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#and smuggled it north

fluorescentbrains · 6 months

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hardcore christians are either the worst people you’ve ever met in your life or on another plane of spiritual enlightenment there’s no in between

#thinking about the pastor (?) who keeps smuggling people out of north korea even though everyone is like you have to stop you’re going to #get Super Assassinated #this applies to other religious practices too the duality of Christians is just really funny to me

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vox-anglosphere · 1 year

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Robin Hood's Bay was a busy haven for smugglers in the 18th century

#Robin Hood's Bay #North Yorkshire #North Sea #smuggling #stone walls #coastline #seaport #low tide #picturesque #UK

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nochildmissed · 2 years

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"Are you sure I'm on the nice list?"

Arthur went reaching into his backpack before Steven even had the chance to finish the question. From it he pulled a rather tightly rolled, thick piece of parchment. The famous Nice List.

“Let’s see for ourselves.” He said with a broad smile, holding the page and letting it unfurl onto the ground. From there it rolled away, away, away, even out the door. Long list— and this was just the S’s. Arthur began to scan the paper, drifting further and further down to the proper section. “Steven Quartz DeMayo-Universe, let’s see…”

Finally he stops and points to a line. “Ah-hah! Here you are.” Arthur turns the paper towards Steven. Right there delicate, glittering script, was his name. “In your rightful place. And the list is never wrong.”

#;;ask #;;mobile #arthur smuggling the nice list out of the North Pole just to make a point

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year

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"NAB CONTRABAND BEAVER," North Bay Nugget. March 22, 1943. Page 3. ---- VALUE ILLEGAL FURS AT 1,000 ---- Beaver Pelts en Route to Toronto From Cochrane Seized on Train at North Bay; Shipper Liable to Fine ---- A trunk filled with contraband beaver pelts, valued at approximately $1,000 was intercepted and seized by G. M. Parks, superintendent of the department of game and fisheries on Sunday night, while being shipped from Cochrane to Toronto.

Investigation is being pressed to find the shipper of the illegal furs, who would face a fine ranging from $600 to $3,000 for handling and shipping them.

Seized on Train The beaver, which filled a mail trunk, were shipped from Cochrane on Sunday being seized on the train at North Bay en route to Toronto. The trunk was immediately taken to a locksmith, and upon being opened proved to be filled with the contraband pelts.

Trapping of beaver is considered one of the most serious infractions of game and fisheries law, and fines ranging from $20 to $100 a pelt are usually imposed on any one found handling them. Considered the most valuable of forest animals, in that their dams provide a source of water in dry weather helping to prevent forest fires, and attracting other fur-bearing water animals, such as mink, muskrat and otter, beaver are heavily protected under provincial law. There have been no long open seasons on them recently, and for this reason they are believed to have greatly increased in number. If caught, the trapper, dealer who shipped them, and person who was to receive them could all be heavily fined.

While it is difficult to place a valuation on the pelts until they have been graded by an expert furrier, it believed that those seized Sunday night would be worth at least $1,000.

#north bay #cochrane #illegal hunting #fur trapping #illegal trapping #fur trade #fur trade in canada #canadian beaver #regulation of hunting #illegal furs #smuggling contraband #northern ontario #police raid #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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creativitytoexplore · 2 years

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From protester to fighter: Fleeing Iran's brutal crackdown to take up arms over the border | CNN

From protester to fighter: Fleeing Iran’s brutal crackdown to take up arms over the border | CNN

Iraqi Kurdistan CNN — A teenage dissident trailed behind a group of smugglers in the borderlands of western Iran. For three days, Rezan trekked a rocky mountain range and walked through minefields along a winding path forged by seasoned smugglers to circumnavigate the country’s heavily armed Revolutionary Guards. It was a trip too dangerous for respite of much more than a few stolen moments at…

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spideystark · 2 years

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I've never been able to pinpoint exactly why I love Jasper Hale so much, but I realized recently that it's because of my abandonment issues 😂

#HE IS JUST SO LOYAL TO ALICE I CAN'T HELP IT 😭#also I will not accept any Canon other than him having joined the army to help smuggle slaves to the north.

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samvadprakriya · 2 years

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डीआरआई ने उत्तर-पूर्वी सीमा से तस्करी कर लाया जा रहा 11.65 करोड़ रुपये मूल्य का 23.23 किलोग्राम सोना जब्त किया, 4 गिरफ्तार

सितंबर 2022 के दौरान डीआरआई द्वारा नॉर्थ ईस्ट कॉरिडोर में 121 किलोग्राम सोना बरामद करने के 11 मामले राजस्व आसूचना निदेशालय (डीआरआई) द्वारा उत्तर-पूर्व में हाल ही में सोने की बरामदगी बांग्लादेश और म्यांमार से लगे उत्तर-पूर्वी सीमाओं के जरिए सोने की तस्करी में तेजी का संकेत देती है। अतीत में जहां तस्करी के लिए खुली सीमाओं का उपयोग किया जाता रहा है, वहीं अकेले सितंबर 2022 में 121 किलोग्राम सोने की…

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#DRI seizes #gold recovered #North East Corridor #North-East border #smuggling

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thewriterwithnoplan · 4 months

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THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #soulmate au

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whencyclopedia · 11 days

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Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian's Wall (known in antiquity as the Vallum Hadriani or the Vallum Aelian) is a defensive frontier work in northern Britain which dates from 122 CE. The wall ran from coast to coast at a length of 73 statute miles (120 km). Though the wall is commonly thought to have been built to mark the boundary line between Britain and Scotland, this is not so; no one knows the actual motivation behind its construction but it does not delineate a boundary between two countries.

While the wall did simply mark the northern boundary of the Roman Empire in Britain at the time, theories regarding the purpose of such a massive building project range from limiting immigration, to controlling smuggling, to keeping the indigenous people at bay north of the wall. The wall continued in use until it was abandoned in the early 5th century CE.

Purpose

The military effectiveness of the wall has been questioned by many scholars over the years owing to its length and the positioning of the fortifications along the route. The argument goes that, had the wall actually been built as a defensive barrier, it would have been constructed differently and at another location. Regarding this, Professors Scarre and Fagan write,

Archaeologists and historians have long debated whether Hadrian's Wall was an effective military barrier…Whatever its military effectiveness, however, it was clearly a powerful symbol of Roman military might. The biographer of Hadrian remarks that the emperor built the wall to separate the Romans from the barbarians. In the same way, the Chinese emperors built the Great Wall to separate China from the barbarous steppe peoples to the north. In both cases, in addition to any military function, the physical barriers served in the eyes of their builders to reinforce the conceptual divide between civilized and noncivilized. They were part of the ideology of empire. (Ancient Civilizations, 313)

This seems to be the best explanation for the underlying motive behind the construction of Hadrian's Wall. The Romans had been dealing with uprisings in Britain since their conquest of the region. Although Rome's first contact with Britain was through Julius Caesar's expeditions there in 55/54 BCE, Rome did not begin any systematic conquest until the year 43 CE under the Emperor Claudius (r. 41-54 CE).

The revolt of Boudicca of the Iceni in 60/61 CE resulted in the massacre of many Roman citizens and the destruction of major cities (among them, Londinium, modern London) and, according to the historian Tacitus (56-117 CE), fully demonstrated the barbaric ways of the Britons to the Roman mind.

Boudicca's forces were defeated at The Battle of Watling Street by General Gaius Suetonius Paulinus in 61 CE. At the Battle of Mons Graupius, in the region which is now Scotland, the Roman General Gnaeus Julius Agricola won a decisive victory over the Caledonians under Calgacus in 83 CE. Both of these engagements, as well as the uprising in the north in 119 CE (suppressed by the Roman governor and general Quintus Pompeius Falco), substantiated that the Romans were up to the task of managing the indigenous people of Britain.

The suggestion that Hadrian's Wall, then, was built to hold back or somehow control the people of the north does not seem as likely as that it was constructed as a show of force. Hadrian's foreign policy was consistently “peace through strength” and the wall would have been an impressive illustration of that principle. In the same way that Julius Caesar built his famous bridge across the Rhine in 55 BCE simply to show that he, and therefore Rome, could go anywhere and do anything, Hadrian perhaps had his wall constructed for precisely the same purpose.

#History #122CE #410CE #AntonineWall #WHE #[#]

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plumadot · 1 month

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Ohhh pleaseeee tell us about the scarred mans backstoryyyy!! do tell us if we need tissues though i cry very easily-

scar wandered the forests of the north after being raised by wolves and the druids there. the forest spirits taught him to harness and utilize the magic of nature itself. he's after the people who burned down his home in the woods and won't rest until he's found them- wait

wait no. he's from a noble family in a big coastal city, and after being told he was to marry the heir of another family without having met them even once, he escaped on a merchant ship never to be seen again- hold on. no no that's. that's not right

let me think. he's spent his whole life with a group of traveling bards who have taught him everything he knows. they were accused of a crime they didn't commit, and with the help of his friends he was smuggled out of jail. now he will stop at nothing to make sure they walk free as well- no, no no no

all of these stories and more have been told at some point. but. which, if any of them, is actually true?

#plume says #hehe #plume dnd au

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axelsagewrites · 5 months

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So I know you already did a lot of Ramsey x reader oneshots but honestly I just love how you write them so can I request a oneshot for Ramsey Bolton x fem reader where the reader is a servant (this has nothing to do with the previous servant oneshots) and Ramsey is attracted to her but doesn’t act on it and she accidentally stumbles upon him killing his father and she hides in the corner somewhere in the room and over hears him planning to kill his stepmother and brother so she tries to help them and get to them before Ramsey dose but she is unsuccessful and Ramsey discovers what she tried to do so she begs for forgiveness and he tells her he will consider it if she can prove to him why she deserves it so he takes her to the room where he flays people and has sex with her on the X-shaped cross ?

Ramsay Bolton*Little Mouse

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x f!reader

Word count: 1950

Warnings: roose being murdered, dub con, p in v sex, nipple play, unprotected sex, biting, hickeys, spanking, bruises, X cross sex, teasing, degrading, orgasm denial, begging, bondage, choking, restraints, smut 18+

a/n: thank u sm for being so sweet anon

Masterlist Here

Everyone hated Ramsay Bolton. Ever since his father took over Winterfell his name was brought up in hushed angry whispers amongst the servants. You hated him too. In theory at least.

You tried to hate him and partook in the gossips and whispers that surrounded him but perhaps it wasn’t in your nature to hate. Perhaps deep down he was not as bad as he seemed. The rumours after all were just gossip told to you from the few servants, they brought from the Dread fort.

Things had been grower tenser, if possible, recently with Sansa escaping and the possibility of Ramsay’s own replacement if this baby was a son. You were glad Sansa had escaped but even more grateful no one had found out you had smuggled her notes.

Roose Bolton didn’t even ask you to pour the wine, just tapped the rim of his cup. You topped it up as he, Ramsay, and another Lord discussed the Snow dilemma. “My lord,” you bowed your head as you walked away. the jug was empty, so you excused yourself to refill it.

You went as quickly as you could, not wishing to spark his temper which had been easier recently. However, as you crept through the open door you had to hold back a gasp when you saw Roose Bolton’s glassy eyes staring at you in shock as Ramsay plunged the knife into his stomach a second time before shoving his father to the ground.

Your eyes then turned to the Maester. His gaze met yours and the moment it did you stepped back, turning to place your back flush against the wall beside the door, praying the other two had not noticed you. “Send ravens to the houses of the north,” Ramsay began to instruct him, “Tell them he was poisoned by our enemies,”

The words began to ring hollow in your ear as your breathing grew rough. However, seven words snapped you out your daze, “Find my brother and make it swift,”

You felt your feet carry you away before you could stop yourself, still holding the flagon of wine. You had to find her but as you wandered the halls you found your mind clouding over, unable to recall what room she’d been moved to for the birth. As you began to rush to the servants’ quarters you felt a hand clamp over your mouth, another around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The jug fell to the ground with a clatter as the finest wine in the north spilt on the dirty stone.

“Don’t scream little mouse,” Ramsay’s voice whispered in your ear. “It won’t do you any good,” he said, removing his hand slowly from your mouth.

“My lord. How can I- “

“You never came back with the wine,” he tutted, “I missed your pretty face,”

“I had to fetch a fresh barrel- “

“Liar,” he hissed in your ear, biting your lobe and making you gasp, “What did you see? and don’t lie to me this time,” he added when you went to speak.

You swallowed hard as his hand moved to hold your neck gently, but you had seen how tight his grip could be, “I say Roose Bolton die my lord. Poisoned by our enemies,”

His chuckled vibrated up his chest making the hair on your neck stand up. You gasped when his hand suddenly turned you to face him, your face just an inch from his, “I’m going to have some fun with you little mouse,”

“Where are we?” you asked in a shaky voice as Ramsay led you down a narrow set of stairs.

They led to a single wooden door which he creaked open with a smile, “Ladies first,” he said.

This was it. you were going to die. You walked into the room, and you felt your blood drain. “My lord please no,” you began to beg, “I’ll tell no one I swear. I know nothing, nothing at all. I am just some stupid servant my lord no one would believe me anyway,” you stuttered, your eyes locked on the X shaped cross.

You heard his laugh, but your eyes would not fall from the cross. “Your silly little girl,” he mumbled in your ear. His arms moved to wrap around your waist, your back pressed against his hard chest as he began to walk you over to the cross, “I do not wish to hurt you,” he said, gently spinning you to face him, “Unless you make me of course. but you won’t do that, will you?” he asked, brushing the stray hairs out your face.

“No, my lord,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his.

A small smirk appeared on his lips, “Good. Now strip,”

“What- “

“Did I stutter?” he asked, cutting you off as his head dipped down till his lips were brushing against yours with each word, “Take those rags off and behave. Or I may just have to reconsider my offer to let you live,” he said, leaning back so you could begin to pull at the strings of your dress, “It’d be a shame too. I always liked when it was you serving me. Even if you can be slow at times,” he said, suddenly grabbing the dress round the collar and ripping it.

You gasped as he tore the dress more, pulling it down your body till it pooled to the floor, “That’s better now, isn’t it?” he asked, his head hanging low as his eyes scanned your body. His hands moved to run up your waist, squeezing it gently before moving further up to graze your tits. He groaned as he squeezed them, and you gasped at the feeling, but you felt a weird sensation growing in your stomach.

This was wrong. Everything about it from the way he walked you back till your back hit the wooden cross to the way his eyes scanned your naked frame. It was wrong, dirty, and shameful, but you couldn’t help but moan as he twisted your nipples between his fingers.

Ramsay chuckled when you did so, his eyes lifting to meet yours making a flush form on your cheeks, “Perhaps you’re not as innocent as you looked little one,” he teased, his hands falling from your tits to gently run down your arms.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist, slamming it against the wood making you whimper as he began to attach the first restraint. You watched his concentrated eyes as he did up the straps before moving to do the next one.

He began to sink to his knees, kissing down your chest then stomach and thighs as he went. He grabbed your ankle gently, kissing the top of your foot as he did the strap around your ankle. A chill ran down your spine at how exposed you suddenly felt as he did the final strap up.

Ramsay lifted his gaze before standing slowly with a smirk. You couldn’t even question it before you felt his fingers run up your slit making you gasp, “Now if I’m to keep you,” he began, speaking slowly as his nose ran up your neck till he could whisper in your ear, “You will need to prove yourself to me after your little stunt. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,”

“And if you disobey- “

“I won’t,” you cut him off this time. his head snapped to the side till his gaze was meeting yours, “I won’t disobey you, my lord. Never, not in a thousand years,”

“Really?” he said, leaning his body against yours as his fingers began to rub slow circles on your clit.

“Yes, my lord. I swear it,”

Ramsay’s lips skimmed along your neck before he began to suck dark marks along your neck, all while his fingers worked on your bundle of nerves making you want to clamp your legs together, but you couldn’t. “Already so worked up,” he tutted, his lips moving to your jaw, biting at the skin making you gasp, “So desperate for me,” he said, moving his fingers from your clit making you wine before pushing them in slowly.

He continued leaving bites along your skin as his fingers curled inside you, teasingly slow making you pull on your restraints more with each curl. You felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers and just as you felt your peak approaching, he ripped his fingers out. You couldn’t help but whine at the loss. A quick slap to your cunt swiftly followed making you gasp, “Don’t be greedy now,” Ramsay growled as his hand moved to untie the string of his trousers.

“Yes, my lord, sorry my lord,” you said your eyes moving to the ceiling to avoid his steely gaze, but his hand moved to grip your jaw.

He brought your eyes back down to his, “Look at me,” he said, meanwhile his hand moved to stroke his hardening cock. He smirked as your eyes stared into his, “Good girl,” he said, moving to press a kiss to your cheek.

The tenderness was interrupted by his tip pushing into your hole. A soft whimper fell from your lips making him groan, his head falling to the crook of your neck. He pushed in further, grunted as he did so, “So tight,” he mumbled against your skin as his cock began to stretch you out.

You gasped as he sunk himself all the way in, biting your lip as you tried to adjust but he wasted no time before his hips began to buck. His hands moved to grab your hips, his fingers sinking into your flesh so hard you wondered if it would bruise. You couldn’t bring yourself to care however when you felt a knot tightening in your stomach.

His hands moved to grab your tits, squeezing them harshly before pinching your nipples making you moan. “Yes,” he groaned, kissing up your neck, “Moan my name like the desperate girl you are,” “Ramsay,” you moaned, and you felt his hips speed up their pace. You moaned it louder when he began to roll your nipples between his fingers.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “such a good girl,” he praised as a hand slipped from your tit only to move to find your clit again.

He rubbed harsh quick circles on it which only made the knot tighten further. Your arms and legs pulled on the restraints, your body desperately wanting to tense at the growing sensation spreading through your stomach. Ramsay chuckled at your attempts, however.

Your cunt began to squeeze around his cock, your peak threatening to spill at any moment as his hips snapped against yours. you gasped as you felt your peak hit your body and couldn’t hold back the moan that left your lips as Ramsay continued to fuck you through it.

The feeling of you coming undone around him though only seemed to drive him crazier as his pace increased and his hand moved from your tit to hold your throat. He squeezed your neck, pushing your head up so he could kiss your jaw at the same time. it only took a few more thrusts before he finally spilled, unable to hold off any longer.

Ramsay practically collapsed against you, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. After a few moments he pulled back, pulling himself out at the same time. he pushed the hair out of your face, holding your jaw gently as his eyes scanned your bruised and bitten skin.

A smirk found its way on to his face, “Yes,” he murmured, his eyes finally meeting yours again, “I think I just might keep you little mouse,”

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#ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay snow #ramsay now smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones show #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #iwan rheon #iwan rheon smut #requested #asoiaf #asoiaf smut

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sokkastyles · 7 months

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AU where Aang is never freed from the iceberg but Katara finally sees her chance to go North to learn waterbending when a lone ship sails near her village one day. She smuggles herself aboard the ship, but only realizes after she sees the worn crimson uniforms of the soldiers that this is a Fire Nation vessel, and gradually learns that the captain is actually an exiled fire nation prince, which explains why this run down ship is by itself in the middle of the arctic.

Katara gradually learns more about Zuko by observing him from hiding, while Zuko becomes increasingly perplexed at why things seem to keep going missing around the ship, food supplies and blankets and little odds and ends. At first, Katara thinks she'll get off at the first Earth Kingdom port they come to, but then she thinks that this is her opportunity to sabotage whatever the Fire Nation is up to. She witnesses Zuko's tenuous hold on his men, though, and the way he's treated like a pariah by the other FN officers, this prince who is really no more than a boy close to her own age, and learns the story of his scar, and she can't help but wonder about him.

One day, she surprises him in his cabin, with an icicle at his throat, and ends up making a deal with him. He agrees to take her North in exchange for his life. Zuko at first tells himself he'll be glad when he's rid of her, but gradually the two form an odd, tentative truce.

When they get to the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko's ship rendezvous with and is betrayed by Zhao, who plans to invade like in canon. Zuko ends up captured by the Northern Water Tribe, and Katara finds herself in the odd position of having to vouch for him, this boy who she's seen enough of to believe that he might be the one to help end the war.

#zutara #zuko #katara #au prompt

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 8 months

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I am absolutely shocked that we're still seeing claims that Ed is illiterate. Aside from the racism of it all (why is that we have to debate if a brown man can read?), it's just clearly disproven in the show.

Aside from the massive interest Ed shows in Stede's library (part of that is class, of course, books were a rarity even on land and Ed has probably never seen so many in one place before), and the papers on his desk in his cabin, Ed is literally shown reading on screen at the party in episode 5. He seats himself at the table before most of the other guests have filled in, so it's not a matter of chance, and we're clearly shown the placecard that he had to read to let him know where to sit.

If that's not conclusive proof that Ed can read, I don't know what is.

Okay, then why did Ed sign the Act of Grace with an X? Historically, it's true that signing with an X was often used for people who were illiterate, but you know when it was also used? Indigenous leaders in North America often signed treaties with colonizing forces with an X, symbolizing that the treaties were being made under unfair conditions and they did not approve of the terms but they had no other choice. (If you're interested in this topic, check out X-Marks by Scott Lyons; it's a great book.)

I'm open to discussion about how and when Ed learned to read. Did he teach himself? I read a fanfic once where his mom smuggled books from the estates where she worked so he could learn, I love that idea. Does he like reading, or is it another upper-class thing he struggles with convincing himself he can have? Ed's relationship with literacy is definitely a worthwhile conversation to have. But there's no question that he can read, and I am so sick of reading about how a White man has to teach him.

#ofmd #ofmd ed teach

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