#His father seems to be entirely out of the picture so he's either been exiled or killed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elionwriter · 3 years

Text

MY FAV STAR WARS COUPLE DYNAMICS:

(for the sake of this post let's all just pretend no one dies, ok?)

Anakin - Padme: their relationship started with pure drama and really bad, corny pick up lines and it just goes on that way. Even when they are happily exiled on Naboo with their children and everyone knows about them, whenever they talk about their love or tell the story to Luke and Leia it's always with the tones of a 'larger than life situation'. Obviously Anakin is the drama queen who really pushes it (and is still salty he had to give up his title as Jedi Master) but Padme fell for him when he did the whole whiny speech about sand and married him, she secretly supports this s***t! 😝

Han - Leia: bickering is their love language. Screaming to impose supremacy is their flirting. The thing is, they never bicker for serious stuff, because they actually agree on what matters and get along as a couple, it's the principle of things! Sometimes a friend of Ben overhears them and goes 😱 "I'm really sorry for intruding on this, pal. Will your parents be alright?" And Ben with the calmest expression will answer "They literally do this all the time". It's the silence that's worriesome. When Leia is just too tired to keep fighting after hours of doing so with politicians, when Han doesn't bother to stay to face the argument and just hops on the Falcon again, THAT'S when they realise they are falling out. So they push duty and lust for adventure aside to go back spending quality time together and patching things up. Sure enough, the bickering starts again and Ben is like "😌 aaah everything is fine again".

Din - Luke: they are the picture perfect couple. They literally never argue, at best they poke eachother when one of the two does something the other doesn't entirely agree on. They have each other's back in any instance, support every choice and are there for backup when others want a fight or have something to say either on Din's leadership or Luke's approach to the Jedi code and teachings. It took them forever to actually get together because they acted like shy teenagers on their first crush and Leia, Han and Cara had to practically push them into each other's arms, but once they got there they were solid a couple as a rock. Others look at them and think they are either disgustingly mushy or still in a 'honeymoon face', because NO ONE has such a stress-free marriage. Din and Luke truly don't get what the fuss and all the drama's about. So even though they end up practically parenting the space version of the kids from 'Cheaper by the dozen' they act like parental figures to their friends as well. Life as Manda'lor and the Reviver of the Jedi order can be hell, but together they are just balanced like that and can face everything! They even create a new co-op fighting style for Jedi/Mandalorians that becomes the terror and amazement of the Galaxy for centuries to come!😌😏💪

Kannan - Hera: very similar to Dinluke except they do at times have some small moments of tension because Hera is a fighter to the core and Kannan can't help but wonder if the battle will ever truly end. But his queen's passion and resolve is so bright and steeled that he can't help but fall in love a little more every time and follow, knowing it's the right thing to do. They have an example to set for their son, after all. Kannan will absolutely love Jacen and will introduce Ezra to his son (once Sabine and Ashoka bring him back) as his older brother. Much like when he trained Ezra or faced Sabine, Kannan will sometimes doubt himself and wonder if he's acting like a good parent to Jacen. Hera will smile and reassure him, describing to him the bright and happy smile on their son's face or how Jecen's nose scrunches and his long, greenish ears wiggle in delight whenever Kannan plays with him or cuddles him. As Hera says so, Kannan holds her and feels like he can actually see it too.

Sabine - Ezra: After Ezra is brought back to his family from wherever or whatever happened to him after facing Thrawn, both of them will just indulge in sudden hugs or touches to make sure the other is actually there. Of course, they first think of their bond as a solid friendship and camaraderie, because that's what it was when they left off. The extra touching is just the response to being apart for so long and being worried for each other. But then Sabine notices that Ezra actually looks really good with long hair and the scruffy beard he grew out. She catches herself thinking of how warm and safe if feels in his arms and mentally kicks herself because she's a Mandalorian, all she should need is a loaded blaster to feel safe. Ezra, on the other hand, starts playing with Sabine's hair when complimenting her new dye and suddenly finds himself cupping her face like it's the most natural thing in the world. Long story short, they fall for eachother hard and become the prototype of the couple "my boyfriend/girlfriend is my best friend". When they are comfortable with their new status, Ezra goes back flirting dorkishly with her like he did all those years back when they first met and Sabine will tease him by shooting his advances down.

Ashoka - Bo Katan: joke's on Bo-katan for cringing back in the day at her sister's relationship with a Jedi. She thought destiny or the force or whatever was really messing with her when she realized that her rival and pupil, Din Djarin, the new leader of Mandalorians was also falling helplessly in love with a Jedi (Obi-Wan's student nonetheless). When she hears Sabine Wren and her Jedi boy also got together she stops questioning it. The thing is that she herself has been inexplicably, undeniably charmed and hooked to a Jedi for years now. The very same Jedi she had teased didn't have enough booty, what felt like a lifetime prior. But she's Bo-Katan, she can be in angry denial about anything. Ashoka, on the other hand, has seen and has been conditioned too much on what attachment does to a Jedi, even if she doesn't consider herself one anymore. So, even if the chemistry between them and the long lingering stares are real, their love is always kept a quiet, unspoken thing. Whenever they call eachother "my old friend" they know they actually mean more, but leave it at that. Everyone around them can't help wondering 'are they a thing or...?!' but they never feed the theories and gossip. They know what they are and mean for each other when they are alone in the same room, talking about the past or what must be done in the future and Ashoka's mere presence is enough to cool down the ever-present burning rage inside of Bo. Meanwhile, the other can't help but admire how single minded and devoted to her people and culture the Mandalorian princess is, how she never gave up on them, despite everything. They smile softly at each other, then one of them breaks the spell by leaving. They go back to their own business and life untill destiny or the force or whatever brings them back into eachother's orbit.

Revan - Carth: normally they act very much like Leia and Han with the bickering and teasing bit but then Revan has one of her memories returning or is haunted by how she basically condemned her lifelong best friend Malak to a terrible death and Carth instantly does a 180° shift becoming the most caring, comforting and tender partner. She'll hide into his chest until the crisis in over. Sometimes it can go on for days and Revan is oh, so grateful of how patient and good Carth is to her. Then, at times, Carth is the one burying his head in her chest and she's the one doing the tender, hair strokes. Carth needs a lot of reassuring and might get upset and fret over even what appears to be a trivial thing. He's trying to heal and get better but the long, long years of solitude, hurt and paranoia are hard to iron down. Expecially when Carth seems to have an instinct that puts a Jedi to shame, foreseeing a crisis neither she nor Bastila had picked up. But he is making an effort to improve and she's proud of him, even as he tries very clumsily to patch things up with his son Dustil. She doesn't really step in that matter more than she has to, since Dustil is clearly not happy nor comfortable with the idea of them being together yet. Carth will sometimes open his heart to her and say something deeply meaningful on how he wants her to stay ( when she looks particularly haunted and about to leave without a work of warning) and be happy but does so with such awkward word choices that Revan just cannot refrain from laughing at his face and making puns. It's at this point that the back and forth teasing resumes. There is no denying they are still deeply wounded individuals and they are at their best when their friends are there to lighten the mood and show love to the both of them. Because they could easily go down the path of drama like Anakin and Padme but they choose the Ebon Hawk crew shenanigans instead.

Obi Wan - Satine: their love is stored in the memory of that glorious time they spent together in their youth. A moment in which no responsibility or sense of honor could keep them from giving in to that feeling of want and need for each other. It's a love that never truly went away, never left space for anyone else, but it never fully grew and bloomed either. So years down the line, that's what it is for Obi-Wan, a pleasant memory. He would never change how things went afterwards, but he wouldn't give up those memories and feelings for anything in the world. Satine feels the same, mostly. There are nights that she falls asleep wondering what could have been if only she had talked up at the decisive moment and dreams of a life spent together with Obi-Wan. But when she wakes up, she sobers up and goes back to her things. It's when she looks at her Korkie smile and notices how resembling to his secret father he is that she is truly at peace. She managed to keep a peace of Obi-Wan in her life.

Cal - Merrin: I have no idea for this one, but just stop and consider the possible 'nightsisters babies' though! Wouldn't they be the cutest things ever?! 😀

Sorry Cara Dune, you just haven't met the woman of your life yet. 😔

Also, I kinda like Zeb and Callus too but I don't really ship them enough to add them here, you know? Anyway I'm sure they make a lovely couple.

61 notes · View notes

allthingskenobi · 3 years

Text

Obi-Wan in Exile – Owen Lars

(Originally published on AllThingsKenobi.com January 10, 2021)

Welcome to the second in a series of looks into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time in exile on Tatooine between Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. We’ve tried to mine as much Legends and canon material as possible to help guide you through some of the period’s most common and repetitive themes so that when the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series airs, you’ll be ready.

Not everything he ever did in the entire 19 years will be explored here, but as we said, we’ve tried our best to pick out the most prominent and impactful moments to give everyone a better understanding of exactly what one hermit had to endure out there all alone in the sandy deserts of Tatooine.

There’s no way around it: Owen Lars hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. But why? A young Luke Skywalker could have benefited greatly from the two men working together, but it was not to be so. Here we will look at just a few of the many times the Jedi was rejected by the hardened moisture farmer in an attempt to understand just how fraught with tension their relationship really was.

“That wizard’s just a crazy old man.”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

Owen Lars was the very first person to ever paint a picture for us of the now-illustrious Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is what he had to say about him. Though we, alongside Luke, quickly recognize Owen’s words for the untruths they are, we were left to wonder exactly where the animosity, and possible bad blood, between the two men began. Especially since well up until Attack of the Clones was released, Owen was Obi-Wan’s biological brother (as confirmed in original drafts of Return of the Jedi), which made the exchange all the more tragic.

“But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?”

“He won’t, I don’t think he exists any more. He died about the same time as your father.”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

Owen continues to try and deter Luke by point-blank telling him that Obi-Wan is dead. It’s another clear falsehood that, at the time, carried little to no weight until twenty-eight years later when we witnessed the “deaths” of both Anakin and Obi-Wan on the slopes of Mustafar in Revenge of the Sith. But that’s a story for another time…

“He makes his terms abundantly clear: “We’ll take him in, but you’ll play no part in his upbringing. If you have to stay on Tatooine, you keep your distance, do you hear? You neither see the boy nor speak to him. He must know nothing about his father.”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

“Obi-Wan was glad and relieved that Beru and Owen agreed to raise Luke, but his mission did not end there, as it was also his duty to watch over the boy. He had thought that his ongoing presence would be some comfort to Owen and Beru. He soon learned that he was mistaken.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

From the moment Obi-Wan arrived on Tatooine with a newborn Luke Skywalker, Owen made it abundantly clear that the Jedi would have nothing to do with the child. It was an unfair set of terms that Obi-Wan, while doing his best to adhere to, would breach with regular frequency, often pushing his already contentious relationship with the farmer to its breaking point.

Over the years, not only would Obi-Wan often be forced into interceding on the family’s behalf as protection (much to Owen’s chagrin), but he would also willingly cross the line to try and form a relationship with Luke from afar. Whether it was a simple gift of parts for Luke’s skyhopper (1) or a handmade wooden toy (2), the attempts would be vehemently denied and Obi-Wan would find himself right back where he started.

Star Wars 15 C

Was Owen right to be concerned that trouble would follow Obi-Wan back to Luke and their homestead? Of course. Obi-Wan understands and even acknowledges that his watchful gaze could attract attention (3), so he backs off, moving farther out into the Jundland Wastes until the time comes when he is needed. (3)(4) But Owen took his concerns above and beyond, twisting reason into a deep-seated personal hatred of the other man.

“The hut was approximately 136 kilometers from the Lars homestead—farther than Obi-Wan would have preferred, but probably still too close to satisfy Owen Lars.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

“I managed to steer clear of Owen Lars this time. The man doesn’t like me at all.”

KENOBI L

“I’d always believed – always hoped – that Owen’s anger would cool toward me, that one day I would be allowed to train young Luke in the ways of the Force.”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

“Old Wounds” – Star Wars Visionaries L

Why? Why did Owen Lars hate Obi-Wan Kenobi so much? First and foremost, he placed the blame of Anakin’s downfall solely on Obi-Wan, going so far as to accuse Obi-Wan of “murder.” (1) It’s interesting to say the least that Owen would have such strong opinions about a man he’d only met once (5), but it seems to become more clear when you take into consideration that Owen adored his step-mother, Shmi. But while Shmi no doubt loved her adoptive family, she often spent her time looking to the horizon waiting for the day when Anakin would return. (6) So for Obi-Wan to have lost Shmi’s beloved son might have been too much for Owen to bear.

We’ll discuss this more in depth later, but Owen even removed Shmi’s headstone, along with the stones of other family members, so that Obi-Wan could no longer visit the site. (7) Consequently, it also ensured that Luke would never know about his grandmother. At least not while he lived at the homestead.

“If killing me would have brought [Anakin’s] mother back to life, I know he would have killed me then and there. I could see it in his eyes.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

At some point, Owen also seemed to have distrusted the Jedi as a whole. It was a prejudice formed the day he watched an angry and unrepentant Anakin Skywalker return from slaughtering a village of Sand People. (2) That being his only interaction with a Jedi before Obi-Wan came along, Owen didn’t want Luke to have anything to do with what he saw in Anakin that day.

“Everyone was stunned when Owen abruptly told Ben to leave and not to come back. The experience had left Luke baffled. Even now, some ten years after the incident, he still did not know why Owen had been so angry with Ben. From what little he knew, he assumed that Ben’s purpose on Tatooine had been to discreetly watch over him while Owen and Beru raised him as if he were an ordinary child, not the son of a Jedi-turned-Sith Lord. But if both Ben and Owen had been responsible for protecting Luke, why hadn’t they gotten along? Luke could only imagine why Owen had so aggressively objected to Ben’s presence. Luke remembered listening to conversations between his uncle and aunt, practically spying on them, hoping to hear any small detail about his father or Ben Kenobi. Owen and Beru never revealed much but merely reinforced that they preferred not to discuss either man.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

Luke cheers, running full pelt toward me, arms as wide as his smile. There is a crunch behind me and I turn, Owen’s fist burying itself in my nose. I slam down hard on the ground, the lightsaber skittering from my hand. All my training, all my experience, and a humble moisture farmer has achieved what neither battle droid nor Sith has achieved, knocking me flat on my back.

“Uncle Owen!” Luke cries in confusion as his uncle manhandles the boy toward his aunt before turning to glower at me.

“Go,” he all but spits, an accusatory finger punctuating the furious decree. “Get away from here. Haven’t you people done enough to this family?”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

Lastly, and most unfortunately, Owen never minded expressing his distaste for Obi-Wan in front of Luke, going so far as to strike Obi-Wan and send him away while the boy watched. Would Owen’s treatment of the strange desert hermit help one day drive a wedge between the boy and his uncle? Maybe. Maybe not. All we do know is that Luke, like his father before him, was already inextricably linked to Obi-Wan Kenobi. And there was nothing Owen Lars could do about it.

Citations:

Star Wars 15 by Jason Aaron C

“Time of Death” – From a Certain Point of View by Cavan Scott C

Kenobi by John Jackson Miller L

Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi by Ryder Windham L

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones C

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones Novelization by R. A. Salvatore L

A New Hope: The Life of Luke Skywalker by Ryder Windham L

#Obi-Wan in Exile #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Kenobi Series #Owen Lars #long post #text post #crossposted from wordpress #allthingskenobi #no doubt we will get to see this play out on screen in the show #:((((

101 notes · View notes

unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Sorry, it’s reserved

Honestly neither Marinette nor Chloe had been surprised when Bustier caved to Alya’s insistent requests that the two girls not be allowed to go on the class trip to New York City. Lila had been subtly hinting about how much friendly better thing would be if they weren’t there.

Mostly because just two weeks ago, Marinette had presented her class trip idea presentation; complete with a potential itinerary, pictures of the grand hotel could stay at, the fantastic tours they could go on, and exciting places they could eat. The class had been suitable wow’d.

What was surprising was when, after Bustier announced in front of the class that Marinette and Chloe couldn’t go to New York much to the smug faces of the students, Adrien said, “Cool. Then I’ll skip the class trip too.” He then turned to his two best friends. “What do you two want to do instead?” Adrien was sick and tired of the other students in the class. He had been trying to get them to believe Lila was a liar for months but no one, not even Nino, would listen to him.

Instead, they turned on the two most awesome girls in the class. Well, Adrien wasn’t going to deal with it anymore.

The look of horror on Lila’s face was priceless. However, there was no backtracking now. The dream of a romantic trip to New York, walking hand in hand with Adrien, burst into flames and was now nothing more than ashes.

“Yeah, I won’t go either,” Nathaniel stated. “Doesn’t seem fair. Marinette worked really hard on the idea for the trip.” He never bought Lila’s crap, and he never understood how anyone else did.

Marinette smirked, “I’m up for whatever.” She shrugged. “I’m actually looking forward to now having to organize the trip. Or fundraise for it. And to think I was going to start working this weekend.” The bluenette made sure to look directly at Bustier and Alya, her ex-friend when she said this. “Its only October but believe me, you’ll want to start making reservations fast. Nothing was done but the presentation; which you can have by the way. And just a reminder, a lot of places do require a down payment. Also, don’t forget approval from the school board.”

“Which takes like three months btw,” Chloe said with a vicious smile on her face. She was the last class president. She knew exactly how hard getting a fabulous trip approved of was. “Paperwork has to be filled out in triplicates and if you mess up on even one form, they’ll make you fill out the entire thing again.” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. “I just let Daddy know that he won’t have to make his annual donation this year for the trip. If you don’t want us there you obviously don’t need it. And to think, he usually funds thirty percent of it. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

By the looks on the other students’ faces, it was clear that they didn’t know that. However, pride wouldn’t let them back down. Besides, Alya thought, they had the moral high ground. Who wanted to hang with bullies anyway?

To the other students’ credit, they did manage to raise enough money for the trip to New York. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as much as they usually did. Alya, the new class president, also forgot to make most of the reservations until the last minute, and it was hard to find a fancy hotel willing to accommodate an entire class of rowdy teenagers at the last minute. So they would stay at a Holiday Inn just outside of New York City. The glasses-wearing girl wished Lila had been so busy with her charity work so she would’ve had time to help and maybe they could’ve gotten a much better trip.

By the end, the class trip the class would be getting wasn’t nearly as were or amazing as the one Marinette had presented at the beginning of the year. However, most were just happy to be going to New York.

Lila shot four exiled students a victorious look as she bragged about all the things and people she’d get to see in New York. She had spent months trying to get Adrien to agree to go on the trip but he wouldn’t budge.

She sighed dramatically, “I love New York. The only bad part are the superheroes. Last time I was there Robin and Speedy practically got into a fistfight over who’d take me on a date. I hate getting in the way of friendships.” Marinette snorted. “We leave for New York in three weeks. What will you three be doing then?”

“Waiting for a house to fall on you,” Marinette said easily.

Adrien chuckled, “We leave for L.A in two days.”

That got the classes’ attention.

“Sorry, What?” Alya asked; suddenly getting a bad feeling in her stomach.

Chloe leaned back in her seat, “L.A. It was my idea. We decided since we couldn’t go on your trip we’d go on our own. Let's see… our first stop in L.A, we’ll be there for about a week; we’ll tour some movie studios, go on set for the Star Trek movie that filming. Attending the movie premiere of the newest Marvel movie. Then leave for Indio; it's not that far from L.A, I think. But who cares. We have to be at Coachella, even if only for two days. Then we go to Metropolis. And I can’t remember… Marinette what did you plan for us to do? It was her idea to go there.” She told the class who had looks of sheer dismay on their faces that got worse and worse as the four described the trip.

Marinette smiled, “Tour of LexCorp, a tour of Daily Planet, reservations for the grand opening of Gordon Ramsey’s new restaurant, we got backstage passes for a 5 seconds of Summer concert-” She was cut off

“Why couldn’t we go see Selena Gomez again?” Adrien frowned.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Because you couldn’t beat Chloe in an arm-wrestling contest.”

“She is freakishly strong,” Adrien protested. “And she plays mind games!”

Chloe blew a raspberry at the other blond.

“We’ll be in Metropolis for about a week,” Marinette continued, as her two friends bickered and Adrien declared he would have his vengeance. “Then Adrien got to pick where we next.”

“Disney World!” The blond shouted. It was his biggest childhood dream and it was becoming a reality. “We’re going to Florida to Disney World, and then Universal Studios; where we’ll get to see the Magical World of Harry Potter.”

“Geek!” Chloe sniped.

“Slytherin!” Adrien hissed back at her.

“And proud,” Chloe crossed her arms. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Hufflepuff?” She said the Hogwarts’ house like it was a dirty word. “Most notable thing a Hufflepuff ever did was die. And then somehow ended up in Twilight.”

Adrien stood up angrily, “You take that back!”

“Make me!”

Adrien looked at Nathaniel, “Ravenclaw, do something!” Their two houses went together like PB&J.

Nathaniel put down his pencil, “No.” And went back to writing. “Make the Gryffindor do it!” He motioned to Marinette.

Marinette just looked up at the ceiling, praying to gods’ for patience.

Adrien, she was suddenly reminded, was loyal enough to help hide a body.

Nathaniel was smart enough to have already come up with an alibi.

Chloe as conning enough to ensure they got away it, after goading Marinette into doing it in the first place.

Marinette would eventually snap and kill Lila. She would need them. “We’ll be in Florida for about four days; enough to see both amusement parks. Then all four of us agreed to go to New York next. First, stop Gotham; we’ll be touring Wayne Industries and attending one of the Wayne family annual galas.”

“Then we go directly to New York City,” Chloe said examining her nails. “Mama arranged us a tour of Vogue and Mode. We’ll be going to a few of the runways for Fashion Week. Adrien’s father arranged for us to go see Hamilton on Broadway.”

It had taken a lot of time, effort, threats of going to the police, press, and CPS regarding child labor laws broken concerning Adrien to get Gabriel Agreste to agree to let his son go on the trip (as well as allow him to actually have a childhood). But there had been several conditions; mostly to do with security and proper supervision; which all the parents had, though not to Gabriel’s extremeness.

Still, the four kids agreed to the terms.

“We’re going to a baseball game!” Adrien added excitedly. “A real one. I’m going to eat a hot dog the size of my arm. And cotton candy the size of my head.”

Marinette nodded slowly, already picturing herself patting Adrien’s back as he whined about as stomach ache from eating too much.

Chloe frown, picturing the same. She had lost a pair of Jimmy Choos after one disastrous trip to the carnival that involved way too much greasy food and rollercoaster with two loops. She shook the nightmarish memory away, “Thanks to Marinette, we’ll be touring the Stark Industries and the Avengers tower. All the hotels we’ll be staying at are 5 stars. Also, we’re going to three, three Michelin star restaurants. I can imagine what would’ve happened if she had made the reservations late. We might have ended up in some god awful Inn.”

“Come to think of it,” Marinette paused thoughtfully, “We should get to New York about the same time you do. What are your plans? No! Don’t tell me. I’m sure they’re amazing and I don’t want to be jealous. I mean you kicked us off the trip so you had to have something out of this world lined up.”

Alya’s mouth was dry. She tried to come up with something to say; something to brag about but she knew that come September she’d have to pony up the pics. Because Pics or it didn’t happen. Chloe was active on social media; she’d be updating on a daily basis and scooping out her competition. She’d know instantly if they were lying and they’d never live it down.

Lila fought the urge to throw the biggest tantrum of her life. At the beginning of the year, after Marinette’s trip presentation, she thought getting the bluenette and Blondie off the trip was the perfect plan; even when Adrien said he wouldn’t go. However, it was soon clear that Alya and the other students were in way over their hands. The dream trip that Marinette had spun them would be realized as only a dream as it was clear they wouldn’t manage it without Marinette’s organizational skills and Chloe’s funding.

The trip they got was the standard tourist one. A look around the city, the statue of liberty, Time Square, and a museum or two. Honestly, Lila took better trips with her grandmother.

Maybe there was still a way to save things…

“You know,” Lila smiled sweetly. “Since we’re all going to be in New York anyway, we should do everything together-“

“Can’t,” Marinette stated firmly. “Reservations are reservations for a reason. Tickets were bought. You know how it is.”

Bustier frowned. This had ended the way she thought it would. When Alya and the other students beseeched her to disallow Marinette and Chloe from the school trip, she thought it was for the best. Chloe had always had a hostile attitude that Marinette seemed to have developed as well. It left the rest of the class with negative energy that wasn’t helpful for nurturing their growth.

However, she couldn’t have predicted just how badly things would go. Alya had come crying to her several times about having to fill out and re-fill out multiple forms for the school board. She seemed to get something wrong every time.

The children could barely raise enough money for the trip. And it wasn’t nearly as wonderful as the one Marinette had come up with at the beginning of the year. Still, they were going to New York which was what counted. Most classes wouldn’t even have gotten that far, She thought smugly. It would be a good trip. (Caline had dreamed about accidentally running into Steve Rogers or Thor and being swept off her feet. And she thought that dream wouldn’t even be possible if she was too busy trying to reign in her to most troublesome students which were one of her reason her telling the two they couldn’t go.) However, even that trip paled in comparison to the one the bluenette had planned for her and her two friends. 5-star hotels, trips to galas, fashion week, going to the Avengers Towers, possibly meeting Captain America, Thor, and the rest! It all sounded too good to be true.

“There must be something you can do,” Bustier said. “It would be nice if all my students were together.”

The other students looked at the tour with hope clear in their eyes.

Adrien, Marinette, and Chloe just looked at the teacher like she was dumb. Each fought the urge to remind the teacher that she was just fine with the three not going less than ten minutes ago.

Adrien rolled his eyes, “There isn’t. Everything was bought and paid for. They are only expecting four kids which is why we get to go to so many places. Turns out, not many hotels and restaurants want to deal with a bunch of teens at the last minute.”

Marinette nodded, “Besides you wouldn’t want us crashing your trip anyway. We’d hate to get in the way. We know you guys wanted a drama-free trip.” She through the term back in their faces. “But I wouldn’t mind meeting up one day. You guys are doing time square right. Let us know when and we’ll see if we can do it the same day.”

“If we can fit in our schedules,” Chloe snapped. “It's pretty packed.”

“Not as packed as theirs, I’m sure,” Marinette smiled kindly, though inside she was doing a victory dance worthy of a champion. “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

The four left that Friday. By Sunday, the social medias were filled with dozens of pictures of beautiful hotel rooms. The next three weeks were the worst in the class’s entire lives. The other students in the class tried their best not to look but it was hard. Particularly when the picture of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe on the red carpet started to make waves. Pictures of the four meeting various celebrities like Lex Luther and Chris Pine, superheroes like Superman and Batman, of them at Disney World and Coachella had left more than a bit of envy in their hearts.

Their own trip had started out terribly. Alya hadn’t book enough rooms so they had to triple bunk, with some people having to sleep on a cot. And it turned out that the only tours she had secured was to Elis Island and the New York Art Museum; nothing nearly as exciting as they hoped. So they had been mostly left on their own for sight-seeing.

Still, it wasn’t a terrible trip. They ate great good and saw the normal New York tourist attractions.

However, when the time came for them to go to Time Square and meet up with Adrien, Alya, Chloe, and Marinette, Bustier was ready to pull her hair out.

Bustier never had trouble on any of the previous trips, as they were always organized to the minute, but this one had so much free time the kids didn’t know what to do with themselves which resulted in chaos. And being threatened with being kicked out of the hotel. She didn’t understand what was different. The students were usually so well behaved.

Sure on previous trips, there had been two more chaperones but Bustier always thought they were unnecessary. Her students were the best and most well behaved in school for the most part. She was positive that they only needed their teacher to watch out for them.

She was wrong.

And Bustier was very surprised to see Mendeleiev there with her four wayward students, looking very much like the Cat that got the Canary.

“Demetria,” Bustier greeted politely. “What are you doing here?”

Mendeleev didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “I was invited as a chaperone. It just me and Gorilla. Between the two of us we keep the delinquents in check,” She said Delinquents at the four who playfully hissed at her. Each of the four wore a black shirt with a different Hogwarts house on it.“Best decision I ever made. I was reluctant at first as it’s not school-related and I wouldn’t be paid for it. But Agreste and Bourgeois are paying me nine times my usual amount an hour to watch the kids like a hawk. Luckily their goods kids. What about you? How is your class trip going?”

Bustier forced herself to smile, and not bite out angrily that it was driving her insane. The kids were driving her completely up the wall. And Caline was more than a little aware of how amazing her four students trip was and to think Mendeleiev had gotten to do it all with them made her blood boil and her eyes practically turn green with jealousy. “Extremely well. We are having… the time of our lives.”

“I’m sure,” Mendeleiev said. She and the rest of the teachers had never been happy with how Bustier ran her class. Or just how much she and Damocles got away with. However, it didn’t matter. Come September, things would change. Damocles had already gotten fired for taking bribes, breaking procedure, and being a complete idiot.

Bustier, while technically, hadn’t done anything wrong would still have to listen to the school board tell her everything that was wrong with her class. And there was a lot.

“Have you gone to the Avengers tower yet?” Bustier asked, not subtly at all. She still hoped that if there was time she and her class could tag along.

“We have,” Mendeleiev told her, bursting the bubble of hope that had sprung in Caline. “It was quite wonderful. I had a wonderful debate with Doctor Banner; it turns out he’s read several of my papers and me, his. While the kids are at the baseball game tomorrow, the two of us will be having a lunch date and going over our scientific hypothesis tomorrow.”

“Get it, Ms. Mendeleiev,” Chloe laughed.

Mendeleiev shot her a stern look but her mouth twitched as she fought a smile.

“Perhaps my class could go with?”

“Sorry, we have a reserved seats.”

Envy flared in Caline Bustier more than ever before in her entire life. If they had been still in Paris, Hawkmoth would’ve had a field day. “Oh but what about watching the kids. Won’t they need you? What would their parents say about this?” A vicious smirk appeared on Bustier’s face. She always thought Mendeleiev needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

Mendeleiev didn’t bat an eye, “Already covered. Already cleared with their parents. After all who’s going to say no to Captain America and Iron Man babysitting their kids. Steve hadn’t been to a game a while and he really wanted to take his son Peter and the rest of Tony’s interns. The kids should have a blast.”

Adrien shot a bright smile at his bodyguard, “Natasha is going too! I still don’t understand how you two know each other.”

Gorilla’s face burned a red color but he remained silent. He wore the bright yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf Adrien had begged him to wear as a show of support, particularly when Mendeleiev revealed herself to be a Ravenclaw (So did Bruce Banner). Captain America and the Winter Soldier high-fived Marinette over being Gryffindors. And Pepper Potts, Iron Man, and the Black Widow introduced themselves as Slytherin alumni.

Where was the Hufflepuff love?

Adrien had looked at Hawkeye with hope but Clint had shrugged and said, “Gryffindor.”

The blond boy huffed and pouted (the pout was how he got Gorilla to wear the scarf). He bet Thor was a Hufflepuff.

The rest of Bustier’s class still steer clear away from the four; out of pride and envy. Lila had attempted to go near Adrien but was stopped by Alya who didn’t want to risk her bestie getting bullied by the meanest girls in school.

Alya had decided after seeing the pictures of the four with Superman, The Avengers, Batman, and THE LOIS LANE that life just wasn’t fair. If it was Marinette and Chloe (Maybe even Nathaniel) would be stuck in Paris, crying their eyes out over not being allowed on the trip. It was what they deserved for being such bullies.

The preplanned tour of Times Square, which was mostly just the kids walking around and awing at the pretty lights. It was actually a bit boring, once the excitement wore off. They found themselves on the highest building there, looking over New York City in its entirety, along with a bunch of other tourists.

Suddenly all the electronic billboards and every ounce of electricity turned off. Crowds up people looked around confused.

The giant monitors blurred and a face appeared, “Greetings citizens of New York, I. AM. THE. Electrocutioner!” Lights were centered on the highest building there, and it was clear the villain stood on top of the building. The building of Bustier’s class was on.

One thought echoed in the minds of each Parisian citizen, “Fuck.”

Before any of the Paris heroes’ could figure out if they should act or not, another team of heroes arrived.

The evil-doer had with him a dozen or so henchmen, each more menacing the last.

The sight of Kid Flash zooming up the side of the building was incredible. Seeing Young Justice kick butt left Marinette a little breathless.

Was this what it was like, she wondered, seeing Ladybug fight.

When some of the henchmen were ordered to take hostages; Marinette, Chloe, Nathaniel, Adrien, Gorilla, and Mendeleiev fighting back much to the shock of Bustier and her class. Chloe rolled her eyes as she, and the other three pulled out miniature pens from their pockets; did they really not know how often New York is attacked by Super Villians. Seriously.

With a click of the button, the pen turns into a long whip. Chloe refused to be taken without a fight. Her and Marinette, who now wielded a fighting staff, nodded at each other. The blonde snorted when she looked at Adrien, “A shield, really?”

“I don’t want to hurt people too much,” Adrien defended.

“This is why you’re a Hufflepuff.”

Nathaniel spun his trident around. It worked like a Taser and could shock people. Luckily only the villain had electricity powers.

Marinette didn’t know how it happened but suddenly she was fighting back to back with Robin.

“Nice moves,” Robin said after Marinette knocked out a henchman with a high kick. He knocked out a henchman with his staff.

“Not too bad yourself.”

Nathaniel nearly had a heart attack when Aqualad jumped in to help him protect several tourists. When biggest henchmen came rushing at him, the redhead fired up his trident and within seconds the underling was down for the count.

Kaldur paused, “…Can I borrow that?”

Chloe used the whip with ease and grace. She has been practicing with it ever since she saw Shadow Hunters for the first time. Isabelle Lightwood was an icon.

The blonde didn’t know how it happened. But one minute she was fighting off two lame minions then she saw an Arrow guy fighting and then falling off the roof, and the next thing she knows she’s jumping after him. Then they both were dangling off the roof with only Chloe’s whip for support.

“You call this a rescue?” Arrow guy snorted.

“You call yourself a hero?” Chloe snapped.

“Meow!”

Chloe didn’t see how he did it but one moment she was hanging there; the next Arrow guy was swinging her up back onto the roof.

He smirked at her, “You’re a pretty one.”

She waved him off, “Oh go save someone!”

When Superboy crashed down next to him after taking a brutal hit, Adrien gripped his shield and stood in front of him. Adrien was able to block most of the attempts of the underlings to reach the boy of steel. But it wasn’t long until they had them surrounded. Just when Adrien thought he was a goner, red lasers blasted the henchman back.

Superboy stood up, “Thanks for the assist.” He smiled at the blond boy. “Nice shield.”

Gorilla and Mendeleiev handled their own really well. After seeing Gorilla fight, Adrien started to have some serious suspicions about just how his bodyguard knew the Black Widow.

When the fight was over, and the villains detained, the small group stood with the rest of the civilians until the all-clear was given.

The Bustier and her class stared in awe as the members of Young Justice walked over to the six with large smiles. The heroes didn’t even spare the class a glance. Not even when Alya pushed Lila to the front but Robin and Arsenal never even noticed her.

Dick Grayson, Robin, smiled at the pretty bluenette with bluest eyes he’d ever seen and did his best to ignore Batman in his ear about bringing in the Heroes Ladybug, Chat Noir, Queen Bee, and Bright Roar in to Watch Tower stat. He knew all about Ladybug and, thanks to Batman, knew her civilian identity. But to see her in person was a whole different experience.

No, there was a time and place for everything. And right now the time was to flirt with the Gorgeous Superhero who a skintight red suit.

“You’re amazing,” He told her honestly. “What are you doing for the rest of my life?”

“I swear to god if you propose!” Batman hissed in his ear.

Marinette blushed a bright red.

Kaldur handed the trident back to Nathaniel, “This is an amazing weapon. You use it well.” He told the redhead. This must be the new Hero Bright Roar “I wish for one just like it.”

Nathaniel flushed but handed the weapon back to Kaldur, “Keep it. I’m not that good with it.”

Kaldur smiled, “Then perhaps you will let me teach you one day. One on one sessions.”

“Really Kaldur,” Aquaman chastised. “This is a mission, not a dating show.”

Aqualad ignored him.

Superboy nodded at Adrien, “You’re good,” he told the smaller blond boy. Though from the reports he read about Chat Noir, he was only a year younger than him. “Cool shirt by the way. It's nice to meet a fellow Hufflepuff.” He said and then suddenly his arms were full of a blond boy thanking him for existing.

“Breathe,” Superman chuckled in his ear. “Just breathe, Connor.”

“For such good finders, we’re so hard to find,” Adrien said. “I could kiss you!”

Superboy turned the brightest shade of red anyone had ever seen.

Arsenal eyed the hot blond girl, “At least you know how to stay out of the way.”

Chloe glared at him, “Next time, I’ll just let you die.”

“Then who be the man of your dreams.”

“Freddie Kruger would probably take his job back,” Chloe said with a hand on her hip. “Though his face isn’t as terrifying as yours.”

“That girl will eat you alive,” Oliver warned in his ear.

“So you admit you dream about me,” Roy stepped forward.

Chloe huffed, “Get real!”

“Hey,” Alya called. “Robin, Speedy, don’t you want to say hi to Lila Rossi.” She motioned to the Italian girl who had gone pale.

“It’s Arsenal now,” Roy corrected.

Dick nodded, “And who’s Lila?”

Marinette smiled, “Oh I’d totally marry you now!”

Robin grinned and raised his arms in victory.

Batman cursed in his ear.

Robin, Arsenal, Aqualad, and Superboy kept their attention on the on the four. No matter how much their superhero mentors protested. No matter how much Bustier’s tried to intervene.

No, their attentions’ were reserved

#ml fic #ml salt #class salt #Young Justice #Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #adrien deserves better

5K notes · View notes

torielectra83 · 3 years

Text

Garak and the Jack Pack

Want to thank

@volixia669

for giving me the idea and motivation; this is the first fic I've posted and finished in quite a while. Also gonna tag

@unicorn-and-bluebells

and

@tirlaeyn

since their DS9-related posts are what helped lead me to this (if there's a DS9-related Discord I should join, let me know); note that I'm not much of a shipper (and I'm ace), so I wasn't quite sure how to approach the Bashir/Garak relationship; I just left it in the background (and the lizard man t-shirt).

“Oh, Doctor. There you are, and I….see you’ve brought company!” As he could see, Dr. Bashir was heading for the Replimat for his typical luncheon with him, only four other people were crowded around him. A skinny man with a mustache, a stocky older man with a timid expression, a rather gregarious-looking woman, and another woman who looked rather distant. “Oh, hello Garak. I’d like to apologize for being a bit late.”

“Oh, don’t worry, given what I’m seeing it’s very much a valid excuse.” Garak had heard about the other genetically-engineered people who’d been sent to DS9 to meet Dr. Bashir, but he’d been busy with orders at his shop; he’d been thinking about hiring someone to help out, actually. “Well, that’s Jack, Patrick, Lauren and Sarina. This is my...friend Garak, he runs a tailoring shop here on the Promenade.” “Oh, hi there, Hi. Uh, I gotta go over to the replicator, I’m starving over here.” Jack promptly excused himself, while Lauren made her way to Garak next. “Well, hello, Mr. Garak.” She promptly began her flirtatious attitude. “If you’re trying to seduce me...it won’t work. I am sorry, but I do not generally do one night stands.” Surprised and somewhat disappointed, Lauren backed away.

Patrick then approached Garak. “Do you make clothes?” “Yes, I do.” Patrick then grinned eagerly. “Good, because the clothes the institute gives us are too...itchy and things like that. Do you have softer clothes?” “Well, I can certainly make some? I believe Dr. Bashir said you need “sensory-friendly” clothing?” Bashir nodded; the term was an old term from pre-warp Earth. “I’ll do it at no charge; anyone who’s a friend of Dr. Bashir is a friend of mine.” He sipped his Tarkalean tea as Jack argued with the replicator over not being able to make something, while Lauren used the other one to replicate a bowl of Vulcan plomeek soup.

“And… Sarina, is it? I’ve noticed you haven’t said anything yet.” Garak simply saw the young woman turn, before holding up a PADD, with words written on it -- “I can’t speak, If you want to have a conversation with me, use this.” She promptly set the PADD down and continued to watch Jack’s tussle with the computer. “Sarina’s unable to speak, I can explain the whole thing later Garak.” Julian felt the need to pre-emptlively apologize for their behavior. “Oh, you don’t need to. I’m seeing people with a lot of potential here.” Bashir nodded. “So do I. And not many others do. That’s why I brought them here. I want to try and help them.”

“They seem to be helping themselves.” As Garak watched, Jack had finally managed to get something from the replicator that agreed with his standards -- a ham sandwich with Bajoran mapa bread. “So, this is the irrefutable Elim Garak, huh?” Jack asked. “Yes, and I see my reputation precedes me.” Garak said politely. “That’s right. Former intelligence agent for the now-defunct Obsidian Order, exiled and now working as a tailor here on DS9.” He said hastily before ripping into his sandwich. Garak raised an eyebrow. “And how did you find that out?” He asked, a tone of interest in his voice. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can dig up on the extranet. There’s all sorts of unsavory rumors about you, like you causing a Cardassian doctor to break down by staring at them for four hours straight.” He promptly chugged from his cup of targ milk, before continuing. “And that your father was the head of the Obsidian Order, Enabrian Tain, and he got wiped out by the Dominion when the Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar teamed up, yeah, but they didn’t know the second-in-command of the Tal Shiar was actually a Changeling leading them right into a trap!”

“I...think we will have to pick up this conversation sometime later, Doctor.” Garak was getting rather uncomfortable at all this private information being practically shouted in the Promenade. “Oh, and I’ll see what I can do about those new clothes you requested, Patrick.” As Garak walked back to his shop, getting his mind off old events, he began pondering about what to do in the present. My orders are backlogged. I simply need help. As he opened his shop doors to see the current state -- half-finished orders, bolts of fabric all over and supplies in crates he hadn’t unpacked. “I must find someone to help me. I would get Julian but he’s too busy with being in Starfleet.” Garak sighed, and began getting back to working on an order.

Some time later...

Having returned from the Defiant, Dr. Bashir went into Garak’s shop, expecting to see it as it had been for some time -- cluttered and filled with things Garak was working on. He instead found it a hive of activity. Customers were entering and exiting, some waiting for their orders, others were looking at holographic models of new clothes to order. Bashir looked around in confusion. “What the…'' Suddenly, a figure blocked by their holding of several bolts of fabric maneuvered into view. “Look out, everyone!” Bashir knew that voice. “Patrick?!” “Oh, hi, Dr. Bashir.” Patrick didn’t even turn back as he carried the bolts into the back of the shop. “Patrick, how did you get here?” Bashir followed him, and realized the entire “Jack Pack” (as someone, most likely Quark, had nicknamed them) was working there. Patrick set the bolts down for Jack, who proceeded to start measuring what exactly was needed for that order. Lauren was busy inputting data of some kind into a PADD, while Sarina was sewing an order up. “Ah, Doctor, good to see you’ve returned home safe and sound!” Garak greeted him cheerily from behind his desk.

“Garak, what is going on here? How did they…” “Well, Julian. I saw their potential and I needed help. And so far, they have been excelling at everything they’ve been doing. I haven’t been this efficient, ever!” Garak looked positively delighted at this. It was rare to see him like this, and Julian was a noted expert on Garak’s emotions. “But...what about the Institute? And Dr. Loews?” “Well, she needed a vacation, and my offer to give them steady employment was something she couldn’t pass up.”

“Oh, well then. But...how are you so busy now?” Julian wondered. “Well, their brightness led them to not only help clear my backorders, but also introduce whole new product lines based on pre-warp Earth stylings. I will admit I knew little about it, but they have brought in several new kinds of clothing. Like this ‘tee shirt’.” Garak promptly held one up, the front reading “WWCKD?” with a small line underneath reading “What Would Captain Kirk Do?” “They’ve come up with several of these things. Like this one for the USS Voyager.” The shirt had a fictional flyer on the front with a picture of Voyager, underneath a “Missing: Reward” banner as if it were a lost dog. “We’ve also re-created other Earth fashions, from “bell-bottoms” to “zoot suits”. I must admit, they make most current styles of clothing look downright boring!”

“Yeah, Dr. Bashir! Here’s one we made especially for you!” Jack promptly handed him a T-shirt and headed into the front of the shop. Julian simply looked at Garak with an expression of disbelief. “Garak, we caught them trying to pass on classified information to the Dominion, and now, they’re recommending I wear a t-shirt that says ‘If lost, return to lizard man for reward’!” He said angrily, shaking the shirt in his hand for added emphasis.

“Doctor...these people needed another chance. One that nobody else was willing to give them. And another thing...they are still very useful analysts. They can predict trends, root out information and generally think far ahead of the game. To be quite honest, they’re the best analysts I’ve ever seen. “ Garak admitted. “Yeah, where else can you get a nice new pair of pants and information of Dominion troop movements?” Lauren commented.

“So...you’re basically running your own intelligence service out of this shop.” Bashir muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Well, there has to be a third-party intel service somewhere. With the Obsidian Order gone, there’s a market for it; we used to take on clients for analysis as a method for extra revenue. Strictly off the books, of course. So that’s what I’m doing now.” Garak reasoned. “And we aren’t just doing war intelligence either; we’ve got multiple projects for the Ferengi Alliance, the First Federation and the Gorn Hegemony for analyzing things like market trends, population censuses and whatnot.” Patrick nodded. “Yeah, Grand Nagus Zek and Ishka appreciate it! We got in touch with them thanks to the Ferengi maintenance guy, oh, what was his name…”

“Rom, that’s him. Real friendly guy. Came up with the self-replicating mines around the wormhole and keeps the holosuites running, real good guy.” Jack said at his normal speedy pace, before returning to his fabric measuring. Sarina promptly passed a PADD to Bashir, with a message reading “This is the best we’ve been treated in years. We’re working for ourselves, we’re constantly kept active, and we’re being paid 5 strips of latinum an hour.”

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Doctor. We’ve got a lot to do before closing time today. After that we can meet at Quark’s, perhaps? Jack came up with this astounding holo-program based on another pre-warp Earth cultural thing, a “game show” called...Wipeout, yes. It involved picking the right answers and avoiding the wrong ones, it’s fascinating. But we have work to do and I’m sure you have work in the infirmary.”

Garak promptly ushered Dr. Bashir out of the store and back onto the Promenade. “...what just happened?”

#ds9 #dr bashir #garak #jack pack #one shot fic

16 notes · View notes

tubblock · 3 years

Text

c!Dream’s Mindset

So Dream wants one thing right: control over the people in the server to stop conflict. He is willing to go extremely far because as far as the beginning of the server, theft, blackmail and exile were the norm. He doesn’t know any different. C!Dream is very inexperienced in terms of wisdom. He is an excellent strategist but lacks emotional maturity. He often reacts to events the same way a toddler would. If he gets his way, he is giddy and happy and willing to make other people happy. If he doesn’t, he gets angry and manipulative and tries to bend people to his will. He is strong-headed and unwilling to compromise unless it benefits him either way.

Dream is angry at Tommy specifically because Tommy is everything L’manberg stands for. He is a bland out “fuck you” to Dream, whose sole existence seems to be to spite him. As one of the founding fathers of L’manberg, this is unsurprising. Dream constantly mentally compares Tommy to L’manberg and therefore views him through a lens in which every action is interpreted as a personal attack. In some cases, this is accurate – Tommy did hold an emotional attachment of Dream’s hostage to the point of Dream feeling like he needed to pretend or decide that he didn’t care about it anymore. Dream is scared of other people holding power over him and is willing to go very far to remain the one in control – even to the point of immorality. In this scenario, Dream is scared of the threat Tommy poses when he has emotional blackmail to go off of.

Dream’s solution L’manberg to remove Tommy from the equation altogether. Tommy is L’manberg’s soul when it comes to ideology, so by making Tubbo exile Tommy, Dream effectively removes the biggest source of emotional resistance of L’manberg. The people who remain see Dream as too much of a threat to think of going against him. This is why no one is that interested in Ranboo’s involvement when it comes to burning down George’s house. Dream then takes up the task of making sure that Tommy stays down. He does this by manipulating Tommy into severing his emotional connections to the rest of the people on the server – making him think no one cares about him, but most of all making him think that Dream cares about him. In this time his goal is to break Tommy enough that he isn’t willing to go against Dream anymore. Dream gets cocky and starts enjoying the power trip too much, which leads to Tommy catching on and breaking free from the abuse when he blows up Logstedshire.

Dream now has something to worry about. When Tommy runs away from Dream, Dream doesn’t know if his manipulation will have been enough to prevent Tommy from returning to his original mindset of going against Dream at all costs. Dream doesn’t know where Tommy so he moves onto his next target – making sure that if Tommy were to return, L’manberg wouldn’t want me back. Dream doesn’t even know Tommy is present at the community house until he reveals himself. Blowing up the community house was Dreams way of making sure that Tommy would be shunned socially from L’manberg once and for all.

Tommy already has a bad reputation due to being impulsive and loud, pranking other server members and stealing their stuff. Even if Dream’s plan of framing Tommy didn’t work out entirely, other server members still are suspicious of Tommy because they only know Tommy as the person who brought chaos wherever he went. Dream does most of his manipulation work in private, so they have no real reason to be against Dream until he actively threatens their livelihood. This reinforces their beliefs that Tommy is the cause of their problems, as things were going relatively steady until Tommy came back into the picture.

Dream’s plans to separate Tommy from L’manberg are successful, so he turns to plan B – if Tommy stays alive, L’manberg will relight its rebellious flame against Dream and critically damage the control he had regained over the server thus far. He, therefore, goes to plan B. If he can’t eliminate Tommy from the equation, he’ll have to eliminate L’manberg instead.

After L’manberg goes down, Dream doesn’t get back control over the server like he thought he would. People are off doing their own things, and conflicts still occur regardless of L’manberg being a crater in the ground. Dream, at this point, is looking for targets to blame when he doesn’t understand why people didn’t come back under his control while he ‘won’. He hyper focuses on Tommy once more, because he is an easy target. Dream knows deep down that Tommy isn’t the cause of everyone’s problems, but he’s right there and Dream holds leverage over him in form of the disks. This is where Dream’s mindset shifts from ‘I need to prevent Tommy from having power over me’ to ‘I don’t understand why nobody listens to me anymore, and I’m going to take it out on Tommy' when questioned about this shift, he tells Tommy that he still goes after him because he thinks it’s ‘fun’. He’s lying. He doesn’t think it’s fun, he wants an outlet because he is upset over his lack of control over others and he needs a way to justify it.

Dream only becomes afraid again in the hallway of attachments. The other server members rescue Tommy and Tubbo while Dream is held back. This is the first time since Tommy’s confrontation with Dream about Spirit that Dream is out of control of the situation. We see him desperately cling onto the fragments of control he once had. (You don’t want to kill me, Tommy). Once he figures out that Tommy is more than willing to take Dream’s final life, Dream takes out his last bargaining chip: the Revive Book. It’s the one thing that Dream has that others want from him and he is the only one who knows how to use it. Dream talks big about everything going to plan when ending up in the prison, but he is lying once again.

In the prison, Dream no longer has control over anyone on the server. (Aside from Ranboo, presumably). Sam controls everything, from the visitors to the food supply. In Tommy’s visit, Dream can pretend again that he is the one in control, because of the trauma he forced upon Tommy. With the other visitors, he no longer attempts to manipulate them using brute force but rather attempts to gain sympathy. When Quackity comes along is when Dream biggest fear comes true: he’s alone, in pain, and under the control of someone else.

#long post #c!dream analysis #dreamwastaken #dream smp #tommyinnit #i dont know what i'm doing #this is 1200 words of brain vomit at 10pm #enjoy?

19 notes · View notes

hchollym · 3 years

Text

Aerion x Viserys - We Finally Got Our Dragons

I couldn’t help myself. I will go down with this crack ship 🤣

Warnings:��Afterlife, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Age Difference

Read it on AO3.

____________

Most people think that a person finds peace after they die. Aerion would tell you differently.

The Targaryens have their own “exclusive” afterlife, stuck for eternity with only one another for company. While he's glad that they all appear as they were right before they died and not as they died (for then he would have a hole in his throat and be unable to talk), it still does not change the fact that he’s stuck with these shits forever. Most of his relatives find enjoyment (or at least contentment) here (seeing as half of them are married to each other), but for others – like Aerion – this place is a special kind of hell.

He died drinking wildfire. It certainly wasn’t his finest moment, nor was it something that he wants to remember, given the resulting pain. And yet, his family will never let him forget it. They torment him about it daily, as if he hadn’t already suffered enough.

“Oh look, it’s the Prince Who Thought He Was A Dragon,” they sneer at him whenever he walks by. It’s not as if he’s the first Targaryen to think of himself as a dragon and die because of it. What about all the other fools who got themselves killed trying to hatch a dragon egg? Why aren’t they mocked as he is?

Even his own father sighs disapprovingly when he sees him, as if Aerion brought him embarrassment. It makes Aerion scoff. His older brother was literally known as “Daeron the Drunken” and yet Aerion is somehow the stain on their family name? It’s absolutely ridiculous. His brothers ignore him (he hears their comments about Aerion the Monstrous, and really, when are they going to get over it?).

His own son, Maegor – who joined them when he got into a fight with the wrong person at a tavern – won’t talk to Aerion, because he blames Aerion’s “madness” as the reason he never got the throne. How ungrateful can you be? Maegor wouldn’t even be alive without Aerion.

His bitch of a wife isn’t much better. She refuses to allow him into her bed, and her brother and father are more than happy to guard her chamber door. To be honest, it’s not a huge loss though; she was annoying anyway, always crying and whimpering and screaming while he was trying to enjoy himself. Still, it’s the audacity that angers him.

You would think that the ancestors would grow tired of insulting him after so many years, but it appears that there is not nearly enough exciting news to go around here, so the taunts and insults go on year after year. Even the “Mad King” doesn’t get scorned as much, because people seem to either fear him or feel pity for his insanity.

Aerion tries to ignore most of the ridicule by keeping to himself, which is thankfully easy to do in this endless hallway with infinite corridors and chambers, but that doesn’t completely stop the talk from reaching his ears. He’d been humiliated, angry, and defensive for the first decade or so of these disrespectful comments, but after more than 60 years, he’s just sick and tired of it.

So when the others stop talking about him and begin insulting another, one they mockingly call "the last dragon" and "the beggar king,” Aerion is initially relieved, and then intrigued. He questions his father, who will at least answer him (albeit grudgingly). When he hears the tale of this Viserys, he feels an instant kinship that takes him by surprise.

He’s never felt like he could relate to someone else before, but the fact is, Viserys thought himself a dragon and he too died for it in an excruciating way. The other man was treated like shit in life and now again in death by his own family (Aerion knows the feeling), and his own sister had him killed in a cruel twist of irony.

Aerion’s glad that the attention on him has finally stopped, but he finds himself unexpectedly feeling sympathy for Viserys – an emotion so foreign to him that it took him a while to identify what it was. Perhaps it's because they share similar deaths (though by vastly different means), or that Aerion knows what it's like to be humiliated by the hypocritical ancestors, or because he knows what it’s like for your own family to turn on you.

He hears that Viserys' mother won't even give him sympathy because of how he treated his sister, but so what? The bitch killed him. Why are mothers always so quick to defend the weak? Aerion’s own mother is still angry at him for his treatment of Aegon, but he doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for. Why should he be “nice” to pathetic people? Daenerys should have been grateful that Viserys raised her after they fled King's Landing. Aerion would have sold her immediately to the highest buyer and bought himself a nice house until he raised his army to take back the throne.

He hears through the gossip that Viserys locks himself inside his chambers to avoid the others, which Aerion also understands. He's not entirely sure why he decides to go see him, but perhaps it's because he’s sick of being judged and looked down on, and Viserys seems like the one person who won’t do that.

He makes his way to Viserys’ chambers, holding his head high and ignoring the looks he gets along the way, only to find that the others have painted slurs on the door, and Aerion feels disgust at their tackiness. How old are they? Five? He opens the doors without knocking and sees a man sitting on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his head in his hands. When the figure looks up, his expression one of annoyance, anger, and pure exhaustion (a combination which Aerion knows well), and Aerion is struck by just how young he is.

For some reason, he pictured Viserys as close to his age, but he couldn't have been more than 25, though Aerion guesses it’s actually closer to 20. He's practically still a boy, and Aerion feels a hot wave of rage rush through him. This is who they are tormenting for making mistakes when he was exiled in Essos (by no fault of his own), trying to care for an ungrateful sister who eventually murdered him? Honestly, and they thought he was monstrous!

"I'm Aerion Brightflame," he starts before Viserys can get upset at his intrusion. He refuses to give up using that name; the ancestors can go fuck themselves. Viserys' expression clears, and he blinks in confusion before frowning warily.

"What do you want?" He asks suspiciously, and Aerion shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know how these shits can be when they decide to harass someone. Fuck them. You don’t need any of these bumbling fools. You and I, we're still dragons," he assures Viserys, not entirely understanding why he feels compelled to do so, but Aerion knows that he still is a dragon, regardless of how everything ended, and he’s willing to say that Viserys is as well out of solidarity for the mutual enemies/family. Viserys looks shocked before scowling.

"Clearly not, seeing as melted gold killed me, and fire cannot kill a dragon," he points out bitterly, not even mentioning Aerion's own failures, for which Aerion feels unexpectedly grateful for. He sits down next to Viserys, and he finds it hilarious how the other man looks alarmed and ready to flee.

"And how many others have been killed by fire when trying and failing to hatch dragon eggs? We're still Targaryens. We’re still dragons, no matter what those stupid sea cows have to say.” Viserys' expression changes from one of shock to hesitant gratitude. It's a look that Aerion is not used to having directed at him; fear, anger, and even lust are common emotions he’s used to seeing when people look at him, but never gratitude. It makes his stomach churn oddly.

After that, they form a strange bond of companionship. They spend most of their time in one of their chambers (it’s easier to avoid the others that way), but occasionally they venture out to the other rooms with alcohol or food. They don't need either, but it provides them with a distraction to the never-ending boredom. They even throw knives sometimes, though Aerion had to teach Viserys because he never learned.

Their conversations start by talking about all the people they hate and are angry at (of which there are many). Then it changes to their time in Essos (the good, the bad, and the ugly). And finally, they talk of their own failures; the feel of the gold burning through Viserys' skin and hair; the way the wildfire scorched Aerion’s throat and blinded him in pain. They talk of how humiliating it was (and still is), and of their disappointment in the way their lives turned out.

It's odd, because Aerion has never felt the urge to share his thoughts with anyone - no one was ever good enough or would truly understand (until now) - but he finds that it's actually rather nice. He quickly decides that he hates Viserys’ brother Rhaegar – he started this whole mess and yet he still looks at Viserys with disappointment, and it makes Aerion want to burn him. And Viserys quickly decides that Maegor is being selfish by hating his own father. Aerion’s found an unexpected ally in Viserys, and it’s the first time he’s felt anything other than miserable since his death.

...

Maybe it happens because of their surprisingly easy companionship, or maybe it’s because they are so isolated from everyone else (no one else seems capable of getting along with them), or maybe it's even simply because it's been years since Aerion slept with someone. Regardless of the reasons, they somehow end up in bed together. Aerion doesn’t know exactly how it happened, but he’s not complaining.

Viserys accepted being the bottom quickly enough, and Aerion found out later that it's because it wasn’t his first time; he’d been forced to sell his body in order to survive at his lowest points in exile, and Aerion’s never felt protective of anyone before, but he feels it now for Viserys. He also feels irrationally jealous that someone else dared to touch what is his, and yes, he has come to think of Viserys as his.

Viserys is wonderfully responsive, biting his shoulder, scratching his back until he bleeds, moaning and cursing loudly, urging him to go faster and harder. It makes Aerion’s blood sing, his thoughts fuzzy, and the heat envelop him all over until he’s nearly drowning in it.

But it's Viserys’ eyes that really send Aerion over the edge. The pale, lilac orbs dilate in lust, but there's also anger, determination, and hurt in them. Viserys has a vulnerability in his eyes that Aerion would have thought had been destroyed years ago, but somehow it remains, and it's both intoxicating and addicting to see.

When Aerion finally decides to try bottoming (because why the hell not? they're dead, and he’s bored and ready to do something new), he finishes embarrassingly quick. It's better than he ever imagined; fire seems to completely consume him, so hot and bright that Aerion feels like he might pass out. Viserys' cock rubs against a place inside of him that causes sparks to shoot throughout his entire body, and all he can do is pant and gasp as he clings to Viserys for dear life, thinking that if he weren't already dead, then this would definitely kill him because it's too much, but he wants it more than anything.

Viserys never mentions his premature response, and they don’t talk about the fact that Aerion starts to roll them over more and more so he can wrap his legs around Viserys' waist, urging the other man to fuck him. He's relieved by Viserys' lack of acknowledgement, because even in death, he still has his pride, and it's embarrassing how much he loves to fall apart underneath the younger man.

And when Viserys guides Aerion to ride him like a stallion for the first time, Aerion screams himself hoarse, and it suddenly reminds him too much of the wildfire burning his throat, and he starts to panic, so Viserys holds him until he calms, but they don't talk about that either.

...

When Daenerys does finally show up, Aerion becomes insanely angry. She's cold and distant, though she does try to talk to Viserys, and Aerion wants to kill her. How dare she?! He refuses to let her see Viserys until the younger man finally tells him to leave them so they can speak.

Aerion feels something hot and ugly churn in his stomach at that, and he waits by the door until Daenerys leaves, looking only barely fazed. He instantly goes inside to see Viserys' eyes shining with angry tears. He still hasn't gotten good at hiding his emotions yet, and truthfully, Aerion kind of hopes that he never does.

"She hatched the dragons. The fire didn't kill her," Viserys says angrily, but there's also jealously and pure despair there, and Aerion doesn't like it. He pulls Viserys into his arms and kisses him soundly until Viserys pulls back and leans his head on Aerion's chest, sighing heavily.

"Why her?" He asks, though the unspoken why not me? is obvious.

"Because the gods are cruel," he answers honestly, because she didn’t deserve it more than either of them.

"But it doesn't change things. She's here now, just like us, with no dragons. Fuck her, and fuck all of them. We are still dragons," Aerion continues vehemently. He feels Viserys swallow and nod, as if trying to convince himself.

"We are dragons," Viserys says shakily before gaining confidence.

"We are dragons. And while she's here alone, I have you now; my own dragon," he finishes stubbornly, and Aerion feels a rush of something that he chooses not to examine further at those words. He tightens his grip on Viserys and kisses the top of his head.

"And I have you. Looks like we both finally got our dragons."

#aerion x viserys #aerion targaryen x viserys targaryen #aerion targaryen #aerion brightflame #viserys targaryen #crack ship #my writing #ASoIaF #a song of ice and fire #moodboard #i regret nothing #devin oliver as aerion #because yes

10 notes · View notes

elia-de-silentio · 4 years

Text

RECAP ON LUNA

This time, I want to talk about one of the most mysterious characters in The Case Study of Vanitas: Vanitas of the Blue Moon, more recently known as Luna.

So, only a few days till next chapter ... will I be able to squeeze in another recap?

The legend of Vanitas of the Blue Moon is the very first thing we learn. A very straightforward story: a kid is born with a characteristic they have no control over, but it's still hated by others; and is thereby exiled and sent to die. In the face of such cruelty, the victim turns villain, and creates a magic book that will allow them to exact vengeance upon those who mistreated them.

As I said, a straightforward story. Almost suspiciously so.

But the next things we learn about Vanitas are not exactly flattering, either. Our Vanitas, who for practicality (laziness) purposes will therefore be known as Vany, claims that he wants to avenge himself of something Vanitas did him, and to do so, he inherited their name and book to completely subvert their purpose. And he reacts quite angrily at the idea that he 'respects' Vanitas in any shape or form.

Moreover, Vanitas left on him a 'Mark of Possession', that imbued the human with a portion of their power, which allows him to use the Book. Vany shows the mark to everyone at a ball, and causes a panic. So far, Vanitas' reputation has been pretty terrifying.

But then, chapter 17 rolls in. And we seen Vanitas in a very different light: someone who would raid the laboratory of a mad scientist, only to take pity on two children imprisoned there, free them and taking care of them, to the point that Misha refers to him as 'Father'. (Even if what little is seen of their appearence looks pretty feminine. And Vany calls them a woman. Maybe they were transgender, and Vany, being the mysoginistic ass that he is, happily ignored their chosen pronouns? In absence of other information, I use 'them' to be on the side of caution).

And later Vanitas' appearences are similar: they are depicted as a teacher, someone who is willing to let their protegès in with the secrets of their Book.

Then, Gevaudan Arc. In the attempt to cure Chloè, Vany must use his Mark of Possession. Which gives quite a lot of new information.

First of all, Vanitas' True Name: Luna. It means literally Moon in Latin (and derivated languages such as Spanish and Italian). And that's quite a relief, since Vanitas literally means 'emptiness', 'worthlessness', and to be named like that, you've got to have some shitty parents.

'Vanitas' was likely a derogatory name they received in a later moment ... or maybe the 'regular name', such as Amelia for 'Florifel', in which case the shitty parents theory still stands. We don't know much about how vampires are given their regular and true names.

By the way, that implies Vany didn't truly hate them: that syllabe he muttered when he was feverish in chapter 27 wasn't Lou as originally translated, but 'Lu'(na). So, despite the hatred for vampires he had when he was younger, despite keeping the distance, despite his proclaims of vengeance, he didn't hate them. Then why does he save vampires?

Again: the Mark will 'rewrite' him. We do not know what does this exactly mean: Luna's personality will replace his own? Or will he become something else entirely?

In any case, it seems that its use is reserved for emergencies and not 'regular' cures, given how far it has spread in this one instance. But of course, given the direction that the story seems to be taking, it's likely that Vany will be forced to use it again and again.

Lastly, it means that it is a pretty uncommon mark: Vany has another one, by Jeanne, and it doesn't seem to bother him in any similar way.

And later in chapter 43, after his little ... uh, rendez-vous? with Jeanne, we have another flashback. Which, instead of depicting Luna as someone who would give their pupil a mark that will 'rewrite' him, depicts them as someone who gives loving, sensitive advice, showing understanding to a kid pretty hostile towards them. Also, they seem to anticipate that they will be 'gone', which leads us to ...

This. Misha finally says out loud that Vany killed Luna. But he himself doesn't know why.

Also, the kid is equipped with another Book of Vanitas, unmentioned by the original story, but that he seems to be using in a very similar way to which it was originally told.

By the way, Vanitas must have been dead by quite a while now. Vany inherited also their cute little hourglass charm, that he wear as a hearring; in Dante's flashback, when he seems a few years younger than now, he's already wearing it.

All in all, the resulting picture is of a very ambiguous figure. A victim of prejudice turnes vengeful monster, or a savior of tortured children? An abusive parental figure who would give a dangerous mark toa kid, or a kindly mentor, who would teach both magic and emotions?

Personally, I wonder how much 'consent' was involved both in their marking of Vany and his killing of them. Did Vany agree to get the Mark? Did Luna want to be killed, since she was anticipating to be outlived by the kids even if vampires live longer than humans? How meaningful was exactly this 'consent', if there was? Vany is eighteen now, and as mentioned, he looks a bit younger in the flashbacks. How old was he, exactly, when he was marked and killed his parental figure?

I think this ambiguity is reflected in the two Books of Vanitas. The original tale was incorrect: there is not only one terrifying grimoire, but there are two, one that gets used to harm vampires and another used to cure them. I would also like to point out that, despite sharing some key characteristics (those mentioned in the tale), there are actually a few design differences between the Books. So, it's possible that their content is also different. But why making something that could be used to cure vampires, if Luna hated them all so much? And why giving the two books to their two pupils - maybe they were meant to work together, instead of abandoning and fighting each other?

Again, I'm too much of a coward cautious individual to make theories that could be jossed, especially with the next chapter and possible answers so close. But still, I hope this recap can be useful to someone.

Thank you for reading!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #vnc meta #the case study of vanitas #vnc vanitas #vnc luna #vnc spoilers #elia's recaps

66 notes · View notes

darth-schism · 3 years

Text

Evidence to Suggest that Luke was NOT all that he seemed in TLJ

Luke Skywalker may have isolated himself because of his guilt/depression. But I also believe he did it for practical reasons, and that his “totally given up” act, was just that, an act. Evidence for this Head-cannon/interpretive take:

1. He made a map to his location

Not only that, but it was so specific, it was literally called “The Map to Skywalker.” The only way it would have gotten a name as tailored as that is if someone else had found him before Rey, or, if he told people about it himself. In any event, to whatever varying degree, Luke wanted to be found and/or influence the galaxy around him.

One piece of the map was tossed around to all sorts of corners of the galaxy, while the rest of it was entrusted to R2D2.

2. This was a deliberate combo to serve two different purposes

- Keep Snoke distracted: The entirety of TFA was Kylo and Snoke obsessing over Luke’s location. Their preoccupation with it was evident and, instead of letting them focus on relentlessly attacking the New Republic, Luke gave them a reason to go on wild goose chases. Consider that Snoke doesn’t go ‘all in’ on trying to destroy the Resistance until after he realizes he lost the race to get to Skywalker. Which shows just how much stock he had put into that singular Jedi. What’s more, even if they had succeeded, they’d only have a useless fraction with no reference as to where in the galaxy Luke’s secret location actually was.

- Meanwhile, R2D2 would also play the role of a “given up/powered down” hero: But we see that, soon as the coast is clear, and some plot heroes arrive with the map, he assessed the situation, turned on, and sent them right to Skywalker. I think it’s safe to say that R2D2 was merely in ‘sleep mode,’ as opposed to ‘shut down.’ However, despite all this, the element of being powered down/unassuming was still crucial because...

3. Snoke made it abundantly clear that when he found Skywalker, he’d blow up the entire landmass he was found, or even theorized to be, on

Luke would never put a population of innocents at risk of complete annihilation just because someone might to recognize him at a local market. So it’s no wonder he chose a place as isolated as he did (On top of that, considering his critical stance towards the Jedi Order by 28ish ABY, it wouldn’t necessarily be a heartbreak to him if the island did end up getting destroyed, or one to anyone else really, because of how obscure/unknown it was...or so he convinced himself).

4. He was picking his battles

If Luke Skywalker wanted to be found. Then why was he so dismissive of Rey? There’s no solid evidence here (aside from the whole existence of the map scheme), but I think there’s good reason to believe that Luke’s instant stand-offish behavior is one of caution and assessment not dissimilar how how Yoda and Kenobi put up an initial façade when they were discovered in exile (but more on that later). In any event, this approach would give him the means to offer personalized help to those who ended up on his doorstep. It honestly didn’t take Luke long to go from tossing his father’s lightsaber, to offering Rey the three lessons she needed to understand the force better. Although I believe Rey’s visit to Luke was far different than what others had probably been but (again) more on that later.

5. He was able leave anytime he wanted

The very clear image of Luke’s submerged X-Wing in the ocean painted a picture of cut ties, and a “no going back” stance. However, it wasn’t the first time that starfighter had been at the bottom of a water bed, and clearly it wasn’t the last. I’m inclined to believe that this is another part of Luke’s deliberate presentation of a hero who had lost all hope. But all speculation aside, there was nothing to physically stop Luke from leaving that island whenever he wanted. There’s nothing to say that he didn’t break form/character operate to find a way to undermine Snoke further.

6. He was actively protecting others close to him

There was a reason Luke getting Grogu at the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian caused such a stir in Disney, and caused Kennedy to go for Faverau’s throat. All “who’s idea was who’s” arguments aside. At the end of the day it created two possible outcomes for this element of the Star Wars franchise: Either Grogu died in Kylo’s attack. Or there were survivors. Since killing the money making Baby Yoda isn’t necessarily on Disney’s to do list, it’s a reasonable bet that he survives the slaughter (unless he’s returned to Din’s side before Kylo goes ballistic, in which case he avoids it all together). But even if that does happen, this theory still holds a little water). Luke lying low, and operating in secret may have been the only way he was keeping himself, the galaxies citizens, and his few remaining students from getting hit with an orbital strike.

7. He was never fully disconnected from the force.

Perhaps, somewhat disconnected, but it’s clear that Luke hasn’t cut himself off from the force as much as he, perhaps, wanted to admit. Luke is still able to effortlessly summon a weapon, keep control of the duel between himself and Rey, and gently lower his body to the ground when he loses his footing. Despite his stance on using/taking ownership of the force in TLJ, it seems as though Luke kept just enough around so that he could still fight. This theory is more optimistically minded than some of the others, but I still can’t help but think that Luke kept these reserves of power ready, because he already had to use them more than once during his supposed isolation.

8. Rey’s visit was different than the others who had come before.

“You went straight into the Dark. It offered you something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.”

“I've seen this raw strength only once before, in Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now.”

Other plot heroes/adventurers may have come, gone, or even convinced Luke to help them in secret. So assuming all, or even some, of the above is true, then that means Luke wasn’t just pushing to dismiss Rey, but also disillusion her. I think this is because Rey wasn’t there to get help with a specific mission, rescue, etc, but there to have Luke become the public symbol of hope again. And we’ve already listed the reasons why this couldn’t happen. On top of that, this push was done in a way that directly conflicted with all the “none theorized” reasons Luke had isolated himself. Luke knew he couldn’t accommodate this. He sensed the darkness in Rey. He sensed her connection to Kylo. In many ways his lessons also doubled as a means to properly evaluate Rey, and confirm his suspicions. In any event, all of this brought up an element of his isolation that no one else knew. He already had the, half truth, story as to what happened to his temple well rehearsed. But it was Rey’s visit that dragged out his greatest regret, which was his near attempt to take Ben’s life, due to both the mind bending fear Snoke had manipulated into palce, and the hypocritical, and self destructive Jedi philosophies that had been drilled in to his head. This was the final straw that made him want to destroy the Jedi texts. But it was also the push he needed to find inner peace, and think of the means to make one last public appearance, without endangering anyone.

9. In no interpretation is Luke an attempt child killer

This is more of a bonus point in nature. I think so many people were caught off guard by the narrative choice Luke undertook in this part of the film, that it painted the whole ordeal in a far more unfavorable light than it actually was. For starters: Ben was no child. He was 23 years old when he fell to the darkside. Luke was saw the images of planetary destruction, and the deaths of friends and family alike at the hands of an adult. But even at that, Luke’s ligthsaber had already lowered, and his face expressing that of shame and sadness, when Ben glances over, and decides to take up his lightsaber, and make the first strike. Luke doesn’t even ignite his lightsaber in response until after Ben swings it. The influence Snoke had over Ben, and the mental attack he lured Luke into suffering, to make this moment come to pass cannot be understated.

- This also means that Luke’s isolation lasted only 7 years. Not twenty, not even 10. Just 7. Which is less than half the time both Yoda and Obi Wan imposed on themselves.

10. He was following in the footsteps of his masters

I think Luke’s response to trauma is a little unfair in some ways. Obi Wan and Yoda witnessed genocide, and imposed exile on themselves for twenty years. Now, in film, we know that Obi Wan, while playing the part of a delusional hermit, worked to protect Luke as he grew up on Tatooine, and that Yoda, playing the part of a silly swamp kook, did...something...on Dagobah (?), waited for Luke to grow up so he could train him for a few weeks at most (?).

Those are two pretty limited things, and yet they don’t catch near as much flack for “abandoning the galaxy to the Empire” as TLJ Luke does, after he also witnessed slaughter, and went into isolation for only 7 years. But, of course, we know Obi Wan did more during his time in the desert, and that Yoda did more during his time in the swamp. So why can’t Luke have also done more while on his island? Everything about the parallels here point to Luke, despite his own misgivings, applying what he learned from his master. All three Jedi isolated themselves because of their personal tragedies. All three greatly reduced their presence in the galaxy. But all three had no choice, and all three still did what they could despite their circumstances.

11. Luke may have been overcome with grief. But he hadn’t truly changed

Now, I fully admit that this is a very optimistic way of looking at things. But some of these points also have more weight to them than others. I also cannot stress enough that even though I think some of what Luke was doing was an act, I also know it was equally proportional to the very real, emotional reasons, and struggles he faced. I also definitely do NOT think Kennedy/Johnson meant for any of these possible theories to have any validity to them. But with how they are presented, they also can’t be disproven.

If Favreau doesn’t formally put the sequels in it’s own little pocket universe, then I really hope he takes the opportunity to make something like ^the above^ happen. It could easily be established in one to two episodes in a live action show. Lots of things could be done to make the sequels a more bearable set of movies to watch. And as much as I’m worried that hoping for this is simply too optimistic, at least now there is a justifiable interpretive take that has both in film evidence to support, and a lack of otherwise to refute.

At the end of the day (and as usual) the important part here is to see that Luke hadn’t given up. Struggling, disillusioned, forced into a tough spot, willingly keeping himself scarce, etc. All bearable. But knowing he hadn’t given up is super important to the character and fanbase, so hopefully we get something that makes that cannon. In any facet really.

AND IT WOULD GET MARK HAMILL BACK ON SET GODAMNIT! XD

*Reblogged with new gifs and information

#star wars #the last jedi #tlj #mark hamill #luke skywalker #the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorian season 2

22 notes · View notes

fragmentedink-archived · 3 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-One

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Happy Holidays fuckers

A/N: also trigger warning for Nik's pos dad, and,,,,, nah i think that's it. Enjoy <3

Not a day after Lev was officially banished, Biela showed up. She was brisk, not even giving Lev the chance to acknowledge the two people she’d brought along. He was to be on house arrest, enforced by a spell that the witch she’d brought along would place on him. The fact that he was allowed up to fifty feet away from the house caught him by surprise; he’d fully expected to be confined to the inside. At least this way he could follow the kids in the pool or out into the yard, though Biela had made it clear he wasn’t to be outside alone.

She’d concluded this meeting by warning Lev that the house arrest would last until he proved he wasn’t a security risk. That meant Lev needed to learn how to defend himself, to Biela’s standards.

Lev understood. There was no third chance. If Lev got killed by a demon, it’d be detrimental to Cameron’s functioning. Not to mention Lev wasn’t sure how he’d handle being kidnapped by one. All of that aside he did want to know how to protect his children.

Biela had left with the witch when it was all done. The man she’d brought, who Lev learned was her brother Caius, stuck around long enough to exchange a few words with them, though Lev got the feeling it was more to get a good feel for who Lev was as a person than anything else.

Once all that was done and over with, Lev realized he still had a full day. Cameron had Eden, and Lev didn’t have the energy to fight him while Cameron reestablished his schedule. Instead, Lev ventured downstairs, something else on his mind.

He found Sazra in her room, like he’d expected. He knocked on the doorway when she didn’t look up right away, but having her silver eyes pinning him in place didn’t exactly put him at ease.

“Hi,” he said lamely, unsure of where to start.

“Can I help you?” she clipped out.

“I hope so,” Lev said, trying not to fidget. “I wanted to ask you about suppressants. I don’t know if demon suppressants will work for me, or if I need to get angelic suppressants, but-”

“And you’re asking me why?”

Lev blinked. “Because you’re a healer?” He said hesitantly. “I figured you out of everyone in the house would know about the way I’d react to demonic suppressants.”

Sazra lifted a brow. “Why would you think that when you think your healing is superior to mine?”

Oh. Lev fidgeted for a moment, before, “I’m not versed in medicine,” he started, and then hesitated. “If I’ve offended you...” He trailed off, looking for the right words. “It’s what I was taught,” he finally said, honestly. “And I never stopped to check my bias. I just parroted what I've been told for my entire life. I didn’t think about it at all.”

“I can see that. It’s rather arrogant of you.”

Lev didn’t think he’d ever been called arrogant before in his life. She wasn’t wrong though. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It was.”

“Hm.” She thrummed her long nails against the wooden table, but didn’t offer any more words other than that.

Lev stared at her for a long time, unsure of what to say. In the end, he said simply, “Can I try to make amends? I was out of line.”

Her nails clicked on the table. “I’ll help you. Not because you apologized, but because Cameron is my boss and I owe him my life. Anything else?”

“No,” Lev said. “Thank you.” He paused halfway out the door, and turned back. “I haven’t had a heat in about a month and a half. If that helps anything?”

“I am aware. You can go now.”

Lev took that dismissal and slipped back upstairs.

---

After some searching, Lev found Nik in the back with Eden. He had her in the pool, in a cute black swimsuit with pink polka dots and ruffles. Eden was screaming happily as she splashed Nik. Lev padded to the edge of the pool, sitting down and dropping his feet in the water.

“Hi,” Lev said, smiling slightly.

Nik paddled over, dragging a giggling Eden with him. “I had to put sunscreen on her,” Nik said solemnly. “She probably burns faster than Cameron does.”

“Probably,” Lev agreed. He reached out, patting Nik’s hair. “Nik... do you want to talk about it? Any of it?”

“What part of dragging a screaming infant out to the pool suggests I want to talk about anything?”

Lev shrugged. “I thought I’d offer. We probably should eventually.”

Nik dunked under, though he kept Eden above the water. “Sure.”

“Are you okay?” Lev asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have you, I have Eden, I have Cameron. Everything is going back to normal.”

“You’re pregnant, I’m exiled, and I told you I lost my pregnancy in the worst way possible.” Lev hesitated. “A lot has happened. And... it’s easier to worry about you than it is to deal with everything right now.”

“Well as you can see, I am the picture of health.”

“Physically, sure,” Lev agreed. “I don’t think anyone in this house is mentally healthy.”

“Hm. Well.” Nik moved Eden to his hip, not even blinking when she smacked his face. “Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Lev? I had not realized you had gotten a psychology degree in Ghost Land.”

“Nik, please,” Lev said softly, but he really didn’t have it in him to fight. In the end, he just gave a small sigh. “Fine. We can talk about it later.”

Nik went back to playing with Eden, so Lev splashed a foot lightly and watched Eden grabbing at the water. Lev would have been content to watch, but Nik grabbed his ankle. “Nik, don-”

Nik yanked Lev in the pool, clothes and all. After sputtering at Nik while Eden shrieked, first in surprise and then in delight, Lev glared at Nik. “I’m dressed.”

“Oh?” Nik said innocently.

Lev swatted his shoulder gently. “You could have let me go find a swimsuit. Now I’m soaked.”

Nik simply hummed. “Yeah... Oh well. Better luck next time.”

Lev huffed, and reached for Eden. “Give her over. I want a turn.”

“Mm. My baby,” Nik said, kissing Eden’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Eden shrieked, grabbing at Nik’s hair. “See? All the ladies want me.”

Lev huffed, wading closer. He grabbed Nik’s sleeve when Nik tried to pull back, but was distracted by Cameron appearing.

“Phone,” Cameron said, looking annoyed.

Lev patted his pocket, and then held up the waterlogged device. “Nik pulled me in,” he offered apologetically. He set it down on the side of the pool. “I forgot I had it in my pocket.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” was all Cameron said. “Don’t do that again.”

“Tell Nik to not to pull me in,” Lev mumbled, before looking up at Cameron.

“I’m not his mother. You do it,” was all Cameron had to say before left.

“Yeah,” Nik parroted. “He’s not my mother.”

Lev splashed him and Eden both. Eden screeched, slapping the water herself. A laugh bubbled up, real and genuine. Lev turned away long enough to take off his sopping sweater and drop it beside the ruined phone.

This was worth it, he decided, dropping a kiss on Eden’s cheek. It was worth all of it.

---

Nik spent the next few hours getting a restless Eden under control and unconscious while also wandering around the house. Cameron seemed to be off in his study, doing Cameron Things and Lev was doing Lev Things. He was about to go see if he could bully Cameron into making stuffed peppers, when there was a knock at the doors. He was this close to ignoring it, and letting one of Cameron’s lackeys get it themselves, but he was closest to the door.

When he pulled the doors open, he felt his stomach drop. He had no idea why his father of all people decided to stand right in front of him, with that irritatingly neutral look on his face, especially in Demonic Territory. But he was. “Papi.”

Az’ril looked Nik up and down slowly enough Nik folded his arms over his chest, trying to hide his stomach out of sheer self-consciousness. Though it was completely useless and they both knew it. “You are pregnant.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “It’s Cameron’s,” he said, instantly.

“Hm.” He looked past Nik for only a second before saying, “Are you going to let me in?”

Nik took a wordless step back and to the side. There was no point in arguing, not when he was pregnant and he wasn’t going to risk the safety of either himself or his baby just when he decided he was going to keep the little leech who decided to continuously steal his food.

His father wasn’t even two steps in the house before both Cameron and Lev decided to come into the hallway from two separate directions.

Well that was just fantastic.

“Az’ril,” Cameron said, mildly. “To what do I owe this unannounced visit?”

Az’ril’s golden brown eyes flicked Cameron’s way. “I was not aware that I needed an invitation or to announce myself to visit my youngest.”

Cameron lifted a brow and stopped right behind Nik, close enough Nik could almost feel Cameron’s body heat. “How would you be aware when you do not ask? Or visit in the last year or so, but I digress.”

Lev stopped next to Nik and tried to take his hand. Nik only shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and said nothing. Az’ril’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but completely dismissed Cameron and turned his full attention back to Nik. “Let’s speak. Alone.”

“Nik,” Lev said, quietly.

He could feel Cameron’s gaze on him, letting him take the lead on however Nik wanted to move forward. Nik only lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I think we can find a room.”

He shouldered past Lev, without so much as a glance, aware his father was right on his heel without needing to be told to follow. He found the nearest office space and went in, immediately going to open the windows when he heard the door click behind him.

“So,” Nik said, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded over himself once more. “You wanted to talk…?”

Az’ril made himself at home by sitting in the desk chair. He glanced around the orderly office, taking note of the very sharp, immaculate furniture. “He seems to have inherited a great deal from his former station,” Az’ril noted.

“Yeah,” Nik said. “I imagine being raped every day for five hundred years, a fancy house was the least they could give him. But what do I know.”

The vaguest look of distaste crossed his father’s features. “Your crassness is bound to lose its charm,” he said, leaning back. “Especially now that you are pregnant. Even if it is with a demon’s spawn, and an illegitimate one at that. That cute attitude isn’t going to get you far much more.”

“I’m sure my cute looks will make up for it,” Nik said.

“We’ll see.”

The tightness in his chest didn’t let up a single bit, if anything it just reached further into his throat, making it that much harder to keep an unruffled appearance. The razor sharp look in his father’s eyes suggested Az’ril was more than aware. And he was unimpressed.

“How does the demon feel about your pregnancy,” Az’ril said. “Doesn’t quite seem the paternal type. As far as I’m aware, demons tend to eat their young.”

Nik chewed on his lip piercing. “He’s fine with it.”

“Is he?”

“That’s what I said,” Nik said, not able to keep the irritability out of his voice. “If you’re wanting a birth announcement, I’ll be sure to ship you one in the post. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“Actually there is,” Az’ril said.

Nik waited expectantly, trying to not squirm under that golden look.

“I do not think your demon is equipt to adequately care for a pregnant angel,” he said. “And I do not wish for a disgraced outcast to be caring for my child.”

Nik blinked. “I- what? Then where, exactly, do you expect me to go?”

“Your rooms are being set up as we speak,” his father replied. “A nursery as well, as you’re obviously keeping the child. Even if it’s part demon, your status is of mine, and I will not be having it or you here any longer. It’s about time you stopped playing house and returned to where you belong.”

“...I belong with Cameron and Lev,” Nik said.

Az’ril stood fast enough that Nik’s spine straightened on sheer instinct. “You need to stop with these convoluted fantasies of yours,” His father said, sharply. “You will come home, even if I have to drag you by your ear to do so. It’s for your own good, Nikolas.”

“But- what about them?”

“They are not my concern.” He crossed the desk. “This is my own fault,” he said. “I gave you too much freedom and left you unchecked and now your inability to take responsibility for any of your actions has led you unmarried, unmated and pregnant. So now, you will be coming home, and you will be letting me take care of you. End of discussion. Are we clear.”

Nik’s eyes trained to the ground. “Yes sir.”

“Better. Now go get your things, because we need to be leaving.”

Nik pushed off the wall and left the office as fast as he could go without sprinting out of the room. He shoved open the bedroom doors and went for the closet. He stopped dead in his tracks outside of it, anxiety clawing at his throat, but he forced himself forward to get his shit so he could get out of here.

“What’s going on?” Nik heard Lev ask from the doorway.

Nik stopped dead in his tracks before resuming once again. “Going home,” was all Nik said, going to toss a few of his jackets onto Cameron’s bed.

“This is home.”

Nik chewed on his bracelet and went back into the closest for more clothes. “Yeah, and so is Tullum. Papi is insistent on me coming home so he can take care of me while I’m pregnant.” He tried to keep the irritability out of his voice. It wasn’t Lev’s fault that Nik’s omega decided to kick into self preservation mode now.

Horrible timing, really.

“He won’t take no for an answer,” Nik said, dropping the rest of his clothes on the bed. “So I’m going home.” He fixed a smile in place. “That’s what’s best for the baby, am I right? Got to get the special angel healers and- and it’s a family thing. I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

Lev stared at him for a moment. “You can’t go with him. It’s not what’s best for the baby and it’s not what’s best for you.”

“And you devised that in what, the five minutes of interaction with him?” Nik asked, sharply. “Family clearly does not mean the same thing to you as it does to me and mine. There are traditions and- and I just.” Nik exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered under his breath in spanish and went back to packing. There was no point. “I don’t have a choice and it’s not like you can stop him.”

“Nik,” Lev said softly. “I know people scare me all the time, but... not like him. Not like that.” He crossed the room, trying to take Nik’s hand as he said, “I won’t let him take you.”

Nik shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to die again?” Nik demanded, voice cracking. “You seem to forget that I am the only one in my family without magic. My family deals and trades in death and he has the power to absolutely obliterate anyone. Especially someone with no ties or protections offered by angels anymore. You literally just defied the laws of nature. Don’t get between us and ruin it for nothing.”

Lev’s face was the fiercest he’s ever seen from him. “You’re mine, and I’m not going to let him take you from us.”

Nik bit into his lip so hard he could taste the honey sweetness of his blood. He didn’t have an argument for that, especially when Lev’s head was annoyingly big when he was being annoyingly protective. It clearly meant he couldn’t listen to reason or fact. His father was just… he was death.

He put his head on Lev’s shoulder, not saying another word.

Nik was snapped out of his trance the moment he heard the sharp order in spanish to hurry up. His head lifted and sure enough his father was standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. “We need to get going.”

Lev looked at Az’ril. “He’s not going with you.”

Cameron appeared like a wraith in the doorway behind his father, eerily silent and perfectly unruffled as he sidestepped Az’ril as if he were little more than a stool in his way. “Nikolas can take his time,” he said, coolly. “As much of it as he wants.” His pale eyes slid towards Nik, looking for his stance.

Cameron was going to follow Nik’s play, no matter what he wanted for himself. He’d let them all make their decisions and damn themselves, but it would always be their decision. He’d have no part in shaping it.

When Nik looked down at the ground, Cameron then said, “Of course, if I wanted, I could keep him here. He’s pregnant with my child and as it would be my property, so is Nik.” The sheer, so very faint distaste in those words in Cameron’s tone didn’t go unnoticed by Nik. “I’m sure you, someone of such high political standing, would understand that.”

Nik didn’t dare say a fucking word, even as Lev positioned himself between Nik and Az’ril.

His father locked eyes with Cameron. Cameron was several centuries younger than his father, even if Cameron felt eons older in the icy, composed stance he was taking. “My son is not your property,” Az’ril bit out.

“By demonic law,” Cameron said, mildly, “he is. The moment you decided to send your son into spy on me and mine forfeited your right to Nik, and made him mine.” Cameron looked over at Nik and Lev, gaging the both of them with calculated stillness. “Come here.”

Nik was frozen in place for a split second before Lev gently took his arm and nudged him over to Cameron’s side. If Lev hadn’t made him move, Nik would have been torn between standing still and being at Cameron’s side in a split second with the sheer Alpha in his tone.

Cameron fixed his eyes on Nik, and then Nik’s throat. “Of course,” he said. “I am speaking in demonic terms, and not angelic terms. So let me be very clear about this.” A chill rippled down Nik’s spine when Cameron's very sharp teeth sunk into Nik’s throat.

Lev ushered out of Cameron’s way, but Nik could sense his eyes were still trained on Az’ril as Nik instantly went limp at the claiming bite being branded into his flesh. Cameron caught him easily before he collapsed onto the ground from the amount of hormones being flooded into his body.

Nik whimpered when Cameron’s teeth came out of his skin. He caught the golden sheen of blood still on Cameron’s pale lips before pushing his face into Cameron’s chest. Cameron’s arm held him firmly in place as Nik reached for Lev’s hand.

Lev took it but didn’t take his eyes off Az’ril.

Cameron didn’t blink at the way Az’ril’s eyes narrowed. Angels held mating bonds to one of the highest standards in their lands and Cameron knew it. “You know where the door is, yes? If not I’m sure someone can show you out.”

Nik didn’t dare look up from Cameron’s chest, but he heard his father retreat from the room, and hopefully the house. “I’m sorry,” Nik mumbled against Cameron’s chest.

Cameron tugged on his hair. “Quiet,” he said, not harshly. The order did mellow the anxiety curling in his chest.

Lev lightly bit Nik’s shoulder. “You’re staying with us,” Lev mumbled against his skin. “You belong with us.”

---

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Though, admittedly, most of their breakfast lately were quiet. Nik couldn’t drink coffee and so it took even longer for him to wake up. Cameron rarely had much to say in the morning, and Lev was always tired nowadays so quiet it was.

However, this morning, Lev had something on his mind. “Cameron?” he asked. “I had a question.”

“Hm?”

“Can we start working on a nursery? I imagine it’ll take some work, and...” He shrugged.

Before Cameron responded, he walked out of the kitchen. Lev stared after him, and looked to Nik. Nik was still staring at his decaf coffee, face blank and definitely not awake. Cameron reappeared, book in hand. Lev lifted the cover as Cameron went back to fixing breakfast.

Inside the book was... plans. Color swatches and crib options and even a sketched layout or two. Lev traced a picture of a crib made of dark brown wood and with little sea stars carved into the headboard. “You already started planning without me?” he asked, trying to not sound petulant.

Cameron flicked a look in his direction. “You were sleeping.”

A low blow, but a fair one. Sleeping had been preferable to being awake. “Point,” Lev finally muttered. “Well can I help with the rest?”

“If you want.”

“I do,” Lev said, flipping back through the book carefully. He would have called it a scrapbook if it hadn’t been so brutally efficient. Besides. If he had, Lev had the feeling Cameron would have been offended. “I’m guessing an ocean theme?” he said, peering at the options Cameron had deemed acceptable for baby mobiles.

Cameron placed a plate of bacon down in front of him. “It seemed to fit Nik’s tastes.”

“This isn’t my coffee,” Nik suddenly complained, rubbing his face.

Lev looked over. “Looks like coffee to me?” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Nik frowned. “This isn’t. My coffee.” This time he sounded more irritable.

“You’re not supposed to have caffeine, if that’s the problem,” Lev said, taking a bite of bacon.

“Says who?”

Lev offered him a piece of bacon. “Ash, probably. But also every pregnancy health book I’ve ever read. And I’ve read a lot.”

Nik slammed his mug down. “Well Ash isn’t here, and you’re not my boss.” He pulled out his phone, muttering in Spanish. Lev only got another piece of bacon before Nik startled him by shoving the phone in his face. “See? I can.” He was practically yelling, mostly from excitement from what Lev could tell.

Indeed, Ash had typed out a terse, “1.” Period included.

“Somehow that feels coerced,” Lev mumbled, before pointing out, “You have to convince Cameron too.”

Cameron sipped his tea calmly. “No,” he said. “Sit down.”

Nik plopped down, defeated. He stared at the counter sadly. “You’re all monsters.”

“Well, four more months and you can have caffeine again,” Lev encouraged.

“This leech is taking everything from me,” Nik mumbled.

Lev reached over, brushing his hair from his face. “Soon,” he promised, kissing Nik’s cheek.

Nik wrinkled his nose. “So what were you talking about before you decided to ruin my life?”

Lev closed the book carefully. “Nursery plans. Which- Cameron, do you think Nate would come paint the walls for us? I bet he’d do something pretty.”

Cameron put a plate of eggs and fruit down in front of Nik. “I already called him. He’ll be here tomorrow to start working on it.”

Lev huffed. “You’ve already thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“It’s easy. You’re both predictable.”

“What the fuck is this?” Nik demanded. “You give Lev bacon, and I get rabbit food? I’m a growing boy. I deserve bacon.”

Lev decided not to comment on the fact that he’d offered Nik a piece and Nik had decided to bemoan his coffee instead. “Eggs aren’t rabbit food,” he pointed out instead.

Nik took Lev’s plate. “Well fine then, you eat it. I’m eating your bacon.”

“Hey!” Lev reached for his plate. “Nik! Give it back.”

Nik just put his hand in Lev’s face, but Cameron switched the plates anyway. Nik whined, and all he got in response was a baring of Cameron’s teeth. Despite that Lev put a single piece of bacon on Nik’s plate.

Before any more bickering could start, a knock sounded. Lev peered over his shoulder in time to see a sentry leading a short woman into the room. She was hauling bags with her, though she set them down when she set eyes on Nik.

Nik had been in the middle of grumbling as he picked at his food, but when he saw her, he dropped his fork. “Mami?”

Lev watched them, mystified. He’d never met Nik’s mother, but when he looked to Cameron, Cameron just shook his head subtly like he knew what Lev was thinking. That left Lev even more confused, but he just looked back to see her cupping Nik’s face and fussing at him in rapid Spanish. In Nik’s defense, he looked pleased.

“Hello,” Lev offered when she seemed done. “I’m Lev?”

“I’m Mami Coco.” She looked to Cameron. “You can call me Socorro. I’ll be sleeping in a room next to Nikolas.”

Lev could see the annoyance flickering in Cameron’s face, but Nik looked happy, dark brown eyes shining as he got a hug from Mami Coco. Somehow Lev doubted Cameron would be irritated enough at the disruption in his plans and schedule enough to upset Nik over this. Instead, Cameron filled a plate for her too, and said, “Sit.”

There was a certain look to her that promised much headbutting in the future, but she sat beside Nik with a simple, “Okay.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #my writing #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: mami #hell to pay #cameron and nik and lev

26 notes · View notes

weavingthetapestry · 3 years

Text

2nd January 1264: Marriage and Murder in Mediaeval Menteith

(Priory of Inchmahome, founded on one of the islands of Lake of Menteith in the thirteenth century)

On 2nd January 1264, Pope Urban IV despatched a letter to the bishops of St Andrews and Aberdeen, and the Abbot of Dunfermline, commanding them to enquire into a succession dispute in the earldom of Menteith. Situated in the heart of Scotland, this earldom stretched from the graceful mountains and glens of the Trossachs, to the boggy carseland west of Stirling and the low-lying Vale of Menteith between Callander and Dunblane. The earls and countesses of Menteith were members of the highest rank of the nobility, ruling the area from strongholds such as Doune Castle, Inch Talla, and Kilbryde. Perhaps the best-known relic of the mediaeval earldom is the beautiful, ruined Priory of Inchmahome, which was established on an island in Lake of Menteith by Earl Walter Comyn in 1238. Walter Comyn was a powerful, if controversial, figure during the reigns of Kings Alexander II and Alexander III. He controlled the earldom for several decades after his marriage to its Countess, Isabella of Menteith, but following Walter’s death in 1258 his widow was beset on all sides by powerful enemies. These enemies even went so far as to capture Isabella and accuse her of poisoning her husband. The story of this unfortunate countess offers a rare glimpse into the position of great heiresses in High Mediaeval Scotland, revealing the darker side of thirteenth century politics.

Alexander II and Alexander III are generally remembered as powerful monarchs who oversaw the expansion and consolidation of the Scottish realm. During their reigns, dynastic rivals like the MacWilliams were crushed, regions such as Galloway and the Western Isles formally acknowledged Scottish overlordship, and the Scottish Crown held its own in diplomacy and disputes with neighbouring rulers in Norway and England. Both kings furthered their aims by promoting powerful nobles in strategic areas, but it was also vital to harness the ambition and aggression of these men productively. In the absence of an adult monarch, unchecked magnate rivalry risked destabilising the realm, as in the years between 1249 and 1262, when Alexander III was underage.

(A fifteenth century depiction of the coronation of Alexander III. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Walter Comyn offers a typical picture of the ambitious Scottish magnate. Ultimately loyal to the Crown, his family loyalties and personal aims nonetheless made him a divisive figure. A member of the powerful Comyn kindred, he had received the lordship of Badenoch in the Central Highlands by 1229, probably because of his family’s opposition to the MacWilliams. In early 1231, he was granted the hand of a rich heiress, Isabella of Menteith. In the end, there would be no Comyn dynasty in Menteith: Walter and Isabella had a son named Henry, mentioned in a charter c.1250, but he likely predeceased his father. Nevertheless, Walter Comyn carved out a career at the centre of Scottish politics and besides witnessing many royal charters, he acted as the king’s lieutenant in Galloway in 1235 and became embroiled in the scandalous Bisset affair of 1242.

When Alexander II died in 1249, Walter and the other Comyns sought power during the minority of the boy king Alexander III. They were opposed by the similarly ambitious Alan Durward and in time Henry III of England, the attentive father of Alexander III’s wife Margaret, was also dragged into the squabble as both sides solicited his support in order to undermine their opponents. Possession of the young king’s person offered a swift route to power, and, although nobody challenged Alexander III’s right to the throne, some took drastic measures to seize control of government. Walter Comyn and his allies managed this twice, the second time by kidnapping the young king at Kinross in 1257. They were later forced to make concessions to enemies like Durward but, with Henry III increasingly distracted by the deteriorating political situation in England, the Comyns held onto power for the rest of the minority. However Walter only enjoyed his victory for a short while: by the end of 1258, the Earl of Menteith was dead.

Walter Comyn had dominated Scottish politics for a decade, and even if, as Michael Brown suggests, his death gave the political community some breathing space, this also left Menteith without a lord. As a widow, Countess Isabella theoretically gained more personal freedom, but mediaeval realpolitik was not always consistent with legal ideals. In thirteenth century Scotland, the increased wealth of widows made them vulnerable in new ways (not least to abduction) and, although primogeniture and the indivisibility of earldoms were promoted, in reality these ideals were often subordinated to the Crown’s need to reward its supporters. Isabella of Menteith was soon to find that her position had become very precarious.

At first, things went well. Although one source claims that many noblemen sought her hand, Isabella made her own choice, marrying an English knight named John Russell. Sir John’s background is obscure but, despite assertions that he was low born, he had connections at the English court. Isabella and John obtained royal consent for their marriage c.1260, and the happy couple also took crusading vows soon afterwards.

But whatever his wife thought, in the eyes of the Scottish nobility John Russell cut a much less impressive figure than Walter Comyn. The couple had not been married long before a powerful coterie of nobles descended on Menteith like hoodie-crows. Pope Urban’s list of persecutors includes the earls of Buchan, Fife, Mar, and Strathearn, Alan Durward, Hugh of Abernethy, Reginald le Cheyne, Hugh de Berkeley, David de Graham, and many others. But the ringleader was John ‘the Red’ Comyn, the nephew of Isabella of Menteith’s deceased husband Walter, who had already succeeded to the lordship of Badenoch. Even though Menteith belonged to Isabella in her own right, Comyn coveted his late uncle’s title there. Supported by the other lords, he captured and imprisoned the countess and John Russell, and justified this bold assault by claiming that the newlyweds had conspired together to poison Earl Walter. It is unclear what proof, if any, John Comyn supplied to back up his claim, but the couple were unable to disprove it. They were forced to surrender all claims to Isabella’s dowry, as well as many of her own lands and rents. A surviving charter shows that Hugh de Abernethy was granted property around Aberfoyle about 1260, but it seems that the lion’s share of the spoils went to the Red Comyn, who secured for himself and his heirs the promise of the earldom of Menteith itself.

Isabella and her husband were only released when they promised to pass into exile until they could clear their names before seven peers of the realm. John Russell’s brother Robert was delivered to Comyn as security for their full resignation of the earldom. Having ‘incurred heavy losses and expenses’, which certainly stymied their crusading plans, they fled.

In a letter of 1264, Pope Urban IV described the couple as ‘undefended by the authority of the king, while as yet a minor’. However, though Alexander III was technically underage in 1260, he was now nineteen and could not be ignored entirely. Michael Brown suggests that Isabella and her husband may have been seized when the king was visiting England, and that John Comyn’s unsanctioned bid for the earldom of Menteith may explain why Alexander cut short his stay in November 1260 and hastily returned north, leaving his pregnant queen with her parents at Windsor. Certainly, Comyn was forced to relinquish the earldom before 17th April 1261. But instead of restoring Menteith to its exiled countess, Alexander settled the earldom on another rising star: Walter ‘Bailloch’ Stewart, whose wife Mary had a claim to Menteith.

Mary of Menteith is often described as Isabella’s younger sister, although contemporary sources never say so and some historians argue that they were cousins. Either way, Alexander’s decision to uphold her claim was probably as much influenced by her husband’s identity as her alleged birth right. Like Walter Comyn, Walter Bailloch (‘freckled’), belonged to an influential family as the brother of Alexander, Steward of Scotland. From their origins in the royal household, the Stewarts became major regional magnates, assisting royal expansion in the west. The promising son of a powerful family, Walter Bailloch was sheriff of Ayr by 1264 and likely fought in the Battle of Largs in 1263. In 1260 Alexander III had the opportunity to secure Walter’s loyalty as the royal minority drew to a close. Conversely John Comyn of Badenoch found himself out of favour and was removed as justiciar of Galloway following the Menteith incident. The king would not alienate the Comyns permanently, but for now, the stars of Walter Bailloch and Mary of Menteith were in the ascendant.

(Loch Lubnaig, in the Trossachs, another former possession of the earls of Menteith)

Isabella of Menteith and John Russell had not been idle in the meantime. Travelling to John’s home country of England, they probably appealed to Henry III. In September 1261, the English king inspected documents relating to a previous dispute over the earldom of Menteith. On that occasion, two brothers, both named Maurice, had their differences settled before the future Alexander II at Edinburgh in 1213. The elder Maurice, who held the title Earl of Menteith and was presumed illegitimate by later writers (though this is never stated), resigned the earldom, which was regranted to Maurice junior. In return the elder Maurice received some towns and lands to be held for his lifetime only, and the younger Maurice promised to provide for the marriage of his older brother’s daughters.

It is probable that Isabella was the daughter of the younger Maurice, and that she produced these charters as proof of her right to the earldom. Perhaps Mary was her younger sister, but it seems likelier that Isabella would have wanted to prove the younger Maurice’s right if Mary was a descendant of the elder brother, and therefore her cousin. However despite Henry III’s formal recognition of the settlement, he did not provide Isabella with any real assistance: for whatever reason, the English king was either unable or unwilling to press his son-in-law the King of Scots on this matter. Isabella then turned instead to the spiritual leader of western Europe- Pope Urban IV.

(A depiction of the coronation of Henry III of England, though in fact the English king was only a child when he was crowned. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

A long epistle which the pope sent to several Scottish prelates in January 1264 has survived, revealing much about the case. Thus we learn that Urban was initially moved by Isabella and her husband’s predicament, perhaps especially so since they had taken the cross. Accordingly, he had appointed his chaplain Pontius Nicholas to enquire further and discreetly arrange the couple’s restoration. Pontius was to journey to Menteith, ‘if he could safely do so, otherwise to pass personally to parts adjacent to the said kingdom, and to summon those who should be summoned’. But Pontius’ mission only hindered Isabella’s suit. According to Gesta Annalia I, the papal chaplain got no closer to Scotland than York. From there he summoned many Scottish churchmen and nobles to appear before him, and even the King of Scots himself. This merely antagonised Alexander III and his subjects. Although Alexander maintained good relations with England and the papacy throughout his reign, he had a strong sense of his own prerogative and did not appreciate being summoned to answer for his actions, especially not outwith his realm and least of all in York. Special daughter of the papacy or not, Scotland’s clergy and nobility supported their king and refused to compear. Faced with this intransigence, Pontius Nicholas placed the entire kingdom under interdict, at which point Alexander retaliated by writing directly to the chaplain’s boss, demanding Pontius’ dismissal from the case.

Urban IV swiftly backpedalled. In a conciliatory tone he claimed that Pontius was guilty of ‘exceeding the terms of our mandate’ and causing ‘grievous scandal’. To remedy the situation, and avoid endangering souls, the pope discharged his responsibility over the case to the bishops of St Andrews and Aberdeen, and the Abbot of Dunfermline. Thus the pope washed his hands of a troublesome case, the Scottish king’s nose could be put back in joint, and Isabella’s suit was transferred to men with great experience of Scottish affairs, who should have been capable of satisfactorily resolving the matter. However, there is no indication that Isabella was ever compensated for the loss of her inheritance, and when the dispute over Menteith was raised again ten years later, the countess was not even mentioned (probably she had since died). Possibly her suit was discreetly buried after it was transferred to the Scottish clerics, a solution which, however frustrating for the exiled countess, would have been convenient for the great men whose responsibility it was to ensure justice was done.

(Doune Castle- the earliest parts of this famous stronghold probably date to the days of the thirteenth century earls of Menteith, although much of the work visible today dates from the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries)

The Comyns could not be dismissed so easily. Never resigned to losing Menteith, John Comyn of Badenoch claimed the earldom again c.1273, on behalf of his son William Comyn of Kirkintilloch. William had since married Isabella Russell, daughter of Isabella of Menteith by her second husband.* The 1273 suit was unsuccessful but William Comyn and Isabella Russell did not lose hope, and in 1282, William asked Edward I of England to intercede for them with the king of Scots. In 1285, with William’s father John Comyn long dead, Alexander III finally offered a compromise. Walter Bailloch, whose wife Mary may have died, was to keep half the earldom and he and his heirs would bear the title earl of Menteith. William Comyn and Isabella Russell received the other half in free barony, and this eventually passed to the offspring of Isabella’s second marriage to Sir Edward Hastings. Perhaps this could be seen as a posthumous victory for Isabella Russell’s late parents, but their descendants would never regain the whole earldom (except, controversially, when the younger Isabella’s two sons were each granted half after Edward I forfeited the current earl for supporting Robert Bruce).

Conversely, Walter Bailloch’s descendants remained at the forefront of Scottish politics. He and his wife Mary accompanied Alexander III’s daughter to Norway in 1281, and Walter was later a signatory to both the Turnberry Band and the Maid of Norway’s marriage negotiations. He also acted as a commissioner for Robert Bruce (grandfather to the future king) during the Great Cause. He had at least three children by Mary of Menteith and their sons took the surname Menteith rather than Stewart. The descendants of the eldest son, Alexander, held the earldom of Menteith until at least 1425. The younger son, John, became infamous as the much-maligned ‘Fause Menteith’ who betrayed William Wallace, although he later rose high in the service of King Robert I. Walter Bailloch himself died c.1294-5, and was buried next to his wife at the Priory of Inchmahome on Lake of Menteith, which Walter Comyn had founded over fifty years previously. The effigies of Walter Bailloch and Mary of Menteith can still be seen in the chapter house of the ruined priory: the worn faces are turned towards each other and each figure stretches out an arm to embrace their spouse in a lasting symbol of marital affection.

(The effigies of Walter Bailloch and Mary of Menteith at Inchmahome Priory, which was founded by Walter Comyn in 1238 and was perhaps intended as a burial site for himself and his wife Isabella of Menteith. Source: Wikimedia Commons).

The dispute over Menteith saw a prominent noblewoman publicly accused of murder and exiled, and even sparked an international incident when Scotland was placed under interdict. For all this, neither Isabella of Menteith nor John Comyn of Badenoch triumphed in the long term. Even Walter Bailloch eventually had to accept the loss of half the earldom after holding it for over twenty years. In the end the only real winner seems to have been the king. Although at first sight the persecution of Isabella and her husband looks like a classic example of overmighty magnates taking advantage of a breakdown in law and order during a royal minority, Alexander III was not a child and his rebuke of John Comyn did not result in any backlash against the Crown. Most of the Scottish nobility fell back in line once the king came of age, but the king in turn had to ensure that he was able to reward key supporters if he wanted to expand the realm he had inherited. Although it was important to both Alexander III and his father that primogeniture and were accepted by their subjects as the norm, in practice both kings found that they had to bend their own rules to ensure that the system worked to their own advantage. The thirteenth century is often seen an age of legal development and state-building, but these things sometimes came into conflict with each other, and even the most successful kings had to work within a messy system and consider the competing loyalties and customs of their subjects.

Selected Bibliography:

- “Vetera Monumenta Hibernorum et Scotorum”, Augustinus Theiner (a printed version of Urban IV’s original Latin epistle may be found here)

- “John of Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish Nation”, vol. 2, ed. W.F. Skene (this is an English translation of the chronicle of John of Fordun, made when Gesta Annalia I was still believed to be his work. It provides an independent thirteenth or fourteenth century Scottish account of the Menteith case

- “The Red Book of Menteith”, volumes 1+2, ed. Sir William Fraser

- “Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, Preserved Among the Public Records of England”, volumes 1, 2, 3 & 5, ed. Joseph Bain

- “The Political Role of Walter Comyn, earl of Menteith, during the Minority of Alexander III of Scotland”, A. Young, in the Scottish Historical Review, vol.57 no.164 part 2 (1978).

- “Scotland, England and France After the Loss of Normandy, 1204-1296″, M.A. Pollock

- “The Wars of Scotland, 1214-1371″, Michael Brown

As ever if anyone has a question about a specific detail or source, please let me know! I have a lot of notes for this post, so hopefully I should be able to help!

#Scottish history #Scotland #British history #thirteenth century #women in history #Menteith #earldom of Menteith #Isabella Countess of Menteith #John Russell #John Comyn I of Badenoch #Alexander III #Henry III #Pope Urban IV #Walter Bailloch #the Stewarts #House of Dunkeld #House of Canmore #Mary of Menteith #inchmahome priory

13 notes · View notes

foolgobi65 · 4 years

Text

yeh rishtaa kya kehlataa hain

@allegoriesinmediasres asked for: Rama/Sita, travel!AU, friends to lovers, “you confuse me”

as usual, this is completely unedited and thus is probably chock full of grammar errors, bad characterization, and terrible pacing. but! it was fun to write on my end so as always if u want me to rewrite it I’d be glad to lmaoo. it’s super super super cheesy at the end...like the whole third bit is just super cliche but w/e i love cliche romance its all good lol. anyways, i hope you like it at least a little!! thank you so much for the prompt <3 <3 <3

if you’d like to send me an au prompt from this list, please do!!

(title is from a lovely ar rahman song from the movie meenaxi, and also apparently a hindi soap, meaning “what is this relationship called?” )

---

It’s been two weeks since the Raghuvanshi Group put out a notice that nearly brought the Indian manufacturing industry to its knees: Ramachandra, eldest son of Dasaratha Raghuvanshi and anointed heir since his very first breath, has been stripped of his VP positions within the company, his stock options, even his entrance card. The gossip blogs report that Ramachandra has lost access to the family accounts and family property, have posted pictures of the young man once posed to be the next titan of Indian Industry at a local branch of the Bank of India, handing over what is rumoured to be his great-grandfather’s watch as a starting sum so that he can get his own personal account.

Bharata, three years Rama’s junior, is still in the United States working on his MBA: he has not yet been told of his brother’s effective exile from the family, nor of his own subsequent ascension to the position of CEO-in-waiting. Twins Lakshmana and Shatrugana, five years younger, are in London having just begun their undergraduate degrees. It was interesting, people used to say, that of the brothers it was only Rama who stayed in India. Rama who attended every company party and toured factories, solemnly noting down worker complaints on the weekends he could spare from his studies, in all respects the near exact opposite of his father whose four children are the sons of three women.

Four days after the company announced its decision, Ramachandra disappeared from the public eye. It takes ten days, but Janaki eventually tracks down enough public and private conjecture to find him in a housing colony nearly an hour long ride from Ayodhya, the Raghuvanshi family home in the center of the city. The door opens, and Janaki greets the man who can only be Sumantra, Dasaratha’s long-loyal driver who had apparently left the same day as it’s once shining son.

“Hello!” she says, palms folded and motorcycle helmets dangling by their straps from her wrists, “I’m a friend of Ram. Is he at home?”

The door closes almost entirely. “Why would sir be found here,” Janaki hears from the gap, as Sumantra hooks the metal chain that would prevent her from barging in even if she was strong enough to shove aside a man nearly 50 pounds heavier than herself. “He is a very rich man’s son, and I am only a driver.”

Janaki frowns. “No one is ever ‘only’ anything Sumantra-ji, we all do some type of work in order to live, and not one of these jobs is better or worse than another.”

From behind the door, she hears the sharp exhalation that could almost be a snort from someone more given to expressing his own feelings. Janaki was right, then, Ramachandra Raghuvanshi who grew up on one of the most expensive properties in India has sought refuge in a home he could have bought on a moment’s whim only two weeks before. The chain rattles, and the door opens wide.

“Janaki Videha,” Rama says, and suddenly it is four years ago and Janaki is again a student politician stuck in a hospital bed after a bad encounter with the police, flipping through notes meticulously taken by a classmate who insists on anonymity but could only possibly be the lanky, nearly silent boy that everyone knows will one day be one of the richest men in India.

Normally, a person seeing an old acquaintance after a few years would speak their name, then utter some platitude about how long it has been since they last met and invite them inside to catch up. Rama, who is only capable of erudition in front of men his father wants him to impress, conveys the implication that all of these social niceties have been uttered without saying anything but her name. Janaki smiles, takes off her shoes, and walks in.

---

“What are you even doing here?”

Janaki raises an eyebrow, pouring a little more soap into the bucket they were offered to use for clothes washing. It has been a month since Janaki found Rama and told him that she was going on a trip, and that she needed male company to keep her safe. A month since she handed him one of her motorcycle helmets, helped him pack his single spare change of clothes and toothbrush, and directed him to sit behind her and hold on tight so that they might make it to another friend’s village by evening and have a place to spend the night. Together, they have followed the western coastline, trading off who drives when Janaki realizes that not only does Rama have a deft hand at the wheel, but in the proper circumstances can coax thrills out of her old bike that she hadn’t even thought possible.

“What do you mean,” she asks, grabbing his kurta top from the pile of clothes he has slowly gathered from the families he has inadvertently charmed over their travels. He’s standing off to the side, hanging their host family’s saris to dry in order of color, taking the pains to smooth each piece of fabric and making sure none of them touch. In exchange for doing the family’s laundry today, Janaki and Rama are allowed to do their own, an exchange of goods and services that has served them well so far.

“We both know what I mean,” she hears in response. “You’ve just been elected President of the University Student Union, your father is up for election this year, and even if neither of those things were important enough you must have research you should be doing instead of traveling the coastline with the penniless, disgraced son of an industrialist.” His voice is as matter of fact as it always seems to be with him, but Janaki feels an undercurrent of self-hatred at the core of his little speech. Still, she thinks with a faint flush, it’s nice to know that he has kept up with her just as closely as she had him -- though of course it was much easier to find information about Ramachandra Raghuvanshi, always in the papers at exact, two week intervals so as to prevent the creation of scandals to amuse the public with during a news drought.

“I’d call your father a capitalist if I was really embarrassed to be seen with you,” she says back, “and there is more to be ashamed of in becoming rich through exploitation than in being poor through no fault of your own.”

Janaki hands over his kurta, and watches him wring it out one more time with hands stronger than her own. He smiles slightly. “The revolution never stops, does it?”

“No,” she smiles in return. “Not with me, and not, I think, with you either.”

Rama looks away, walking back to the rope to hang up his shirt. “What do you know about me that makes you so confident?” He pursues his lips briefly. “We weren’t even friends, and still you’re here with me.”

Why are you here, Janaki hears go unspoken, why haven’t you abandoned me as well?

When Janaki arrived on campus all starry eyed at 17, she had taken the student body by storm. Blessed with a vibrant personality and the natural pull of a gravity well, she brought people into her orbit effortlessly, rising up the university party ranks within months rather than years of her peers. Academically, she was registered as an economics student, a category the papers said she shared with the Raghuvanshi heir who had created quite the stir when he took his place at an Indian University instead of going abroad. She had been doing quite well, she thought, until the exhaustion after her first collection drive in support of a local workers’ strike fund had caught up to her and she had slept through a full day’s worth of classes. Just when Janaki had been about to call up an acquaintance in their batch she thought might lend her notes, a folder had been slipped underneath her dorm door. Inside, a set of meticulous notes, and a 2 lakh check.

“Isn’t the factory a subsidiary of the Raghuvanshi group?” Janaki’s roommate asked, turning over the check as Janaki flipped through the notes. Thank you for your work, they said at the top. Please let me know if the workers need more.

“Yes,” she had said, “but we can’t tell anyone about this.” For four years she had kept his secret, waiting for his packages whenever she was detained, or ill, or beaten up and could not attend the day’s lectures. More than just a copy of the class outline, Rama’s notes were full of asides, connections, slips of paper clipped with outside citations when he saw something that could be countered, or expanded on. When the party canvassed for funds, her notes would arrive with another check, no demands made in exchange except a humble request to let him know if they ever needed more.

Janaki looks at Rama now, hair growing long to match his new beard. Ramachandra Raghuvanshi had always been clean shaven, hair short and neat and slightly parted to the side in a way every girl instinctively knew must have been how his mother told him would suit. Her eyes soften.

“You used to take notes for me,” she says, “Why?”

His lips turn down just slightly. “It helped me study, to transcribe them again.”

Janaki raises an eyebrow. She remembers that the notes had always focused especially on areas she was known to be weak in, but she lets his half-truth slide. She has a better arrow in her quiver.

“And the money?”

His eyes are trained to the ground. “It wasn’t my money.” Well, certainly the last six weeks have made that much clear. But Janaki did not remember Rama spending exorbitantly in school: his largest expenses seemed to be the checks he sent her.

“We weren’t friends,” Janaki agrees, “But I knew that you were a good man,” Janaki says, “even if you’ve had to hide it from your family your whole life.” She snorts. “And if we weren’t friends then, we certainly are now -- look, I’m washing your underwear right now, and if that isn’t friendship I don’t know what is!”

The joke isn’t really that funny, but suddenly Rama bursts into laughter, loud and deep in a way Janaki doesn’t think she’d ever heard from him in class, on campus, even in the videos posted by the gossip rags online.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he finally says, and Janaki tries not to show her surprise or the way that makes her hurt on his behalf. “But I would be grateful to be yours.”

Another two months pass, Janaki and Rama journeying up and down and around the west coast. Slowly, Rama starts to gravitate towards the work that he seems suited to do in trade for the day’s food and shelter, and Janaki watches as he seems to blossom in front of her eyes. Every place they drive into, Janaki begins to ask around and invariably there is a person who, more than needing wood split or clothes washed, is in need of a good scribe to write, in English, the details of their grievance against someone with more power than them. Rama listens, and writes, and accompanies men and women to go see a lawyer, or their landlords, and stands behind them speaking in that perfect colonial era British Indian accent he says he picked up at boarding school, making even Janaki squirm when she hears it.

Janaki’s ideology does not allow for her to venerate colonial markers of class, so that squirm must be one of discomfort, rather than, well, --

It has been three months since Janaki and Rama set out on their travels, and time is running out for Janaki who really does have things she has to get back to: a student union to run, a doctorate to work towards, a father’s election campaign to help out with. But everytime Janaki thinks about waking up one morning without seeing him when she turns her head, the pit in her stomach grows larger and more snarled. She doesn’t know how it happened but somehow Rama has gone from acquaintance, to friend, to....to something Janaki can’t even describe beyond simply laying claim to the person at her side. He has become “her” Rama, even though she knows you can’t own a person -- yet Janaki is greedy, and when she watches the small smiles that their trip has coaxed out of his mouth, watches him bargain with their host so that she can eat her favorite vegetable at dinner, watches him finally fall asleep after talking to her for hours into the night and finally look like the youth he is, Janaki knows that she can’t bear to leave.

“Are you angry,” she asks one day, passing him the newspaper cone of roasted peanuts they’ve been trading between themselves while they sit on the sand of an empty beach. There is no need to clarify what he possibly could be angry about.

“No,” he says, taking the cone. “I obey my father’s will.”

From anyone else, Janaki would laugh, but she knows that he speaks the truth as he sees it. The Raghuvanshis raised the perfect scion, a boy right out of those terrible 90s Hindi films who saw their parents as God and venerated at the altar of increased profits. Yet, they chose to throw him like yesterday’s trash -- but no matter, because their loss is Janaki’s gain, and she knows him, knows what makes him happy and sad, and glad and mad.

She knows, for one, that he is angry and that he needs to acknowledge it before she can ask him to come back with her and start over.

“Yes,” she says, “you obeyed quite beautifully. That doesn’t mean you aren’t upset.”

“Don’t -- I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

She turns to look at him, jaw already clenched where usually it would take five times as long to get him to this state. He’s furious. Janaki’s heart aches in sympathy, longing to gather him up in her arms and tell him that it’s alright to be upset, that it would even be right to feel so, to kiss away the furrow in his beautiful brow and brush his curls behind his ear. But that would only make him close up, so instead --

“Don’t what?” she asks.

His entire body tightens, like a screw wound one turn too much. “I’m not upset,” he hisses, eyes flashing. “I’m fine!” Janaki brushes her hand over the one of his currently crushing the newspaper cone. As if burned, he lets go.

Sita sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’re clearly angry and it really isn’t healthy to keep it all in. There’s no one here at the beach, so I think you should just scream it out and try to move on with your life.” She’s not being entirely truthful, since she really does think he should talk about his family’s sudden and entire abandonment after years of encouraging near insane amounts of familial loyalty and emotional repression, but even this journey started out with a single step.

“You think I should... scream,” Rama says, eyebrow raised in perfect, aristocratic, condescension. Janaki nods.

“Just go out into the surf, scream at the top of your lungs for 20 seconds, and then we can leave no questions asked. I promise.”

“You won’t bring this up again,” he asks as if to confirm the terms of a business deal. Perhaps that’s what this is to him, finally back on familiar territory. Janaki shrugs, ignoring how her heart sinks to think of him seeing her care as nothing more than something to trade in order to keep away.

“For now.” At his frown, she shrugs again, allowing herself to smile a little. “If it looks like you’re struggling in the future, I’m definitely going to ask again.”

For a moment, Rama’s eyes widen in ...shock? Surprise? Was he not expecting for them to remain in each other’s lives? Janaki can’t allow herself to think too hard or long on the subject, especially since Rama has, without a word, risen and walked over to the surf.

He glances once over his shoulder, and Janaki waves in encouragement. He begins to scream.

20 seconds pass, and Janaki really does think he will stop and walk back, brushing off any questions and wandering back into the village they’ve decided to stay in this week. But then 30 pass, then a minute, and suddenly Rama is just screaming, knees falling into the waves and hands coming up to clutch and pull at his hair and Janaki is running as fast as she ever has to crash next to him in the wet sand. She shifts sideways, putting her body perpendicular to his so that her back is not to the waves but she can still look at his face -- he’s still screaming, doesn’t seem to have noticed her body next to his, tears streaming down his face. Janaki’s hands flail, but finally she realizes that she can only rely on the instincts that have led her the past few months to find him, to drag him on the back of her bike, to tell him to scream.

Janaki pulls Rama into her chest, her arms around him as she begins to weep along with him. Every time she tries to grasp the scale of the injustice done to him, she finds that her mind is too small. He was raised with every luxury, but with a conditional love that demanded a machine instead of a man. He’s stopped screaming, but has replaced it with gut wrenching sobs, hoarse from when his throat seems to have finally given out -- Janaki wonders when he last wept.

She loves him, she realizes, pressing an absent kiss into his hair. That’s what this feeling must be.

“You what?”

Oh, Janaki thinks, did I say that aloud?

“Ah,” she hears, “yes you did.” Rama raises his head, both of them still kneeling in the surf, tear tracks glistening down the cheeks he had just shaved at the request of an older lady who offered to house them if only he would look respectable. “Do you mean it?”

Janaki swallows, the pit in her stomach as large as it ever has been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be -- she was supposed to convince him to come back with her, and then later talk about how she wants to kiss him silly.

“You want me to come back with you?” Oh for--

“Yes,” she says, confident that nothing she thinks now will remain within the privacy of her mind. “I want you to come back with me, and study to become a lawyer, and live with me as we try to make the world a better place.”

Rama’s eyes are wide, and Janaki wonders if she’s ever seen him look so fragile. He sputters.

“Fragile? I don’t look frag--”

Janaki laughs, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek, right thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. “Alright?”

Rama swallows, blinking his assent as if he suddenly can’t speak. A minute passes where the only sound is of the ocean waves crashing gently in front of them, water periodically flooding them up to their hips.

Rama clears his throat. “Do...” he takes a breath, “do you really think I could?”

“What,” Janaki asks, “become a lawyer?”

He nods. “Everything. I...” he looks away, and Janaki feels the beginning of euphoria. In his eyes there is fear, but not dread -- he wants what she wants, wants it bad. “My entire life I was trained to bring honor to our family name, to do that by making money and keeping my family members happy. I don’t--” Janaki’s thumb moves from his cheekbone to his lips, before he can say something idiotic like ‘I don’t know how to keep you happy.’ Rama laughs, eyes glistening with hopefully something other than tears.

“But I don’t know! Your needs are so different from the people I grew up with!”

Janaki leans forward until her forehead rests against his and their lips nearly touch. “I love you as you are,” she says, “the things I want, you’ve already given me.”

She can feel his brow crinkle, pressed as it is against hers. “I don’t own anything to give you!”

Janaki laughs: only the hideously rich could think so.

“I’m greedy,” she says, eyes closed as wave after wave of happiness floods her exponentially like the way the water of the high tide touches further and further parts of the land. “I want things that you’ve given no one else -- your grief, and joy, and triumph, and failure. I want to wake up with you, and go to sleep with you, and make breakfast with you, and dinner too. I want--”

Rama bridges the gap, and Janaki says no more. He gasps when they break apart, and a vicious part of her wants to ask if he’d kissed any of the high society women he’d been photographed with like that.

“No,” he laughs, and Janaki feels another thrill to see it. “It wouldn’t have been polite.” He leans back, bringing up his own hands to cup her entire head in his palms, lips curved in a wistful smile. “Everyday you confuse me.”

Janaki bites her lip when he doesn’t continue. “Do you like that?”

He shakes his head, and suddenly the pit comes roaring back. “I think I love it,” he says instead, smiling still. “I think I love you, Janaki.”

His smile widens, almost a full grin now. “My Jaan.”

#ramayana #maya writes #obviously this is just wish fulfillment #but he goes back with her becomes a lawyer #leaves behind the company #eventually probably reconciles with his family #definitely with his poor brothers stuck abroad who don't know wtf is happening #but he never goes back to running hte company esp when hes in love with communist sita #who gleefully talks about her 'class traitor' husband #he takes her last name when they marry eventually #oh i keep calling her sita on instinct instead of janaki #which is a change i made entirely based on how much nicer janaki videha rolled off the tongue than sita videha #its just a slight different but w/e #i still think sita is the prettier and better name tho #also...had to be janaki so that the nickname could be jaan #had to sneak that shit in ok its gold #but yeah he becomes a lawyer specializing in land rights cases vs the state #its all very sexy

37 notes · View notes

365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

Text

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Twenty-Three: They’re Better Than That ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina, vulgarity ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ] [ This piece is a sequel to Days Fourteen and Eighteen ]

Well...Sasuke can say this is certainly a first. And hopefully a last, as far as his career is concerned. Because as a hunter of monsters...working with one is the last thing he should be doing.

Though if he thinks about it...this isn’t the first partnership between himself and this soft-spoken harpy. When he’d targeted her as a potential trophy to prove himself as a Hunter, he’d instead ended up saving her life, teaming up with her against a far more dangerous threat: a vampire.

That, of course, wasn’t exactly planned on either of their parts. Sasuke never intended to spare a monster, and Hinata the harpy never expected to be allowed to live by a Hunter. But the most irritating thing - from Sasuke’s stance, at least - was Hinata’s insistence in her debt to him.

As it turns out...her kind take debt very, very seriously. ‘To the grave’ sort of serious. And now, she owed him her life.

Or so she claimed.

And Sasuke was not happy about that. It was bad enough he let her go, worse still that he lied to his family and clan of Hunters about it. He’d planned on simply avoiding her from then on, but Fate had another idea: to put her in the range of his first official case, looking into an illegal gambling ring run by a kitsune...or werefox, as they’re more technically called.

As it so happens, Hinata seems to know the man in question: one named Naruto, according to her. He’s already had a run-in with monster law, or Nightwalkers as they all call themselves. You’d think that would be enough to send him running him with his tail tucked between his legs. But just in case...Sasuke decides to pay him a visit. See if he can end this without violence.

Oh, if his father could see him now...he’s likely exile him.

But Hinata has pleaded on this Naruto’s behalf. Sure, he’s been swindling humans and risking an exposure of the worlds to one another, but apparently he’s really not a bad guy.

Sasuke will believe that when he sees it. But he promised Hinata he’d do what he could to avoid bloodshed.

Why? He’s not even sure anymore. Maybe he’s too soft to be a Hunter as his father feared. But...too late now.

“How much further?”

“His scent is getting pretty strong,” Hinata assures him softly. “Likely within a block.”

“You can really smell him?”

She glances to him curiously. “Yes…?”

“...sorry. Guess it’s just...weird to realize. I mean I know you can. Just...weird to see it in practice.”

Staring at him for a moment, Hinata dares to ask, “Because you kill us before you can do so?”

In spite of himself, he flinches with a grimace. “...yeah.”

“...I understand. I’ve never seen one of you up close before. It’s...still a little unsettling, if...if I can be honest.”

“It’s a lot less insulting than us talking about me killing you,” Sasuke rebukes, expression still torn.

She doesn’t have a reply for that, and in fact motions for him to pause as she takes a lungful of air at a crossroads of alleyways. “...I think -”

“Whoa!”

Hinata shrinks back with an eep and a flurry of feathers, Sasuke squawking gracelessly as she hides behind him.

In front of them, leaning back and looking ready to bolt, is a man fitting Sasuke’s given description of the werefox: blond, blue-eyed, tanned...this has to be their guy.

“N...Naruto-kun!” Hinata then offers, her bird-like traits vanishing as she realizes who very nearly bumped into her.

“...oh! Uh...Hinata, right? Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“S-sorry! I...I didn’t realize you were that close.”

The blond blinks. “You lookin’ for me?”

“Yes! Well...sort of…?” She gives Sasuke a wary, indicative glance. “I...I have someone here who needs to - to talk to you.”

“Uh...okay. Lookin’ to make some cash there, my dude? I’ve got a couple of really good -!”

“I’m not looking to gamble, let alone illegally,” Sasuke cuts in, already a bit annoyed by the man’s ‘too-cool’ attitude and slick way of speaking. The word ‘illegal’ makes Naruto shift his gears to a defensive posture. “I’ve been sent out by a local clan of Hunters to investigate your dealings and make sure they stop. Permanently.”

Panic laces Naruto’s face as he realizes just who and what Sasuke is. “W-whoa, wait - what? You’re a -? Aw shit, I already got lectured by that old wolf the other day, I don’t need this now, too!”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata cuts in gently. “We...that is to say, I’m just w-worried about you. If both the Enforcers and the Hunters know about what you’ve been doing...you’re putting yourself in real danger by -!”

“No one’s seen me!” Naruto then cuts in, looking jittery. Sasuke subtly adjusts his posture, ready to give chase if he bolts. “I swear! Yeah I swindled a few Daywalkers but they’re dumb as a box of rocks! No one knows what I am, guarantee it!”

“Anyone come back angry after you swindled them?” Sasuke growls.

“No! Uh, well...okay, a few. But I can talk my way outta anything! Honest! They have no idea!”

“Your luck can’t last forever,” the Uchiha counters. “One of these days, you’re going to slip up and get caught. And if a human realizes what you are and their illusion is shattered, that’s going to make a really big mess. For me, and for your Enforcer friends. Surely you don’t want to piss us both off, right?”

Unbidden as his stress rises, a pair of golden, ink-tipped ears spring out of the man’s hair, pinned in worry. “Look, I-I don’t want any trouble, ‘ttebayo! I was just tryin’ to make a living! You know how hard it is to get a job around here?”

“I have some idea.”

“I got thrown out of the last three I had. They accused me of stealing! It wasn’t stealing, I just…” He gestures vaguely. “...it’s in my nature!”

“Wily foxes. Believe me, I know,” Sasuke mutters, arms crossing. “No-good thieves, swindlers, and con artists.”

“Hey!” Stepping between the two, Hinata puffs up, and despite them not being visible, Sasuke can still picture her feathers ruffling. “Naruto-kun isn’t a bad person - he’s better than that! Stereotypes like that hurt us a l-lot more than you know.”

“Yeah. Like birds being easily spooked and flighty?” Sasuke counters, seeing her wince. “He’s literally running an illegal gambling ring and ripping people off. He’s doing exactly what I said he’d do. And if he keeps doing it, he’s gonna lose a lot more than a job.”

“Please...there has to be s-something we can do…?”

“You, uh…” Naruto takes half a step back, hands lifted. “You’re not gonna kill me, are ya?”

“That depends entirely on what you do, fox,” Sasuke rebukes. “Because right now, I have orders to do just that to ensure you don’t stir up more trouble than you can handle and cause a major incident between humans and monsters.”

The blond pales, eyes widening.

After a pause, Sasuke sighs. “...but I’d rather not kill you. And the only way I can let that happen is if you swear that your swindling days are over. That you’re not gonna keep pulling these stunts and risk you, and a lot of other people, getting hurt because of the panic at a monster being seen. Quit the game altogether, go clean...and I can let you go.” He then steps forward, grabbing the front of the blond’s jacket and ignoring his yip of surprise. “But if I hear about any more werefoxes around here getting their paws dirty...I won’t be so merciful next time. Got it?”

Blanching, Naruto just gives several rapid nods, stumbling back as Sasuke releases his hold. “You...y-you got it, man. I-I’ll go clean! Never touch any cards or dice again, I s-swear it!”

“I’ll be holding you to that. Now get out of here and find something else to do than lurking around alleyways, huh?”

Not needing to be told twice, Naruto spins on a heel and - in a blink - shifts into a huge, two-tailed fox that bolts down the road and out of sight.

Sighing, Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose. “...I’m gonna be in so much shit if anyone finds out about this…”

“You did the right thing,” Hinata murmurs, hands folded at her front. “I think you s-scared him straight. I’ll check in on him later and...make sure.”

He gives her an unreadable glance. “...thanks.”

Considering him, Hinata then hesitantly admits, “You’re...nothing like I thought you would be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re...not just a killer. You think, and...you reason. I’ve always heard that Hunters are ruthless...heartless.”

Thinking of his family and their records, Sasuke barely withholds a grimace. “...I might just be an exception to the rule.”

“Well...I’m glad you are. We’re really not bad people, you know. We’re just...t-trying to survive, like everyone else. Sure, some of us stir up trouble...a-and hurt people. But then again...so do Daywalkers. Humans, I mean,” she adds after a pause. “I think maybe...you see that.”

“All I see is me failing to do my job twice now,” he sighs.

“Well...that failure meant two people are still alive,” Hinata replies softly. “...doesn’t that mean something?”

Contradictions running through his mind and giving him a headache, Sasuke waves her off. “...I dunno. But you better get home, and...I better get out of here. And you,” he adds, pointing at her, “are no longer indebted to me. You repaid me with your help tonight, so let it go.”

“But you helped my friend! If anything, I -!”

“Look, I told you: being in debt to me is dangerous for you! If anyone I know were to see me talking to you and not cutting off your head, we’d both be good as dead. You need to stay the hell away from me from now on.”

Not expecting his sharp tone, she retreats a step, eyes wide and tinged with fright. “...b-but...it was you who came looking for me -?”

“This time. And the last time. I thought this would get that debt idea out of your head, but it seems I was wrong.” Stepping up, he rests his finger against her collarbone, trying to look intimidating. “...for your own sake...never see me again.”

Unreadable flickers of emotions dart across her face. “...a-as you wish.”

Hoping he’s made his point, Sasuke stares at her a moment longer before backing away and heading back toward the main road. Why he bothered trying to warn her, he doesn’t understand. She’s a monster. His mortal enemy. What should he care if her actions get herself killed? It would just be one less of them to worry about!

...and yet...it’s getting awfully hard to draw a line between himself, and any other human he knows...and her. Sure, she can burst into feathers, but...her mannerisms, her behavior, her emotions...they’re all exactly like anyone else.

...they’re human.

Buried in his thoughts as he walks, Sasuke stands beside his bike for a long moment, not wanting to drive with his head in the clouds. Everything he’s been taught about monsters - about Nightwalkers - seems to be less and less meaningful the more he interacts with them. Decades, centuries of tradition...are they...wrong…?

Scowling to himself, Sasuke forces the dilemma aside - he needs to report back. He doesn’t have Naruto’s head to present them...and admitting he let the guy go isn’t an option. He can claim the fox escaped...but that won’t stop the hunt for him. Naruto will have to lay low for a good long while for his kin to give up the chase.

But hopefully he realizes that much.

Hoping astride his bike and kicking up the stand, Sasuke veers from the curb and turns around back toward home. He’s too tired and too frustrated to be thinking about all of this. It’s far too large a topic...and he doesn’t have all the answers. Nor can he ask anyone - questioning their oath to rid the world of monsters will surely just get him in trouble. He doesn’t even dare ask Itachi.

...so for now, he’ll just...try not to think about it.

Woo, another piece done today! No idea if there’ll be a third, but we’ll see lol Anywho, more of the new-plot monster verse! This one is growing on me, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t sure it would since I had another multi-part story in this verse with an alternate plot - I thought it’d bore me. But I’m pleasantly surprised lol - and hopefully you guys are enjoying it! I always feel like I can’t write Naruto well. So hopefully I did a passable job with him, eh heh~ Otherwise, I...guess there’s not much to say? I’ve gotta run and get some irl things done, but we’ll see about another part today. We’re still five days behind, but...better than nothing xD Hope y’all enjoyed and I’ll see you in the next one!

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #vulgarity //#of monsters and men [ au ]

7 notes · View notes

richmond-rex · 4 years

Note

🌹🌹 - If I’m not too late!

Oh, you’re definitely not late! I was here thinking to myself which excerpt I could post without giving too many spoilers away, and I remember I wrote the first chapter of a character study about Cardinal Beaufort on the days before my thesis’ viva—I needed to decompress and I couldn’t possibly try to write my usual fics and characters because nothing would come out right. But I had no emotional attachment to Henry Winchester whatsoever besides a mere curiosity and for once I wanted the challenge of writing a devious, cunning character. The fic is entitled Four Kings, Five Scenes and each chapter was supposed to portray the cardinal during four different reigns: King Richard II (ch 1), King Henry IV (ch 2), King Henry V (ch 3), King Henry VI (ch 4) and King Henry VI again (ch 5). Obviously, I realised that no one would want to read this story lol. It really was the stress of the moment that made me write the first chapter. Well, since I’m not going to publish it anywhere and the chapter is fairly small compared to my usual chapter length (5k or more), you can read it here below the cut! Tagging @nuingiliath because she might be interested as well.

OLD TEMPLE, HOLBORN

Late September 1398

“Tell me what I ought to do, brother.”

Henry Beaufort, newly-appointed Bishop of Lincoln, rolled the episcopal ring on his finger—amethyst flaring under the sunlight—and let out an exasperated, long-held sigh. He could see its tracking ascendence in the air, the way the dust specks caught in the sunbeam would spiral and dance. Though old as its very name suggested, Old Temple was still one of the finest episcopal houses in London, bought for the exclusive use of the bishops of Lincoln after the Knights Templar decided to move within the borders of the City. A dusty residence it might be, but it was still one of the various privileges acquired after Henry’s consecration, or perhaps more importantly, his legitimisation. Everything was coming together, and yet, all hung at the brink of destruction.

“You are the eldest of us, John,” Lincoln replied, voice softening. “It is for you to lead us once Father is gone.”

His brother turned from the arched window, face twisting into a frown. He looked lost, utterly and completely lost, the tip of his red chaperon thrown over one shoulder as if the very fabric was trapping him in place or threatening to coil around his neck and squeeze out his breath.

“You’re the family’s clergyman.” He entreated, stepping closer. “Tell me, brother. What would God have me do?”

It was Lincoln’s turn to frown. By then the morning had given way to noon and the bishop had just finished donning his purple robes, a gold-threaded stole hanging from either side of his neck. It was almost time for Lincoln to resume his administrative duties concerning his diocese—let not anyone claim Henry Beaufort had earned his mitre by bribery and favouritism. He ran a hand along his tonsured head—he still had to send for his zucchetto hat to be brought to him—and paused in that pensive state, partially choosing what to say and partially assessing when he should schedule another shaving.

“God would have you love your brother—” He clasped his hands before his stomach, magnanimously. “—and obey your king.”

It was the first opportunity the two Beauforts had to discuss Bolingbroke’s banishment from the kingdom. It was an urgent matter: Henry Bolingbroke was Duke of Hereford and Earl of Derby, and—that was the most important piece of information—their father’s rightful heir. He was to inherit the large possessions and prodigious fortune that belonged to the Duke of Lancaster, the richest man in the realm—or so it had seemed, at least until the moment King Richard sent him into exile. The king had not mentioned his Lancastrian inheritance but as all invisible things, it still had its own weight, it still cast its own shadow. Lancaster himself was no less worried for the omission of the matter. It hung heavily, unresolved, in the air.

His brother John, lately elevated from his earldom of Somerset to the marquessate of Dorset, resumed his speech after a brief moment of consideration.

“I say Bolingbroke is a good Christian, brother. He has vowed to defend the faithful and I know he means well and true.”

John would know, the two of them had gone crusading together. While John, Bolingbroke and Swynford were bonding over tournaments and military expeditions, young Henry had his head buried deep in manuscripts and missals. For a time it had been a fancy of Henry’s to imagine himself a Knight Templar fighting for the kingdom of Christ in the Holy Land: the armour, the tabard and the red cross, entire armies under his command as a Grand Master. A child’s fancy, yes, for the Templars were no more—yet there Lincoln stood, at the very place those brothers had once called home. There was a rightness to it, a taste he could feel at the very tip of his tongue. Lancaster might have arranged for the trio of brothers to be admitted into the Confraternity at Lincoln’s Cathedral but it was he—Henry Beaufort—the one chosen to command the entire diocese now.

His brother John didn’t even seem to notice his state of reminiscence. He kept talking, his words coming to Lincoln’s ears in all of their ardour again.

“—I didn’t speak for Uncle Gloucester at the time and now it weighs on my conscience! Worse, brother, I condemned him! I called for his very arrest!”

“Woodstock was a traitor of the realm.” The bishop deadpanned. “It was your duty as a peer to call for his arrest. You know that as well as I d—”

A boy holding his purple zucchetto was just about to enter the room. The bishop dismissed him with a sharp turn of his head, shooed him away with a glare and a quick motion of his hand. The boy scurried away, his hurried steps echoing on the flagstones. Lincoln frowned, pressed his lips into a thin line: his own brusqueness had displeased him. He should be nobler in his actions, loftier, gentler even, a true shepherd of Christ. As he turned, he saw John had already stepped back to the window. Once again, he didn’t seem to have noticed any commotion around him.

“Be as it may, this time is different.” John restarted. “Our brother has done no wrong against the king. There is only one explanation for this—” John stopped short before he went further, checking himself at the very last minute. He didn’t utter the word, but it hovered just above them, somewhere over their heads. Retribution. Vengeance for the time Bolingbroke joined the Lords Appellant and rebelled against cousin Richard. One by one those rebels had been crushed.

The glass panels tinted his brother’s face with green, spots of red covered his face as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Shocking blue, poisonous red, a liquid green so fresh one could almost drink.

“It was cruel to make him fight Mowbray to the death, but there was still honour in it. There’s no honour to be found in exile.” He closed his eyes. “He has six children, Henry.”

This time the bishop’s reply was swift. “Father will take care of them. As will we if it comes to such an end. We shall support the family as we always have.”

John, still looking very much disheartened, acceded with a small nod. “You know,” he smiled weakly, eyes growing distant like a far-away ship. “I used to look up to him when I was little. All I ever wanted was to be like Bolingbroke, a true son of Lancaster.”

The sensation was familiar to the bishop himself, only his brother still seem to hold to that boyish memory as his heart’s truest wish, even now that his aspirations were supported by law: standing there at the bishop’s residence, John was dressed in Lancaster blue and white, their father’s SS livery collar hung over his shoulders, the S-shaped links crafted in pure gold and held closely together.

A sting of bittersweetness washed over the bishop. What if… what if the king had Bolingbroke attainted? Surely, King Richard was unpredictable those days—no one had been quite able to placate his moods ever since Queen Anne had died—but if the king did attaint their brother, neither he nor his children would be authorised to inherit Lancaster’s lands and title. Perhaps… perhaps King Richard would choose to pass them over to Lancaster’s next legitimate male heir, in that case, his brother John himself.

“Dear brother, why do you choose to dwell in such sorrowful thoughts? Father loves you best.”

John turned to him sharply. “You cannot know such a thing!”

Oh, the plain irony of watching his brother’s face turned into a scowl that mirrored exactly the one their father was famous to possess! John had Lancaster’s same strong nose, as did the bishop himself, yet now at his anger, his brother had turned into the very picture of John of Gaunt. It was oftentimes that natural children would have their sire’s face if not his name, as if it was an underhanded way of nature to compensate for their social ostracism.

“He does.” The bishop repeated in a firm voice. He clasped his hands, a position that gave him reassurance in difficult situations. “Recall that Father has done everything in his power to make us his true children. He appealed to Parliament and His Holiness the Pope Himself, he moved mountains to secure our charts of legitimisation. All this time, he has extensively defended our cause to the king. Now, that same king has banished his heir from the land and the Duke of Lancaster poses no resistance. Why do you think that is?”

It was not exactly true, but it was what his brother needed to hear. Lancaster had, in fact, negotiated with the king to the best of his abilities, a piece of information that the bishop suspected his brother John knew already. The Marquess of Dorset was, after all, well-placed within cousin Richard’s circle. A more credible point against the bishop’s claim would be, however, that the Duke of Lancaster rarely ever showed his true emotions, fatherly or otherwise. It would be impossible to say whom he loved best.

“If Father will not risk his head over this matter, John—John, my beloved John! Heed my words now. You should not risk your own!”

John looked at him with such heaviness it bore into the bishop’s own soul. Henry walked over to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You have a good heart, John. It is loyal and true and it bears testament to your character, but it will get you killed. Remember who gave you your earldom of Somerset, who made you marquess of Dorset, knight of the Garter, who married you to that illustrious lady, the king’s own niece. He who appointed you as Constable of Dover—”

“—Warden of the Cinq Ports, Admiral of the Fleet in the North and West, Lieutenant in Aquitaine, I know, I know!” John took a long breath. “I know. The king, our cousin.”

King Richard himself had fastened the earl’s belt during John’s girding; the king himself had draped the velvet cloak across John’s shoulders. The ceremony had been clear enough: the earl’s power derived from his authority and his authority alone.

The bishop retrieved his hand from his brother’s shoulder slowly, pulled it back inch by inch until it was safely resting against its twin counterpart, flat against his stomach.

“Father has been unwell. When the Lord deems time to call him to His side again, who will look after us? Remember our brother Tom, so young and not yet a peer. Remember Joan and her children. Remember Mother.”

“No. No, brother, you speak true.” John conceded with a nod. “I can’t endanger your safety nor leave any of you unprotected. I cannot defy the king.”

There was resolution on his face, yet there was sadness as well. The bishop still sought a way of soothing his brother’s heart. “Let me be the one to speak for our brother. Cousin Richard already knows I’ve had my whole diocese pray for him. I stand safer as a prelate than you do as a courtier.”

In a second, his brother gripped his shoulder, displaced the stole hung around the bishop’s neck with a heartiness that surprised him. As though they were mere, simple children again, John smiled in truth at last.

“You have always been the wisest of us, brother. Yet,” He looked down,chuckled. “Yet sometimes I still remember that boy who vowed to God he would become pope.”

Bishop Beaufort felt his lips quirk up—a genuine, delicious thrill elicited by the memory—and so, accordingly, he lowered his eyelids in modesty. “All wisdom comes from our Holy Mother, the Church. All grace from God the Lord Almighty and His Son, Christ the Holy Lamb.” His prelate answer given, he glanced up again. “Sometimes I caught myself thinking of that boy as well, dear John, yet times have changed.”

John raised an eyebrow, apparently befuddled. “Have they?”

“Yes,” The bishop replied, no longer speaking of the ambitions held for a long time inside his heart. “If for the better or for the worse, only the future will tell.”

_______________________ *notes: it’s said that John Beaufort, while still suporting Richard II at the time of Bolingbroke’s invasion, might have played a double game. When he was captured by his brother’s forces and the Percys called for his execution, Henry IV is supposed to have said: “I beseech you do him no harm, for he is my brother, and has always been my friend; see the letter he sent to me in France.” Henry IV later made John Beaufort his Lord Chamberlain.

Henry Beaufort remained close to his brother John up until his last breath. The bishop stayed by his side at St Katherine’s hospital while he was dying. Henry was made executor of John’s will, a mark of deep trust, if not also affection the brothers had for each other. It may explain why Cardinal Beaufort vouched for his nephews, his brother’s children, so fiercely in the coming decades.

#lady-plantagenet #fic: four kings five scenes #hoping to god tumblr will not mess this post!#cardinal beaufort

7 notes · View notes

ryqoshay · 3 years

Text

TA Followup: RPG Night

Followup Post for Tri-Arame: RPG Night

Author’s Note Continued: I actually started writing this scene about halfway through writing Change Overnight, because I had I finally gotten around to reading Setsu and Ayu’s Bond stories in SIFAS. Then I got sidetracked a bit and have now finally made it back.

So, I suppose some of the promised character details are in order. This absolutely will get long, so it’s going to have to go under the cut.

First off, though I don’t bring up much detail in this scene, more may come into play if I write other scenes like this, this takes place in a world created by the DM with whom I’ve played the most over the years. All of the in-game characters, and many, many others came into being because what was supposed to be a two paragraph character bio for a character I was to play in one of their D&D games, turned into a two page story. Then twenty. Then two hundred... New characters. New towns. New spells. New artifacts. New classes. And much more.

And then I stopped. I honestly don’t even remember why, as it certainly was not for the lack of ideas or notes or outlines for new scenes or the like. But the characters and their many stories have been gathering digital dust on my drives ever since.

I still think about them often, though. Quotes in movies and anime and such regularly make me consider what character might say them and in what circumstance. My headcanons for NicoMaki were shaped in part by what I already had planned for RyqoYoza. The reverse applies as well, as I translated one of Ooshima Tomo’s works into something that would work for RyqoYoza.

And maybe writing this scene will inspire me to write more of my D&D story. Who knows. But enough of that, you’re probably here more to learn about the new characters than to read my ramblings. Well, I will apologize in advance, as I may end up rambling a bit about them. To more easily locate a given character, I will bold their name at the start of their entry.

Also, the mercenary guild, of which all of the characters below are members, is known as Ryqo’s Roughnecks. Yes, those Roughnecks, from Starship Troopers, because I loved that movie, that’s really the only reason. I already had Ricochet as a character, so Rico’s Roughnecks was a quick and easy choice for when I wanted to register a guild in City of Heroes.

Ryqoshay, real name Rebecca Bouteillevoix, is a young girl who took over a mercenary guild after her parents were killed. Her father was raising her to take over the guild after him anyway, but she ended up doing so a lot sooner than either would have liked.

Her original nickname growing up was Ricochet as she was always “bouncing off the walls” with her high energy and neigh eternal optimism. It was also a joke referencing a typically undesirable outcome for archery, which was a strong interest for her. Upon her parents’ death, she took the first letter of each of their names, Yuri and Quentin, and misspelled her existing nickname to create her mercenary call sign; she kept the pronunciation for those who might wonder.

She matured a bit with the weight of running a mercenary guild, but still maintains much of her high energy and enthusiasm of her younger years.

Were I ever to get around to commissioning a picture of her, I would likely describe her general appearance as manga-version Nico for her stature, hair color and hair style, but with Setsuna’s face and eye color. Her outfits generally consist of dark purple and white, as those are her favorite colors.

Yozakura, real name Hakume Yaiba, (given name first for the sake of consistency) was hired by Ryqo’s parents as a bodyguard. As part of the payment, she was to be trained by Yuri, Ryqo’s mother, in the ways of the assassin.

She is the type of girl who takes her duties extremely seriously, to the point that after Yuri was killed and obviously could no longer fulfill her end of the contract, she insisted on renegotiation so as to continue to protect Ryqo. There were probably other reasons affecting her judgement at the time, but she has loyally remained by Ryqo’s side for years.

As for appearance, though younger than Ryqo, she is taller; think Maki and Nico. She wears her blonde hair long and takes pride in braiding it intricately and securing it with an ornate pin given to her by Ryqo years ago. Her standard ninja outfit is grey with pink highlights as they are her favorite colors. For covert operations where stealth and deniability are crucial, she would dye her hair and use the Shiftweave function of her clothes to change her outfit. She would also wear something to change her natural blue eyes to something different.

Nullsilver Luna, real name only known to a precious few, is a young elven girl adopted by the Bouteillevoix family and has thus taken the role of Ryqo’s younger sister, despite being decades older than her.

After one to many of her experiments exploded, causing too much collateral damage and injury, Luna was exiled from her ancestrial home and ended up wandering the human kingdoms for years. Upon adoption into the Bouteillevoix family, Quentin, the leader of the Roughnecks at the time, hired her to be their artificer.

Her inventions still occasionally blow up, but the Roughnecks have proven far more tolerant of this than the elves in her homeland. The fact that she can better weaponize the effect nowadays may play into things.

As for her appearance, as mentioned in the scene, her hair occasionally changed color, because reasons. Same for her eyes. She’s been exposed to so many wild magics and artifice through out her life that things are no longer normal for her, or stable. The only consistent part of her wardrobe is an oversized white coat with multiple pockets that she has effectively turned into a bag of holding. She cares little for color or style and will thus wear whatever else is handy.

Also, her personality is not all that unlike Rina, so it was an easy fit to chose her to be played by Rina.

Recipere, often shortened to Rx, real name Rachel Ira Xaviera is a cleric who joined the Roughnecks in hopes that working with them might regain her favor with her deity.

Rx is the sole survivor of a border town caught between two warring kingdoms. When one of the generals of one said kingdom found soldiers from his enemy being treated alongside his own, he ordered the town razed. She went on to gather others disillusioned with the war and proceeded to go on Roaring Rampage of Revenge (trope!) against the general. In doing so, she may have gone a bit overboard and lost her connection with her deity.

After some wandering, she came across a wounded Ryqo and Yoza who had just escaped the massacre that took the lives of Yuri and Quentin, and healed them with magics to which she had thought she had lost access. For reasons not entirely known to her, joining the Roughnecks has reinstated her standing with her deity and allowed her to be a cleric once again.

Rx wears her blonde hair short and neat, under a bandana or some other head covering. As her deity is that of the sun, she leans towards using yellow, gold and white in her outfits.

Lady Sanguine, real name Vivian Sexton, is a woman who was raised in a village of barbarians despite not belonging to any of their bloodlines. She is the child of the unlikely pairing of a healer and a necromancer, the former of whom gave her up to the village to keep her hidden and safe from the latter.

The traumatic experience of having to kill her fiance to protect the village from his betrayal caused something to split in her mind. Specifically, her bloodlust gained its own personality and voice within her mind and gave itself the name Sanguine. Sanguine is also responsible for Vivian’s barbarian rage.

Vivian left the village after the death of her fiance by her own hands and wandered for a while before coming across the Roughnecks. She joins the guild and earns the call sign Lady Sanguine because Ryqo thought it fit her. However, once Sanguine became known, most in the guild started using Vivian’s given name to reduce confusion over who was in charge at a given time.

Vivian has blood red hair and vivid green eyes. (yes, yes, totally original, I know.) As of version 3.5e, she wore blood red armor, but if I ever get around to translating her into 5e, that may change since the class now seems to get a bonus for forgoing armor.

So yeah, that’s about as short an intro as I can give for these women. I could easily write pages for each, but I started this whole post a bit later than intended and I’m rapidly running out of time to sleep. Anyway, thank you to anyone who’s actually read this far. But I should probably write at least a tiny bit about players and character assignments.

Yuu playing Ryqo was an easy choice. They’re both high energy cheerful genki girls. They both have dark hair that they keep in twintails, though Ryqo doesn’t dye her tips green. And as Ryqo is the leader of the guild and Yuu is the idol club president, that was yet another match.

Ayumu got Yoza as they are both childhood friends with their respective counterparts, Yuu and Ryqo. They do have a few personality differences, e.g. Yoza would probably be a better match with Maki, but she’s not playing this game. But they’re both diligent and loyal, so I think things will work out.

Rina was an easy fit for Luna. They’re both tinkerers with their world’s respective tech. They’re both emotionally challenged, so to speak, though I hadn’t considered emotively challenged for Luna; now I am.

With need of a tankier character for the group, I recruited Vivian and originally assigned her to Ai as I believed her energetic personality could keep up with a rowdy barbarian. And of course the punny name played a role in the decision as well, as did the fact that I already had Rina as a player.

Shizuku needed to be brought in because not only is she an aspiring actress, she expressed interest in playing a TTRPG hosted by Setsuna in Setsu’s bond story. The team needed a healer, so so got Rx. I figured any mismatch in personalities could be made up for by Shizu’s acting ability.

Then Shizu’s anime episode dropped. The inner dialogue between black and white resonated with me and the stuff I’d written between Sanguine and Vivian. I realized I needed to reassign things.

Thus, Shizu is now playing a barbarian with a split personality and Ai is playing the healer. I’m using the excuse that Ai takes pleasure in helping clubs succeed by filling whatever role is necessary, so to help this game she is taking up the mantle of healer to help ensure the game’s success.

And there we have it, probably the longest set of Author’s Notes I’ve ever written... deities help me if I ever do something like this in one sitting again.

#Tri-Arame

3 notes · View notes

crystalelemental · 4 years

Text

Antagonists of Elibe

When I was writing up the Limstella character piece, there was a point I wanted to fit in but couldn’t find a good way to introduce without breaking the flow. My wife insisted I should make a separate post about it, so here it is. The main point is that, across both Elibe games, a big emphasis seems to be placed on empathy and understanding the other side of things, and how that ties in to the antagonists, how they’re presented, and why each outcome is so impactful to me, personally.

Empathy in Elibe Starting with the main prospect, I think empathy is kind of a central theme for Elibe. Not in a specific sense, but in the broad sense of having empathy and compassion for all life, not just your own. Our protagonists, Eliwood and Roy, are almost entirely defined by their kindness, understanding, and acceptance of others.

Eliwood’s supports with Ninian are entirely around this. Ninian is hesitant with him at first, and with others, given her history. Her mother was killed in a war with humans, the remainder of her people were driven into exile beyond the dragon’s gate, and as a high-profile oracle in their world, she deals endlessly with the dragons who seek revenge upon humans to reclaim their world. Dragons and humans have always seemed to have bad blood for one another. Yet here’s Eliwood, who can honestly tell her that her background doesn’t matter.

Ninian: “It’s strange. All of you treat my brother and me so...normally. Doesn’t it bother you? Our powers, our looks. We’re different from...people...” Eliwood: “Has that been bothering you? What’s wrong with being a bit different from other people? When I look at you, I don’t see other people. I see Ninian. A normal, kindhearted girl.”

The entire basis of their relationship is because they can look past the differences, and find commonalities. They’re able to see the good in the other, and that in turn paves the way for Roy.

Roy is similarly able to see the good in everything. He comes to the aid of others, and seeks to protect all life, not just his own. This culminates in his battle with Zephiel, his proclamation of faith in the good in humans, and finally his decision to protect and save Idunn. The entire focus of these games is about a family starting to correct the ills of the past, and reaching out to the other side in friendship. Sound familiar?

I feel like Fire Emblem, as a series, really likes to play with this. It’s the entire basis for the Tellius games, and is the central theme of Fodlan, which is why I believe Claude’s route is the true route. But that’s something for another day. The main reason I bring this up is to shift into the antagonists, and how their actions and histories play with the central theme.

Zephiel I’m gonna start with Zephiel, since I have the least to talk about with him. Zephiel’s history is that, as a child, he excelled as a leader, a soldier, at pretty much everything. Yet his father only hated him for it. He believed that Zephiel could not possibly be his legitimate heir, and felt jealousy toward Zephiel’s accomplishments. So much so that he tried to have Zephiel assassinated. Twice, if Binding Blade’s explanation if different from the event in Blazing Blade. Zephiel has grown up surrounded by hate, even within his own race. Humans from different countries can’t even get along, and everything with them is about seizing power and siding with those who are strong. The entire progression of Biding Blade is to accentuate Zephiel’s point: every minor antagonist sides with Bern for selfish motivations. Humans can’t be trusted, so we should turn leadership over to dragons, who will do a better job.

Roy disagrees, and because we’ve lived the adventure with him, we can see Zephiel’s point, but we also see Roy’s. Whenever something has gone off course, humans corrected the problem. Turning leadership over to dragons to rule is just keeping the same problem, but changing which hand is holding it. Dragon leadership alone would be no better, and the true ending route confirms this belief. We learn about the earthly dragons, how they chose to lead and respond to the Scouring, and the lengths they went to. They’re no better than humans. They were willing to torture a child into becoming a living weapon for them, claiming survival. But we know from Blazing Blade, if survival were all they sought, they could have fled beyond the Dragon’s Gate. This was an act of domination against humans, and Zephiel’s aim was to facilitate that dominance.

Zephiel serves as a villain because he fails to empathize with the full picture. He’s simply lashing out at humanity, which has done awful things to him, in fairness. But he’s willing to deny any wrongdoing on the part of dragons, and willingly uses Idunn as a tool of war, just as the dragons did before. That’s the villain path. Even if Zephiel truly believed that humans are better off living under dragon control. Even if Zephiel believes that dragons were less cruel than humans. The fact that he’s willing to sacrifice and use the lives of others to achieve an ambition is where he’s gone wrong. Life cannot be sacrificed for a greater good, and that alone is what sets Zephiel up as the villain.

Nergal Nergal is very similar to Zephiel, but in a different direction. For those not familiar with his history, Nergal was alive at the time of the Scouring. He was a practitioner of the dark arts, who had married a dragon, and even had two children with said dragon. However, when the Scouring was picking up, his wife was captured by humans. Nergal set out to get her back, but left his children on the Dread Isle near the Dragon’s Gate, and told them to pass through it if he hadn’t returned in ten days’ time. Though he sought to keep them safe if he failed, the end result was that Nergal was too late to save his wife, and then too late to return to his children. His family was gone. For hundreds of years, he wandered the world, until he met Athos, a hero of the Scouring. They traveled together for a time, and eventually found Arcadia, a hidden oasis in the desert where humans and dragons lived in harmony. It was here that Nergal found the secret art of manipulating quintessence, known only to dragons, and likely divine dragons. Using this art, Nergal would kill living creatures, and began to create Morphs, entities with human likeness, but allegedly no emotion or drive beyond serving their creator. I talked a lot about whether this is true in the Limstella analysis, so please refer to that for the rebuttal.

The point is, given the history, Nergal is set to be a sympathetic villain, much like Zephiel. He lost his entire family to a meaningless war, found a way to possibly revive his wife, then loses his reason for this and seeks only power. It’s a tragedy, right? Well, yes, but honestly I think there was no other outcome.

When you dig into Nergal, there’s one thing that’s clear: Nergal steadily lost himself. It wasn’t all at once. When Athos confronts him, it’s unlikely he’s lost himself completely by this. And even if he had, starting out, Nergal knew what he was doing. He weighed the choice, and determined that sacrificing other life to bring back his wife was a good trade. There’s no empathy for other life, only its use for his own purposes. He doesn’t see past his trauma.

What’s more, Morphs clearly have souls. They think and feel. Limstella’s dialogue makes this clear, Kishuna’s existence makes this clear, Canas and Renault’s supports make this clear. Yet it’s very directly stated that Nergal creates his Morphs, then abandons them. Unless they’re part of his ultimate goal, he has no use for them. And he makes a lot. When Kishuna was created, he was, I believe, #252. This was when Nergal still had care for his successful creations, as opposed to the later flashback where he’s telling Kishuna to rot as a worthless creation. Even before Nergal devolved to the point of only seeking power, he was creating life and casting it aside, as if it were nothing. He even tells Kishuna that “it won’t do to refer to you as a number,” implying that most of his creations are just numbers. He thinks very little of other life, even from the start. There was never enough care for others, and thus this path to villainy was almost guaranteed.

The Limits of Empathy The previous two antagonists bring up a compelling thought: what are the limits of empathy? When has a person gone too far to give consideration to the past and circumstances that led them here? I think Eliwood’s confrontation with Nergal sums it up nicely:

Nergal: “It confirmed some things for me. That trust brings betrayal. That friends bring weakness!” Eliwood: “If that’s what you learned from your encounter, then you are a fool. Do you believe for a moment, than when Athos struck down his dearest friend, he felt nothing?! His heart was torn in two, and yet you refused to understand that! Nergal! I will defeat you! Here! Today! But, even now there is no hatred in my heart. You, who were born human. You, who lost the heart that defines your humanity... For you, I have nothing but pity.”

There are two answers. One is “never.” Even at the end of their conflict, Eliwood never holds hate for Nergal. After everything, there’s still a level of human connection that triumphs over hatred. The second is, when they become dismissive of other life. Nergal was always dismissive, and when Athos fought against him, all he learned was that friends betray you, rather than that his actions were wrong.

I’ve only played Binding Blade once (as opposed to the like 50 times I’ve played Blazing Blade), but I don’t recall Roy holding any hatred for Zephiel, or anyone else, either. Rather, he recognizes that what they’re doing brings harm to people, and seeks to stop them because he must.

That’s the limit these games suggest. When someone is actively endangering life, using life as a tool for their own gains. That’s when you can’t let understanding of their circumstances stay your hand. But it’s equally important to never lose that empathy, that heart that defines humanity.

Idunn Idunn is the odd antagonist out, and my personal favorite of the three. Idunn’s history is...honestly the opposite of the other two. She embodies the first answer but neglects the second. Idunn is a divine dragon. During the Scouring, the earthly dragons sought aid from the divine dragons, requesting the creation of War Dragons. They were losing the war because dragon reproduction is significantly longer than human reproduction, and so they were essentially outnumbered. War Dragons could be spawned by divine dragons, likely in a similar fashion to the creation of Morphs, and could turn the tide of the war. The divine dragons refused the request, and left Elibe entirely. Except one.

Idunn was the only one to hesitate. As it’s explained in the endgame of Binding Blade, she felt empathy for the earthly dragons, and worried about their circumstances. This allowed them to catch her, and subsequently destroy her soul, creating the Demon Dragon that would obey their commands to flood the world in War Dragons. When the dragons lost the war anyway, Idunn was sealed away for 1000 years, until Zephiel awakened her. Zephiel then used her to again bring War Dragons into the world, in an effort to turn the world over to dragons.

Idunn is such a unique case to me, because the only defining personality trait we get from her is her empathy. She couldn’t just abandon the earthly dragons without attacks of conscience. Yet because of that, she was captured and betrayed. The divine dragons were right to leave the earthly dragons behind, knowing what they would do. Perhaps it’s because Idunn was young, or perhaps it’s because she was a divine dragon and had never associated with the earthly dragons or humans, but she didn’t understand that some people could be cruel. She didn’t realize that, despite feeling that empathy for the dragons, there was a good reason to turn them down.

It also established another important point. Jahn, the last dragon standing with Idunn, expresses that dragons don’t have emotions, and that dragons and humans could not possibly live together because of these differences. He calls Brunnya incomprehensible, and seems to look down on emotion as a weakness exclusive to humans. Yet we see that empathy from Idunn, we’ve seen Arcadia where humans and dragons do coexist, and in Blazing Blade we see Ninian and Nils, who are definitely expressive. Jahn seems to have internalized this sense of hatred toward humanity, such that he rejects any possible similarities to connect with. Jahn is a symbol of the hatred the dragons had toward humans, and likely that humans felt toward dragons. Idunn and Jahn together paint the picture that dragons and humans are more alike than they seem, and that the earthly dragons made a choice to continue the fighting, and to continue hating humans.

This isn’t lost on Roy, either, whose final act is one of compassion. In absolute threat level, Idunn is a bigger risk to keep around than Zephiel ever was. Zephiel started a war, but Idunn had the potential to endlessly flood the world with war dragons, and end humanity entirely. Yet in applied threat...Idunn was never a threat at all. She was a victim of the war, someone who never sought to hurt anyone, and never had a choice in her role. Comparatively, Zephiel and Jahn both cast aside consideration for her and others, and sought to use her as a weapon for their own ends. Roy’s final act is stopping Idunn from carrying out her orders, but then saves her life, bringing her to Arcadia to restore her soul. Chronologically, this is when the mistakes of Elibe’s past are finally righted, and relations between humans and dragons can begin on a grander scale. In any other circumstance, had someone cast aside empathy when doing what needed to be done, Idunn would be killed and a threat removed. It is specifically because Roy maintains empathy toward others, even his enemies, that old wounds can finally heal.

Conclusions Elibe is still my favorite. Blazing Blade may have been my first game, but I really feel it holds up, even now. While there are people who say the stories aren’t that strong, or that the casts aren’t that strong, I feel like what stands out with Elibe is how it integrates its themes and the understandable nature of their villains. A lot of games in the series either don’t go for sympathetic villain, or try in a way that doesn’t quite hit home. The Blades games manage to present villains with a compelling and sympathetic history, while simultaneously expressing that some people are beyond redemption. And I think that’s a good balance to strike. It’s important to always consider what impacts another, and what their lives were like. But there have to be limits in what’s tolerated based on a sympathetic past, and sometimes you do have to stand against someone who’s wrong, no matter what they’ve been through. But at the end of the day, the one thing you can’t abandon is that empathy for others. Even when taking a stand against evil, hate can’t be the reason you do so.

#fire emblem #fire emblem binding blade #fire emblem blazing blade #idunn #nergal #zephiel #the nergal section is what I wanted to work into the limstella analysis #but I couldn't find a way to do it without breaking the flow

11 notes · View notes