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aboveallarescuer · 3 years

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Transcripts of D&D’s Inside the Episode segments talking about Dany

This is a post with transcripts of all the Inside the Episode videos where show!Dany’s character and storyline are discussed by D&D.

We’ve already had enough of these two hacks, I know, but:

I still think discussions about the show can be productive, especially when similarities and differences between the book characters and show characters are explored. Comparing and contrasting book!Dany with show!Dany certainly brings to light interesting aspects that I may not have considered otherwise and enriches my understanding and appreciation of both of them (especially the former) in a similar way that comparing and contrasting book!Dany with book!Jon, book!Cersei and all the other book characters does.

I had already written transcripts of most of these Inside the Episode features for a while to comment on them in my books vs show reviews. However, since I’m no longer sure if I have enough energy and motivation to continue writing the reviews, I decided to finish writing the transcripts that were missing and to post them already. Maybe this can help people find more evidence that show!Dany’s ending was retconned at the last minute (which is what I firmly believe was the case).

Anyway, y’all know the drill... Expect a lot of mischaracterizations, inconsistencies, double standards, sexist remarks and implications and so on. Never accept what they say uncritically.

1.1: Winter is Coming

BENIOFF: Daenerys Targaryen, her nickname is Dany, basically went into exile from her homeland when she was so small she doesn't even remember it. She is the youngest child of the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen.

WEISS: She's never known her father, she's never known her family, she's never known her homeland, the only thing she's ever known has been her brother. She's been raised by her brother Viserys and Viserys has had his eyes on one thing and one thing only, and that is on regaining the throne that was taken from his father.

BENIOFF: She's had no stability in her life, the only constant has been this brother Viserys, so even though he is a cruel and sadistic older brother and even though he is really quite abusive to her, it's all she knows and she's been forced to - if not trust him, at least to follow his wishes, because not doing so would just lead to more abuse.

TIM VAN PATTEN: Like a lot of characters in the show, she is looking for an identity and a larger purpose in life. I think there's something deep inside her that's asleep, that's there, that she acknowledges and you see her start to acknowledge it, certainly, when she's thrown in with a Dothraki and she's presented with the dragon eggs. You could see this thought process starting, but there is something larger out there that I'm supposed to be a part of. I think she's on board for going back to the kingdom and to finding out about her culture and to having a home.

1.3: Lord Snow

BENIOFF: One of Dany's characteristics that comes to be incredibly important as the story progresses is her hatred of slavery, and I think part of the reason why she has great sympathy for the slaves is that she's grown up in a situation where she's had no power, she's basically been forced to follow the whims of her brother her entire life. Dany has a great deal of sympathy for those who are in difficult circumstances, for those who are the weak and the oppressed, and I think it comes to be one of the most compelling things about her as a character.

WEISS: She's been propriety for all intents and purposes, she's been her brother's slave and so I think she has an affinity for those people and she can actually look at these people and start to think about what their lives likely feel, the empathy with them that is natural to somebody who's sort of a slave herself and I think that she really kind of starts to realize that being somebody ese's property is no good and starts to show the beginnings of the impulse towards freedom that end up playing a much bigger role in her life and in the lives of the people around her as her story progresses.

1.4: Cripples, Bastards and Broken Things

WEISS: Daenerys lashes out at her brother - it's just something that's been building up inside her probably for years and years as long as she remembers.

BENIOFF: She comes to realize that he is a fool, he thinks he's going to go back and reconquer the Seven Kingdoms, he can't conquer anything, he can't even beat her in the fight. She comes to believe that she's heir to the Iron Throne, she sees within herself the power that she wasn't even aware existed.

1.6: A Golden Crown

WEISS: Daenerys comes into the Dothraki horde as an outsider and a lot of her story up to this point has been her finding her place in that world.

DANIEL MINAHAN: Eating this stallion's heart becomes a symbol that she's actually carrying the person who's gonna be the savior of that Dothraki people.

WEISS: This is really the place where, in front of the tribe, she becomes one of them. She disconnects from her brother and her brother sees that and that, in turn, pushes him over the edge. Any importance and love or respect that she draws from these people is respect that he's not gonna be getting, so he's alone.

BENIOFF: After he threatens her unborn child and puts the sword point on her pregnant belly, from that point on, he's dead to her, I mean, quite literally dead to her.

WEISS: When Viserys gets his golden crown, you can see in her face that it doesn't mean anything to her.

BENIOFF: She doesn't look like a little girl anymore.

1.9: Baelor

BENIOFF: Dany's high point with the horde is probably when she eats the stallion's heart and they're really behind their queen and then she starts doing things that they frown upon. For instance, when Drogo gets sick, people start to blame her, because she had this sorceress treat him and, you know, blood magic is very magic against the Dothraki code.

WEISS: Magic is pushed to the periphery of this world and, literally, it's way across the narrow sea in the east and it's way north of the Wall and also, it's very peripheral to people's daily lives. This isn't a world where a wizard shows up with a big pointy hat and a staff and creates all sorts of magical displays. This is a world that is more like our own world in terms of the role that the supernatural has in it, but Mirri is a source of actual magic.

1.10: Fire and Blood

BENIOFF: Mirri Maz Duur is a priestess of the lamb people and she sees a chance to get revenge, not only to avenge her people, but also to prevent this guy from doing it again to other people. From her point of view, it's completely just what she does.

WEISS: She has a pretty good point... I mean, these people did come in, completely rape, pillage and murder her entire village.

BENIOFF: Of course, from Daenerys's point of view, this woman betrayed her. She put her trust in this woman after showing her kindness and now the woman has turned around and betrayed that kindness and, again, it's a theme throughout the story that no good deed goes unpunished.

WEISS: We have people doing terrible things to people that you love and yet, if you were in their shoes and you knew what they know, you would probably do the same thing. Everybody is doing what they're doing for reasons that are grounded in the real human psychology and not in the fact that they're wearing a white hat or that they're wearing the black hat. Daenerys has an understanding that she has to give herself over to something larger than herself without knowing exactly what's going to happen, but she knows that, when she walks into that pyre, she's not going to burn up. Never in her mind is it an act of suicide, even though, in the minds of everybody around her, that's, of course, what it looks like.

BENIOFF: It's the crucial climax and Daenerys is standing there in the pyre and she's become the mother of dragons and the woman you would follow to the ends of the world because that's what those remaining followers are going to do.

WEISS: Dragons in this world are the ultimate source of power and, in a world where authority is directly derived from power, they're the ultimate source of authority and the people who had dragons were the people who shaped the world.

BENIOFF: Dragons are magical, but they're also supposed to be, in this world, real creatures and so, we're looking at bats and pterodactyls and other kind of great flying creatures like that for inspiration and always wanting them to look real, we don't want them to just look like magical creatures that have just popped up.

WEISS: If they survive to maturity and they grow to the size of school buses or however large they end up getting, as their mother, she becomes a very different person than the frightened little girl we saw being sold off to a barbarian in the first episode.

2.6: The Old Gods and the New

WEISS: This whole season is really the season where Dany learns the lesson of self-reliance, she's never, it's a very painful lesson for her to learn, I mean, she's lost all her people, she's lost her husband, she's lost her bloodriders. The temptation for her has always been to lean on someone else, a man of one kind or another. So, I think for her, what she's learning in this episode, especially, is that she can't trust in other people, ultimately, she ends up in a place where she needs to do things for herself and she needs to do things that nobody in the world could possibly do, except her.

BENIOFF: Dany is so defined by her dragons, they're so much a part of her identity at this point, they define her so much that when they're taken from her, it's almost like she reverts to the pre-dragon Daenerys, you know, everyone is a bit defined by who they were when they were an adolescent, you know, no matter how old you get, no matter how powerful you get, and Daenerys was a scared, timid, abused adolescent and I think when her dragons are taken for her, all those feelings, all those memories and emotions are triggered and come back and all the confidence that she's won over the last several months, it's as if that just evaporates and she's back to being a really frightened little girl.

2.10: Valar Morghulis

BENIOFF: I think there's a real, fairly radical change in Daenerys that happens over the course of the last couple episodes of the season, which is... For most of this season, she's been looking for help from others, you know, and asking for help and, by the end of the season, she realizes that she has to do it herself, she's got to help herself and that she's, she can't ask others to give her power, she's got to take it and that she can't rely on anyone else, really. You know, Daenerys Targaryen is not in a position where she can inherit the Iron Throne, the only way she's going to take the Iron Throne and take back the Seven Kingdoms is to conquer them and she's starting to learn what that means, I don't think she really knew before, even when she's asking Khal Drogo to conquer them for her, I don't think she really knew what that meant and she's starting to and it's gonna mean warfare, it's gonna mean slaughter, it's gonna mean a lot of people dying because that's, you know, the only way to conquer anything is through destruction and, I think by the end of the second season, you're seeing her really start to come into her own as the Mother of Dragons and the last of the Targaryens.

3.1: Valar Dohaeris

BENIOFF: For a great leader who is doing something unpopular for a certain segment, whether it's the Warlocks or the slave masters or whatnot, she's creating a lot of enemies, and powerful enemies, and those people are going to try to stop her regardless of how powerful she becomes, and it's something she's actually, in a weird way, used to, because she grew up running from assassins with her brother, you know, from the time, from the earliest time she can remember, she was being spirited from one city to another one step ahead of Robert Baratheon and the assassins, because there were so many people who wanted to destroy the Targaryen family and make King Robert happy and now there are thousands out there for all sorts of different reasons because she's made even more enemies, but, I think in her mind this is just the price you pay for being Daenerys Targaryen, for being the last of the Targaryens, and it's not going to stop her.

Anatomy of a Scene: Daenerys Meets the Unsullied

WEISS: Dany spent the first two seasons of the show leaning on men - her brother, Drogo, Jorah Mormont, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. She came out of season two realizing that the only person that she can completely trust is herself.

BENIOFF: Dany has her lovable side, but she is also ruthless, and she is also fiercely ambitious. What she wants, more than anything, is to return home and to reclaim her birthright.

CLARKE: She needs the manpower to go back and conquer the Iron Throne and to be able to right the wrongs that she sees going on around her.

MINAHAN: She's been brought to Astapor, where she's reluctantly going to meet with slave traders. Her quest in this is to build an army without taking slaves.

Comments from Charlie Somers (location manager) and Christina Moore (supervising art director) that don't have anything to do with the storyline

BENIOFF: The Unsullied were kidnapped as babies from their home countries and brought to Astapor and trained in the ways of the spear and castrated.

EMMANUEL: They won't do anything without the command to do so first.

Comment from Tommy Dunne (weapons master) that doesn't have anything to do with the storyline

CLARKE: She's being introduced to the Unsullied by Kraznys, the slave master in control of them.

EMMANUEL: Kraznys is being quite insulting to Daenerys. And Missandei very cleverly smoothes out her translation, just her initiative doing that shows her intelligence.

CLARKE: Dany sees a lot of herself in her and can kind of see that it's a young girl who's capable of much more than the position she's in. She's his No 1 slave. If you were in the UN, she would be the translator for everyone.

WEISS: Kraznys speaks a version of Valyrian that's been bastardized and mixed with other local languages.

Comment from Majella Hurley (dialect coach) that doesn't have anything to do with the storyline

CLARKE: She's struggling with the moral aspect of the way that these cities are run. And it's something she's been grappling with because they are an army of slaves, which she fundamentally has moral issues with due to the fact that she herself was a slave.

WEISS: The only way she can make the world a better place is to become the biggest slaveowner in the world.

BENIOFF: She's put into a difficult position, and she's got her advisors whispering in her ears.

GLEN: Jorah encourages her to get over her moral scrupules, with taking an army that were duty-bound to follow whatever leader it was, and that could change in an instant.

BENIOFF: Idealism is wonderful, but it's not gonna happen if you're idealistic, you gotta be a realist. She feels like she has this almost divine mission and nothing is gonna prevent her from achieving it.

WEISS: What she wants to do isn't just conquest for the sake of conquest, but it's really conquest for the sake of making the world a better place, and she's a revolutionary in that sense.

BENIOFF: For Daenerys to win, ultimately, she's gonna have to be just as ruthless as the others, and maybe even moreso.

3.3: Walk of Punishment

BENIOFF: Dany has her lovable side, but she is also ruthless, and she is also fiercely ambitious and, funnily, like a Littlefinger style ambition where she's trying to climb this, you know, the social ladder. It's almost like a Joan of Arc kind of ambition where she feels like she has this almost divine mission and nothing's going to prevent her from achieving it, and that might mean sacrificing those who are closest to her.

WEISS: Giving away one of the dragons seems like a completely insane thing to do, especially the biggest one. I mean, we know that, historically, the biggest dragons were those bigger than school buses and they were weapons of mass destruction and able to lay cities to waste in minutes, and no matter how big or effective your army of 8,000 soldiers is. Taking even a small city is going to be a kind of a dangerous prospect for them, and the idea that she's going to give away what they see is her real future for a chance at a small army now seems insane to them.

3.4: And Now His Watch is Ended

WEISS: We never really got this, a sense of her capacity for cruelty. She's surrounded by people who are terrible people, but haven't done anything to her personally, and it's interesting to me that, as the sphere of her empathy widens, the sphere of her cruelty widens as well.

BENIOFF: I think she becomes harder to dismiss, you know, for a long time people have been saying, even if she was alive, you know, really, the only threat she poses is her name, she's a Targaryen, great, but she's a little girl in the edge of the world, so she's starting to knock on people's doors a little bit.

WEISS: All at once she becomes a major force to be reckoned with, she spent a lot of time kind of banging her fists on the doors and declaring that she was owed the Iron Throne by right, but now she's stepped in her own as a conqueror.

BENIOFF: Dany is becoming more and more viable as a threat, you know, both, you know, in attaining an army and because she's the mother of these three dragons who are only gonna get more and more fearsome.

3.7: The Bear and the Maiden Fair

WEISS: Daenerys is coming into her own in a powerful way in the season. She's always been very negatively predisposed towards slavery because she knows what it feels like to be property, I mean, she was a very fancy slave for all intents and purposes, she was somebody who was sold to another man, taken against her will and I think that her feelings about slavery have started to really inform her reasons for wanting the Iron Throne, it's finally started to occur to her that, if I want to take on this responsibility, it's almost - it's incumbent upon me to do something with it, and she sees this great wrong, probably the greatest possible wrong surrounding her, and she's decided that she's not just going to take back the Iron Throne because it's her right, she's gonna take back the Iron Throne because she is the person to make the world a better place than it is. She is going to not just take it, she's gonna use it for something greater than herself.

3.10: Mhysa

BENIOFF: We see her get an army in episode four, and here in the finale you see her get her people, really, because she's got, she has her Dothraki followers that don't number very many, and she's got the people she's freed from the other cities, but now she is, it's not just - it's something even more, something almost even more religious about it than just a queen, I mean, she's the mother of these people.

WEISS: And it creates a whole new dynamic between her and the people that she's fighting for that she's gonna have to deal with in the future.

BENIOFF: The way they treat her, the way they lift her up and she is... something that has its... A revelation from a prophecy and that glorious destiny is coming true.

WEISS: Here it seemed like it was really important to let us know just how many people were counting on her to see the full extent of, mostly, the full extent of her army and the tens of thousands of people who flooded out of these gates to pay tribute to her. And then, keeping the dragons in play because they're always such an important part of her identity, we just want to tie all of that together in one great shot.

4.5: First of His Name

WEISS: This scene shows Dany learning a lesson that all revolutionaries learn at one point or another, which is that conquering in many ways is a whole lot easier than ruling.

BENIOFF: This is the pivotal moment for Daenerys because, for so long, her sole goal was getting back to Westeros, conquering Westeros and sitting on the Iron Throne and becoming the queen that she believes she has every right to be, now she has the opportunity.

WEISS: She is driven by a kind of a deep empathy, a much deeper empathy than probably anybody else in the show. It's something that makes her as charismatic as she is to people, because they get a sense of that sincerity of it. Her empathy allows her to look at the people of Westeros and say, why the hell would they follow me if I haven't proven myself through my actions to be somebody worth following, why would they let me rule if I hadn't proven myself to be somebody who has ruled well somewhere else?

4.7: Mockingbird

WEISS: In season one, Dany's sexuality was central to her transformation from basically a piece of propriety into a full-fledged human being and with Drogo the first thing that she took charge of was the only thing that was available to her at the time, which was her own body, and she came into her own as an adult, really, amongst the Dothraki, who were not shy about their bodies in any way. That Dany is not really cut out to be a virgin queen and Daario is a bad boy who seems like a good idea to her at this moment, and she takes her prerogatives as a powerful person as powerful people sometimes do, and yet he's made himself more than available. She didn't ever expect Jorah to find out, she loves Jorah in her own way, she makes it very clear to him that he's far more important to her means, far more to her than a person like Daario ever could, just not in the way that Jorah might like.

BENIOFF: He's been in love with Dany from pretty much her wedding day and now he sees this young upstart, who just entered her life relatively recently, come into his world and sweep her off her feet. I think he's both incredibly jealous and also a little bit angry at Dany that she would fall for a man who he considers so unworthy of her.

4.8: The Mountain and the Viper

WEISS: It's hard to keep a thing like that covered up forever, especially when your enemies are so invested in putting a wedge between you, I mean, they are a good team, they compliment each other nicely in lots of ways that are really troublesome to the Lannisters especially, so it shouldn't be a surprise, I think it's just one of those things that, in hindsight, he probably should've told her a long time ago, and it's more the fact that he kept it from her than the fact that he did it, which seals his fate. I think, from Dany's perspective, this is the most earth-shattering thing that could possibly happen to her. He's her rock and her anchor, the way in which he stops her from flying off into potentially dangerous directions, and when someone that important to you, that central to you, is shown to be not just a liar, but when their entire relationship to you is shown to be based upon a lie, I think it poisons every corner of her world with doubt and mistrust. From his perspective, he may have started as an informer, but she is his whole reason for being, at this point, I mean, he's completely given up on his desire to return to Westeros in any way except by her side. His home now is wherever she happens to be, so this is really like being expelled from the Garden for him, this is the worst thing that could happen to either of them. For her, it's her child; when Viserys put her child in danger and pointed the sword at her stomach, you saw some switch flipping her, you saw something change and she watched him die without blinking an eye, even though he was her family and the other family she had ever known, and when she realizes that Jorah was also responsible for putting that child in danger, I think that's what closes the door on him forever.

4.10: The Children

WEISS: Ruling is about maintaining order and creating an environment for your people that is safe and her dragons, which were such an asset for scaring the shit out of everybody and making people throw down their shores and run in the other direction when she would come knocking as a conqueror, they're becoming a liability that she can't afford anymore. It's one thing to be killing people's goats and you can pay off a goat herder for his goats, you can't pay off a goat herder for his children. So, she realizes that she has to put the interests of her people ahead of her dragons, who are the only real children she's ever going to have.

5.2: The House of Black and White

BENIOFF: There always seemed to be this sense of "manifest destiny" with Dany and that she was going to take what was hers with fire and blood, and she has, but there's a difference between taking and keeping and there's a difference between conquering and ruling and she's finding out that the latter is much more complicated. It's impossible to rule over a city as large as Meereen without infuriating certain people.

WEISS: Dany is trying her very best to do the right thing, to be a good ruler, and sometimes, within the context of this world, being a good ruler means doing things like executing Mossador, it's about laying down a justice that's blind and impartial and applying it evenly to everybody, former master or former slave.

BENIOFF: And, in this case, with Mossador, it's very complicated for her because she has a great deal of affection for this young man who was a slave until she came and that's the reason he was selected to represent the free people on her council and he's been a strong ally of hers and yet he disobeyed her and so, from her mind, she's making a very hard-headed but fair decision, and in the minds of the freedmen and freedwomen watching this execution, she's turning on them and she's executing one of her children, one of the people who called her a mhysa.

WEISS: When she steps up and actually does that, of course, she finds that she doesn't win any friends for her blind justice and her commitment to the law that she alienates her supporters and the people who hated her hate her as much as they did before, so it's one of those things where doing the right thing doesn't have any immediate rewards associated with it, it just leads to a riot that almost gets her head caved in with a bunch of rocks.

5.6: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

(Dany doesn't appear in this episode; D&D discuss events from episode 5.5 here.)

BENIOFF: Looking at Dany in Meereen, she's facing a real tricky dilemma so far in that she's trying to create stability in the city where she's a foreigner, she's an outside power who's coming with a foreign army and she seizes power and about half the city hates her, so the way she's trying to stem the civil war is in part by police action and in part by marrying the head of an ancient family and creating an alliance with those old families and actually trying to bring them onto her side by marrying Hizdahr.

WEISS: She doesn't like Hizdahr, she doesn't trust Hizdahr, but she has enough wisdom to understand that she's not going to get this done by smashing heads alone, she's going to need to create ties to this world that she wants to be a part of and to rule, and she understands that marriage is the way to do that.

5.7: The Gift

BENIOFF: I think Dany is still not quite at that cynical level yet, she still believes that there's a higher purpose that she's there for, it's not just about power, it's about using that power to make humanity better.

WEISS: If somebody is telling you that one of those horrible things that's all the more horrible because you suspect that it's true, and she's an idealist who desperately wants to believe that that's not the case, but, in their relationship, Daario is one of the only people - the only person around her now - who tells her all the things she doesn't want to hear.

BENIOFF: So she's not yet convinced that she needs to be a butcher. At the same time, she realizes that, the longer the season goes on, that she has to be ruthless sometimes in order to maintain security, in order to keep herself in power, so that means some bastards are going to get sacrificed to her dragons, then so be it.

5.8: Hardhome

WEISS: Over the course of their conversation, the similarities in their experiences start to come to the fore, maybe the similarities in their worldview start to come to the fore.

BENIOFF: Tyrion has a lot of empathy for another orphan out there who had another terrible father, y'know, it certainly links that bond them. He realizes maybe Varys was right about her that she's the last chance for Westeros and this is someone who could cross the Narrow Sea and not only bring me back into power, because Tyrion still has his own ambitions, but create a better world for the people over there because, depite everything, despite his occasional cynicism and his lack of sentimentality, Tyrion is one of the few players in this game who believes that it's possible to make things a little bit better for people.

WEISS: Dany talks a good game and she's very charismatic and she's a very impressive young woman, but he's heard lots of people say lots of pretty words over the course of his life and he's seen how those plans go awry when they meet with reality. Like revolutionaries in our own world, she has every intention to change things, even if that means knocking everything down to do it.

5.9: The Dance of Dragons

BENIOFF: Even before we put it in the paper, I remember reading this scene in the book and saying "holy shit" and actually I remember emailing George right after I read the scene, even before I finished the book just after reading the scene and saying: "that's one of the best scenes in any of your books and I have no idea how we're going to do it". This seems like a big scene for a feature movie, let alone a TV show.

WEISS: It's one of the most powerful and seamless allusions we've ever created on the show; we've never had anything remotely like this before.

BENIOFF: Dany could stop this at any moment, as Tyrion says at the moment when it looks like Jorah is going to die, and she can, she's the queen, she can stop anything, right, and she doesn't, because, even if she is the queen, she is, as she says earlier, if I don't keep my word, why would anyone trust me? And she's exiled him from the city twice now, he's come back twice, so, from her perspective, she's not gonna step in and protect him, I mean, he's not worthy of her protection; but, at the same time, as tough as she is, she's watching this man that she's had great affection for for so long and it looks like she might lose him, it looks like he really might die, so there's just this witches' brew of conflicting emotions in Dany's head and Jorah, I think, is really hoping for her to stop and you know, at certain points, like, look what I'm willing to do to get back to you.

WEISS: The look he gives her in that moment, you can just feel how intensely it just digs into her and how it says volumes to her across that dusty arena without ever speaking a word.

WEISS: [the Sons' attack on the arena] It's one of my favorite moments in the scene and the season and in this series, that moment where she realizes this is over and she resigns herself to that faith.

BENIOFF: This isn't the way she saw it happening, it's not the way she wants it to end, but if it's going to happen, she doesn't want to die screaming, she doesn't to die in terror, she wants to have a moment of peace before it's over and then, at that moment, when all seems lost, Drogon comes. There seems to be a connection between them, it's been talked about before on the show and in the books, there's this very deep connection between the Targaryens and their dragons, and certainly that's true with Dany and Drogon, it's more than just a pet of hers, they are in a real sense for her her adopted children and so this is just evidence of Drogon's ability to sense when his mother is in great peril. Jorah has this conversation with Tyrion halfway through the season where he says, I used to be cynical like you, but then I saw this girl step out of the fire with three baby dragons and, if you've ever heard baby dragons singing, it's hard to be cynical after that, and it's the same thing happening here for Tyrion, it's hard to be cynical after watching this young queen fly off on a dragon and it's very hard not to believe that she really is the chosen one.

WEISS: I think at that point it's pretty hard for Tyrion to keep a grip on his cynicism. His expression watching her fly away completely captured what we wanted to capture in the moment, which is he's never seen a girl like this before.

5.10: Mother’s Mercy

WEISS: Daenerys is stuck on this beautiful, but isolated, plateau without any food and a dragon that mostly wants to sleep and get better, so she's got to find her on way, which is fine, except she encounters a group of people she probably didn't expect to encounter again anytime soon. When she sees the Dothraki, she knows what that means, and her relationship with Drogo was one thing, but Drogo is gone and she knows, in a way, that he was sort of an anomaly. She drops the ring because she's smart; that ring is the breadcrumb that's gonna point in the direction that she's being taken and somebody down the line hopefully who means her less harm than the Dothraki will notice.

6.1: The Red Woman

WEISS: Tyrion is very much in the situation along with Varys where they're sitting on a volatile powder keg of a society.

BENIOFF: The enemies of Daenerys see a city ripe to be overthrown and it's going to test Tyrion's political skills, his diplomatic skills, all of his experience.

WEISS: He's optimistic in a strange way for him, he's not generally an optimistic person, but I think he feels inspired for the first time and he feels equal to the challenge that's facing him when it comes to Meereen.

6.3: Oathbreaker

WEISS: I think when Dany returns to Vaes Dothrak it's obviously with a certain sense of dread, because she knows that these widows of the former khals are not likely to welcome her with open arms, it's not like a "long-lost sister, where have you been?", it's "here's a funny-looking, white-haired girl who has put herself on a record as thinking she's all that" and stringing a bunch of highfalutin titles after her name. But the High Priestess of the Dosh Khaleen is not coming at it from the perspective of somebody who's looking to punish this young person with inflated ideas of her own greatness, I think she remembers what it was like to think that a glorious destiny awaited her and to find out that that wasn't the case. I think the High Priestess has a certain amount of empathy with Dany's position, which you see in the way that she relates to her, which is stern, but not quite as awful as anybody might have expected it to be.

6.4: Book of the Stranger

BENIOFF: The historical examples that we looked to in writing these scenes was, oddly, that was Abraham Lincoln, because Lincoln was trying desperately to stave off a civil war between the North and the South and he wasn't ready to get rid of slavery quite as quickly as people think. I mean, he was trying to talk to the southerners and work out some kind of compromise at first and, you know, with Tyrion it's, as he says to Grey Worm and Missandei, slavery is an evil, war is an evil, and I can't have both at once, so what's the solution here? The whole point of diplomacy is compromise. He's proposed compromise, which he thinks of as a good idea, is incredibly offensive to Missandei and Grey Worm, who were slaves and, you know, from their point of view, you don't make a compromise with slavers because that's making a deal with the devil, so they're entering into these negotiations with slavers with deep skepticism, but Daenerys did choose this man to advise her, so if he's saying there's a chance, they're willing to try it, but with great suspicions.

BENIOFF: One of the things that was interesting for us was, you know, seeing how Dany can be strong when she is not in a position of power, you know, all the khals of all the gathered khalasars were within the temple of the Dosh Khaleen and Dany, an unarmed little woman, killed them all, by herself. You know, she didn't have a dragon flying and doing it, it was all Dany.

WEISS: The end of episode 604 definitely meant consciously to echo the end of episode 110. It's Dany stepping out of a flame to great effect; this time it was just on a much, much larger scale.

BENIOFF: Rebirth is clearly a theme this season, whether it's Jon Snow or Dany emerging again from the fires. When she did it the first time, only, you know, a few score people witnessed this miracle of Daenerys Targaryen emerging unscathed from the flames. Now it's the Dothraki as a people who witnessed this.

WEISS: The act of stepping out of that burning temple, in which all the Dothraki power structure had just perished, pretty much makes her the queen of the Dothraki in one fell swoop.

BENIOFF: And, of course, it's hard not to be impressed when you see her emerging from the fires unscathed. It's like a god being reborn, and that's why they all bow to her.

6.6: Blood of my Blood

BENIOFF: Daenerys talks about the dragons being her children and that the dragons are the only children she'll have. Of her three children, she's always been closest to Drogon, and they clearly have some kind of connection that goes beyond words and she just senses that he's out there in the scene. One of our favorite moments from season one was watching Khal Drogo deliver a speech to his gathered khalasar. That speech lingered in Daenerys's mind and she's echoing almost the exact same language when she's talking to the Dothraki now. So she's basically telling them the promise that one of the great khals had made years before and saying now's the time to live up to that promise and to fulfill it. It's something that's been set up for quite a long time and now we're seeing it come to pass.

6.9: Battle of the Bastards

WEISS: Daenerys, when she comes back to that situation, she has no idea what to expect, she doesn't know what's happened in Meereen. In a way, you feel for Tyrion because she left him with a terrible situation; the city was under siege from within and without and he really did, for so long, an excellent job of making things better there and, unfortunately, what she comes back to find is exactly what she would have expected to find when she left, and the fact that she has a city at all still is due to him.

BENIOFF: I think Dany's been becoming a Targaryen ever since the end of season one.

WEISS: She's not her father and she's not insane and she's not a sadist, but there's a Targaryen ruthlessness that comes with even the good Targaryens.

BENIOFF: If you're one of the lords of Westeros or one of her potential opponents in the wars to come and you get word of what happened here in Meereen, you have to be pretty nervous because this is an unprecedented threat, you got a woman who's somehow formed an alliance where she's got a Dothraki horde, a legion of Unsullied, she's got the mercenary army of the Second Sons and she's got three dragons who are now pretty close to full-grown, so if she can make it all the way across the Narrow Sea and get to Westeros, who's gonna stand in her way?

6.10: The Winds of Winter

WEISS: Tyrion had a very steep slope to climb to win Dany's trust. His family played an integral part in nearly exterminating her family, but, at this point, especially given the hand he was dealt with Meereen after she left, he's earned her trust. One of the few people in this world at this point who's willing to speak the truth to her face.

BENIOFF: Mainly, he's proven himself to be very loyal, you know, she's gone for most of the season, but he didn't abandon her, he didn't go off looking for the next person to rule him, he was clearly trying to serve her interest while she was gone. Dany's not gonna do anything she doesn't want to do, she's not gonna take anyone's advice if it seems against her interests and so, when he recommends that she cut ties with Daario, she does it because she thinks he's right. The truth is, Tyrion's logic makes a lot of sense to her, you know, he's not gonna be a help for her when she gets to Westeros, she comes over there unencumbered and, as a queen without a king, that could be really useful in the future. You know, Tyrion has become a very capable adviser in a relatively short time, she clearly respects his intelligence and she now respects his loyalty. I think, especially given that she knows where they're heading, they're going back to Westeros, most of the people on her team have never been there, but Tyrion spent his whole life there, served as Hand of the King before, defended King's Landing during an attack, he knows these families, the ruling family, better than anyone, he certainly knows Cersei better than anyone, so, as long as she can trust him, which she does, he's the perfect adviser for her in this war for Westeros. He's the perfect Hand to the Queen and that's why she names him such.

WEISS: That shot of Dany's fleet with all of her newly arrayed allies making its way out of the Slaver's Bay towards the Narrow Sea and home, it's probably the biggest thing that's happened on the show thus far, it's the thing we've been waiting for since the pilot episode of the first season. The person she is now is very, very different from the person she was then. It hasn't been a smooth road, feels like she has earned it at this point.

BENIOFF: It's the shot that we're gonna leave everyone with.

WEISS: It was a real thrill to see her on the bow of that ship, with Tyrion by her side heading west. The ruthlessness that comes with even the good Targaryens, I mean, these are the people who came over from across the narrow sea and conquered the known world. It'll be very interesting to see how that plays out going forward.

7.1: Dragonstone

BENIOFF: For [Cersei] now at this point, it's about survival, and the way to survive is to defeat her enemy. She will do whatever she has to do to win, she'll blow up the sept if that will allow her to win, even if that means killing hundreds, probably thousands of innocent people. She's capable of anything, unlike Dany, who is constrained a little bit by her morality and her fear of hurting innocents. For those of us who have been with the story from the beginning and really followed Dany's journey, coming home is such a massive, game-changer on so many levels, and we just wanted to see that.

WEISS: There is so much weight on that arrival that we felt that a bunch of dialogue was completely unnecessary, it would only step on the emotion of the moment.

BENIOFF: Everyone is giving her a little bit of distance; Tyrion, who is usually the most loquacious of people, he's not talking because he wants her to experience it and, at one point, Grey Worm is about to walk up alongside Dany to guard her and Missandei holds him back because she wants Dany to experience it on her own. And then she has that time and she's ready to begin.

7.2: Stormborn

WEISS: I don't think they're that many situations in film or television where you see four women sitting around a table discussing power and strategy and war. We didn't really plan it that way, but once it landed on that we knew that these things had to be discussed, we knew the plan to take Casterly Rock had to be put out there. I think it's a scene that, had it been the exact same information, situation being put forward by a bunch of old grizzled guys with gray beards, it would have been a lot less interesting to have it be Emilia at one end of the table and Diana at the other end of the table. To me, that just is such a breath of fresh air, and made writing it a lot more fun. The end, after all has been said and done, then Olenna sits her down and tells her to ignore all of that.

Show!Olenna: You're a dragon. Be a dragon.

WEISS: When Diana tells you to do that you start to... go outside the scene and wonder if that applies to every aspect of your life and not just the scene you happen to be shooting.

7.3: The Queen’s Justice

WEISS: The spine of the episode is about their meeting. It was an exciting, thrilling thing to watch happening even as we were shooting it. Once we realized that we're kind of getting a charge out of just seeing this happen on a set, which is a notoriously boring place, we had a sense that it would carry over to the finished version of the scene.

BENIOFF: That audience chamber was built by Aegon Targaryen to intimidate anyone who came there.

WEISS: He doesn't have much insight into what she's gone through. So, I think he sees a rich girl with a fancy name sitting in a big chair with a fancy dress on, proclaiming herself the queen of the world. So, I don't think he's looking upon her with as much respect as she has come to take as her due.

BENIOFF: He's a very strong-willed person. He didn't come down there to bend the knee. He didn't come down there to join her in her fight against Cersei. None of that matters at this point, though. All that matters is... fighting the dead.

WEISS: She looks at him, and she thinks this is some unwashed barbarian from the North and a bastard. His name is Jon Snow, yet he's calling himself king. If she knew what he'd seen, she'd be looking very, very differently... at what he's telling her, but at this moment in time, she only sees somebody who's trying to carve up her piece of her kingdom for himself. And if what this guy is saying is true, then it really is an issue, and she has... her own very serious issues to deal with in the shape of the woman who's now sitting on the throne.

7.4: The Spoils of War

BENIOFF: There's tension on two sides. One is the political, where Jon Snow has his own very specific purpose here on Dragonstone, and that's to get the Dragonglass and, if possible, to convince Dany to fight with him. And Dany has her own very specific purpose, which is to get Jon to bend the knee. There's conflict, and it's conflict between powerful people. And then to make it all even more complicated, they're starting to be attracted to each other. And so much of it is not from dialogue or anything we wrote, it's just the two of them in a small space standing near each other, and us just watching that and feeling the heat of that.

WEISS: She had a nicely triumphant return to Dragonstone, which nobody contested or got in the way of. From that point on, she's lost two of her principle allies, she's lost a lot of her fleet. She's in a position where if she doesn't step up soon and come up with a big win for her side, she's gonna lose this fight before it even begins. I think she really feels the pressure of her situation more than she ever has before. This is the fight she's been waiting for her whole life.

BENIOFF: I think there are several stories interplaying here. Part of it is that Dany's finally cutting loose. The whole first part of the season, she's been frustrated. In following Tyrion's counsel, she's been fighting with one hand behind her back, and so she hasn't really unleashed the Dothraki horde. She hasn't really set the dragons into combat yet.

WEISS: With the loot train battle, one of the things that's most exciting about it for us... This is the first time we've ever had two sets of main characters on opposite sides of the battlefield. And it's impossible to really want any one of them to win, and impossible to want any one of them to lose.

WEISS: This dragon flies up. That makes it a totally different situation. It's almost like, "What if somebody had an F-16 that they brought to a medieval battle?" You start to scrap the history of it a bit, and just think about how would those things interact with each other in a way that's exciting and believable to the extent that dragons are believable?

BENIOFF: Qyburn realized that the dragons were vulnerable. They might be fearsome beasts, but they are mortal and they can be hurt, and they can be killed. We see the scorpion come into play, manned by Bronn. And we see Drogon wounded. Things turn out okay for them, but I think it also changes the calculation a little bit, because now they know these weapons are on the board. This ongoing war with Cersei is entering into a dangerous territory.

WEISS: Jaime's charge at Daenerys is a hard thing to top for me in that sequence, only because when you have a principle character trying to murder another principle character, that doesn't happen all that often.

7.5: Eastwatch

BENIOFF: One of the things that Dany has found immensely frustrating in the beginnings of this war against Cersei is that she is being asked to fight on a certain moral standard and... Cersei isn't. Because of that, Cersei has an advantage over her. The more ruthless opponent will often win. I wouldn't say she's acting like the Mad King because it's rational. She's given them a choice and they choose not to bend the knee to her and she accepts that choice and she does exactly what she told them she would do. And from her standpoint, she's not acting insane in any way. She's just being tough, which is what she needs to be to win. That's one perspective. Tyrion has a different perspective and hopefully people watching will have their own and they'll decide for themselves whether they think what she did was just or immoral.

7.6: Beyond the Wall

BENIOFF: At a certain point, they're just fighting for their survival. Once they retreat all the way to the middle of the lake, there's nowhere farther to run. She's always been willing to risk her life to do what she thinks is right. And in terms of going North to rescue them, a number of people up there have different claims on her heart. And Jorah's been by her side from the beginning, and he saved her life so many times, I think she would feel as if it was a betrayal if she didn't at least try to save him. And then of course, there's Jon Snow. You definitely get the sense that he's become quite important to her in a pretty short amount of time. He sees that they're all gonna die if the dragon doesn't take off. The rational decision at that point is, "You guys go to safety, and I'll try to keep them off you as long as I can." He's the guy who jumps on the grenade to save the rest of the platoon. That's always been Jon.

WEISS: I think that when she sees him return on the back of Coldhand's horse, that's a big moment for her in terms of the way she feels about him.

BENIOFF: I don't think either one of them really knew exactly how powerful their feelings were towards each other until these moments. Just the notion of falling for someone, that involves weakness. It's not something a queen does. But she feels that happening, and he feels it happening for her. I think both of them are on, kinda, unfamiliar ground. And especially because it's with an equal. It's kind of hard for her at that point, I think not to look at this guy, and realize this is not like the other boys.

WEISS: What was fun about the sequence, you know, awful way to us is that up until the end, it's very close to one of those battles where all the good guys get out the other side, and, more or less, scot-free. But we knew that killing the dragon was gonna have a tremendous emotional impact, 'cause over the seasons and seasons of the show it's really been emphasized what they are to Dany. We knew that the Night King would see and seize this opportunity. I'd like to think that when the dragon dies, that it's kind of a one-two punch, 'cause on the one hand, you've just seen the horror of one of these three amazing beings like this in the world going under the water and not coming up again, and processing that. Then you're processing something that's even worse, which is when it comes back out from under the water again, and we see in the last shot of the episode, what it becomes.

7.7: The Dragon and the Wolf

BENIOFF: Jon's not Jon Sand. He's actually, as Bran finally overhears from Lyanna, Aegon Targaryen. And that means he's the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. That changes everything.

WEISS: I would say the challenge with this sequence was finding a way to present information that at least a good portion of the audience already had in a way that was dramatic and exciting, also had a new element to it. Part of the answer as to how to go about doing that was in the montage, inter-cut nature of it. It was about making it clear that this was almost like an information bomb that Jon was heading towards.

Show!Bran: Robert's rebellion was built on a lie.

WEISS: The only way to really emphasize that was to tie those two worlds together cinematically, and to have Bran actually narrating these facts over the footage of Jon and of Dany.

Show!Bran: He's the heir to the Iron Throne.

WEISS: Just as we're seeing these two people come together, we're hearing the information that will inevitably, if not tear them apart, at least cause real problems in their relationship. And she's his aunt.

BENIOFF: It complicates everything on a political level, on a personal level, and it just makes everything that could have been so neat and kind of perfect for Jon and Dany, and it really muddies the waters.

Show!Bran: We need to tell him.

BENIOFF: We tried to contrast the various season endings so that they don't feel too similar. So last season we had a pretty triumphant ending with Dany finally sailing west towards Westeros. This one is definitely much more horrific.

8.1: Winterfell

BENIOFF: It's a whole new procession, and so instead of Robert arriving with Queen Cersei and Jamie Lannister and The Hound, it's Daenerys coming with Jon Snow. I don't think the North is the most welcoming place to outsiders. Dany's smart. She senses that distrust, and she's... gonna make the best of a bad situation, but that doesn't mean that she likes it or she's happy.

WEISS: When you're doing something good for people, and you get met with what Sansa gives her when they meet in the courtyard, it's understandable that she would be upset.

WEISS: I think that if Tyrion were to have shown up on his own to Winterfell, he would've gotten a much different reception from Sansa than he did coming as the Hand of the Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.

BENIOFF: No one's ever ridden a dragon except for Dany. Only Targaryens can ride dragons, and that should be a sign for Jon. Jon's not always the quickest on the uptake, but eventually gets there.

WEISS: We wanted to kind of re-anchor their relationship. It seemed important for it to involve the dragons, since the dragons play such an important role.

BENIOFF: It's a major thing for her when she sees they have some kind of connection to him, they allow him to be around them. And when he flies up with her and shows her where he used to hunt as a kid, I think she falls even farther in love with him.

WEISS: Seeing Jon and Dany on the dragons together, it's a Jon and Dany moment, but it also seeds in the idea that these creatures will accept Jon Snow as one of their riders.

BENIOFF: One of the challenges, but also one of the exciting things about this episode, this whole season, is bringing together characters who have never met. Sam has long been one of the more important characters in the story. But he's never seen Queen Daenerys, and yet they're connected by various threads. The obvious one, which we know from the beginning of the scene, is Jorah. Sam saved him, and so Jorah owes him this great debt. What none of them realize until midway through this scene is that they have another, horrible connection.

WEISS: There are all these things that you know about those characters that the other characters don't know. And some of them are very important. Dany murdered Samwell's father and brother.

BENIOFF: That's a really complicated thing for Sam because he had a really fraught relationship with his father. Yet Sam's older brother was not a bad person, and died, really, quite bravely, standing by his father's side.

WEISS: John Bradley did an excellent job. The difference between the way he takes the news of his father's death and the way he takes the news of his brother's death, it was a subtle thing that he does with very few words. It's the kind of thing that he could find out in a number of different ways, but it seemed like a very ineffective preamble and way into that later moment.

WEISS: The fact that Jon's real parents were who Jon's real parents were is not news to us at this point, but what we don't know is the way that Jon is going to take this. How's the explosion gonna look?

BENIOFF: Sam, as a brother of the Night's Watch, and Jon are more brothers than Bran and Jon ever really were. He knows it's gonna hurt Jon and it's going to shatter his whole worldview. For all they know, the Army of the Dead could attack the next day, and someone has to tell Jon before that.

WEISS: He's being told something that he both knows is true and can't handle. So he tries to throw things in front of it to prevent him from having to deal with the-- the truth of what he's being told. The thing he throws in front of it here is the fact that it means his father was lying to him his whole life. The truth that Samwell tells Jon is probably the most incendiary fact in the entire world of the show. We chose to play the whole thing on Jon's face because, as great a job as John Bradley is doing presenting this information, he's really just presenting information we know already.

8.2: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

WEISS: When Jaime shows up to Winterfell, it's very difficult for almost anybody to know how to feel about it. On the one hand, Dany looks at him as the person who murdered her father, and even if she has come to terms with who her father was and what her father really was, it probably doesn't entirely erase the sting of her father's murderer showing up on her doorstep.

BENIOFF: Tyrion has made a number of mistakes now, and Dany's really at the end of her patience. Because she has a lot of fondness and respect for Tyrion, but many of his plans have really gone awry. And now Jaime Lannister's here, but not with the Lannister army. Tyrion can't really fight back because he knows she's right. I mean, he really did make a grievous mistake. If Tyrion has a flaw, he's a very clever man, but sometimes clever people overestimate their own cleverness.

BENIOFF: Dany comes to Sansa with a bit of an olive branch, trying to find a way inside that kind of cool exterior that Sansa presents. And one commonality between them is they both love Jon. Dany's his lover and Sansa's his sister. It's very much coming at it from the point of view of a monarch trying to make peace with her subject, and Sansa's not quite willing to accept Dany as her monarch yet. She's suspicious of people for a reason. She's had too many hard experiences not to be suspicious of people. And she sees Dany as possibly a tyrant, as somebody who has a lot of power and is seeking to get even more.

8.3: The Long Night

WEISS: We wanted our characters to feel, like, that this-- maybe this is all gonna work out, maybe things are all gonna be okay. We've seen how devastating a Dothraki charge can be just with their regular swords, and now when they're galloping into combat with, uh, flaming arakhs, it's-- it's-- Uh... What could possibly stand against that?

BENIOFF: What they see is just the end of the Dothraki, essentially.

WEISS: They have a plan, and it's important to wait for the Night King to reveal himself, and then have two dragons against one dragon, and a really good chance of-- of defeating him. One thing that they couldn't have foreseen was Dany's reaction to seeing the Dothraki decimated. Jon is the person who wants to stick to the plan, but the Dothraki are not Jon's; they're not loyal to Jon, they're loyal to Dany, and I think that Dany can't bring herself to just watch them die, and so the plan starts to fall apart the second she gets on her dragon, so he does too, and then we take it from there.

BENIOFF: We knew this episode was gonna be almost entirely battle, and that can get really boring really quickly. You can watch it for a certain number of minutes before the effect starts to dampen. Part of it was making sure that we really stayed focused on the characters, and so whether it's Arya's storyline, or Sansa and Tyrion down the crypt, or Jon Snow and Dany up on the dragons. Kinda like all these separate little battles within the... within the greater battle.

BENIOFF: I mean, we talked about various endings for Jorah for a long time, but, you know, you think about Jorah, from the very first time we met him, he was with Dany, and from that time, he's been mostly by her side. Part of Jorah's tragedy is that he was in love with a woman who couldn't love him back, but he's accepted that for quite a long time, at the same time he was going to fight for her as long as he could and as well as he could.

WEISS: There'd never been a moment where she more needed someone to fight to protect her than this moment. And if he could've chosen a way to die, this is how he would've chosen to die. So, it was something we thought would be powerful to give him.

8.4: The Last of the Starks

WEISS: Dany kind of structures the feast scene, in a way. I mean, she's really the person whose emotions and choices are guiding the scene.

BENIOFF: And things start to shift a little bit when Daenerys calls for Gendry and-- and names him the new Lord of Storm's End.

WEISS: It's almost like, as the queen, she's giving people... permission to-- to celebrate what they've done.

BENIOFF: Things start to relax a little bit, and these people did survive and they-- they won, and they emerged victorious. And so what started as a very funereal scene gradually starts to shift into more of a party atmosphere as people get drunker and drunker. That shift does not happen with Daenerys; she's scarred by the events that just took place, but she's also very much thinking about... what Jon Snow told her, and she's really shaken when she sees everyone celebrating with him, and talking about what a mad man and what a king he is for getting on a dragon.

WEISS: He has love and respect from these people that, even with the gesture that she just made, she can't ever equal.

BENIOFF: She realizes that his true identity is a real threat to her if it comes out. So, she's in a fairly dark place and while other people are starting to try to celebrate their survival and their victory, Dany's not in a celebratory mood.

WEISS: After the feast, she comes to talk to him and... with the intention of-- of... of making this all work out, and of bringing things back to the way they were before.

BENIOFF: There's a moment when they're kissing, and-- and it seems like things are kind of getting back to where they were, but... it's almost as if he remembers all of a sudden what she really is. It's tense for him. For her, she grew up hearing all these stories about how their ancestors who were related to each other were also lovers, and it doesn't seem that strange to her. For him, it is a strange thing.

WEISS: Once Dany introduces the idea that everything can be as it was if... Jon... keeps this secret buttoned down and tells no one, she's introducing a conflict that plays forward.

BENIOFF: From his standpoint, he's already declared his loyalty to her. He's promised her and he's a man of his word. But he's also, you know, a family man, and so, the idea that he wouldn't tell Sansa and Arya about his true identity, it just seems very wrong to him.

BENIOFF: He thinks he can have it both ways; that he can tell Arya and Sansa the truth about who he really is, and he can maintain his loyalty to Dany and everyone's gonna learn to live together.

WEISS: One thing everybody who... comes into contact with this information seems to understand is how incendiary the information is. Sansa's left with a very difficult decision, 'cause she promises Jon that she won't tell anyone, and yet when she's sitting up there on that wall with Tyrion, she knows... what will happen if she gives Tyrion this information. She's a student of Littlefinger, and she knows how information travels, and she can think many steps ahead into the game, the way Littlefinger did, and know that if she tells Tyrion, it's almost impossible for Tyrion not to tell Varys, and if you tell-- I think these are all things that have been occurring to Sansa between the time we see her get that information and the time she passes the message on.

BENIOFF: Part of the story here is that while we've been concentrating on Winterfell and the fight against the army of the dead, Dany's other enemies have not been just sitting still; they've been planning for-- for the final battle. We saw in season seven that Qyburn had invented this giant dragon-killing scorpion and it didn't quite work. Qyburn went back to the drawing board and he made even larger, more powerful scorpions. Dozens of them are now lining the walls of King's Landing, and dozens more are mounted on the decks of the Iron Fleet. While Dany kind of forgot about the Iron fleet and Euron's forces, they certainly haven't forgotten about her, and they're just waiting for her to come back. By this point, they would have gotten news that her army's emerged victorious and were gonna head south, and so they're just waiting in ambush for her return.

WEISS: In some ways, the most important thing that happens... to Daenerys in four, is the death of her second dragon. Now she's got one dragon, and that dragon presumably is just as vulnerable... as Rhaegal was. So, there's this-- the mourning of a child, which is very real to her, and then their best friend is taken. Dany knows that once Cersei has Missandei that she's not going to see Missandei alive again.

BENIOFF: This is a moment for Cersei where she has a chance to... maybe to flee and get away if she surrenders, but that's-- I think anyone who knows Cersei knows she's not gonna make that choice. Her feeling is, "If I give up the throne, I'm dead, and so, my only chance now is to win." And that's what she says to Ned Stark in season one. Dany is this young queen coming to try to usurp her, and Cersei's not gonna give up the throne that easily. She's captured an enemy, and this is how Cersei deals with enemies. Tyrion's perspective is-- is, you know, while we have these various wars for supremacy and everything, let's not forget about the people who are gonna suffer the most from it. He can envision what will happen to King's Landing if these two armies clash and dragons are involved, and it's an obvious catastrophe. She feels like the odds are actually pretty good on-- on-- for her at this point, and she's willing to roll the dice. I think for Cersei, the only good prisoner is a dead prisoner.

WEISS: She's really back... where she was... at the very beginning. Emotionally, she's alone in the world, and she can't really trust anybody.

BENIOFF: People have underestimated Dany's strength many times before, and-- and... no one's really done very well underestimating her strengths.

WEISS: Unlike them, she's extremely powerful, and unlike them, she's filled with a rage that's aimed at one person specifically.

BENIOFF: I think what's probably echoing in Dany's head in those final moments would be Missandei's final words. Dracarys is clearly meant for Dany. Missandei knows that her life is over, and she is saying, you know, "Light them up."

8.5: The Bells

BENIOFF: Dany's an incredibly strong person, she's also someone who has had really close friendships and close advisors for her entire run of the show. You look at these people who have been closest to her for such a long time, and almost of them have either turned on her or died, and she's very much alone. And that's a dangerous thing for someone who's got so much power, to feel that isolated. So at the very time when she needs guidance and those kind of close friendships and advice the most, everyone's gone.

WEISS: I think that Varys knew that it was unlikely that he would survive the attempt to overthrow Dany in favor of Jon. And he also knew that he ethically, in his mind, had no choice but to... try to do that anyway. I think that Tyrion is saying goodbye to his best friend in the world outside of his brother. And the amount of guilt that he feels over being the cause for his best friend's imminent death, it's hard to really get your head around.

BENIOFF: Jon Snow is someone that she's fallen in love with. And as far as she's concerned, by this point, Jon has betrayed her by telling people about his true identity, and also the fact he's unable to return her affections at this point.

WEISS: I think that when she says, "Let it be fear," she's resigning herself to the fact that she may have to get things done in a way that isn't pleasant. And she may have to get things done in a way that is horrible for lots of people.

BENIOFF: She chose violence. A Targaryen choosing violence is a pretty terrifying thing.

BENIOFF: Even when you look back to season one, when Khal Drogo gives the golden crown to Viserys, and her reaction of watching her brother's head melted off ...and he was a terrible brother, you know, so I don't think anyone out there was-- was crying when Viserys died, but... there is something kind of chilling about the way that Dany has responded to the death of her enemies. And if circumstances had been different, I don't think this side of Dany ever would've come out. If Cersei hadn't betrayed her, if Cersei hadn't executed Missandei, if Jon hadn't told her the truth. Like, if all of these things had happened in any different way, then I don't think we'd be seeing this side of Daenerys Targaryen.

WEISS: I don't think she decided ahead of time that she was... going to do what she did. And then she sees the Red Keep, which is, to her, the home that her family built when they first came over to this country 300 years ago. It's in that moment, on the walls of King's Landing, where she's looking at that symbol of everything that was taken from her, when she makes the decision to-- to make this personal. We wanted her to be just death from above, as seen from the perspective of the people who are on the business end of that dragon. In most large stories like this, it seems like there's a tendency to focus on the heroic figures and not pay much attention to the people who may be suffering the repercussions of the decisions made by those heroic people, and we-- we really wanted to keep our perspective and our-- our sympathies on the ground at this moment 'cause those are the people who are really paying the price for the decisions that she's making.

WEISS: I think that Jon is also in a kind of denial. At first, the siege is a war, soldiers killing soldiers. That's what war is. I think Jon is someone who's always been a very good soldier, who has never enjoyed being a soldier. He's been trained as a fighter from the time he was a little boy, and he's quite good at it, he's quite good at leading men into battle, and he also hates it. I think, for him, it all starts out seeming like it's gonna work out, and then it turns into a nightmare.

WEISS: When she takes off and starts burning the city, the Unsullied on the ground and the Northmen on the ground, take that as their cue that it's a moral free-for-all. The good guys are behaving like the bad guys, and the bad guys in this shot are the ones who are doing all of these horrific things around him, who are his own men. The moral lines that he's drawn, for himself, in his own life, can't be maintained for everyone in all situations.

WEISS: Feels like you needed a perspective to carry you through this horror. Like you need a Virgil to take you through the hell that Dany's building.

BENIOFF: The reason we decided to follow Arya out of King's Landing and to see the fall of King's Landing through her eyes is... something that we talked about with an earlier episode. You just care a lot more when you're with a character that you care about. So if we saw a lot of extras running around on fire and buildings falling apart, it might've been visually interesting, but it wouldn't have had much of an emotional impact. But when you're there on the ground with Arya, who's one of the people we care the most about, then everything takes on that much more of an edge.

WEISS: We knew that the Hound would be convincing her to part ways with him and to not go to her death. And once she decides she needs to get out of the city, well, she's in-- she's in the worst possible place you can be. So she's gotta get from that central point all the way outside the walls of the city. It's the longest, hardest journey anybody has to make in the entire episode.

8.6: The Iron Throne

WEISS: Dany has been above it all, literally, throughout this entire battle, she's fought the whole thing from the air, so, when she's in the plaza, all she's seeing is her own army's triumph in the city that she came to conquer for all the best reasons, and I think the idea of spreading her brand of revolution around the entire world is a very attractive idea to her at this moment in her mind, it's a very ethical idea because she's not seeing the cost the way Jon and the way Tyrion have seen the cost.

BENIOFF: What's interesting about it is that she's been making similar kinds of speeches for a long time and we've always been rooting for her and this is kind of a natural outcome of that philosophy and that willingness to go forth and conquer all your enemies and it's just not quite as fun anymore.

WEISS: I think the final scene between Jon and Daenerys is something we came up with sometime, in the midst of the third season of the show? The broad strokes of it anyway. But there was a tremendous amount of pressure to get it right because we know this is not a scene that is giving people what they want.

BENIOFF: We got there and were like, oh my God this is gonna be so emotional and then it was realizing that we actually had to do so much work to get all those shots that we needed.

WEISS: There’s this discussion through the whole show of whether or not Daenerys is like her father, who was insane. Throughout the whole conversation they have, she maintains, like, a reasonable approach to the thing that she’s done and there are only a few places where something peaks out that tells him what’s really coming.

WEISS: The big question in people’s minds seem to be who’s going to end up on the Iron Throne. One of the things we decided about the same time we decided what would happen in the scene is that the throne would not survive, that the thing that everybody wanted, the thing that caused everybody to be so horrible to each other to everybody else over the course of the past eight seasons was going to melt away. The dragon flying away with Dany’s lifeless body, that’s the climax of the show.

#daenerys targaryen #got #resources #d&d #s1 #s2 #s3 #s4 #s5 #s6 #s7 #s8

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notapaladin · 3 years

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Obsidian and Blood, an overview

Do you like fantasy? Do you like mysteries? Do you like Mesoamerican mythology? Do you like ALL OF THOSE THINGS TOGETHER, set against the lush backdrop of Tenochtitlan in 1480? (Or maybe you just want to know more about the series I have been going feral over since August.) Then buckle up, because oh boy have I got a series for you!

*drumroll, please*

OBSIDIAN AND BLOOD, written by Aliette de Bodard (better known for her Xuya and Dominion of the Fallen series)

There are two kinds of people: Those who see the words “Aztec fantasy/murder mysteries set in very well-researched 1480s Tenochtitlan BUT WITH MAGIC, investigated by the HIGH PRIEST OF THE GOD OF DEATH” and immediately ran off to buy them, and those who clearly need convincing. So here I am, shamelessly plugging my new hyperfixation!

Obsidian and Blood consists of three semi-standalone novels and three (free!) prequel short stories, all featuring 30-year-old Acatl as our first-person POV mystery solver. Acatl is not, however, your average historical detective; aside from being set firmly in Tenochtitlan in 1480 with all that implies re. the acceptability of slavery and human sacrifice, he also is the High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli in a universe where the gods regularly meddle in mortal affairs and magic spells are powered largely by rituals and blood—animal, human, or your own. You’d think this would make Acatl really, really good at solving murders, but you’d be wrong. He is the least of the Triple Alliance’s three High Priests, and his god doesn’t come at his servant’s beck and call. Not to mention the other gods, who have their own deadly agendas. That’s not even getting into the people around him, who might be the most dangerous of all. Luckily, he has more allies than he thinks—if he has the strength to actually reach out to them and admit he could use the help!

(He doesn’t need to reach out to his student Teomitl. Teomitl, a confident young warrior of imperial blood, keeps volunteering. This gives Acatl roughly one heart attack per book.)

You will like them if…

I did just say “magic murder mysteries in 1480s Tenochtitlan,” right? It’s real Precolumbian Mexico hours up in here! The history of the Aztec Empire and their Triple Alliance actually forms multiple key plot points throughout the series!

you’re into Aztec history/culture in general

if a DnD fan, you are REALLY into the Raven Queen

you think blood magic is super cool and wish it wasn’t treated as the realm of The Bad Guys

you get incredibly hyped over lesser-known mythologies treated respectfully but also very awesomely (the thing where the Aztecs thought human sacrifice kept the sun in the sky? Yeah, in this universe it is literally true and plot-relevant)

you are big into chaste heroes, lots of snarky asides, highly opinionated narrators who let their own prejudices destroy them, “from an outside perspective this is cosmic horror but for the characters it is a Tuesday,” mysteries with twists you will NOT see coming, and themes of trauma/memories/family legacies

you love reading about dysfunctional family relationships in various states of repair/further destruction

you’ve ever thought “hey this historical mystery is cool but what if there was MAGIC”

you like noir detective stories but want them with magic

you like urban fantasy but want them to have historical settings instead of vaguely modern-day ones

Plot/character summaries below!

SHORT STORIES (prequels to the novels, blurbs by me)

Obsidian Shards

Warriors have been found dead in the town of Colhuacan, obsidian shards embedded in their hearts. Acatl, priest of Mictlantecuhtli, suspects a creature of the Underworld—one he already calls a foe, for it slew his first and last apprentice.

Beneath the Mask

In the Tenochtitlan suburb of Coyoacan, Acatl’s childhood friend Huchimitl begs him to save her only son’s war captive; the man whose sacrifice will make the boy a proper warrior is paralyzed from an unknown curse, unable even to rise from the floor. But who could have cursed him, and is it connected to the mask Huchimitl now wears?

Safe, Child, Safe

A toddler is slowly wasting away, the mark of the Underworld on him, and Acatl is tasked with finding the cause. But no creature of the Underworld kills so slowly, and so Acatl must turn his investigation to the living.

THE BOOKS (blurbs taken directly from the book listings, you don’t HAVE to read them in order but I do recommend it)

Servant of the Underworld

Year One-Knife, Tenochtitlan; the capital of the Mexica Empire. Human sacrifice and the magic of living blood are the only things keeping the sun in the sky and the earth fertile. A Priestess disappears from an empty room drenched in blood. It should be a usual investigation for Acatl, High Priest of the Dead—except that his estranged brother is involved, and the more he digs, the deeper he is drawn into the political and magical intrigues of noblemen, soldiers, and priests—and of the gods themselves...

(Neutemoc: I didn't mean to sleep with her! It was an accident! Acatl: I don't understand. Did you trip?) (Acatl: I don't want a new apprentice! Teomitl: :D? Acatl: ...I will make an exception)

Harbinger of the Storm

The year is Two House, and the Emperor of the Mexica has just died. The protections he afforded the Empire are crumbling, and the way lies wide open to flesh-eating star-demons—and to the return of their creator, a malevolent goddess only held in check by the War God's power. The council should convene to choose a new Emperor, but they are too busy plotting against each other. And then someone starts summoning star-demons within the palace, to kill councilmen...Acatl, High Priest of the Dead, must find the culprit before everything is torn apart.

(Teomitl: I've only had Acatl and Mihmatini for a year, but if anything happens to them I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself) (Quenami: Playing With The Big Boys.mp3)

Master of the House of Darts

The year is Three Rabbit, and the storm is coming. The Mexica Empire now has a new Emperor, but his coronation war has just ended in a failure: the armies have retreated with a paltry forty prisoners of war, not near enough sacrifices to satisfy the gods. Acatl, High Priest for the Dead, has no desire to involve himself yet again in the intrigues of the powerful. However, when one of the prisoners dies of a magical illness, he has little choice but to investigate. For it is only one death, but it will not be the last. As the bodies pile up and the imperial court tears itself apart, dragging Teomitl, Acatl's beloved student, into the eye of the storm, the High Priest for the Dead is going to have to choose whom he can afford to trust; and where, in the end, his loyalties ultimately lie...

(Teomitl: I am no longer Baby I want Power) (Acatl, to Teomitl: What have you got there? Nezahual, gleefully: A coup! Acatl: NO!)

THE MAIN CHARACTERS (in order of appearance)

ACATL “By my face and by my heart, I’ll bring you justice.” High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, god of death and the underworld. As such, his duties include both the obvious ones of arranging funerals and standing vigils for the dead, and the less obvious ones of investigating magical crimes and keeping the boundaries between the heavens, Earth, and the underworld intact. When Servant of the Underworld begins, he’s only recently been promoted and hates it. Has a strained relationship with his living family, due largely to not having lived up to his (dead) parents’ desires for him to become a warrior like his brother Neutemoc. Bitter, cynical, and grumpy, but devoted to justice and fairness.

Has an official character sheet.

CEYAXOCHITL “Everyone has to grow up and take responsibilities. Even small, humble priests.” Guardian of the Sacred Precinct and wielder of the power of the Duality (Ometeotl), which makes her the sworn protector of the Mexica Empire and its Revered Speaker from all sorts of mainly-magical threats. Somewhat past middle age but still very strong in her magical abilities, and something of an antagonistic mentor to Acatl. (She nominated him for the position of High Priest. He is not appreciative.) Serious and devoted to her duty, with a keen eye for potential in others. Dies in Harbinger of the Storm and you WILL cry.

NEUTEMOC “Priests hide and run away. Warriors don’t.” Acatl’s older brother, a Jaguar Knight with five children and a failing marriage. Resents Acatl for not helping to support their aging parents by becoming a warrior like he did. The central suspect during most of Servant of the Underworld’s plot, though by the end he and Acatl have begun to repair their relationship. He is strict, stern, and bitter, but truly loves his family. (In the case of his younger brother, that love is buried very deep down.)

TEOMITL “If we don’t believe in ourselves, who is going to?” Acatl’s student, an enthusiastic warrior who yearns to prove himself worthy of his power and noble rank, as well as live up to the memory of the mother who died birthing him. During Servant of the Underworld he swears himself to Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of fresh water and lakes, gaining (among other things) command over the man-eating water monsters called ahuitzotls. He is courting Mihmatini during Harbinger of the Storm; by the time Master of the House of Darts takes place, they are married. He is abrasive and proud, but also honest, loyal, and brave. And very, very ambitious. You will want to punch him several times. This is normal. (Also, I will swear that it's not just my ship-goggles being on too tight that has me thinking his relationship with Acatl is much more weighty and personal than the one he has with his ACTUAL WIFE.)

MIHMATINI “Better laugh, and smile at the flowers and jade. Life is too short to be spent grieving.” Acatl and Neutemoc’s youngest sister, a powerful magic-user who finds herself thrust into the position of Guardian during Harbinger of the Storm. Though she has no great ambitions herself—she mostly just wants to be a mother and raise children—she is ferociously protective of her family and will fight anything that threatens them. Even themselves. (Especially themselves.) Kind, caring, and light-hearted, but her acid tongue and sharp temper are not to be dismissed. "Fuck Around And Find Out" given human form.

ACAMAPICHTLI “We have always endured.” High priest of Tlaloc and a reoccurring thorn in Acatl’s side. Though he’s primarily out for his own gain and has no patience for Acatl’s refusal to play on the field of Imperial politics, they eventually form something like an uneasy truce following the end of Harbinger of the Storm. He is snarky and sardonic, but truly cares for his clergy. During Master of the House of Darts he somehow became one of my favorite characters.

TIZOC "I've always known that priests couldn't be trusted. You have just exceeded my expectations." Teomitl’s older brother, first Master of the House of Darts and then Revered Speaker. (Look, it’s not a spoiler if you can Google it.) He is cowardly, ambitious, and the closest thing this series has to an overarching antagonist. Among other things, tries to have Acatl executed during Harbinger of the Storm. Events at the end of that book only manage to make him measurably worse. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #1.

QUENAMI “Oh, Acatl. Such lack of tact. You are so unsuited for the Court.” High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, appointed by Tizoc between Servant of the Underworld and Harbinger of the Storm. Comes from a noble family, and is much better at diplomacy and playing politics than he is at magic. When push comes to shove, however, he can display some surprising determination. He is arrogant, scheming, and takes joy in cutting Acatl down, but presumably has some good qualities...somewhere. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #2.

Maps of the series’ primary setting

Setting Primers

Official Character Index

Glossary

#obsidian and blood #aliette de bodard #aliette bodard #servant of the underworld #acatl #teomitl #mihmatini #obsblood primer

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star-maiden · 4 years

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Weekly Tarot Forecast 10/26/20 - 10/30/20

Hello and welcome! This is a general outlook tarot reading for the collective, by zodiac sign. This week, I have channeled in some guidance from Spirit regarding what you need to know in the coming week in order to find the most success and happiness. If you happened upon this reading, then there is a message here that is meant for you! As with all of my readings for the collective, these messages are meant for a wide range of people, life paths and situations. It is general outlook advice. As such, you may find that not everything resonates with you completely, and that is ok. Please take only what resonates and leave the rest. You will also want to check your sun, moon and rising signs for the message or messages that are meant for you. I sincerely hope that these messages will serve your highest and greatest good, and assist you in making wise, informed decisions. Best wishes and many blessings!

♈ - Aries: Two of Wands - This coming week, Aries, you are entering a planning phase. There is a situation coming, or that has already been set into motion, that requires your careful consideration. This card brings you the message that you need some time to think in order to move forward with your plans, or to bring something into being. This is likely going to be a highly creative process for you, and your thoughts and ideas should be flowing well. As the moon is currently in her waxing phase, it is a good time to work on bringing your goals to fruition. There is an abundance of free moving, creative energy around you at this time.

♉ - Taurus: Page of Wands - This week, you are being called to rekindle your curiosity and perhaps discover a sense of adventure. The page of wands asks us to embody the archetype of the Free Spirit, and go with the flow. In this way, we will discover new opportunities, and be able to find our joy and happiness again. This message is especially about rediscovering your joy if you have recently been going through some tough times. You are being called back to yourself, and your creative potential. Spirit wants you to know that it’s time to move forward again. At the same time, the card carries a precautionary note. When working within your creativity and going with the flow, take care not to lose all sense of foundation and stability. You’ll need to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground, or all of your inspirations will sputter out like a dying candle flame.

♊ - Gemini: 10 of Pentacles - This week you are reminded to stay close to home. Some attention and care is needed in areas of your personal home life and familial or close relationships. If things have seemed to be rushing by lately, with no chance to rest or slow down, then this card is asking you to take a pause. Things should be pretty stable right now. You have done and accomplished much. It’s time to slow down and relax in the comforts that you have secured for yourself. Someone from your family, or a close friend is missing you.

♋ - Cancer: Ace of Swords - The most important thing you will find yourself needing this week is clarity. There is a situation on the horizon that will require your absolute, honest truth and attention to details. Honor your truth in all situations, and be sure to recognize the truth in others. When we allow our judgement to become clouded by fear, projections or strong preconceived notions, we miss opportunities to understand and build relationships. Sometimes, the truth is not very pleasant to here, but it is only by standing in the truth that true healing and growth can occur.

♌ - Leo: The High Priestess - This week, you are being called to explore the depth of your spirit. Go deep, connect with something that you hold sacred. This may be your higher self, divine source energy, love or even taking a moment to pause and check in with how you have been feeling lately. At this time, there is some higher wisdom that has been trying to catch your attention. It wishes to make itself known to you at this time. This week, you may find contemplative and restorative practices helpful. Mediation, breathing exercises, taking a walk and self care are all great ways to connect. Be sure to make some time for yourself this week, and listen to any insights or reflections that you receive.

♍ - Virgo: 2 of Pentacles - You have been trying to maintain a balancing act for so long now, that it is beginning to feel like your natural state of being. There is too much energy around you, too many things to focus on and your attention has been divided. In such a state, it is difficult to do anything well and a strong focus and purpose cannot be maintained. If you feel as though you have needed to do a million things at once, or that you have been unable to make up your mind, it’s time to take a step back. Balance between action and inaction is needed at this time. You are strong and capable of maintaining the work for a while yet, but it is wise to take a step back and evaluate your current situation before you burn yourself out.

♎ - Libra: The Lovers - Libra, this card heralds in a sacred connection of some sort. The most popular thing that comes to mind when this card appears in a reading is a romantic connection. For some of you, this will be true. There is the potential for a strong romantic partnership on the horizon. However, in essence The Lovers card speaks of the blending or merging of two opposite ideas or forces. This could mean that you will find a way to integrate two sides of yourself into something harmonious and supportive. The relationship of give and take is well balanced, and greatly serves your highest good at this time. If you are not currently looking for a romantic connection, consider this week which areas of your life could be better integrated. How do they relate to each other? How can you create flow?

♏ - Scorpio: Death - This week, there is a prominent theme of change. Something in your life is ready to be let go, transformed and used to bring about a new direction in your life. You will recognize what needs to change in anything that feels stagnant, decayed or no longer useful. This week, Spirit is saying to you that it’s time to let it go. Right now, you still have some control over the situation, but this won’t be the case for long. This week, take some time to identify anything in your life that could be shifted to better serve your health and happiness. This does not have to be anything negative. Consider the changes that happen in the natural world at the turning of the season. Leaves change colors, fall and decay. Summer crops wither away to make room for new growth. This is not a terrible thing! In fact, if we think of the natural world as a metaphor for life, we can see how some things need to decay and be let go in order to make room for new life and growth. Without the stages of decay and rest, the soil would become depleted of nutrients, and nothing would grow. What do you need to let go of, Scorpio?

♐ - Sagittarius: The Magician - This week you are being reminded to stay in your power. There is a situation in your life or that will be coming in soon in which you will need to remember your autonomy and agency. In this case, it is very true that you create your reality with your words and actions. If something is not to you liking, change it. Maintaining control and moving toward the outcome you desire is sometimes as simple as believing you have the power to do so. Don’t let anyone take these decisions from you.

♑ - Capricorn: Queen of Cups - This week, you may find yourself needing to connect to a situation from a place of empathy in order to understand. You are usually quite logical and precise, but there is something coming into your life in which a more emotional-based perspective will serve you better. Consider your own emotions, as well as the emotions of others. Are all parties feeling heard and respected? If not, a different approach is needed. Take care not to project your perspective onto that of others. Try to see a different side. You will gain greater awareness and clarity if you listen, rather than trying to solve or control right away.

♒ - Aquarius: Queen of Swords - This card speaks of the perfect blending of empathy, compassion and logic. You will be asked to use your discernment this week, and to not immediately trust anything you hear. It is not that others around you are dishonest, but rather that the situation at hand would better be served by careful, and logical consideration. You’ll want to be careful not to leap into any situations without first carefully examining all angles. You’ll also want to pair your sense of discernment with wise words and clear communication. Remember, we are still under the effects of the Mercury retrograde, and anything you say is more likely to be taken completely out of context and misconstrued if you do not take care to express your thoughts and ideas as clearly as possible. A good rule of thumb is to communicate only with the truth, but act from a place of empathy and compassion. This week, you may also find yourself needing to set some boundaries. It may be uncomfortable, but in the end this is what is needed to move forward.

♓ - Pisces: The Knight of Swords - There is a situation in your life right now in which, thus far, you have only engaged with in an intellectual way. You have perhaps considered, imagined, debated and reasoned, but now is the time to act. Consider carefully what the situation is, and what it would entail for you if you move forward. If you feel certain that this is the direction you want to take, then act on it. Nothing will happen by itself. If you don’t take action, the opportunity will slip away. Sometimes action can be difficult for you, Pisces, because you are happiest when exploring the realm of imagination and dreams. However, in order to make our dreams into a reality, we must pursue them on the physical plane of existence. We must go after what we want not only in thought, but also in body. This week, consider: What action steps are needed at this time? How can you move forward logically and with precise steps?

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antidotenurse · 3 years

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If you had the chance to rewrite zexal what would you change abt it and what you you put more focus on?

😳 Okay well… Let’s see. I’m no writer. And admittedly, I’m not as versed in episode citing as much as other people I know. I’m just that person who, after watching something else, will come back to zexal and look at it wondering: “Why is literally nothing happening ever?” So bear in mind my lack of tact and proper vocabulary.

I’d probably keep it more or less the same… but with a couple shifts here and there. More indulgent stuff on my end is having the Numbers Club y’know, actually DO things. And it’d be nice to have Astral and Yuma have a slight falling out and work build up trust again post-sargasso before he dies.

Most of what my brain jumps to when it comes to “stuff in zexal i’d wanna full on rewrite” revolves almost primarily around Rio and Nasch stuff since I don’t really like it’s execution in the first place. …And Tori. But Tori might likely have to be a separate discussion altogether. So, I guess I’m trying to make a more semi-realistic scenario within certain boundaries? Ex. No adding other episodes, and if something is taken away something new must be added in. And aside from one duel, duels will remain the same.

FIRST AND FOREMOST: Rio is not killed off for a second time once she wakes up. Her being in a coma fundamentally doesn’t change her role at all as a person giving out “premonitions” whatsoever. It’s actually kind of insane. I’m not gonna go through everything just major moments. A lot and also very little goes on within episodes, I’ll just rely folk can fill in the blanks.

So for some mindfulness, from Abyss onwards, Rio is here.

SHARK VS. ABYSS and then some follow up:

Originally, this set of episodes involved Rio being possessed, and Shark fights Abyss and from there we learn about the Nasch and Merag stuff. Mostly the latter but for some reason focus is on Shark. Rio is then promptly put into a coma again and Shark wangst happens from here on out until the face-heel turn during the Astral World arc.

I’d probably make it start with… Idk. I feel like the original beginning of the episode works fine since it begins with visions being had by Rio. Blah blah, she’s confused, time to find another number. It’s in a weird spot in the middle of the ocean. For whatever reason, this area in the ocean feels really distressing for her. But, regardless, instead of a storm hitting and Rio suddenly going “missing”— as the crew tries deciphering the location, her “powers” take over and cursed by something unknown she jumps from the airship into the sea, followed by Shark who dives in after her (and yuma dives in after shark). Very dumb but the episode must start somehow. And this is likely played more seriously but I can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought.

Shark awakes in an undersea labyrinth, and somehow isn’t dead. Wtf? But hey! He found Rio nearby and she’s okay! The goal is finding the number tho, and her “powers” lead them to it. And uh oh here we go. A guardian is here to keep them from taking it. (As for Yuma, he and Astral’s sideplot about getting lost in the labyrinth is exactly the same, so dw about this)

The duel??? I said I wouldn’t change most, but this is a major exception. I’m making it Shark and Rio VS. Abyss. A two on one duel. We never once saw Rio and Shark play off each other in a duel setting when working together, and I feel like that was a prime missed opportunity. Especially for characters who just episodes prior, had this really weird one v. one duel. This needs something of a resolution. ALSO The memories here do involve both of them, so let both of them go ham.

However, since the memory flashbacks tend to tie into Merag a liiiittle more already (and the more major Nasch stuff will come later), Rio should be the first person to experience the Barian memories out of the two of them. We already got a bit of that with her visions at the start. As the duel progresses, Rio becomes more distressed by what she’s experiencing. During the duel Rio has lots of out of body experiences, on the one hand she’s present in the duel. On the other hand, she slips back into living life as Priestess Merag. But, for some reason, he doesn’t have a lot of control of herself?

But obviously, what Rio remembers is far worse since she pretty much relives her own death and can’t control her “mind.”

Meanwhile, Shark also goes through his vision onslaught, clearly thinking majority of this is some kind of manipulation tactic by Abyss. Episode more or less plays out the same minus damsel stuff. Durbe confronting Yuma and Astral still happens, Abyss being cryptic as hell still occurs and you know. Anyway, they win and get the number, and they all reappear on the deck of the airship knocked out. Everyone wakes up, it feels like a dream but they have the number?? So it couldn’t be?? Rio wakes up last though, which momentarily scares Shark.

TIME FOR REFLECTION!! Rio is fine, but clearly shaken. All those visions she saw… they meant something. Something inside her is telling her that. While Shark too is distraught and stressed by what he experienced during the duel… he doesn’t come to grips at all with it. He’s in more overt denial. In fact, he’s furious. Their lives weren’t lies?! How can she even THINK that? NONE of that was real! Also, wtf why the fuck did she jump into the ocean?! She could’ve died! Shark is emotionally overwhelmed both in potentially losing his sister again, and also the whole barian thing.

Rio isn’t on board either, but she’s always been the more “open” of the two. She’s not down for Shark’s behavior in the slightest, nor his seeming lack of empathy. Y’know? That more abrasive denial thing from Shark that feels a bit more in-line than just moping about a dead sister. Also, she literally relived dying so like. Fuck man that whole lack of empathy thing isn’t cool to her.

P.S Rio isn’t saying they’re Barians, but, maybe it’s her powers of “foresight” getting to her… something about what she saw feels too real to ignore, while the A plot goes on, she’s processing that very real possibility. This starts to cause something of a rift between otherwise close siblings.

Durbe proceeds to use this to his advantage.

[Next episodes: astral dies. Those episodes play out exactly the same except now Rio is part of the peanut gallery. The fearsome four stuff begins]

SHARK AND THOMAS VS. JELLYFISH MAN

Ok we know what happens in the original. Sort of. I’ll be honest? Haven’t seen these eps in a while. But, Shark goes to his old mansion to relive childhood memories, meanwhile coma Rio is poisoned by jelly man, and Shark also gets poisoned too. IV shows up dadada he’s sorry about the Rio thing but he never speaks to her. Things are gettin’ crazy. Something to that effect, I probably went out of order.

I think what I’d do is have Shark and Rio get into a fight about the barian stuff. Or something that really exemplifies the rift between that’s grown between them since Abyss. Either way, it leads to Shark leaving to the one place he feels he can really think — their old childhood home.

(Also Blah blah plot about strings of poisonings fucking people up is going on in the background that Yuma, Trey and Tori are focused on. Why not the numbers club?? Idk you tell me. Real zexal won’t allow that.)

Rio, in the meantime, after reflecting on what was said and done- goes to find Shark. And she knows exactly where he’d go. (Yuma, III, and Tori are present when she does this so they pursue her shortly thereafter. This is to replace the moments in the hospital)

P.S Durbe is watching all of this happen.

Shark reminisces at the mansion, and is promptly attacked by a monster and poisoned. IV shows up how he does originally and yadada duel starts.

Halfway through Rio and co. Find shark and IV dueling jellyfish man. Rio recognizes her bro is hurt, but Shark is not down for Rio or anybody else tagging in for any reason. There’s an interruptive conflict that’s super awkward for everyone involved (so maybe levity from jellyfish or IV can be put here) Yuma and co. show up at the tail end of this brief exchange.

And Rio, still riled up despite attempting to reach out, retreats into the mansion. The duel outside continues, but inside is where she encounters Durbe.

Ideally a moment would be had between Rio and Durbe similarly to a scene in a later episode with Shark and Durbe, but for the most part this will be small and not seen in full. But Durbe holds out Merag’s crest to Rio and he likely says some cryptic anime nonsense about “destiny” or something.

Because she’s been sensing “it” since the Abyss duel, and he firmly believes that she’s known the truth for a lot longer than she wants to admit.

We don’t see Rio again until the duel ends and she’s found inside the mansion. She seems, at “peace” for some reason? Something about her feels… different. Durbe is nowhere to be seen.

Insert moment here where IV and Rio actually, y’know. TALK. But things are kinda too late-ish now… cuz Rio has somebody else to deal with next.

[astral world arc begins]

Aight, while Yuma is off in Astral world dueling Eliphas and saving Astral, Durbe finally puts his final phase into motion to FINALLY convince Shark to accept who he actually is. Something he’s been fighting for a while now. And surprisingly, Rio is helping Durbe, much to Shark’s shock.

Shark at this point had been in his anguish full of regret for being pretty bitchy lately. All the fights, this barian stuff, the confusion, the fact it’s like he doesn’t even KNOW his sister anymore (and this Shark very likely doesn’t), it’s overwhelming as fuck and he’s tired.

Episode plays out normally with Durbe making Shark relive his life during his last encounter with Vector, the Iris thing, the men dying blah blah. That episode is kind of awesome to begin with, so borderline nothing changes here.

The the difference mostly being that the setup is a bit more concrete. Instead of Rio kinda just, being dead and a spirit “guide” to help Shark’s wangst and immediately following his face-heel turn with no insight on how she felt, we’ve been experiencing how she feels for a while and been seeing how it affects her and Shark’s relationship for a while.

It’s eventually mentioned that Durbe showed Rio these memories back at the mansion. Because showing somebody their twins terrible life after you died definitely isn’t horrifying!! Anyway, Rio came to accept the truth… because, like Durbe said before, she’s “always” known.

HOW? Because it turns out Rio’s powers of foresight she’s been experiencing throughout the series were her memories of being Merag trying really really hard to get out this whole time. That’s why she acts differently in those sudden moments. That’s how Rio knows these she couldn’t possibly know.

Rio being present as a “spirit” is there to help guide Shark through this experience, because he’s always been doing things alone for her. Time she returned the favor.

Everything plays out pretty much exactly the same, after all that anguish and reliving trauma where his army dies and Iris dies- Shark FINALLY accepts the truth about himself being Nasch. He and Rio switch sides together (because they weren’t going to do it alone).

Nasch and Merag take their spots in Barian World, and stuff proceeds to play out as normal. Sort of.

None of this is really all that great, but it’s a start? Again, I’m not a writer and a lot of this would realistically be overshadowed by the scheduled duels that play out, the A plot with Yuma, and generally be a lot more condensed due to the limited amount of episodes left. All this to say that there’s more ways than “dead sister” to make something happen. I dunno these are all minor shifts and my vocabulary is hyperbolic.

#antidote asks #again I'm not a writer #the focus is mostly the same. I just didn't like all the wangst #this series isn’t exactly high art in terms of writing so I wouldn’t call this perfect.#THIS TOOK ME MOST OF LAST NIGHT AND THIS MORNINGFF

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 11: Woven Garlands, Made of Flowers, Around Your Soft Throat of High-Flying Birds is up! This is first of the chapters that will cover Achilles’ time in Skyros, from his own POV :)

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning

*****

“I will not do it.”

Achilles tilted his chin up in defiance, crossing his arms before his chest. His mother met his gaze levelly, dark eyes sharp and shining like the flashing edge of a sword against a burning sky.

“You must.”

“Says who?”

Thetis' lips tightened at his insolence, but Achilles did not care that he displeased her. His anger was bubbling steadily beneath his skin, sending blood pumping through every vein. He had fallen asleep at dawn in his bed, by Patroclus’ side, yet when he had woken up, he had found himself on a foreign beach, with his mother standing over him.

They glared at each other for a long while now, the rhythmic susurrus of the waves beside them and the distant cries of seagulls the only sounds between them. “I will not stay here,” he declared. “Take me back to Phthia.”

“No.”

Achilles gritted his teeth, huffing like a caged lion. His patience was running thin, only to be replaced by worry. It was spreading fast within him, like poison, at the thought of Patroclus being alone. Achilles had to return to him. Somehow.

“You have to take me back. I am leaving for Mycenae in two days with Father. All the kings and generals of the Danaans will be expecting us. I have to be there.”

“This is why I brought you here,” she said, unrelenting.

“Why?”

“Because the Danaans want you to fight their war, spill blood for their ends. If you go to Mycenae, they will not let you return to Phthia. They will take you with them to Troy.”

“Even if I refuse? They cannot make me.”

“They have their ways. Mortal men are weak, but their cunning is not to be underestimated. They will use every trick at their disposal to bend you to their will.” Her own anger flashed in her eyes, her mouth curling in contempt, and something else, like despair, that sent her words flying through her lips much faster than normal, with unusual urgency. “You must not go to war yet. It is not time.”

“And you thought to abduct me?” His pulse thrummed in his temples, swelled in his throat. Patroclus would have woken up by now. He would have risen in an empty bed, and he would be searching for him. The thought of him on his own, worrying and fretting, of his warm, gentle eyes filling with tears—

No. He could not allow this. He would not allow this.

“You cannot keep me here,” he said, his jaw set in grim determination. “I will swim back to Phthia if I have to.”

“If you go to war, Patroclus will go with you. You know he will have to, as your therapon.” His mother’s eyes hardened to stone. Is this what you want? they seemed to be asking him.

That gave Achilles pause, dampened his rising temper. He did not relish the thought of going to war, not when Patroclus would be bound to follow him. He had heard the tales and the songs, he had listened to his father’s and his friends’ stories about the bloodshed of battle, the dangers it harboured. Achilles would not take his sweet Patroclus there, not before he was ready. He himself might have been born for it, but Patroclus had not. One day he would have to, but that day was still far away.

“Cowards flee,” he said testily, his hesitation softening his voice and the sharp edge of his tongue. “I am not a coward. Neither is Patroclus.”

“Your time to fight and claim your glory will come, Achilles. There is time for that yet. This war is not worthy of you.”

Achilles took a slow, steadying breath. “What if they take Patroclus to Troy while I’m away?”

“They will not. The Greeks care not for the oath he’s given, they do not even remember him. It is you they care about."

“But—”

“There is no other way, Achilles. Patroclus has to stay in Phthia, and you have to remain here.” His mother’s expression softened when she sensed his hesitation; the waves stretched towards her bare feet, lapping at the golden shore like lamb’s tongues. “It will not be forever.”

“How long?” he asked, and already he could feel his resolve slipping away from him.

“Only for a short while.”

Achilles opened his mouth, closed it. To be anywhere without Patroclus, for however short a while, was unthinkable. Patroclus was his first friend and best, his beloved, his sworn companion. An essential, inextricable part of him. He had promised him never to leave him, never to let anything come between them. How could he break that promise now? Yet if he did not, then they would both have to go to Troy. Patroclus’ hands would be stained red with blood, and his soul dark with the atrocities of war, the cruelty. He thought of his Patroclus standing in a battlefield, caught in a war that he neither cared nor wished for, the ground beneath his feet bloody and torn asunder by chariots and spears. He could not bear it.

He clenched his jaw as he grated out a weak sound of acquiescence, his voice hoarse in his ears. For Patroclus. He would do it, for Patroclus.

The mountain that rose before them seemed barren and empty save for the palace that was built upon a wide terrace in the stone. Achilles let his gaze glide over the short and stubby trees that lined the coast, the dry brush that stubbornly clung to the rock, the intricate lacework of beaches that spread far below them as he followed his mother through the winding paths up to the palace of Skyros.

Before they reached the palace, she veered off the narrow path and into a small grove, concealed by the branches of short fir and pine trees. She produced a small bundle from beneath her rich cloak: a woman’s white dress with thread-of-gold embroidery along the neck and sleeves, a wide crimson belt and golden pins to keep the fabric in place, soft leather sandals, a brightly coloured scarf to bind his hair. “You must wear this.”

“These are women’s clothes.”

“The king of this island is known for accepting daughters from wealthy and noble families, and raising them as if they were his own. It is safe here, safer than anywhere else I could take you, but rumours spread fast. If this is to work, no one can know who you are.” She tried to push the bundle into his arms, but he took a step back.

“You wish me to deceive this man, who will be accepting me in his hall and extending his hospitality to me?” He shook his head. “I cannot. It is not right.”

“Achilles,” she said when he opened his mouth to refuse, her tone almost pleading. “You must trust me.”

Achilles snapped his lips shut, plucking the bundle from her hands with more than a little reluctance. The path ahead of him was filled with thorns, it seemed, but if by walking it he could keep Patroclus safe, at least for a while… then Achilles would walk it, a thousand times over.

Patroclus would have done the same for him.

Skyros’ palace was humble, its decorations simple, the banners that swayed with the wind before the gates faded with time and bleached by the sun. The hem of the dress whispered around his ankles as he and his mother crossed the empty courtyard. The guards at the entrance did not seem overly impressed by their presence; one young man was leaning lazily against the side of the door, while two others were tossing dice on a low table. Achilles returned their bored glances with cool and detached curiosity. If the guards back in Phthia’s palace had slouched and whiled about like this, it wouldn’t have taken long for Agesilaus, the captain of the palace’s guard, to whip them into shape. His father offered a lot to his men, but expected order and firm discipline in return.

The guards' gaze stayed only for a moment on him, before sliding to his mother. Then, their eyes widened and they scrambled to their feet, their game of dice swiftly forgotten. She stood tall amongst them, her skin gleaming bone white and her black eyes sparkling like coals as she regarded them with thinly veiled disdain. The old and dusty hall looked pale and drabber still in her presence.

“We would see your king,” she told them, her voice ringing with the natural authority of her divinity.

The guards hastened to lead them into the palace, their eyes kept firmly on the ground to avoid Thetis’ icy glare. Faint music and song drifted through the long and narrow corridors, louder the deeper they ventured. The throne room, when they finally reached it, was as lacklustre as the rest of the place but it was brimming with people, sitting at the tables that lined the hall. Two high backed chairs stood at the far end of it; on one of them sat an old and weary man wrapped in soft leathers and furs, his form diminished underneath them. His white-yellow beard reached down to his chest, the wisps of it disappearing into the fox-fur pelt that was draped around his shoulders. His tired eyes were following the movements of the group of dancers before him, young women with their hair bound with purple cloths, the hem of their long dresses lifted slightly to expose their slender ankles. Around their necks hung garlands woven with flowers, and the golden bracelets around their wrists clinked as they moved.

The rest of the people in the room were watching the girls as well, sipping on the wine that the servants were mixing in large brass bowls. The smells of cooking meat and spices were thick in the air, as well as that of fresh blood and incense; a sacrifice must have been made shortly before they’d arrived. A celebration for Pallas Athena, he realised soon after, noticing the goddess’ priestesses that sat in places of honour at the high table.

As soon as the dance had finished, all the dancers retreated to the side of the room. All except for one, a young girl with her dark curls falling in glossy waves down her back, who took her place beside the old king. His daughter, possibly. His mother stepped forward, and every pair of eyes in the hall focused on them before she had even uttered a word.

“King Lycomedes,” his mother said, addressing the man formally. “I thank you for accepting us in your hall on this holy day.”

Achilles blinked, taken aback. The name was familiar, told in age old stories and songs. It was said that Theseus, the mighty hero that had slain the minotaur in Crete, had been killed by Lycomedes after losing the favour of the Athenians and sailing to his distant island to seek refuge. Had Skyros been that distant island? And had this Lycomedes been the one under whose hand Theseus had perished, pushed him off a high cliff to his death? This... shrivelled old man? Even in his youth, he couldn’t have been tall and strong, like Achilles imagined heroes to be, and his old and forgotten hall was nothing to reflect or warrant that fame.

His mother, tall and bright enough to cloak everyone in that room in shadow, continued. “I present to you my daughter, Pyrrha. It will be an honour to have her reside here, amongst your foster daughters.”

Achilles tensed with the false introduction, but kept his silence as the elderly king’s and his daughter’s gazes fell on him. He wanted to rip that dress off of his shoulders and put an end to his mother’s ruse, to declare himself for who he was: Achilles, son of Peleus and the immortal Thetis, who had nothing to fear or to hide.

For Patroclus, he reminded himself as he cast his eyes downward, like his mother had taught him before taking him to the palace, and curtsied before the old king.

Lycomedes rose slowly from his seat, holding his daughter’s hand for support.

“Thetis, daughter of Nereus,” he started, speaking with slow and deliberate formality, “I welcome you and your daughter Pyrrha in my hall. She will want for nothing here, for as long as you wish her to stay with us.”

At a swift nod from the princess, one of the maidens stepped forward and placed a garland of flowers around his neck, delicate white roses, crimson cyclamens and violets, marking him as one of the dancers. Achilles turned to glance at his mother over his shoulder as he was led away, to sit with the rest of the young women at the far side of the hall.

Her eyes met his own, onyx flecked with gold, pained but unrelenting.

After the celebration, the princess —Deidameia was her name— led him to the women’s quarters. The corridors they passed through were dark and labyrinthine, with no light other than that from the torches that cast trembling shadows on the walls. The marble floors were worn smooth by the passing of countless feet, their surface matted and dull instead of the glossy white marble of his father’s palace.

“Have you ever heard of the dancers of Skyros, Pyrrha?” the girl asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. She had a fine voice, the kind that carried cleanly through silence and noise alike. It bounced and echoed around the corridors as they walked, coming back at them in a multitude of noisy whispers. “Kings and nobles send their daughters here, begging my father to foster them. Word of our skill in dancing has reached every corner of Hellas and beyond. Did you know that?”

“No. I did not. I have never heard of the dancers of Skyros in my life.” His words were uttered swiftly, quick and sharp, like a knife. More abruptly than he’d wished, but he could not help the unease that had taken hold of him. It was a dark and sunless place that Deidameia was leading him to, the rooms barely large enough to fit a narrow cot. Was that where he would have to stay now, for gods knew how long? Without Patroclus? The thought of him, alone in Phthia, searching for him, was enough to carve a hole in his stomach.

Deidameia stopped walking and blinked at him for a moment, then lifted her button nose. Her features were small and graceful, and she might have been considered beautiful by many, but she only reminded Achilles of a curious fox.

“Where did you grow up?” she asked, her dark brown gaze keen and inquisitive. “Where do you come from?”

Achilles kept his silence. He wasn’t sure how much his mother had revealed to them, and however much he longed to admit the truth to her and flee, he bit the words back.

“Is it Phthia you come from?” Deidameia pressed on, tilting her head to the side. “I've heard it said that Thetis is often seen there, in Peleus’ palace. She goes to see her son, Achilles. Have you seen Achilles?”

He just stared at her expressionlessly.

“Is he your brother?” she insisted. “Your half-brother?”

Achilles wetted his lips, his heart thumping in his throat with the barrage of questions that he wanted to answer but could not. “No,” he said at last. His answer didn’t seem to placate Deidameia. If anything, it urged her on.

“There are a lot of rumours about him. Some have even reached us here! Not that we don’t get travellers and traders,” she added quickly, “but we’re a little far removed from the thick of things, you understand. Father says it is better this way. Skyros is the island of the gods, a small paradise, rich and plentiful. The gods often come here, too. Have you seen our horses? Skyrian horses are known the world over. My father has many stable-fulls, all over the island. It is said they were blessed by Poseidon himself, that’s why they’re so clever and swift.”

“I have not,” Achilles shook his head. He wanted nothing more but to drop all conversation with her and retreat to a room as far away from her as possible, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What rumours have you heard of him? Of… Achilles?”

Deidamia’s eyes flashed brightly at finally having stirred his interest. “It is said that he is strong and fleet-footed, faster than any man alive. That no one has ever seen him fight, because your mother, Thetis, will turn him to stone on the spot. That he can cross an entire stadium in the blink of an eye. I heard he has been the victor of many games; running, discus throwing, wrestling…” She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke, her plump lips pursing in thought. “He has competed in Phthia and Opus, they say. Pagasae as well, has he not? You must have seen him! Oh, you’re no good,” she scoffed with a dismissive wave when Achilles once again did not answer. “I expected you’d bring us news from the mainland, but you barely speak!” She placed her fists on her hips, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “I’ve also heard he’s tall and fair. That his hair is golden and bright like the sun. In that, at least, I think you are somewhat alike.”

She reached out, tugging a lock of hair free from his scarf. Achilles tensed, but did not draw away. Deidameia curled the strand around her finger, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I will find out all your secrets, Pyrrha,” she said with a wicked grin as she let him go. “I always do.”

Achilles let out a breath of relief when she turned around and started walking again, tossing her perfumed hair over her shoulder.

The dancer’s hall, as it was called, was the only room in the women’s quarter that had a window. A small one, from which only a streak of sunlight slithered through, but it still allowed a hint of a breeze to drift into the otherwise stifling space. Tendrils of incense coiled lazily towards the ceiling from the lit braziers in the center, giving off a thick and heady scent of sandalwood and frankincense. Two girls were practicing their dancing, their bare feet gently tapping the ground, their slender arms sweeping over their heads in wide arcs, like birds. Another cluster was sitting on the long and narrow pillowed bench by the window, braiding each other’s hair. The sweet notes of a lyre reached him from the far end of the room, the sound almost drowned out by the girl’s chatter and their hushed whispers.

Achilles’ heart was gripped in a tight vice. He hadn’t had the chance to bring anything with him from Phthia, not even Patroclus’ mother’s lyre. Patroclus would find the lyre in its usual place, by the wall next to the bed they shared, and he would think Achilles had abandoned him.

A little while, he told himself. Just for a little while, and then we’ll be together again.

Deidameia crossed the hall, ignoring the other girls who ceased their talk to peer curiously at them. She stopped before a room and pushed its door open.

“Your mother has asked for you to have a room of your own,” she informed him. It was much smaller than his room in Phthia, with a narrow bed and a pelt spread on the marble floor. He stared at it for a long while, reluctant to step inside. He had the oddest feeling that he’d been dreaming all this while, and that once he stepped in that room and the door closed behind him, it would all become real. He would be alone in this dark and windowless place, that was barely wide enough for him to pace three times and back. He could pretend that Patroclus was there with him, and he could speak to him, but he knew his voice would simply bounce off the walls back to him, dull and hollow.

Deidameia stirred him out of his thoughts. “You should come and practice with me and the girls this evening. Do you dance?”

Achilles’ nod was a slow, reserved one. When he practiced with his spears, it was a little like dancing, he thought. Besides, anything would be better than staying in that room on his own. Deidameia smiled brightly at him, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

“You’ll have a wonderful time here, Pyrrha. You’ll see.”

#the song of achilles #tsoa #achilles x patroclus #patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa fanfic #high-flying birds #johaerys writes

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

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Gwynriel’s first fight

I was inspired to write this piece from a post by @himadrij so I hope you enjoy!

"You two have to start talking." Cassian groaned in frustration.

"I do not know what you are talking about. We are talking." Gwyn stubbornly crossed her arms after pushing her plate away. Azriel sat quietly at the opposite end of the table.

"Do not play ignorant." Nesta rolled her eyes. "You need to start talking to each other. About whatever is upsetting you." Nesta switched between the mates with a hard glare- one that would normally have the receiver cowering.

"I am not upset. Anything you would like to share Gwyneth?" Azriel lifted his eyebrows while staring her down. His cool demeanor over the situation infuriated the priestess. She was in knots over the situation meanwhile he was as cool as a cucumber. His shadows normally gave away how he truly was feeling, but they were nowhere to be seen. It was as if he was hiding them to punish her and it was working.

"Nope." She popped the P as she said it. If he wanted to be stubborn, well then she could play that game as well.

"What did you do to piss her off, Az?" Cassian turned to the Shadowsinger with a smirk. Gwyn felt smug that Cassian assumed it must have been something Az did to piss off Gwyn and not the other way around. Az simply rolled his eyes. If he was not going to answer, she might as well do it for him.

"Azriel agreed to go on his fourth dangerous mission of the month even though he knows my birthday is coming up." Gwyn's tone was pleasant even though she was feeling anything but. Cassian cringed as Gwyn spoke while Nesta sent Az a glare. The red head had not even told her best friend for the reason of the fight until this moment.

"And as I have told Gwyneth, this is my job. Rhys asking is simply a formality. It is not a choice." Azriel did not spare a glance to his mate. He kept his eyes on Cassian as he spoke.

"And as I told Azriel, Rhysand would allow him to skip one mission for my birthday."

"Skipping one mission could put this court, and therefore my mate in danger."

"He could send one of his other spies. He has so many at his disposal that I am sure there is one competent enough."

"My other spies are busy doing other jobs."

Cassian and Nesta's heads moved back and forth as they watched the verbal sparring that was occurring at the dining table. Gwyn was never one to back down from a fight and she would not start now. Azriel was being unreasonable as he normally was when it comes to his work.

"Well I am certain one of them could make time if you asked." A hard glare was set on the pretty females face. She did not want her mate to see how hurtful his decision was.

She never wanted him to feel as though he had to choose between his job and her, but she also never thought that he would choose his job every time. The truth was that Gwyn missed him. She hardly ever saw him anymore, and could not help but feel like he was doing this specifically to be away from her. Azriel decided not to respond. He turned back to his plate and roughly speared a piece of chicken. Cassian seemed apprehensive to say anything for fear of making it worse. Gwyn watched as a silent conversation occurred between Nesta and Cassian before the latter spoke up.

"Birthdays are important Az," he started off slowly. "Perhaps, you can ask Rhysand to delay the mission until after." Gwyn started to perk up at that. It was not a half bad idea- a promising compromise, she thought. Her hope was fading by Azriel's continued silence.

"Or we could celebrate early?" She decided to extend an olive branch. She remembered Nesta mentioning that relationships were all about compromise. She could certainly try if Azriel was willing. However, his stubbornness seemed to win out.

"Gwyn," he finally turned to look at her to plead with her. "This is for your own safety- for the entire court's safety. I do not have time to focus on silly birthday parties. I need to do my research and then leave as soon as possible. We can celebrate when I get back. I just do not have the time right now." Gwyn was so frustrated she groaned. She could tell Nesta and Cassian wanted to be anywhere other than here, and she could not blame them.

"You never have time for me anymore. It is like you do not even enjoy my company." It was not entirely true, but it was how Gwyn had been feeling as of recently. He was consumed with his work. She understood that there were parts of his job that she could never know about, but it was starting to feel like that was every part now.

"I couldn't possibly imagine why when we have such pleasant conversations as these!" He shouted in frustration. The sarcasm was dripping from his words so heavily that they stung much deeper than any of their previous bickering. Azriel's shadows finally let loose as he pulled at strands of his hair. They were waving about more chaotically than Gwyn had ever seen before. One reached out to her and she quickly pulled away. She did not want to be comforted by him or his shadows right now. Gwyn looked down at her plate- she could not stand to look at him currently. All of her insecurities began to attack her.

"Gwyn," he began. Remorse coating every word. "I am so sorry. I did not mean that. I was speaking out of anger, it is not true. I would spend every second of every day with you if I could." She heard as he pushed his chair back. She knew he was going to come over to her, but that is not what she needed right now. She needed space. She quickly got up as well.

"Sorry to have ruined your dinner." She looked at Cassian and Nesta as she said it, but the words were meant for Azriel as well. Nesta's face was as soft as she had ever seen it. Cassian had the same look on his face.

"Gwyn," Azriel tried again as he continued to move towards his mate. Gwyn did not want him though. Not while she was feeling so vulnerable.

"I will speak to you later." Was all she could manage before she fled to her room. Nesta had given her a room in the House of Wind which Gwyn would be forever grateful for- even if she mainly stayed in Azriel’s room nowadays. However, she felt more overwhelmed here than she ever did in the library.

"Fuck." Was his only thought as he plopped back down in his chair and pulled at his hair. He truly did not need this added stress.

"You will make this up to her." Nesta snapped like the viper she was. "You will make it up to her, and then you will be here to celebrate her birthday." Her glares were enough to unnerve Azriel.

She departed just as quickly as his mate. He groaned once more. For as long as he lived he would remember that look on Gwyn's face. He had not meant what he said. His anxiety had reached new levels lately with all new nightmares plaguing him at night. Nightmares of losing his mate in torturous ways. Doing his job seemed to be the only relief. As long as he knew everyone's secrets, he knew his mate was safe. For some reason, she could not understand his overwhelming need to protect her from all potential threats. He knew he would spill any of the night court secrets if it meant keeping Gwyn alive. He had to assume that his enemies knew that too. His shadows continued to swirl around him angrily. They wanted his mate as much as he did. He remembered how she pulled away from them- not wanting comfort from them for the first time ever. He knew in that exact moment how much damage he did, and it was extensive. He would grovel for weeks if he had too.

"Smooth move." Cassian piped up in between bites of green beans. Azriel sent him a withering look.

"I should probably go check on her."

"I would give her some space if I were you. You might want to rehearse what you are going to say anyways since you seem keen on putting your foot in your mouth." Cassian raised his eyebrows at him. Azriel grudgingly agreed with his best friend.

Perhaps, he should practice what he wanted to say. It might help him to avoid this exact situation. He had been frustrated that his mate did not seem to understand how paralyzing his anxiety was. However, she was not a mind reader, and he had never properly explained to her why he felt the need to be consumed with work. He would give her some space, grovel for at least an hour, explain himself, and then pleasure her for at least the next week straight to start off as an apology for the awful words he said to her. Then he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

Gwyn let out a sigh as she sunk down into the bath water. The warmth felt good on her stiff muscles. Trainings had been extra long recently since her mate was otherwise preoccupied and she found herself not wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Gwyn rested her head against the back of the large tub, flipping her hair so that it rested outside of the tub to avoid the water. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax. Well as much as she could given her current emotional state. Part of her knew that Azriel was just lashing out- that he did not mean what he said. But the other part, the insecure part, was still undecided about how truthful his outburst was. She could not fathom any other reason for his constant need to be on missions and away from her. She attempted to distract herself with her mind-stilling, but before she could get too far into it, foot steps sounded in the adjourned bedroom. It was his way of alerting her to his presence. Gwyn continued to ignore him, but she could feel Azriel looming over her from behind. Rough, calloused hands scraped over her exposed arms, brushing against her shoulders and neck, and finally resting in her hair. She kept her eyes firmly closed. He would not win with a few sweet words and tender touches- not this time.

“Gwyn.” He whispered.

His lips brushed against the outer arch of her ear causing a shiver to ripple through her body. She internally cursed herself for giving him any sort of reaction, even an involuntary one. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, then the top of her breast. She felt his tongue slide over her skin which finally got him a reaction. She quickly shoved away from him and pushed herself towards the opposite end of the tub, turning around to face him as she did so. Gwyn pulled her knees up to cover her breasts. There was no way he was getting a free show out of all of this.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” She settled a glare at him.

Gwyn knew he felt guilty. It was written plainly on his face. She did not even have to see his shadows, which he was hiding away, to know that they wanted to touch her. Her glare lessened only slightly into a grimace.

“Gwyneth Berdara, I love you more than anyone and anything. I love you more than my job, or this court, or even my own shadows. I love you so much that it is almost paralyzing. I love you so much I can picture all the ways I could lose you- all the ways my enemies may take you from me. I love you more than Rhysand or Cassian. I love you more than the stars in the sky. I will never be able to express to you how sorry I am, but I promise you I did not mean it. I love every second I spend with you.” He was so genuine as he said it that Gwyn’s eyes began to water. She quickly wiped at them.

“Who knew you had such a way with words?” She muttered. Finally, Azriel reached out to her with a shadow. She hesitated for a second before allowing the shadow to caress her face. Az harshly wiped away a tear of his own.

“You are right. I will send someone else on this mission.” She wanted him to spend it with her cause he wanted to, not because he felt guilty. Gwyn voiced the insecurity that had been eating away at her for the last several months.

“Why are you so keen to be away from me? You throw yourself into dangerous mission after dangerous mission with no regard for how anxiety inducing that is for me. I am constantly worried that you are hurt or in trouble or cauldron forbid dead. You say that you can picture your enemies taking me away while I sit comfortably in the night court surround by the most elite warriors. I picture your enemies taking you away from me while you engage in dangerous activities. Do you not see how unfair that is?” His face seemed so tortured. As if he was finally expressing how anxious he had been feeling lately.

“You are right. It is unfair.” He started slowly. He moved closer to her side of the tub to intertwine his fingers with her. “I was not looking at it from your perspective. I was consumed by the idea that if I could keep on top of all the information I found, then I would be the first to know if anyone had something planned against you. I was being taunted by images of my brothers discovering you, and continuing the torment from my childhood.” At the mention of his brothers, Gwyn softened completely. She knew his childhood was his biggest vulnerability. She just wished he told her this sooner. “I know how capable you are. I trained you myself, you won the blood rite for fucks sake. I just want to protect you in the way I was never really able to protect my mom- or myself for that matter.”

Gwyn shifted onto her knees to grab Azriel’s face with both her hands. He did not seem to care that she was getting water all over him, so she did not pay it much mind either.

“I understand. I appreciate you telling me. I know that’s hard for you, but do us both a favor in the future? Talk to me about it. I have been going out of my mind thinking that I make you unhappy when all I need to do is kick your ass in hand to hand combat to ease your anxiety.” They both had slight streams of tears on their face. They were not sobbing, but quietly crying together. Az let out a sharp laugh at Gwyn’s final words. It had her smiling through her tears as well.

“If you beat my ass in hand to hand I will bring you on my next mission.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, so Gwyn knew he was joking. It sparked a brilliant idea in her mind though.

“That is perfect Az!” She brought his face closer to smack a quick kiss on his lips.

He tried to lean in again for something more, but she held his face back firmly. His hands came around her waist to bring her closer. It was as if her enthusiastic kiss was an all clear sign for him. He knew it was safe to touch her intimately after she made the first move.

“What’s perfect?” He asked when she dodged his second attempt at a kiss.

“I should go with you on missions! You have anxiety about my safety? I will never be safer than when I am at your side.”

“You think the answer to my worries over your safety will be to bring you on my very dangerous missions instead of you sitting comfortably guarded by elite warriors as you so graciously mentioned earlier?” He quirked one eyebrow in her direction with his lips turning up ever so slightly into the barest of smiles. It was the one he normally gave when he was teasing her. She nudged his shoulder slightly.

“Okay when you put it that way it does not sound as perfect, but come on! I can help you research each mission, we can come up with a game plan, a backup plan, an A, B, and C plan, and then we will both be happy because we can protect each other.” Her smile was so brilliantly happy that Azriel could not find it in himself to give her an outright no. He gave her a soft smile before tucking her under his chin for a tight hug. She reciprocated by squeezing him with her wet arms. His shadows were finally content to sit on his shoulders and stroke Gwyn’s back every so often.

“I will discuss it with Rhys.” A high pitched squeal that he had only ever heard on rare occasion broke out from her throat. He threw his head back in laughter he could not quite contain.

Gwyn hopped out of the tub so quickly Azriel worried she might slip. She was already tugging him into the room she occasionally occupied when she wanted time alone.

“Where are you taking me?” He could not stop his laughter even if he tried. The image of his naked mate pulling him around with a bright smile was enough to quell his anxiety for the moment. She sent him a suggestive smile, one that always promised a good time.

“To find the ribbons, of course.”

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #acotar #acosf #mating bond #mates

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enby-hawke · 3 years

Text

For I Have Sinned Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Ship Malcolm/Leandra

Chapter 9: The Nightmare’s Wrath

TW for graphic violence, racist talk, exploitation of mages, and child abuse. I hope I'm not forgetting any. The Nightmare is not a happy guy.

Word Count: 11682

Leandra held her family’s rosary, counting the beads between her fingers as she sang the Chant silently to herself. She knew she was at the Maker’s mercy at this point and she had no idea what kind of god he would be right now. Was Isaac innocent enough to be spared His wrath? Sometimes she knew not even that mattered. She had to be strong for her cousin and yet she could find no more strength within her. She needed to make that phone call, inform Revka and yet how could she?

She felt frozen by death, he had come for her again. With her grandfather at least it was peaceful, in his sleep in his old age. But when the Hartlings were taken by an irreverent drunk driver who survived it himself, it shattered Mara, and she never quite recovered all the pieces.

Leandra remembered Mara’s dark days. She stopped eating as if she had to punish herself that she still lived. Leandra would bring over meals from her favorite restaurants just to get her to take a few bites. The grief made Leandra awkward. She was so used to leaning on Mara when it came turn to lean on her, Leandra found she could only give old advice, that Mara would see her family again at the Maker’s side.

But Mara asked a question that still scared Leandra to this day.

“What if the Chant’s all bullshit and that’s just something people say so we don’t get sad?”

Leandra didn’t know how to answer that. Mara was angry at the Maker and had lost her faith. Leandra didn’t know how to give it back to her when she had too many questions herself.

The conversation ended awkwardly, with Leandra trying to get Mara to eat again. A sidestep. A misstep.

Eventually Mara started pushing Leandra away and everyone else. She partied dangerously, experimenting with anything that could take the pain away for a few moments. Leandra dragged her out of plenty of seedy Lowtown houses and backwater bars with Mara fighting her every step of the way, only Gamlen able to calm and steady her.

He saved her when Leandra couldn’t. He brought brightness back to her life and Leandra had never felt so helpless. Shallow. Useless. Like her faith was.

She tried to make it up to Mara however she could, it was a regret she’d always hold.

Now she was praying even as the shreds of her faith were left in tatters? Isaac barely turned nine. Revka had already lost him to the Circle, but to lose him to a demon, she didn’t think Revka would survive it.

How could the Maker be so cruel?

And as much as her nephew’s death scared her, there was another regret Leandra found bubbling up that made her feel vulnerable, like she knew this would break her. Her eyes flicked to Malcolm, his presence so calming and assured. His honey eyes looked so resolute as he signed his death waiver without even a flinch.

“Do you want to write out some last words to anyone? Any confessions you’d like to make to a priestess?” The First Enchanter asked, tiredness in his voice.

“No need, I’m not dying,” Malcolm said in the same self-assured manner he always had.

Leandra bit her lip, his hubris making her panic more than feel at ease and she said, “we should at least bring you to a Sister to give you the Maker’s blessing.”

“Don’t need that, either,” he gave her that sexy lopsided grin that made her breath stutter even as his words dripped with blasphemy.

Leandra opened her mouth, her words caught for a second, her cheeks hot. “A-are you really so arrogant that you think you don’t need the Maker’s protection?”

Malcolm’s face then turned serious meeting her eye. “I’d rather skip the rituals. Isaac’s timeline is more important.”

Leandra’s mouth dropped but found no argument. He made sense and yet to think he would go in the Fade again without the Maker’s hand guiding him. Her heart clenched frightened at how badly it ached at the thought of his loss. That he could die without her knowing what his touch felt like. This feeling felt too premature to be called love but it was so close, it scared her. Too soon, she thought, and yet she wondered now if she was also too late. Would the Maker see Malcolm’s arrogance as a slight and take both Isaac and him from her this day?

She didn’t know what else to do. She took the rosary from her fingers, and draped the cord around Malcolm’s neck. “Then take this. It’s protected my family for generations.”

She had held that rosary during every Mass, blessed her family every night with it, and though she hoped it would protect Malcolm she couldn’t see it as anything but a pretty trinket she carried for comfort. Maybe it would protect him, or maybe he could just wear it and think of her. She found she had no more use for it.

Malcolm dangled the golden sun chain between his fingers as if he had caught the tail of a dead animal. “I do not need to be accused of stealing this.”

Both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander seemed surprised by Leandra’s gesture and was unsure what to make of it. “Hawke is right,” the Knight Commander said for the first time, “he’s too irresponsible to handle something so valuable.”

Malcolm bristled at the implication in the Commander’s tone but Leandra was ahead of him. “Well then I’ll give it to him with all you as witnesses so now you can’t accuse him of thievery.” Her eyes glistened, as she looked at him, imploring him to accept this small token if not the Maker, of herself. “You need it more than I do.”

Malcolm’s shoulders dropped, letting the amulet fall against his black robes. He bowed his head in respect, his dark curls falling in his face. “Thank you for your generosity, my lady.” He then added with a wry chuckle, “though something with Isaac’s essence would help me more.”

Without missing a beat Leandra said, “I have that, too.” She dug through her purse bringing out a children’s book with different automobiles with faces on it. It looked too rudimentary to belong to a nine year old but Leandra said, “This is Isaac’s favorite book. If he has trouble sleeping he might want you to read this just front to back again and again.” The Knight-Commander’s thin lip completely disappeared as she dug out a small cloth bag. “These are his building blocks. He might not warm up right away but if you start building something he’ll absolutely want to join in if you ask.” She closed Malcolm’s hands over the items as she handed them over, the smell of his clover musk soothing her frazzled nerves. “Would any of these help? He hasn’t held these in months.”

Malcolm nodded, opening the bag with interest. He held a small bright red tile between his fingers. “No, I can tell these mattered to him. They are coated in his essence.” He dropped it back into the bag, the blocks clattering together as he closed it and he gave a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have these back.”

That’s when the Knight-Commander finally intervened, “I can’t allow these. This goes against regulation.”

Leandra’s shoulders snapped back in fury. “A child cannot have toys?”

The First Enchanter leaned in. “Lady Amell, there are many mage children whose family cannot send them toys. It causes jealousy. It is better that he learns that the Circle is home.”

Leandra couldn’t accept that. “And what home can it be if you’re so harsh that a child cannot play. Is it any wonder my nephew fell prey to a demon!?”

The First Enchanter gathered the large stack of forms they had wasted time on between his gnarled fingers looking completely uncomfortable with Leandra’s temper that only seemed to be rising. “Lady Amell, please be civil. I understand you are stressed due to these events. Go home. Rest. It is in the Maker’s Hands now.”

Leandra crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly. “Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere until Isaac is safe.”

The First Enchanter tensed sharing a look with the Knight Commander. “My lady,” the wizard’s mustache twitched, “we don’t have the facilities to house a noble. Your safety must be maintained.”

Leandra scoffed so hard it blew the bangs from her forehead. “For 10,000 sovereigns you’d better figure it out!”

A snicker escaped Malcolm’s throat drawing the glares of both the Knight Commander and First Enchanter and that’s when Carver stepped in, an uncomfortable bystander to a convenient rescuer. He bowed his head to the Knight Commander offering a peaceful smile. “I believe the chapel can be isolated for the lady. There she can pray for her nephew’s recovery.”

The Knight Commander pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache and with a wince he said, “Fine.” His eyes then leveled his most intimidating glare to Leandra as he said, “but the Circle is a military institution, not a day spa. Don’t expect to be entertained.”

Leandra met his glare with one of her own, though it looked like a chihuahua going after a pit bull. “Oh I’m entertained enough by the fact that you used my family’s misfortune to fatten your coffers. Dare I ask what happens to the mages whose families cannot meet your outrageous price?”

And like a chihuahua, she went right for their knickers.

They dropped their eyes from Leandra’s accusatory stare, their faces twisting into uncomfortable grimaces as the silence answered her question.

Leandra’s heart hardened with more anger. What a barbaric place this was. She tightened her grip on the strap of her purse as she readied to dismiss herself. “Do your duty, gentleman, and know I will be watching.” Even if she had no powers of her own, she could at least hold them to that.

---

Isaac was fine this morning. Malcolm still recalled the huge smile on his face and the boy was practically vibrating at breakfast. Ever since Leandra told him of their connection he made more of an effort to speak to the boy, though the conversations were mostly them making truck noises at each other. Today, though, when Isaac came to bus his tray for Malcolm, Isaac actually spoke words.

“My mama’s coming,” he bounced up and down.

“That’s awesome, little dude,” Malcolm offered him the usual friendly high five but the boy was so excited he ended up head bumping the flat of his hand shouting,

“Beep!”

It kinda hurt but Malcolm laughed regardless. Then Isaac turned to Taylor with the same excited smile, “My mama’s coming,” he repeated with the excited tone.

“That’s wonderful, Isaac.” And when he got his praise from Taylor he turned to Charlie.

To think so much could change in a few hours.

The Harrowing Chamber still smelled like death and everything was as horrifying as Malcolm remembered it. The Fade here was thin, like a film and Malcolm could hear the faint echo of screams that still carried within the stone, thousands of deaths layered upon the other. If he closed his eyes he could see the last moments of mages meeting their ends.

Lanterns lit the walls making the room dark and the shadows bounced off each other as the ground was discolored by various stains that they failed to scrub out. In the middle of the chamber was Isaac strapped down to a table, sweating profusely, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his body fought the demon the only way it knew how. A bright red barrier surrounded Isaac, keeping him in place in case the transformation completed. He whimpered as he thrashed in his nightmare, his voice still chanting in an echo that repeated itself;

“My mama’s coming.”

Along the walls lined the Templars surrounding Malcolm, their guns gleaming in the threat of his failure. The helms hid the Templar’s faces but he could feel the eager energy in the air, ready for slaughter.

Malcolm’s hands were sweaty with nervousness as he waited for Senior Enchantress Karena to finish her spell.

Malcolm fiddled with Leandra’s rosary, well his rosary now, but it was coated in her spiritual energy, almost making it feel like her arms were wrapped around his neck. It made him breathe easier in the nightmare of being back in this room. Gave him hope that there was some kind of future for the two of them after this.

Enchanter Karena hunched over an ancient spellbook reading over the instructions, her glasses giving her fish eyes as she stirred different animal and plant parts into the lyrium brew. She seemed to be taking a long time, cutting things down into the smallest batches and scraping only the tiniest pinches into the mixture.

Malcolm sat on the gurney that they had wheeled in for him, feeling antsy. He gazed over the over at the cauldron, the mixture foul and pungent and heady. “Do you need help?” he offered genuinely.

The Enchantress scowled, “Excuse me, young man, I have made this spell hundreds of times.”

Malcolm wasn’t sure how he offended her this time but he gritted his teeth, biting back his usual snark. “Look, I'm just trying to speed things along. Isaac doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Don’t rush me! If the ratio is off there can be dire consequences,” she snapped but then she turned back to the brew with a frown, “but I’ve never made such a weak concoction. With only one vial of lyrium I’m not sure there will be enough strength to pull you into the Fade.” She glared at Malcolm, her squinted eyes enlarged in glass. “If you were boasting, young man, that child will pay the price.”

Malcolm scoffed. How many times must he prove himself? “I don’t need to boast.” If only he could slip into the Fade right now and skip this charade. He still had a tile from Isaac’s toy bag, even though Carver had to ‘confiscate’ everything else Leandra brought which also included some sour gummy worms, a phone and a drawing his sister made for him. Still, the tile would be enough to track his dream. He didn’t need this witch’s brew.

Then Enchantress Karena pulled a vial from a case that was especially red, viscous. As soon as she uncorked it an iron smell filled the air.

Malcolm didn’t like the way it tingled the hairs in his nostrils. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he drank that. He had never ingested lyrium before but he was sure it would make taking care of whatever demon assaulted Isaac a piece of cake. Malcolm wrinkled his nose in recognition. “Is that what I think it is?”

Enchantress Karena stiffened as she poured in the vial. “It’s the essence of life and will help tether you to Isaac.”

Malcolm shook his head. In other words, Isaac’s phylactery.

He watched as a portion of blood was mixed into the blue shimmery concoction causing it to bubble, the whole cauldron taking a purple sheen as she stirred. It thickened the air with a copper rain-like smell.

“Soooo, how is this not blood magic?” Malcolm wrinkled his nose. Sure blood would be the easiest way to find his essence but he never expected the Chantry to actually resort to it.

The Enchantress snarled. “This is nothing like blood magic, blasphemer!”

Malcolm held up his hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m just asking a question. Don’t bite my head off.” Still he couldn’t help but feel like the Chantry were a bunch of hypocrites.

An armored hand clapped his shoulder, gripping slightly in a warning to be quiet. “Let’s let the Senior Enchantress concentrate,” Carver’s voice echoed from underneath his square imposing helm.

Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as he relented. Of course the Circle sanctioned blood magic under the circumstances they deemed fit. He wasn’t sure why he was even surprised, but it made Malcolm wonder what other secrets the Circle was hiding.

Carver bent over his eyes gleaming from the darkness of his helmet as he said in a low voice. “Don’t take any stupid chances in the Fade.”

Malcolm scoffed, whispering back, “This isn’t my first hunt. I know what I’m doing.”

“Still,” Carver drew his shoulders together, “it never hurts to be careful.” He lowered his helm to Malcolm’s ear and whispered, “what if it’s that terror demon?”

Malcolm stiffened. He had considered that as a possibility, and his leg swung impatiently from his seat. “Isaac’s managed to hold on this long. Have a little faith.”

Carver nodded, the tension not releasing from his shoulders.

Soon the purple brew darkened a few shades and the Enchantress took her spoon tapping off the extra liquid back into the cauldron, the sound echoing like a dull bell through the chamber. “It is done.” The Enchantress poured the concoction into a goblet and passed it to Malcolm. “Now drink every drop and lie down immediately.”

Malcolm gagged as he stared at it. Thankfully there were only a few mouthfuls to swallow but along with blood he had seen animal organs and poisonous mushrooms ground in. His skin turned a shade greener as he held his breath, unable to take the raw odor.

But then he remembered he could change the flavor and took a moment to weave the spell over his tongue before he knocked it back into his throat. He tasted strawberries again, but the texture still made him gag and there was still a distinct coppery taste that overlapped the flavor and burned into his nostrils. He forced himself to swallow before he coughed wishing he had soured something else. The liquid numbed his mouth and his throat and he found himself unable to say anything as he tried his best not to throw up.

“Lie down,” she reminded him curtly, pressing his nails into his shoulder and back into the gurney.

His head knocked against a firm cushion, the swirling feeling overtaking him as the room started to discolor and spin.

She then snapped her head at Carver as she took Malcolm’s arm and strapped him down with the leather bindings. “Bind him firmly, Knight Captain.”

Carver obeyed, his helm obscuring his expression, but his fingers shook as he bound his friend’s limbs tightly to the gurney.

The ceiling melded into indescribable colors but then Malcolm realized it was because the Enchantress had activated the containment barrier they had drawn around Malcolm. The room was swirling as his skin prickled with energy, the lyrium buzzing in his blood so it seemed to be singing.

The pull was immediate, the room melting away and replaced by images of a green sky, the stone walls growing into jagged hills as a road stretched before him, unpaved and uneven the hills glittering with the darkest obsidian. The Fade felt so real, the air smelling like the sea, the gravel crunching beneath his body as he pushed himself upright from the ground.

Usually traversing the Fade felt like walking through a memory, details not always in focus, but he could see every whorl on his fingers, feel the breeze wafting through his hair, smell the dirt coming from his clothes. He looked behind him and saw that he was trapped on an island, a sharp fall into a bottomless chasm that stretched out like the sea. The island stretched upwards and upwards into a tower so high that the clouds obstructed the view from the top. The other islands lay barren and pulverized, every path destroyed except the one forward.

Malcolm thought for a second that he had been deposited to the gates of the Black City but when he gazed over the chasm, there it hung in the sky, looking closer than ever. He plucked the Fade strings with his fingers, reaching out to Compassion.

She didn’t answer him.

In fact nothing did.

That’s when Malcolm noticed there was something strange about the way the Fade here was constructed. For one the usual hum of spirit chatter was nonexistent, the Fade strings seemingly gnarled and cut up. He could sense no connection to any spirits like he was a shorting circuit, and it gave Malcolm a sense of unease. He couldn’t read the terrain like he usually could. It just seemed like the whole area was frozen in a silent scream. The memories of the Fade had been stripped completely blank somehow.

“Somniari?” Compassion’s voice finally rang out in his mind and he flinched like he had been burnt, but the feeling faded into discomfort. The hair on the back of his neck stood at end as the voice coated him, primal fear seeding in him, but he was quickly reminded of his previous conversation with Compassion and bit down the feeling as best he could so he would not warp her.

“A child is in danger of being possessed,” he said aloud, the connection starting to feel more familiar each second, the unease subsiding as he chalked it up to being in the middle of a demon’s web. “I could use the backup.”

“A child? Oh dear, I must come immediately,” her voice said with more enthusiasm than usual. Malcolm thought it odd, but before he could think much on it she appeared before him, her robes more fitted than before. Her eyes burned brightly, but the azure color a shade more lilac than he remembered, but no sooner than he thought that in a blink, the color looked more familiar, and Malcolm chalked it up to a trick of the light.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Malcolm kept polite, but his eye never left Compassion studying her as she took in her surroundings in interest.

She gazed down at the abyss, her braid dangling almost like a snake with how it moved.

Forcing down uncertainty he said, “I think I sense Zefuckwad here, but I’m not completely sure. Something’s wrong with this place, right?”

Compassion’s eyes flashed as the corner of her lips quirked in a smile for once not correcting Malcolm’s mispronunciation. “This realm is sundered, memories swallowed, but whether it is the work of Zelophehad remains to be seen.” Her voice tripped over the terror demon’s name, and for a moment it seemed like the Fade stirred, as if it flinched.

Malcolm could agree with her assessment. There was no memory in the stone, no whispers telling him of secret knowledge. “I’m certain,” he suppressed a shiver. “Only felt like this once before. And the fact Isaac was taken doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

The spirit pricked up at Isaac’s name. “I sense your connection to the boy. He is precious to you?”

Malcolm’s gut twisted. “Not to me,” he admitted. He suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to build a connection. The boy seemed lonely. He never seemed to hang out with anyone his own age, but clung to his teacher’s skirts.

“Ah,” Compassion cocked her head in sudden understanding. “The connection is to the one is Bound to your heart. My mistake.”

Malcolm suddenly felt uncomfortable, unsure what was relevant about this conversation, though to hear Leandra was Bound to his heart did strike a sense of joy in him. He could sense the Compassion spirit watching his reaction in interest and he decided it was time to change the subject.

“I can track Isaac,” Malcolm said, feeling the block that still was tucked in his physical hand. He pinched his fingers, feeling the ridges, and soon the little plastic red tile formed shining brightly. He let the tile go, letting it take life. It blinked in it’s yellow light, flitting around in a circle as if it was trying to get a sense of direction.

“Impressive,” Compassion nodded, “and so what do you need me for?”

Malcolm touched the tile and it spun, glowing like a star in the murky Fade. “To keep me alive.”

The tile floated like a wisp, droplets of light leaving after images of where it flew. It darted up the rocky path bouncing up and down as it waited for it’s master to follow. Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as his feet crunched up the rocky steps.

The castle hills were craggy that slid down and threatened to plummet them into the chasm below. The walls of the castle crowded them against the cliff, as if they were reaching for Malcolm. Some of the steps crumbled beneath his feet, the rocks clattering down to the bottom and into the pit. The beacon stayed in sight flitting just out of reach leading Malcolm higher and higher until they reached a deserted courtyard. Ruined rubble filled the area, the grass dead brown and dry. Two beheaded statues guarded a dark murky portal that served as the castle’s door. The beacon floated between the crossed axes of the statues spinning in place before it sucked into the hazy rippling portal with a bloop.

Malcolm looked to Compassion. “Isaac’s inside but I don’t like the idea of just charging in blindly.”

Compassion looked between the cracks of one of the large walls that caged them in, her lips in a small thin line. “What are you suggesting?”

Malcolm thought for a second. He had never had to be so careful on a hunt before and he wanted to do this as stealthily as possible. “Can you coat me with your essence? I can hide my physical form but if the demon can track my aura it would be pointless.”

Compassion looked hesitant, even though the request seemed simple enough. “Your aura is so powerful I’m not sure mine will do much to mask it.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

She smiled. “I do,” she then opened her hand and in a flash of white light a staff of dark gnarled twisted wood with long purple thorn spikes appeared in her hand. “This is Thornheart. Use it in the coming battle.”

As Malcolm’s fingers wrapped around the shaft, his hair raised up in alarm. He had never felt so much power in his hand, and he suddenly felt stronger, faster, more alert. He balanced the staff, feeling the ridges of the bark beneath his fingers, an unsettled feeling sinking inside him. “Not sure if a branch is going to help me.”

“It is my soul in solid form. It is the greatest aid I can offer.”

Malcolm felt her power seeping into him, her foreignness feeling like a leather glove over his skin. The way the magic melded together made him slightly nauseous, like he had gorged on too many sweets. The energy gave him a buzzing feeling, and he felt like he needed to run a few laps to burn it off. He ignored that and waved the staff instead, trying to pull parts of the Fade into himself to help mask his presence. By the second turn of the staff he was completely invisible.

“I’m right behind you,” Compassion spoke in his direction though it offered no comfort.

Malcolm gritted his teeth as he looked at the portal, feeling that familiar darkness lurking within. The demon could have wiped Isaac out at any second, but Isaac was alive, being toyed with. And Malcolm felt responsible for putting him there. If he was smart enough to use the boy as bait, then this changed everything.

With a steadying breath, he steeled himself for the worst and stepped inside.

Suddenly he was in a mansion, grander than he had ever stepped in before. Kids' drawings filled the walls and toys were everywhere, servants surrounded them in a flurry as they brought down luggage from a grand staircase. A tall brown man with a silky mustache that connected to his beard and a wide nose was walking down the stairs as two screaming children held his legs, one a little girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes, and the other boy he recognized as Isaac.

“Daddy please,” the little girl held onto his pants leg as if she was holding onto her life. “Daddy please don’t go.”

Isaac just kept repeating the same phrase over again like a mantra. “I’m sorry.”

The man practically kicked his children off. “Get off me! I’m not your father. Your mother’s a cheating whore.”

Malcolm clenched his fist, ready to clock the man, but moving in dreams was not like moving through life. Each part was played by a different demon, only Isaac the true player. Malcolm stepped closer to the family, waiting for his moment to strike.

The man headed for the door, Isaac dragging on his heels. “Daddy,” he sobbed, snot bubbling down his nose. “Daddy. I love you.”

The man recoiled as if he had been hit. He bared his teeth, “You are a thing. You don’t even work right. There is no way I am your father.”

That’s when Malcolm almost swung, but before Malcolm could, another demon came from one of the back rooms and started throwing clothes at the man. She was a plump woman with warm caramel skin and a long satin dress. “Get out!” she screamed. “Say no more words to my children and leave before you infect them with more poison.”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Gladly. Just don’t come running after me for coppers to feed these creatures.”

She huffed, angry tears in her eyes. “As if I ever needed your money.”

The man slammed the front door in Isaac’s face, almost smashing his fingers. “Daddy,” he said in a broken voice.

His mother scooped him up as he cried on her shoulder, Malcolm breathing a sigh of relief. Now he just needed to find a way to speak to Isaac to wake him up without alerting the rest of the demons. He tried to find where Compassion was in the nightmare but she had gone oddly silent ever since he stepped through.

The boy sobbed into his mother’s chest, the other little girl reached for her with outstretched hands as she joined in the family cry.

“I’m sorry, loves, I’m sorry,” Isaac’s mother wiped her children’s eyes. “We’re cursed. We’re a cursed family. This is all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed as Isaac renewed his wailing.

The little girl stopped crying and said. “Mama, how do we break the curse?”

The woman smiled through her tears as she cupped the little girl’s face. “It’s simple. We die.”

Isaac took fistfuls of his mother's skirts . “Mama, no. Mama, no.”

The woman took hold of his chin with a razor smile. “Oh, my sweet child, I should have drowned you at birth. It would have saved you so much suffering.”

That’s when Malcolm finally revealed himself, slicing the demon’s hand with a wave of his staff. He gra

“Mama!” A frightened Isaac elbowed Malcolm in the face.

Malcolm gave him some more room but didn’t let him go.

“That’s not your mother, look at her more closely,” he struggled to keep the boy still. He was surprisingly strong for his small size.

The boy reached out for his Mother, her arm not bleeding as much as it should. Her teeth and eyes looked sharper but it didn’t seem to matter to Isaac. He couldn’t see past his nightmare.

The woman waved with her unhurt hand. “Isaac. Mama’s leaving now. And she’s never ever coming back.”

“No, that’s not your mom. Your Mom is waiting for you to wake up, little dude,” Malcolm forced the boy to face him but Isaac's eyes couldn’t leave his mother.

Isaac’s Mother grabbed his sister’s hand and with a sly smile turned her hand on the doorknob. And then Malcolm realized his mistake. He had forgotten to protect the portal.

As soon as the woman opened the door every corner of the room filled with blackness, the only slits of light now emanating from the goat's eyes splitting from the darkness. The servants and Isaac’s family started to warp as the nightmare changed into more sinister shadow forms. Isaac’s outstretched hand lay frozen as the face of his mother morphed into Compassion.

Except now Malcolm could finally see that it wasn’t Compassion at all. The demon was wearing Compassion’s face, but her skin was now too purple, her eyes darkening to a malevolent shade of violet glowing like embers.

A desire demon. Her brown hair started to float as it mimicked the fire that should be on her head.

Malcolm instinctively reached for his weapon but the staff wrapped around his wrists, thorns snaking into his arms and into his torso. Malcolm let Isaac go before the thorns could wrap around him, too.

Malcolm tried to speak, tried to tell Isaac to wake up, but only blood coughed out of his mouth.

“Mama?” Isaac cowered from the figure in confusion, his eyes and heart seeming to wrestle with what was happening .

The Desire demon outstretched both arms, her hand regrown into thorn-like points, her robes turning into flowing strands of silk. “Bound and offered, Master, as you commanded. I told you my plan would work .”

The goat eyes swirled in amusement as another figure loomed in the portal forming in the tendrils. “So you said, Avarice. I am most impressed.”

Malcolm’s spine chilled, trying to move, but the more he struggled the more it hurt. He could feel something stabbing his heart, keeping him from speaking, but even if he could his words would be stolen from him. The voice the demon took raised all of Malcolm’s hair on end and he withheld a tremble as his father stood before him.

The elf was all lean muscle, his fists scarred and fingers broken from fistfights and punching walls. Malcolm forgot how much he looked like his father, the same nose, the same shaggy curls, the same smattering of freckles, even his eyes were the same shade of gold except instead of regular pupils they were square like a goat. They blinked eerily, the corner of his eyes and lips wrinkled into sharp lines.

Malcolm knew he made a mistake but he was so focused on Zelophehad he had never considered the demon would team up with another to trick him, never considered that the demon would successfully dig out the thing in his psyche that would freeze him in place. He watched helplessly as the Desire demon sauntered up the steps towards Isaac, holding her arms out in a welcoming hug.

“Come to Mama.”

Isaac stood his ground, trembling in fear. “Y-you’re…not…” The boy couldn’t finish his sentence. He stood instinctively near Malcolm, even though there was nothing Malcolm could do to protect him at this point.

Malcolm tried to push through the pain, his panic riding against him in an oncoming wave, but couldn’t let himself be overcome. He saw only one option, and he started to subtly weave threads from the tips of his fingers towards Isaac.

The demon was coming closer, faster, it was hard to focus on weaving the magic with the fear eating at his nerves.

“Your mama’s never coming back. But I can be your mama. I promise I’ll never abandon you, child.”

Malcolm panicked as the demon closed in, about to grab Isaac but before she could Zelophehad blinked beside the demon and grabbed her wrist. He raised a thick eyebrow, his sneer almost a smile. “And what are you doing with my snack?”

The Desire demon looked too terrified to fight, but the confusion on her face was apparent. “M-master, I thought this was what was agreed?”

WIth a flick of Zelophehad’s wrist, he broke the demoness’ wrist and she howled in pain staggering back. “I agreed to let you have my scraps, but if you’re so impatient you’re welcome to be included on the menu.”

The demoness looked conflicted. The anger was apparent on her face. “This is how you repay my service? You will reap what you sow.”

Then she blinked away from sight leaving Malcolm alone with his terror demon.

Malcolm had forgotten how overpowering the demon’s presence was, blanking out thought.

Isaac shuffled towards Malcolm grabbing his hand in fright, and Malcolm squeezed back, trying to offer what comfort he could.

“So shall I eat the boy first?” the demon circled them lazily, slouching with confident ease. Tendrils of dark tentacles circled around his legs and snaked up his arms reaching out to taste the fear on Malcolm’s bound body. “Or will you chivalrously go first?”

Every movement still shredded him, but he found with Avarice gone, her magic was no longer overpowering and he could force himself to speak. “Real cocky considering you made your servant do your dirty work.”

“And why not?” Zelophehad said with a gleeful smile. “Is it not what they are for?”

Malcolm scoffed, though that made a thorn stab deeper into his ribs. He held onto Isaac’s hand his Fade strings wrapping around his balled fist. He saw only one way out of this. “You haven’t won, yet.”

“Good,” the demon grinned. “I like a meal that has fight. Let’s see how brave you are after I eat your charge.” Then the tendrils wrapped around Isaac pulling him towards the demon.

Isaac screamed, squeezing onto Malcolm’s hand, and Malcolm pulled, wrapping the rest of the Fade strings firmly around Isaac.

Malcolm closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his psyche and pulling Isaac along with him. He felt the pain intensify as Zelophehad tried to rip Isaac away from him, but Malcolm pulled them safely both into the safety of his mind.

Their spirits tumbled as the Fade tried to give form to their consciousness, Isaac and Malcolm’s memories melding together in projections in every corner he saw, the overlapping memories serving as the Fade’s usual hum. Malcolm could feel the terror demon ripping off the w alls of his defenses, following him inside. He was at his most powerful since it was his mind therefore his dream, but he was also cornered, trapped. If the terror demon managed to overwhelm him here, he had no more tricks to pull, no hidden hole to dive in.

Malcolm wouldn’t have done this if he had another choice.

He needed to become conscious, take control of the dream, find Isaac and wake them both back to safety, but that was easier said than done. The Fade had not become so much as moldable clay but a projection of thoughts and wants sprung to life with just a breath. Any stray thought, no matter how tiny, could derail everything.

It took all of Malcolm’s energy to focus in the dream fog, like a dulling drug to his senses muting his thoughts. Isaac. He needed to find Isaac. He repeated the name in his head, not allowing any other thoughts to surface. He suddenly recalled something Leandra said after gifting him the rosary, which was like a warm tether on his neck. Without another thought he tore off parts of the Fade and reshaped them into brightly colored blocks.

And started building a simple wall. He clicked the pieces together, slowly building as he started to recite what he could remember from the book Leandra brought.

“In this big wide world,

We all have a place

Every bee needs it’s rose,

Every rose needs it’s vase.”

Soon the walls formed into a house where he left room for a couple windows and an opening for the door. The shadows of Isaac’s memories strengthened with each stack of the block, as Malcolm led his spirit back to him.

“But where do the broken and stinky things go?

When the pen in the ink refuses to flow

Do we keep all the clutter? Does anyone know?”

“Yes,” a small voice finally answered him, “it goes in Mr. Dumpdump’s tow.”

He looked up from his work to see that Isaac had joined him, taking the blocks in his hands with focused effort as he started crafting his build.

“Hey, little dude,” Malcolm sighed in relief. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

But Isaac wasn’t listening to Malcolm. His eyes never left his hands as he built up the walls of his structure with impressive speed, all while reciting the book like a mantra.

“He takes what is bad

So things can be good

Isn’t he the best neighbor

In the whole neighborhood?”

The Fade churned as the walls of the dream struggled to take shape in the competing mindscapes of Isaac and Malcolm, the familiar Circle the only common ground for the Fade to form in. Malcolm could tell Isaac was paler than usual, his eyes seemingly blank as if he was far away and not at all aware what his hands were doing. The Fade was practically responding to his creative urges forming walls around him, as if he was trying to block himself in.

Malcolm crept up to Isaac, his fingers reaching out hesitantly. “I’m going to wake you up, now, but I need you to trust me.”

“How can you trust him?” Revka’s disembodied voice rang shrilly across the Fade. Suddenly Revka was there dressed in fitted royal purple silk, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. She outstretched a pointed nail at Isaac, her pupils too square to be human but everything else was a remarkable likeness. Yet Isaac was frozen, staring at the image of his Mother with a tremble as he fumbled with his blocks. “Come to Mama, Isaac. Let me in.”

Malcolm stepped closer, imploring Isaac to listen. “She’s not real. Your real Mom is waiting for you to wake up.”

The demon smirked with a sharp toothed smile. “I’m your Mama. This elf is the one who is not real. Why would he help you?”

Isaac blinked at Malcolm, his eyes suddenly filled with distrust.

Malcolm held up his hands showing open palms forming no spells. “This is a bad dream, Isaac. You can end it now if you wake up.”

“If you wish hard enough you could have more than just this little reality,” Revka’s laugh tittered as the Fade started to shape into what Malcolm could only guess was some twisted form of Isaac’s old bedroom. The building blocks seemed to take a life of their own building into the sides of the room. Kids drawings filled the walls and books filled dragon shaped shelves. Revka sat down on Isaac’s bed, her fingers beckoning him to come closer.

Isaac’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I can’t.”

Malcolm dared to take one step closer to Isaac. “Let me help you wake up.”

The Nightmare growled, the room distorting color. “He wants to kill you. Don’t let him get close!”

Isaac froze, as if he didn’t consider that and backed away from Malcolm. When Malcolm took another step closer Isaac took another step back closer to the Nightmare.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, wondering what he could do to prove to Isaac that he was really him and not some twisted imitation. He needed to prove to Isaac he was real, but he didn’t know how.

And then it hit him and Malcolm took a deep breath and belted out the loudest most obnoxious “HOOOOOOOONK!” he could manage.

The Nightmare blinked in confusion as the boy broke down in a fit of surprised giggles.

Malcolm joined in the carefree laughter, ignoring the glaring Nightmare demon and said, “Hey, don’t leave me hanging. Your turn.”

The boy didn’t hesitate, he threw back his head and screamed, “HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!” in a louder, more obnoxious way that only a 9 year old could manage.

The Nightmare’s forces seemed to be shrinking in the laughter and the demon scowled. “How undisciplined. I guess it’s time to punish you until you listen.”

Then the Nightmare leapt, his claws forming into long scythe-like points as he raked for Isaac.

Malcolm twisted the Fade around the Nightmare and turned into a crushing prison, paralyzing the demon for a moment but he wasn’t sure with its strength how long it would hold.

He turned back towards Isaac who was now huddling behind his constructed wall, his head in his knees and his hands over his ears.

Malcolm crept beside him. “Little dude,” he said in a hurried voice. “You need to wake up now.”

“I c-can’t,” he sobbed into his knees, holding fistfuls of his hair.

The demon howled in pain, causing Isaac to tremble.

Malcolm reacted with haste touching his forefingers to each side of Isaac’s temples, pouring his magic into him.

Isaac popped up socking Malcolm in the jaw as he gasped in shock.

The jab hurt but Malcolm held firm and Isaac’s next fist went through Malcolm as he faded back into the waking realm where he was safe from the Nightmare’s grasp.

Suddenly a claw wrapped around his neck, digging into his skin but no sooner did the Nightmare grab hold did he fling his hand back like he was burnt.

Malcolm looked down to find the rosary around his neck glowing in what he could only describe as a heavenly light.

Warm trickles of blood seeped down Malcolm’s neck and when he touched the cord it grew hot. A strange and unfamiliar sensation ran through him.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what happened. That was no spell he weaved and yet the demon seemed to eye his rosary with a wariness that he didn’t reserve for the man himself.

The Nightmare’s face contorted, its shape shifting into several darkspawn like forms before it settled onto the face of Malcolm’s father, but Malcolm was a bit more ready for it this time. Still the sight of the man before him made him take an uneasy step back, his nerves instinctively screaming at him to wake up from this nightmare.

“Are you going to face me like a man or run like a rabbit?”

Malcolm clenched his fists, the slur even from a demon like a punch to the gut. Still, he knew when he was being baited. “Yeah real manly going after a child. You really do take after my father.” Part of him wanted to throw every spell he knew at his disposal. It was his dream, but he was facing the Nightmare. He knew it was smarter to run.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the demon examined his burn in disinterest, a casual smirk on his lips. “But I have to say if you don’t get rid of me now, I only plan to become a bigger problem.” He tapped a finger on his lip. “Shall I try to eat Charlie next? Taylor?”

Malcolm’s heart froze in his chest as the Nightmare’s golden goat eyes seized him in place with the next name that fell from his smirking lips.

“Leandra has been looking awfully delicious,” the Nightmare fell back to the rosary neck and gestured to his burned hand imprinted with its beads. “Shall I pay her a visit now that you’ve generously supplied her essence?”

Malcolm saw red, sending crackling energy at the demon but it disappeared in a blink and his lightning bolt hit a wall of colorful blocks scattering them.

The demon suddenly appeared behind him delivering a stunning blow to the back of Malcolm’s head.

He saw stars as he struggled to reorient himself. He sent a clumsy fireball at the demon’s direction, but even if the demon didn’t teleport out of reach again the ball would’ve barely grazed the demon.

Malcolm was ready for the Nightmare to be in his blindside again, and moved to dodge, but his foot was caught. He looked down to see that a tentacled hand had wrapped around his ankle from the floor and prevented him from missing the crushing blow to his nose that made his eyes water.

Blood spattered from his face, streaming down his nose so he couldn’t breathe. It felt broken. Jostled, he picked himself up enough only for a blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of him.

This went on for a while, Malcolm barely keeping his footing as he absorbed blow after blow that he was too slow to react from, each spell dying in his hand before he could fling it. He was unsure why the demon chose to use his fists over something more lethal like magic or claws or anything, but Malcolm realized that even with those goat eyes when he was staring at that face the punches hurt more, his reflexes were more hesitant, and that familiar taunting laugh tripped him off balance.

This didn’t feel so much of a fight as a beating.

“What’s the matter, boy?” The demon punched Malcolm in the stomach, avoiding the rosary by inches. There was an unexpected weight behind each punch but this one felt like being hit by a freight train and Malcolm keeled over, almost throwing up blood. “Weren’t you supposed to be teaching me a lesson?”

The demon then knelt beside Malcolm's crumpled form and caressed his curls fondly, which made Malcolm shiver as distant memories were quickly brought to the surface. “I’m going to take everything you love sooner or later. You have two choices, the painful way, or the less painful way. It’s up to you.”

Malcolm tried to flee, to wake himself up, but all he could do more was cough and gasp as he tried to breathe through his pain, the memories of his childhood terror so fresh, he was trembling. His voice was caught in a web he couldn’t get out of. All he could do is touch the rosary around his neck, praying for the help that burned the demon before.

The Nightmare seemed to sense this so he sighed, grabbing fistfuls of Malcolm’s curls. “The painful way, then.”

One punch shattered his nose.

“Even if Leandra loves you, she’ll always love her status more.” Malcolm struggled to breathe as another punch knocked out a tooth. “They’ll laugh at your children.” Another punch dislocated his jaw. “What kind of a father will you be anyways?” By the fourth punch he was losing consciousness, and he struggled to grasp for his body in the waking world before it was too late. Suddenly the Nightmare stopped and took in a heavy annoyed sigh.

“You are intruding, little spirit.”

Malcolm’s spotty vision noticed a blinding glow in the darkness in the room. He raised his head to see Compassion, the real Compassion shining brilliantly, a rainbow crystal staff wielded in her hands.

“Have you not feasted enough, Zelophehad? Is your hunger so great you must swallow everything in your path?”

The demon smirked malevolently, his bloody knuckles cracking as he clenched his fist. “My gluttony is boundless. My wrath is unquenchable. My greed unsatiable. A little compassion will do nothing to stop me.”

Compassion stood vigilantly, unshaken, her staff brightening with indescribable colors from the carved crystals. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

She met Malcolm’s gaze, his head trapped in Zelophehad’s fist, her azure fire eyes burning. “Somniari, trust me,” And then Compassion turned the crystals to the ground, and poured light that made the floor glitter like diamonds.

“Awaken again, my friends,” Compassion poured more healing magic into the Fade, the air brightening to a more normal greenish hue.

The demon hissed, dropping Malcolm to cut off Compassion.

Malcolm hit the floor with a thud, breathing in the magic, that seemed to soothe his aching, broken body. Suddenly, the Fade was no longer silent, a rush of hurried frightened whispers of the particles of the Fade woke up and filled up Malcolm’s thoughts with indecipherable chatter.

“Shut up!” Zelophehad bellowed as he dove for Compassion, his claws coming out to scythe-like points but she blinked out of sight and then beside Malcolm.

She knelt down and touched him with her iridescent hand.

The magic was almost instant. In one breath, everything ached, like shards of bone were digging into his gut, his eye was swollen shut, his nose too mangled to breathe through, and then in the next moment it was like coming up from a cool pond. There was an uncomfortable sensation of bones knitting back into place, as a cooling healing touch soothed his burning skin. In a few moments he could move more normally again, his vision clear, his mind alert.

Zelophehad growled holding up his hand and a beam of concentrated dark light shot towards Compassion. Malcolm, still grounded, threw up a barrier without thinking, and Compassion did the same. The double barriers cracked but held but the force still blew them back. Zelophehad kept the assault, making the beam bigger, the energy arcing wildly.

“Wake up!” Compassion ordered.

Malcolm balked, his energy being drained by trying to keep the barrier reinforced. “Don’t you need help?”

“You’re in the way,” she sneered, which was like a slap in the face to Malcolm. Still, as much as that stung he couldn’t argue that he pretty much had his ass handed to him that fight.

“Fine,” he scoffed, pulling back the magic, and reaching for his body back in the waking world. As he did, the barrier started to crack, light showing through.

Malcolm hesitated, pouring more magic into the barrier.

“I have this handled. Flee, you fool!” Compassion hissed, the crystals of her staff quivering in effort. Suddenly the Fade air shimmered around Compassion, sealing the cracks in her barrier as soon as they formed.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what Compassion’s plan was, but it was clear she knew more about what she was doing than Malcolm did, so he pulled back his magic completely, and concentrated on reaching his body. It was quicker with the lyrium in his system. He could feel the buzz of it speed up his magic in a way he didn’t think possible so that instead of falling he felt like he was flying back. He was unsure what magic Leandra had given him, but all he knew was that she saved him.

Red light finally filtered through his eyes, and he opened them quickly to find blood all over his face and robes and every templar pointing a gun at him. Even Carver.

Malcolm gulped nervously, his limbs still bound to the gurney. He found himself struggling not to panic at the sight of his friend holding a barrel at him. “I’m not possessed.”

Carver lowered his gun slightly, but there was a hesitancy to it. “I’m sorry Malcolm, but we’re going to need a test.”

Malcolm’s gut dropped. He had forgotten that Carver was still a templar though it would be harder to forget in this moment. He gave a nervous, bloody grin and said. “Yeah, dude, whatever you need.”

Carver walked up to the barrier and turned to the Senior Enchanter and said, “lower it.”

Enchanter Karena nodded and with a wave of her staff the red barriers around Malcolm and Isaac came down.

Carver looked over at Isaac who was strapped to his own bed with a frightened look on his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carver said in the most soothing voice as he could manage, though it was hard to believe with his gun strapped to his side.

He took out a device that looked like a small tablet and scanned Isaac’s head. Isaac squirmed to the side as the device beeped and fed Carver information. It was supposed to be the templar’s foolproof way of thwarting possession, looking for extra brain waves or unusual activity. Though sometimes mages that looked completely fine were sometimes pulled because of weird readings so it never failed to make Malcolm nervous.

Though whatever was on the screen seemed to satisfy Carver. He started unbinding the straps, turning to the Senior Enchanter and said, “get this boy into the infirmary. He’s very weak.”

She nodded and hurried to Isaac, unbinding him fully so he could stretch out his arms and legs. He sat up reluctantly, helped by the Enchantress, who proceeded to cover him with a blanket to help with his shiver.

Carver approached Malcolm with the scanner, and ran it over his head.

Malcolm could hear the device whirring and beeping. This wasn’t the first time he’d been scanned but it never failed to heighten his nerves.

Carver’s voice was a whisper as he eyed the drying blood on Malcolm’s face. “Are you alright?”

To be honest Malcolm wasn’t sure. His body didn’t ache anymore, but the pain was like a ghost haunting him, his father’s cruel mocking laugh still ringing in his ears. He wondered for a second if Compassion made it out alright, or if he had gotten her killed. He might have gotten Isaac safely back, but this felt like a defeat.

“I just need to see Leandra,” his voice was almost begging. He wasn’t even sure if it was protocol, but he just needed a moment, so it all could mean something. He wasn’t sure if he would last if he didn’t end the day at least seeing her face.

Carver started unstrapping his ties as the templars lowered their guns hesitantly, looking at each other in disappointment. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

---

Revka’s sobs filled the chapel as she squeezed Leandra’s hand in a vice-like grip. She had taken the first plane back to Kirkwall and had stormed the Circle, along with Guillaume, Mara and Gamlen who had generously picked her up from the airport. (Well Mara and Gamlen were supposed to, but Guillaume insisted on coming to show support to Leandra.)

Now the five of them were huddled in a group prayer as they begged the Maker for Malcolm to succeed.

The nuns were all very accommodating, reciting the proper Chants with them, and invoking protections on Isaac on Malcolm from afar, though Leandra felt so powerless she felt like she was only doing it to keep her and Revka sane. Because they had to do something to make the time pass.

When asked about the rosary during prayer, because Leandra always prayed with her rosary, she evasively said she lost it and hoped it would never come up again. She was surprised when Gamlen scolded her, because he wasn’t particularly religious. Still, she knew what he would think if she told him the truth.

“It’s my fault,” Revka sobbed, breaking from the Chant as she crumpled in exhaustion. The others broke off from the Chant, looking away to give Revka the privacy of a breakdown. Even Gamlen didn’t have anything smart to say for once.

“No,’ Leandra squeezed her hand. “You can’t think that.”

The tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “What kind of Mother is not there for her children? Colette’s all alone at home. I had to abandon Anna during our visit and now Isaac...is lost.”

Leandra pulled Revka in for a hug unsure of what other comfort to offer. “Have faith in the Maker, Revka. He will deliver Isaac.”

‘And Malcolm,’ she added silently. She didn’t dare say his name aloud while Guillaume was by her side.

Suddenly the doors to the chapel pulled open and all of them turned to see who disturbed them. Carver and the Knight Commander stepped through, side by side, Leandra deflated, thinking that they were by themselves when Malcolm finally lagged behind, a noticeable sag to his shoulders and a sluggishness to his steps.

Revka stood up and pushed her way forward towards the Knight Commander. “Isaac. He is safe?” It was a command rather than a question.

“He is, my lady, you can rest easy,” Carver bowed his head with a warm smile on his lips.

Revka’s eyes then overflowed with tears. “Thank the Maker. And thank you Commander.”

The Knight Commander preened at the gratitude. “Only doing our part.”

Revka’s hands flew to her eyes as she hastily wiped them. “Can I see him? Just for a moment.”

Carver looked imploringly at the Knight Commander who seemed uncomfortable with the idea. “It would do wonders for Isaac’s recovery.”

Leandra stepped up beside Revka glaring at the Knight Commander, joined by Guillaume and Mara. The Knight-Commander’s eyes passed over them, seemingly wanting to avoid a fight, and turned to Carver and said. “Yes, yes give her five minutes and then they all need to leave.”

Revka looked overwhelmed with relief and eagerly held out her arm to be escorted.

Only for Carver to be distracted by the fact Mara was there. Their gazes seemed to catch, her face going red as she avoided his shocked stare. He seemed frozen, as if he had not expected Mara to be there at all, and he didn’t notice he was staring until Gamlen put a possessive arm around her.

“Captain?” Revka asked impatiently.

Carver shook his head as if he was breaking from a daze and said, “Sorry, my lady. This way.” And then he took her arm and started leading her out of the chapel.

The Knight Commander then stared at the rest of the group as if they were ruining his day. “Your mage wishes to return your trinket.”

Leandra bristled at the phrasing the Commander used and she found herself arguing. “It was a gift.”

Malcolm bowed deeply to Leandra, the rosary draping from his fingers. “My lady, the protection magic on this saved my life, and for that I thank you, but I would rest easier knowing it's guarding its true owner.”

Gamlen looked outraged seeing the rosary in Malcolm’s fingertips. “A gift? I thought you said you lost it? Leandra what were you thinking?”

Leandra opened her mouth to argue when Guillaume put a warm hand on her waist and said, “My lady only ever has the purest intentions, Lord Amell. Do forgive her.”

Gamlen barked out a laugh as he eyed Malcolm, a shit eating grin as he muttered “Poor schmuck,” under his breath.

Mara elbowed him in the stomach with warning eyes to be quiet.

Leandra stiffened at Malcolm’s sudden glare, not able to voice what she was thinking and took the rosary back feeling conflicted and partly rejected. Their fingers brushed as the necklace exchanged hands, the feeling like a shock to her heart. She wanted to insist he keep it, but she knew that it would be inappropriate and rude so she bit her lip and examined the beads, noticing some new stains on the metal. She gasped. “Is this your blood?”

Malcolm looked sheepish. “Sorry, I thought I cleaned that better.”

The Knight Commander put a warning squeeze on Malcolm’s shoulder as he pulled him back from Leandra and changed to the real subject he wanted to talk about. “As you can see Malcolm is the finest mage we have to offer.”

Guillaume put a finger on his chin. “Yes, ser, I quite agree,” he said. He offered his free hand in a friendly shake. “You are quite talented, messere. This means everything to Leandra. I can’t thank you enough.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth staring at the hand as if it stunk, but one glance at the Knight Commander had him schooling his face and he took the hand politely. “Anything for my lady,” he said while looking straight into Leandra’s eyes as he gave Guillaume the firmest shake he could manage.

“And a man’s handshake at that. I’m very impressed,” Guillaume beamed amusedly.

It took everything Malcolm had not to snort. He wiped his hand on the side of his robes feeling vindictive and petty. To see Guillaume’s hand so casually on Leandra’s waist was like sitting down for a good meal only to find a dead fly in it.

The Knight Commander gave Malcolm’s shoulder another squeeze. “We look forward to your renewed bids on Hawke’s services. We assure you we’re training him daily and instilling the best manners and education so he can best attend to your needs.”

The Knight Commander's words made that two dead flies.

Malcolm looked at Guillaume, a tall handsome man with everything and the world, who could hold Leandra’s hand in a crowd and kiss her openly in the sunlight, or the moonlight, and everything in between. He found himself trembling as he tried not to scream or cry or punch the man senseless.

Guillaume pulled Leandra closer and took one of her hands as he stared seriously into her eyes.

Leandra shied away from him but didn’t stop the embrace from happening which was like a dagger in Malcolm’s heart.

“Ma cherie, after everything that's happened with Isaac I wouldn’t dare put us at odds any longer.”

Leandra couldn’t meet Guillaume’s gaze, her eyes pulled unwillingly to Malcolm who was not looking at them at all. “Guillaume, I don’t know what you mean.”

Guillaume patted her hand. “I’m withdrawing my family’s bid for Ser Hawke. If there is truly a curse, then I shall not have you unprotected.”

Leandra didn’t know what to say so she went with a diplomatic, “That’s very generous, Guillaume.”

“Not at all,” he said, kissing her cheek, his mouth lingering near her face. as he said, “Besides we’ll be husband and wife soon, so chances are he’ll be serving us both in time.”

And that’s when Malcolm turned to the Knight-Commander and said, “I think I should go check in on Isaac, yes?”

The Knight Commander seemed surprised but pleased by Malcolm’s initiative and said, “Do that. I will escort everyone else out.”

Leandra immediately launched after him as he stormed away, forgetting anyone else was there. “Malcolm!” she cried out.

He turned to meet her, stopping her with a glare and she went red, realizing that Gamlen was smirking at her as he raised an eyebrow about how she would play this.

“Leandra, is something wrong?” Guillaume stared in confusion, a hand touching hers imploring her to spill her troubles.

But her attention was on Malcolm. She bit her lip as Malcolm watched her along with everyone else and unsure what she was doing she stuck out her hand like Guillaume did. “I’m truly indebted to you. I won’t forget my whole life, what you did for me.”

Malcolm’s face softened into a smile, truly the only thanks he was actually looking for, and he couldn’t help but take her hand since it looked so warm and inviting, “And I’d do it again,” he said as he brought her hand to his mouth and put a chaste kiss on her knuckle.

It was proper, but so very intimate that her face flooded with warmth, her breath caught in her throat.

“Messere Hawke,” The Knight-Commander barked strictly, causing the both of them to jump.

Malcolm cleared his throat and left without a word, the Knight-Commander glaring daggers into his back.

---

Every goat eye searched the whole surface of the Fade, but it seemed that the Compassion spirit had indeed escaped his labyrinth. How she managed to get in, he did not know. Everything in this realm was supposed to be loyal to him. If there were whispers of her coming he should have known about it.

And yet the Fade protected her. Hid her. His own minions of his realm would not raise a hand to fight her.

What was she to them?

And why was it so hard to kill one measly Compassion spirit? They had hardly any offensive powers. They spent their days healing the sick, not taking on embodiments of darkness. Still if the Somniari Bonded with her, it would prevent his Bonding to take place. The Spirit would have to die first.

An eye alerted him that it found something and he teleported to a wing of the palace that he had forgotten about but seemed to have been altered. Drapes of fabric held from the ceiling and it seemed like collected human artifacts like statues and goblets filled with gold and shiny jewels was scattered through the room. In the middle was a bed draped in silks, the roof overhead broken so the moon shone on Avarice in a masculine form, wearing nothing at all. Her chiseled muscles were relaxed in the plush bed as she stared at Zelophehad with a smirk on her face.

“So he got away.”

Zelophehad almost killed the demoness out of pride but his need for her kept him from lashing out. “There was an intruder. Why did you not take care of it?”

The demoness’ long fiery purple hair danced on her head lazily, “I thought you didn’t need me.”

The taunting jab made Zelophehad punch a decayed wall. A new crack ran up it all the way to the ceiling. “I can always find a smarter demon.”

That only made her smirk widen. “I delivered the Somniari gagged and bound, as ordered. I could have had him for myself, Master, but I only spared him because of my loyalty to you.”

Zelophehad sneered, his ugly mouth a mess of gnarled teeth. “That Compassion spirit will regret toying with me. I’ll burn every ounce of Compassion until there is none left in this world.”

The demoness chewed on her cheek, her violet pupiless eyes not masking disappointment. “You could do that, or….”

“Or…” the Nightmare echoed impatiently.

The demoness perched herself up on a pillow. “We approach a mortal and make a strike in the waking world.”

Zelophehad cocked his head at the idea, a malevolent smile spreading on his inky lips. “I know just the one.”

#malcolm/leandra #dragon age fic #da fic #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic

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