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allycryz · 3 years

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WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing. It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered.

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers.

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy.

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.”

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys.

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended.

Haurchefant is certainly not offended.

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest. “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better. Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute!#I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

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ginmo · 4 years

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on brienne being ymb what could brienne steal from cersei

Power. Cersei’s true love is power. Jaime is viewed as the male version of herself, and she resents that she wasn’t born a man. She believes she has to use men to do the deeds she’d like to carry out on her own, to gain power in the patriarchy.

“I should have been born a man. I would have no need of any of you then. - TYRION, ACOK

Within the tower, the smoke from the torches irritated her eyes, but Cersei did not weep, no more than her father would have. I am the only true son he ever had. - CERSEI, AFFC

"Your turn," she told him afterward. "Pull his mane, I dare you." He never did. I should have had the sword, not him. - CERSEI, ADWD

And she depends on Jaime the most

“As I was fucking her, Cersei cried, ‘I want.’ I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead.” The things I do for love. “It was only by chance that Stark’s own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first …” - JAIME, AFFC

Jaime, you’re my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most! He is stealing my son, sending me away … and unless you stop him, Father is going to force me to wed again! - JAIME, ASOS

Since she views them as the same, he is her sword, representing her warrior half that she was unable to be (until ASOS lmao which is why she starts getting angry). At one point, she gets irritated by Jaime rejecting her wishes, and she begins to think he’s just getting in the way. But then she realizes she needs him, not being able to trust the others. He will either save her or they die together.

Even in her exhausted, frightened state, the queen knew she dare not trust her fate to a court of sparrows. Nor could she count on Ser Kevan to intervene, after the words that had passed between them at their last meeting. It will have to be a trial by battle.

There is no other way. “Qyburn, for the love you bear me, I beg you, send a message for me. A raven if you can. A rider, if not. You must send to Riverrun, to my brother. Tell him what has happened, and write … write …”

“Yes, Your Grace?” She licked her lips, shivering. “Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

“As you command. ‘I love you’ thrice?”

“Thrice.” She had to reach him. “He will come. I know he will. He must. Jaime is my only hope.” - CERSEI, AFFC

But he burned her pleas for help and won’t be her champion because... he’ll be with Brienne, where ever the fuck that is (prayer circle for Quiet Isle), and has been for several weeks already. People believe the point of the prophecy is that it’s Cersei making it happen. This fits. Instead of loving Jaime for who he is while he started rediscovering his identity, Cersei pushed him away with her violent outbursts and nasty words, making it clear she was disgusted by his stump and who he was becoming. Therefore, when she sent her plea for help, he was like lmao no and then he ran off with Brienne to help her and Sansa instead. (The Sansa bit is a lie unless Brienne’s plan is to literally save him from LSH by having him help her find Sansa. Anyway, off topic haha).

I want to make it clear, though, that Brienne isn’t stealing Jaime. I know the prophecy says, “take all that you hold dear,” but that “take” is her sword, not Jaime as a person. He isn’t an object someone can take. Although, Cersei certainly views him as one, so she may perceive it as “take.”

There’s a misconception that Brienne changed Jaime, but that’s not what happened at all. After Jaime lost his swordhand he was essentially thrown into a path of self discovery.

And Jaime, losing a hand, losing the very thing he defined himself on is crucial to where I think I want to go with the character. And he questions what do you make of yourself if you’ve lost that.” - GRRM [x]

Brienne didn’t change him, and in the books she isn’t “driving his redemption arc.” (God don’t even get me started on that hot take). What she did do was convince him to keep on living and reminded him of the person he used to be. Like that’s kinda how life works... people inspire other people, but apparently in this fandom a female role model for a male character is problematic, and they aren’t allowed to fall in love lol. Anyway, all of that work came from Jaime himself, going back to who he truly is, for himself.

Crakehall. And me, that boy I was … when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys’s throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead. - JAIME, ASOS

Jaime didn't start out evil--that he actually was a very idealistic young man who was disillusioned by life, and that there was always much more to his killing of Arys than just "evil." [x]

So Brienne’s isn’t “taking” Jaime, he just would rather give his help to her than to Cersei, because she treats him with respect, and he made an oath. He could have said, “I know I made an oath, but I trust you to see it through. I have one hand, so I’d be of no use.” One-handed Jaime went, not just for the oath, but to give his help. He didn’t bother to help Cersei. If he truly cared about Cersei’s fate, he would have desperately tried to help in some form, even if he couldn’t be her champion. Trying to save her life would have been first priority. But... he’s tired of her bs. This is partly how Cersei pushed him right into Brienne’s arms, creating the YMB herself.

And honestly? Cersei does love Jaime (but loves him to the extent a narcissist can love). This bit in the prophecy is interesting.

Anger flashed across the child’s face. “If she tries I will have my brother kill her.” -CERSEI, AFFC

People argue that since she’s causing the prophecy to happen, then this quote points to Dany or Sansa, because Jaime’s allegiance has shifted due to her actions. Ignoring how I find it absolutely ridiculous that GRRM would have it be literal beauty when beauty is a theme for Cersei (and readers) to learn a lesson from, and that it would be basic as hell that he would want the readers (and Cersei) to go back and forth over “who’s the fairest of them all” (subversive BatB/Snow White hybrid), I’m... still not denying that possibility. I do believe Dany and Sansa are good candidates.

HOWEVER, I feel the irony is sweeter if the reason why Jaime won’t kill the YMB is because Jaime is in love with the woman she’d want to have killed lol. I’m not even sure Cersei would connect the dots if Brienne is YMB (because of the quote I’ll be addressing down the page a bit).

What’s also telling that Cersei holds Jaime dear (because... male her and therefore her perceived path to power), is that her friend states she wants to marry Jaime. Her friend expressing that she wants to marry Jaime became a threat, because she had just learned about the YMB, which can imply that Jaime is very much connected to what she holds dear, and possibly connected to the YMB through romance and marriage. So, she pushes her down the well to eliminate one candidate for YMB.

Cersei had not had a friend she so enjoyed since Melara Hetherspoon, and Melara had turned out to be a greedy little schemer with ideas above her station. - CERSEI, AFFC

Then, years later,

“He took Raventree and accepted Lord Blackwood’s surrender,” said her uncle, “but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

“A woman?” Cersei stared at him, uncomprehending. “What woman? Why? Where did they go?”

“No one knows. We’ve had no further word of him. The woman may have been the Evenstar’s daughter, Lady Brienne.”

Her. The queen remembered the Maid of Tarth, a huge, ugly, shambling thing who dressed in man’s mail. Jaime would never abandon me for such a creature. My raven never reached him, elsewise he would have come.- CERSEI, ADWD

Ah yes. So it begins.

#brienne of tarth #jaime lannister #jaime x brienne #for the subversive Batb/Snow White bit I meant to say that I DO think he might be doing that but not the striaght forward Who is Prettier #..#cersei lannister #ymb

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mywitchcultblr · 3 years

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The chantry is right and mages should be in the circle. Solas and anders are terrorists and anyone who believes they arent is delusional or a hypocrite. Anders killed a hundred innocent civillian non combatants and solas wants to tear down the veil killing millions in the process. But yes we should let the people causing firestorms and summoning demons go completely un supervised

MY FIRST ARGUMENT AGAINST A TEMPLAR BOOTLICKER! YAAY!

@lordaspoons Ok listen, first of all, I'm not felassan nor dalishlicious, my writings style is different and not as good as them, and I love to use a lot of profanities in my writings, so if you ever find ‘shit ‘ or ‘fuck’ in a post, not sorry I SWEAR THIS POST HAVE MORE THAN 7K WORDS! That’s why it took MONTHS for me to answer it

TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY ARE GOD-AWFUL AND CIRCLE IS NOT NECESSARY

Let’s see the canonical narrative okay? Let's take a look at Dragon Age keep descriptions of each MAGES heroes story and background.

Mage Hawke:

The son of Malcolm Hawke and Leandra Amell, Garrett has lived in many places throughout Ferelden. His father was a mage whose gifts were passed onto both Garrett and Bethany, Malcolm's daughter.

Malcolm refused to submit himself to the Chantry's rule; he kept his abilities a secret and taught his children to do the same.

Therefore, the family was constantly on the move to avoid templar hunters. Ten years ago, the family settled in the village of Lothering, building a home on the outskirts and making a life where they wouldn't forever be on the run.

Though Leandra worried constantly that the templars would one day catch up with them, Malcolm's teachings were sufficient to keep them safe.

He died three years ago, leaving Garrett responsible for the welfare of his mother and younger siblings. When the Blight began, Carver enlisted in King Cailan's regiment, saying the horde spilling from the Korcari Wilds meant their home would be quickly overrun if the darkspawn were not defeated immediately.

If the circle is not a goddamn prison that literally abused and drive so many mages to commit suicide then why the fuck hawke father decided to escaped and run away? The fact that even though his wife is a noble, a noble who should have been powerful enough to support him and their children and protect Malcom and their children with her name and connection is Kirkwall were forced to live in secret and ON THE RUN WITH HER FAMILY! is another of many many proofs that the system that chantry created for Thedas HURT everyone, whatever you are a peasant or a noble, if you have a mage in your family then they will be imprisoned in a circle that definitely will abuse them or you are forced to hide with them and run away from home.

IS QUARANTINE DRIVE YOU INSANE? ARE YOU BORED? WANNA GO OUT WITH FRIENDS? WANNA GRAB A MEAL IN A RESTAURANT? OR GET A HAIRCUT?

Remember De’Launcet fucking quote:

“You don’t understand. I’ve been in the Circle since I was six. Six! For Twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, or... cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain... or kissed a girl.”.

You cannot treat people like that! You can’t! it’s not right to imprison and enslaved people, mages, like that, there’s no justification to deny basic human rights/rights for any races. Imagine how desperate, depressed, touch-starved and horny you are, if you are not allowed to touch a woman who consented to have sex with you, imagine beingfucking locked up for twenty years and never feel the rain on your face.

Maybe you should try being locked up for most of YOUR LIFE, for shit you never did in your life ever, aka committed horrible crimes that you never committed in the first place?

Where’s the logic? Where’s the humanity? Andrastianism and The chantry is the worst religion and the worst religious institution in Thedas, and templars are not champion of the just, they are champion of abusers.

But besides because of religious zealotry and dogma, why did the chantry locked up and enslaved mages in circle and put templar in circle to fucking abused them? OH RIGHT! I KNOW! its for power and profits, because using slave labor to make enchantments and used mages as soldiers who never wanted to be dragged into war in the first place, it was and as prison/free labor to mass products enchantments is profitable for the chantry. !GROSS! DISGUSTING! Disgusting really. The circle system is not only a prison camp, but also an institutional slavery.

GROSS! DISGUSTING! But it sounds like any oppressive nations/institutions ever that used prison camp free labor to built factories and to work in their factories right?

Disgusting really.

Hey, LOOK AT HERO OF FERELDEN AND INQUSITOR EXPERIENCES IN THE CIRCLE! WHOA, IT WAS AWFUL!

For Mage!Trevelyan:

Born to the Trevelyan noble family of Ostwick in the Free Marches, you were originally intended for a life of privilege—until magical abilities surfaced at a young age and you were forced into a life of confinement within Ostwick's Circle of Magi. Protected but stifled, educated but isolated, the Circle would have been your entire future had the mages not rebelled against Chantry rule.

Trevelyan said that templars are a piece of shit who has two fucking faces (he said it to Josie) they smiled at mages (fake) but then they turned into as still as tone when a mage was punished ‘harshly”

Remember what Cassandra said when mages find out that Tranquility can be reversed, dipshit fucking seeker, lord seeker lucius punished mages ‘harshly’ and there were deaths, and by definition of harsh for mages in thedas is:

Rape

Isolation in an isolation cell (like what happened to Anders for a year!)

Starved to death like what happened to the real Cole

Tranquility or they are just killed.

Every mages, adult or child, has seen or experiences abuses daily in their life, you can imagine the physical and physiologicalphysicological damages that templar and chantry have inflicted on them. As a person who was fucking abused by her own father, Ii know too well how lasting scars could damage you for life.

TO ANYONE WHO DISMISSED ABUSES ESPECIALLY ABUSE THAT WAS PERPETRATED BY A RELIGIOUS SYSTEM/INSTITUTION, here take my middle finger AND SHOVE IT UP TO YOUR ASSES!

Look Hero Of Ferelden life when she was still stuck in the circle:

The Hero of Ferelden belonged to the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, and resided in the tower at Lake Calenhad for most of her life. First Enchanter Irving recommended the Hero to Grey Warden Commander Duncan; shortly after the Hero's Harrowing, Duncan recruited her into the order.

https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/mage+warden+

https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/190968276307/mage-child-are-the-templars-coming-for-us-mage

Mage child: Are the templars coming for us?

Mage child: Is death painful? Am I going to die?

HEY WANNA TAKE A LOOK AT SER ALRIK? THE SERIAL ABUSER AND RAPIST?

This is a letter that Alrik send to justinia before he died.To Her Excellency, Divine Justinia,I am well aware both you and Knight-Commander Meredith have rejected my proposal, but I beg you to reconsider. The mages in the Free Marches are past controlling, their numbers have doubled in three years, and they have found a way to plant their abominations in our ranks. They cannot be contained!

The Tranquil Solution is our answer. All mages at the age of majority must be made Tranquil. They'll coexist peacefully, retain their usefulness—a perfect strategy! It's simply the best way to ensure mages obey the laws of men and Maker.I remain, as always, your obedient servant,

Tranquil solution? Sounds like what Henrich Himmler said about Jews!

Because Tranquility is a genocidal weapon that the chantry used to decreased the mages population and culling them, hmmm you heard about an 11 YEARS OLD GIRL WHO was MADE A FUCKING TRANQUIL IN KIRKWAL?

Here I will give you a link to dalishious post about a young mage, 11 years old kid who was made tranquil by templar and chantry: https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/620951635453149184/im-confused-it-says-that-she-requested-to-be|

ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING *spit on chantry and templar*

There’s no fucking justification for turning a kid into a tranquil, neither raped woman who was made tranquil or mages in general just because they have magic. Alrik and his man are known for abusing and raped tranquil on a daily occasion, and they were granted a title, position, money, and job by the chantry, meredith is a bitch who treated mages like a slave, she was drunk on red lyrium, she didn’t do shit for refugee and she fucking took over Kirkwall seat of government, forcefully, while it was not her job to lording over Kirkwall like a power-hungry bitch.

And for years no one checked on this bitch, because miss little grand cleric of Kirkwall is part of Meredith group, and no matter what unless the chantry got fucking destroyed or HEAVILY REFORMED like what Divine Leliana did, people like Meredith and

Ser Alrik will never be held accountable by the chantry or any rulers in Southern Thedas (except by King Alistair who gave rebel mages a safe refugee place I guess) because most shit heads who ruled in Thedas profited from oppression and slavery of their PEOPLE, OF MAGES AND ELVES.

You are a modern man, how could you ever side with the medieval church like the chantry? YOU KNOW THAT MEDIEVAL VATICAN AND TEMPLAR OF OUR WORLD WERE AWFUL RIGHT?

You knew that the vatican/church in the medieval era trapped people in dark ages with their regressive politic and dogma, you knew that gay people and woman were burned alive just because they were gay and just because they are? Woman? Maybe some of them truly practiced magic, but hey magic is cool.

I don’t understand at all, this fucking hatred and bigotry against mages and elves that spewed by some people in the fandom, anyone who hates mages and elves inherently hates them for who they are, for simply who they are.

My burning hatred for templar and chantry were caused by templar and chantry terrible actions for the past 10000 YEARS!!!!!!!! And not because they don't have magic or just because they are human.

The chantry brainwashed human to dehumanize others

I think this is one of the most disturbing crime the chantry ever committed for the past 1000 years, I can’t even help but shudder in disgust every time i heard chantry sisters or brother calling other people ‘abomination’ or ‘heretic’ because i know how dangerous religious zealotry can be.

As a Muslim who live in Indonesia i have seen people being thrown out of their house or whipped in public (In Aceh province)

2.NOW MAGES ALLIED BY THE THE INQUISITOR AND THE INQUISITION IS THE CANON PATH!

(deal with it honestly)

First of all, when The inquisitor went to Val Royeaux, the inquisition met with Lord Seeker who was arguing with chantry sister, he didn’t want to listen to her, and then he punched her (bitch fucking deserve it, to be honest, chantry members except anyone whose not bigoted like Leliana and Giselle deserve to be punched) he insulted the inquisition and the inquisitor! ( what a Bastard Dick! Well, templar order is gone and he’s going to die anyway so....Whatever)

When the Inquisitor went back to the way he came from (from Val Royeaux gate)

FIONA LEADER OF FREE MAGES HERSELF, DESPITE THE RISK AND DANGERS, WAS WILLING TO PERSONALLY GAVE AN OFFER OF ALLIANCES BETWEEN REBEL/FREE MAGES WITH THE INQUSITION.

FIONA GOES ALL THE WAY, FROM SAFETY OF REDCLIFF VILLAGE TO VAL ROYEAUX JUST SO SHE CAN meet WITH THE INQUISITOR AND OFFERED HIM AN ALLIANCES WITH OTHER REBEL MAGES (Of course The inquisitor accepted it, he’s a rebel mage after all duh!)

From the very beginning you can see which path is the preferred freaking option, Its In Hushed Whispers and not the other one.

Besides it would make more sense for the sake of continuity to find out about the rift, time magic, who’s the mastermind behind what happened in Redcliff Village (Alexius tricked Fiona and other mages with time magic and blood magic to signed up with Tevinter) AND HOW FUTURE WITH CORYPHEUS WON LOOKS LIKE, rather than I don’t know.....Whatever bullshit in Therinfal Redoubt.

SECOND. Free alliances with rebel mages definitely would give The inquisition more advantages, first mages knew how to deal with magic and the fade, mages are more suited and powerful to fight against enemies that cannot be defeated by shield and swords.

THIRD.

THERE WERE NO ACCIDENT, NO UNWANTED POSSESSION OR EVEN NO POSSESSION AT ALL, NO DISASTER, AND NO ‘ABOMINATION’ .

FOURTH. THE MAGES CONSUMED fewer RESOURCES BECAUSE THEY DONT NEED LYRIUM TO FEED THEIR ADDICTION/CAST SPELLS.

FIFTH.

FOR A WHOLE YEAR DURING CAMPAIGN AGAINST CORYPHEUS, MAGES HAS PROVEN THAT THEY CAN TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES, MAGES WERE DISCIPLINED, RELIABLE AND BOTH THEDAS, INQUISITION, PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN SKYHOLD AND MAGES THEMSELVES ARE FINE WITH THE MAGES BEING FREE, WITHOUT RELIGIOUS SLAVERS WHO OWN THEM, WITHOUT JAILER WATCHING THEIR BACK.

SIX. SPIRITS AND DEMONS were LITERALLY EVERYWHERE, AND EXCUSE ME, HAVE FRANCOIS EVER RECEIVED/READ REPORTS ABOUT HIS FELLOW MAGES FALL INTO DEMON POSSESSION? HELL NO! NOT EVEN ONCE

SEVEN.

MAGES ALLIED AS FULL ALLY WOULD BE MORE INDEPENDENT, AND THEY COULD TEACHED YOUNG MAGES HOW TO SURVIVE ON THEIR OWN, THEY COULD BE MORE INVOLVED WITH SOCIETY, AND MAGES ASSIMILATED TO SOCIETY

AND FINALLY.

DO YOU want A ANOTHER FUCKING PROOF OF MAGES FREEDOM BEING SUCCESSFUL? DO YOU WANT LITERAL CANON PROOF THAT MAGES BEING FREE IS ONE OF THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED IN THEDAS?

The Inquisition's mages – the former rebels led by Grand Enchanter Fiona – are left with a choice.

Alliance

Leliana is Divine

When Leliana disbands the Circles, they leave the Inquisition and reform the College of Enchanters as a new order. The College, they say, will allow mages of the South to gather in peace and seek new solutions to age-old problems. For the moment, it appears to be working – mages are enjoying unprecedented acceptance throughout Thedas.

Epilogue for mages freedom in Trespasser:

NOW College of Enchanters, Thedas third or fourth most powerful mage order and government (third if Rivain mages flocked to The College but I think Rivain mages after all mages has been freed (remember its canon) they will unite with Rivain government or if College Of Enchanters turned out to be stronger than mages order in rivain ) , the college is third/fourth-strongest order after Tevinter obviously, Nevarra death mages, and Rivain mages.

And everything is totally fine.

Leliana Divine, Mages recruited as allies

The end of the Inquisition as it had been sent shock waves through the College of Enchanters. Madam de Fer ably played on the mages' fear. Her followers united to build a new Circle - with Vivienne as its Grand Enchanter - in direct competition with the College. What the Circle lacked in numbers, they made up for in political connections; soon they were a force to be reckoned with.

Well about this stuff in trespasser it’s just vivienne stuff I guess *shrug*

College of enchanters will always exist because like I said before so many many many times, that ever since Hero of Ferelden Era, To Kirkwall and then to Dragon 4:41/ 4:44, the canon and preferred path is to support mages and elves equality and freedom!!!!

THERE I GIVE YOU ONE, AND IT WAS MORRIGAN WHO SAID IT HERSELF.

Even a chantry sister from haven admitted that the mages looked happier and she said that she supports/give them chance to

SO WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?! CIRCLE IS NEVER BEEN FUCKING NEEDED! IT WAS JUST DRAKON STUPID BIGOTED MOVES TO ENSLAVED AND COLLARED MAGES AND ELVES.

Rivain mages were fine, and their society worked well with mages have their freedom Rivain trained their female mages to be seers, and seers hold important positions within Rivain government and society, oh but what happened? When the chantry fucking find out that Rivain didn’t treat their mages like shits and slave, that Rivain treated mages with respect like any other people.

The chantry fucking send right on annulment and committed genocide against Rivain fucking mages, chantry you shit organization, Rivain will hate you more than before and I wouldn’t be surprised if the grand cathedral in Rivain will go boom too (i will support it, fuck those people) the chantry literally murdered children there and committed genocide against people of Rivain, No one will defend them in Rivain, no one.

Codex Entry:

When we heard of the injustices against our fellow mages at the White Spire, the Circle of Magi in Val Royeaux, I feared what was to come. Our Circle at Dairsmuid is small and isolated; it exists largely as a façade to appease the Chantry.

When the other Circles rose up, the Chantry sent Seekers across the bay from Ayesleigh to investigate. They found us mixing freely with our families, training female mages in the traditions of the seers, and denounced us as apostates. Perhaps they thought we were spineless robes who could be intimidated with a little bloodshed. Before I was first enchanter, I was the daughter of Captain Revaud, of the Felicisima Armada. I know how to plan a battle.They brought with them a small army of templars. We fought. And we might have won. But they invoked the Right of Annulment, with all the unrelenting brutality that allowed.

It is their right to put screaming apprentices to the sword, burn our "tainted" libraries, crush irreplaceable artifacts under their heels, tear down the very walls of our home.

No mage has the right to disagree. We of the Dairsmuid Circle wait now, behind barricades. I have sent word to our brother and sister mages of this outrage. When they breakthrough, we will not die alone.—Final journal entry of First Enchanter R

Whoaa look at the chantry and templar, casually committed genocide because they are ass hole who cannot accept that they are wrong, maybe they should accept those different nations have different cultures and traditions? Hmmm, maybe templar and chantry should accept that people are not a mother fucking weapon and slaves to be used and imprisoned since they discovered their magic, chantry and Templar should learn when to stop, and they should learn that they didn’t know shit and doesn’t want to know shits about spirits? self-righteous much?

Circle system, templar system, and chantry system cannot be saved because it’s just awful, those systems systematically oppressed and abused people, and we all know that time and time again YOU CANNOT KEEP PEOPLE OPPRESSED AND ENSLAVED FOREVER, THEY WILL REBEL AND SOONER OR LATER THEY WILL WIN THEIR FREEDOM AND THE OLD SYSTEM WILL BE BURNED TO DUST.

No matter how you tried change the circle/templar system, it will always be prone to corruption, because the system put templar above mages, and when someone have more legal immunity and power above other people, then abuses of authority will always happen, hey....LOOK AT COPS IN OUR WORLD.

if anyone tries to prevent other people from being equal and free just like any outer people there who have privileges and advantages, holy shit you are horrible, that’s a shitty bigoted view.

BEFORE INQUISITION WAS EVEN REBUILT, MYTHAL AND MORRIGAN PREDICTED THAT THERE WILL BE GREAT CHANGES COMING, MORRIGAN PREDICTED THERE WILL BE A HERALD OF CHANGES IN THEDAS.

They were talking about The Inquisitor who will completely turn Thedas upside down and changed systems that Thedas know it with better ones.

SO why even bother to fucking keep an old system that doesn’t work and very oppressive and it was designed to imprison and enslaved people?

okay, listen here you little templar- oh I mean Ex-Templar, because templar order of the south is just gone forever ( who the hell wanted to be a templar again after people knew how dangerous lyrium could be? Especially after they saw lumbering red templar ABOMINATION, *not sorry they are really ugly bastard* Wrecking havoc all across Thedas

3.MAGE FREEDOM AND DESTRUCTION OF TEMPLAR ORDER IS A GOOD THING FOR EVERYONE AND FOR THEDAS!

Let me explain it to ya!

1. Mages won their freedom means, no more tranquil, there would be no more long-suffering half walking, half living person who’s cursed in the emotionless body (well at least in the south)

2. Mages could finally raise their own children, have family, married without fear and they don't have to run away from templar and chantry if they want to marry someone, mages children who were taken forcefully from their parents could finally meet their parents again, you don't want kids who were kidnapped from their family since a young age to be reunited with a family who loves them and misses them so much? Holy shit that’s monstrous.

3. Mage Orphan who has no relatives/family/home/ or friends to return could stay with College of Enchanters with other mages.

4. No more children will be kidnapped from the parents, no more mother who will lose their mage baby again because the templar and chantry ripped their baby away from their arms, never again.

5. New Generations of Mages kids who never have to endure torture and abuses in the circle, they can grow up in a safe and happy environment with their family or with the college.

6. Mages actively participated in society, and they can invent a great many things for Thedas modernization and advancement, remember Zither? He’s a mage and he uses his magic to play in a band, imagine the possibilities of Thedas technology-magic advancement with unrestrained magic, boi based on the newest leak, it seems like Arlathan was a magical cyberpunk empire.

7. As a free citizen, many mages abilities/ skill can be implemented for different kinds of jobs, hey remember Lysas who wanted to be a mage farmer? Agriculture in Thedas could be improved with magic, Medication, and medical studies could be greatly modernized with magic, not to mention fashion, opera/plays, and music, hell even professional chef jobs will be much easier with magic, The inquisitor used telekinesis/spell to fixes broken bridges, and lit a veil fire are another example that magic could be used for mundane stuff and not just for

8. College of Enchanters definitely would be a steadfast ally for The Inquisition and The inquisitor, and not to mention that the Inquisition new operations area would be in the north/Tevinter, mages would be able to help greatly. 9. With templar order gone forever in southern Thedas, then there will be no more people who are force feed lyrium and suffer from lyrium addiction to the point they become a beggar because they wasted all of their coins for lyrium. 10. So mages now are free, no more circle, then what’s the point of templar or seeker anymore? Actually Seeker, circle and templar are never needed, then how southern Thedas should handle with magic related crime or just crime in general, well I’ts easy, you see mages guard in Tamriel world? You know those guards in Skyrim? Or guard/law enforcer in Warcraft world who use magic? With mages free they also can work as guards

Why templar and chantry bootlicker literally believed in The chantry fearmongering false propaganda about mages and magic? It’s like medieval Vatican bullshit! fearmongering about technology and ‘sin’, fearmongering about spirit and magic?

We live in the modern era! So stop believing chantry propaganda!

Stop living as if its the 10th centuries, don’t keep clinging on the awful terrible system and it’s past, dude, see the future in front of you, and try to be positive about progressive changes. You know what happened to a world who refused to change? Yeah man look at Anor Londo, everything rot there. And have we ever heard about terrible accident that was caused by mages from College of Enchanters? Or by any mages at all? NO ONE EVER CONFIRMED THAT FREE MAGES OF THE SOUTH WRECKED HAVOC ALL ACROSS THEDAS, BECAUSE THE FREE MAGES DIDN’T DO ANYTHING AT ALL. AND THE MAGES HAS BEEN FREE FOR TWO YEARS! COLLEGE OF ENCHANTERS HAS BEEN OPERATING FOR TWO YEARS WITHOUT ANYONE ENSLAVED AND JAILED THEM Hey man, i gave you straight fact that mages being free is the best choice to support, and facts that nothing bad happened with mages being free, so your theory and your fear (that actually is just wrong, and it’s sounds kinda like paranoia to be honest Persecution is really stupid, that’s why it’s called persecution in the first place. HA!

ANDERS WAS, RIGHT!

‘Terrorist’ is a term that can be overused and utilized by people in power to demean and demonized freedom fighter/Resistance movement against tyranny.

https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/is+anders+terrorist%3F

There’s fuck tons examples of people who were falsely accused as terrorists by tyrannical power to labeled them as a danger and to demonize them, while ‘the terrorist’ who fight for equality and freedom were demanding their people to be treated like a human, and they wanted equal rights.

examples:

[ I am an Indonesian btw, so I knew personally some stuff about dictator and dictatorship government]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgwS_FMZ3nQ&ab_channel=PhilosophyTube

https://www.britannica.com/event/resistance-European-history

https://www.thejakartapost.com/academia/2020/09/07/long-road-to-see-justice-over-munirs-murder.html

As an Indonesian woman, our people were oppressed by many European nations, from Dutch To British to French and Portuguese, our nations were stripped and reduced to mere colonies of European powers, our people were enslaved in their own lands, woman raped and children murdered, then after Dutch leave, because Hitler almost sunk their nation during WWII, Japan fucking invaded our land and then enslaved us again!

Japan lost the world war alongside with its axis allies, YAAY! We are free, but wait, the Dutch Empire was such a baby they wanted their ‘toys’ , they fucking demanded the allies to helped them invaded Indonesia again because in the eye of Dutch Empire we are nothing but their slaves to be milked dry and taken advantages of, but we fought back! And now all Indonesian people from children to the elderly are free!

Did Indonesian people won their freedom and built their nation with being subservient and asked nicely?

FUCK NO, blood was spilled and heads were cut, a lot of head, but at least now generations upon generations of Indonesian people will never taste the brutality of slavery and how does it feel to be enslaved. Our first president was considered as a menace and a terrorist by Dutch Royalty, he was imprisoned in isolation but managed to escape over and over again!

But wait, if any person who rebelled against the government regardless of their intentions can be labeled as a terrorist *gasp* IS THAT MEAN GEORGE FUCKING WASHINGTON WAS A TERRORIST?! Apparently, by British Empire standards, he was.

The guy and his friends waged a war against the crown, because British Empire keep treated American colony like shit, from the perspective of King George, Washington was a piece of shit who kept ruined his country and his colonies, but boi Americans would be angry if someone called Washington a terrorist right? Because for them, Washington's struggle and rebellion were righteous.

YOU CAN’T SIMPLY USE THE LABEL OF ‘TERRORIST’ TO CONDEMN ANDERS AND HIS ACTIONS WITHOUT EVEN UNDERSTAND HIS MOTIVE.

Because if you keep doing then, in your perspective every single freedom fighter who rebelled against cruelty and tyranny should be condemned?

We are talking about what is a ‘terrorist’ here, and if you want to label someone as a terrorist then you have to read their manifesto, understand their motive, try to hear what they wanted to say, and understand the core of ideas behind their rebellion.

Here’s the thing, will you call the Stonewall riot as an act of terrorism? ( i presume from your blog description you are a supporter of LGBT right? )

What about Joachim Ronnenberg? A man who leads a daring raid against Nazi Germany nuclear weapon factory had the german succeded in their efforts, we might have read devastating histories about the nuclear bomb that destroyed London like what happened to Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

From the perspective of Nazi Germany...This guy wasis a terrorist and an enemy!

But it feels so wrong to describe freedom fighter as a terrorist right? How could we label people who resist nazi Germany as a terrorist?!

Because we know, despite the casualties, despite everything that happened, what they did was right, and they needed to fight back.

Allies marched to Berlin was the right thing to do, American colonies rebelled despite they knew that a lot of people will die in war, but have you ever condemned the founding father and his people for their rebellion? Or argued that it wasn’t necessary for them to rebelled. Soekarno wars and rebellion against dutch colonists and invaders cannot be condemned, because objectively, no one should support slavery and colonization of other nations.

French people were so sick and tired of their nobilities and royalties bullshit to the point they cut off their own monarch head, but they were right, because French Monarchy was corrupt and incompetent, while nobles and royalties were feasting and drinking as if there’s no tomorrow, poor people in French can’t even afford bread.

Trans and Gay people who fight back and demonstrated against injustice was right, the woman who demonstrated and rioted against the oppressive system and patriarchy was right.

WE KNEW DEEP DOWN THEIR CAUSE ARE NOT EVIL, OR CONDEMNABLE, THEIR CAUSES ARE OBJECTIVELY RIGHT!

But what if it were someone like Adolf Hitler who hmmm rebelled against the Weimar Republic, back before his raises to power around 1920-1923, I’m sure that you are familiar with his Beer Hall Putsch, when he held 14 mass meetings in Germany, for the nazi it was a historical moment, ‘a glorious resistance against the weak and incompetent Weimar Republic’

For his supporter it was glorious, but despite their best efforts to convinced themselves that they were right, WE KNEW HE WAS NOT RIGHT, Nazi was god awful.

What is the core idea of nazism? (I'm going to compare it with socialism/communism because some people keep saying that communism is just like nazi, and it's absolutely wrong)

https://www.britannica.com/topic/communism/Marxian-communism

https://www.britannica.com/event/Nazism

They are very different. Ya see despite some people who keep yelling that communist is just nazism by any other name. ( and I’m not a communist)

Adolf Hitler might see himself as a savior, a martyr, and his party also people who supported him

richard spencer, see himself as a ‘liberator’ and voice of white people, but behind all of his fucking bullshit, his core ideas are just Naziism, he is a nazi, Richard Spencer is a white supremacist so does any other alt-right edge lord on the internet who insisted that they are not nazi, despite the fact they fucking followed nazi ideologies and practiced hatred ( btw nazi ideology is based on white supremacist and eugenic ideologies too, so what’s the difference really?” Nazi is white supremacists and white supremacists will always be a nazi)

Alright and how all of it ties back to Anders and mage rebellion, you might ask, ‘why did you write about histories lessons that I already knew about?’

Well templar child, it’s all lead back

TO THE CORE OF ANDERS IDEAS AND MANIFESTO AND WHY HIS IDEOLOGIES/BELIEVES AND MAGES REBELLION WAS ON THE FREAKING RIGHT SIDE.

I wrote that fucking long-ass paragraphs so people will be able to differentiate the righteous kind of rebellion (or ‘terrorism’ from the perspective of the power/oppressors) and the god-awful kind of rebellion/terrorism.

Because instead of listening and learning about what anders wanted, some people are often so fixated on the semantic of the word ‘terrorist’ and got too distracted by that stupid chantry explosion. THE CHANTRY EXPLODED IS THE SAME KIND OF THING IF HITLER OR STALIN’S OFFICE too

People died? Yeah so does people who died during USA war against British Empire, was it terrible that people died? Yeah it was terrible but just like what i wrote before, the rebellion had to happened. And you said that he killed hundreds? Huh the numbers was never 100% confirmed because i don't think Isabela count the bodies, and second we cannot be sure about numbers of the casualties, because we never really see ALL them in the first place. And actually arent Hero of Ferelden, Hawke and Inquisitor killed SO MANY PEOPLE? What about The Dragonborn? No to mention that in their journey they also destroyed private and public property and killed so many god damn animals to the point they could have been the reason why some species of animals are endangered. And no one ever protest or raised a fuss when heroes killed tons of people. Arent templar and chantry also killed and tortured so many people? What about mages who were killed or made tranquil for the past 1000 years? What about mages who committedcommited suicide like Orsino friend who locked herself in a closet then set herself on fire? Because she no longer can’t stand living in Kirkwall Circle prison? What about Anders friends who often committedcommited suicide because what templar did to them and that lead to severe depression? What about mages and elves who were hunted down and killed just because they escaped from their circle prison, they were killed by order of the chnatry and templar cut them down with their sword? What about Elves of Dales who died because Orlais wanted to expand its fucking territoryterrtotry and justified their racial superiority? Chantry and templar supported that. What about Karl who asked Anders to killed him because he preferred to die rather than be a tranquil again? Or captured by templar again? TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY COMMITED MORE CRIMES FOR THE PAST 1000 YEARS MORE THAN ANY PERSON DID, THE TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY MURDERED, ENLSAVED, TORTURED AND IMPRISON PEOPLE ALSO SUPPORTED GENOCIDE FOR 1000 YEARS! IF WE CALCULATED NUMBERS OF PEOPLE WHO DIED BY THE CHANTRY ORDER AND TEMPLAR SWORDS, IT’S MORE THAN FREAKING MILLIONS! ANDERS DID WHAT HE DID TO FREE THE MAGES AND FUTURE MAGES CHILDREN, SAME THING WITH FIONA AND THE MAGES WHO REBELLED TO FREE THEMSELVES AND FOR THE FUTURE OF MAGES, THEY ALSO REBELLED FOR FUTURE MAGES FREEDOM, THEY REBELLED FOR THE FREEDOM OF PEOPLE (because unlike what noodle and chantry said and spread, mages are PEOPLE!) so what are you saying again? HUH ? what is your justification? What is your defense? CHANTRY AND TEMPLAR CRIMES CANNOT BE DEFENDED! If you justified Templar and chantry crimes then THE EVANURIS AND TEVINTER and the stupid qun ideals can be justified too? From OBJECTIVE perspective Anders ideology WAS RIGHT! HE AND THE MAGES BELONG WITH THE RIGHTEOUS REBELS. Let’s compare chantry/templar mentality and moral vs mages and elves believes and pursuit of freedom.

Let’s see examples of chantry/templar mentality based on evidence and popular opinion in Thedas that was forced by The chantry to people head.

1. The interpretation of chant of light that mages and nonhuman are abhorred by the maker, and they are ‘evil’ and corrupt’ i must remind you that MODERN and RELEVANT andrastianism in modern Thedas, has twisted whatever Andraste said and they strayed so far away from what andraste possibly could have wanted.

What if Maferath Betrayal was not based on maliciousness? Or not just based on maliciousness? What if Andraste was truly a mage? The chantry lied about Shartan, the chantry fucking lied about Ameridan, if there’s one IRONIC TRUTH about the chantry, they lied, they twisted story and histories for their political power and their gains.

the whole ‘magic must serve man and not rule over him’ was purposely misinterpreted to fucking justify drakon fucking fanfic holy book, and his campaign to conquer the rest of Thedas. And the chant verses were twisted as a stupid and terrible justification to demonize and enslaved mages and elves in circle towers.

In a nutshell that chant actually said that magic is a gift that should not be used for terrible deeds. But andrastian changed the meaning and twisted their own prophet words to enslave and oppressed southern mages.

2. The chantry believes about Everything that related to the fade/spirits/ or demon are dangerous and inherently evil, I ALWAYS LAUGHED MY ASS OFF, whenever templar/chantry/andrastian/non mages spouting hateful shits about the fade and spirits, it’s incredibly ironic, because there’s an implication that ALL PEOPLE who were not made by Titans (dwarves was made by titan) were spirits from the fade who ‘created body from the earth’ after they descended to the material world.

The evanuris, first of elven people, Solas and his people were spirits, it can be safely assumed that modern elves, humans and qunari in their truest form are spirits as well.

I think during his personal quest, All New Faded forFor Her, Aka The Dreadwolf Fen’harel, Solas has explained the truth about what human, elves and qunari truly are and what is their true form would be once they are died ( if they are not a remarkable person then they will simply be lost to the fade )

Besides it’s the chantry who spread hateful and ignorant propaganda about evil of spirits/demons, the fact that chantry spread such misinformed propaganda and derailed hates of the fade and spirit into people mind actually is one of the reasons why demons and unwilling possession as modern thedas know it exists, I know Cole explained that spirit who crossed from the fade to the world was simply traumatized by their journey, the veil hurt them ( we can blame Solas for that) rules in the material world is just confusing, the earth and it’s mostly inflexible and unchanging rules confused them.

But if The fade can be bend and shaped by powerful dreamer/mages/ dreams and believes of people. That means...Demons were also created by The chantry ignorant and hateful propaganda. If many people believed that spirits are dangerous or ‘they are demon’, that spirits and the fade are scary then that’s how they will manifest.

The fade and spirit can be influenced by people's collective beliefs and perceptions. That’s mean it also The chantry and their dogmatic backward propaganda that made spirit/demon as we know it today, I mean for some reason Cole called himself a ‘demon’? While the boy was never corrupted nor twisted from his true nature, i think it’s because people perception of him and spirit. The chantry dogmatic believes backfired on their own face. rule about

3. Blind devotion to Orlais Chantry, theThe chantry foundation was made of bones upon bones and blood, emperor kordilius drakon butchered many cults and stamped out any non-andrastian religion or branch of andrastianism that didn’t conform to his cult believes so he can establish his cult of andraste as the dominant religious power in southern thedas or thedas in general.

The Daughters of Song

Wine. Music. Poetry. And the wanton and frenzied indulgence of carnal fancies. These things characterized the hedonistic cult known as the Daughters of Song. Calling them an order of the faithful lends them a legitimacy they do not deserve. The daughters (and sons, though they saw themselves also as "daughters") celebrated Andraste's holy union with the Maker in almost every way imaginable. And it was only the "holy union" they venerated. Andraste's life, her war, her teachings, and her sacrifice were blithely ignored.

At its height, the Daughters of Song numbered in the thousands. They maintained a stronghold in a village called Virelay, in the Fields of Ghislain. Virelay saw a yearly event during which the Daughters of Song paraded carven images of the "Maker's Glory" through the square.The Daughters of Song were wiped out by the righteous forces of Emperor Drakon during his campaigns to unite all of Orlais. When the emperor's forces sacked the village, the Daughters would not arm themselves and were either killed or captured. The village was destroyed, and the cult never recovered.—From Before Andrastianism: the Forgotten Faiths by Sister Rondwyn of Tantervale

HA! Blithely ignored her fucking war and ‘sacrifice’ is much better than using the story of andraste life as propaganda and tools to conquer, murder, enslaved, and wiped out groups of people who didn’t buy to your shit.

The daughter of the songs was not a cult of a sex-crazed hedonist, they were another group of pacifist andraste cult who didn’t do anything wrong at all (seems like they were peaceful, they didn’t even willing to armed themselves when Drakon butchered their people) and they just wanted to be left alone to their own device, but of course Drakon, that egotistical bastard who sees himself as a martyr and narcissistic self-proclaimed holy man, so he put any people who didn’t want to listen to his bullshit to sword.

The chantry and Orlais using their god, their prophet words, and their religion as a bludgeoning tool to conquer and forcefully converted people, the foundation of modern andrastianism religion was based drakon totalier philosophy his ambitions to rule all of Thedas.

Ironically if there are people who smeared and desecrate andraste and the maker, its their followers.

This kind of religious militant mentality has ledlead to people justification of exalted march, because they thought that they were doing it for the maker, they believed that the march is the maker works, anyoneany one who supported exalted march were so convinced that they were right to spilled so many blood and butchered so many people for their religious zealotry (and political ambition of their rulers but eh peasant rarely know anything about what happened in winter palace right?)

if you supported exalted march of dales or exalted march against mages then.... As a Muslim i just want to say, what’re the differences between exalted march and Christian crusade? And we know that Crusade was a waste of resources and lives or ISIS ambition for expansionism?

Military and Religion is a dangerous and scary combination. And I can’t comprehend why any modern human could be so thirsty and horny to destroy other people's nations for their religion and their interpretation of their religion. and let me remind you again, the chantry and templar supported this mentality and often using the maker as a reason and justification of their terrible deeds. The chantry refusal to acknowledge and respect different kind of andrastian religion and their outright rejection of different religion lead them to wiped out pre-chantry andrastian cult aka their own brethren and destruction of The dales, destruction and deaths of so many dalish clan, prejudice and bigotry against qunari and dwarves. and we don’t have to talk about what happen to old god religion worshipper. Y’know sounds like dark age church and their obsessions to stamped out any kind of ‘heresy’ , you like that shit? You supported it? EWWWW. D: 4. Templar and Chantry brainwashed people to be hateful bigot, I don’t care about any kind of justification or ‘positive deeds’ that andrastianism has done, a thousandthousands years of proofs and facts has proven that most of the time they spreading bigotry and hate for their own political power and gains, the chantry instilled intolerance on people mind and using terror as a way to control population of Thedas, people except for the ruling class are live in uncertainty and fear, we might see peasant in thedas just living their simple life, but if the temple and chantry find out that they are doing anything ‘suspicious’ or they hide their relatives who can use magic then that’s it, their life will end by chantry order and Templar sword, not to mention that the chantry bigoted cheating also lead to these kind of situation, remember that mage who were murdered in the storm coast by villager? She died because the chantry brainwashed people to hates on anything non-human and to hate on mages. NOW THE MAGES, let’s take a look at the mages and elves. 1.The mages and elves just wanted to be free and to be treated as an equal in society, not as a walking weapon to be enslaved and imprisoned and not as a servant/slave to non-mage human (or in tevinter and the qun not as a slave in general for elves and mages too who suffer under the qun ) if anyone supporting an ideology or people who deny other people rights, BASIC RIGHTS, then all of you fucktard can rot in hell. 2. Fiona, despite the chantry and Templar oppressed and enslaved her people for must I remind you again 1000 year! Fiona Was still willing to let other fraternities and other circles to vote, whenever they wanted to follow her rebellion or not, AND THE SOUTHREN MAGES CHOSE TO REBELED AND FOLLOWING HER! 3. Now mages freedom is canon, the mages now have their own government and they rule over themselves( college of enchanters) and they never try to enslave, oppress, brutalize and hurt non mages 4. Now Briala rule in Orlais, she could help to keep: 1. Remember that mage who died in Gaspard on leash and preventing him from invading other nations, not to mention that she definetly

Oh, Solas where are thou ~

Now about Solas and the veil, we might speculate to our heart content about Solas plans and what he might do in the future, but to be honest, truth to be told, NO ONE EXACTLY KNOW what is his actual plan for the evanuris, for the blight, for titans and to tear m down the veil. We only have morsels of information about his plans from trespasser, and Tevinter night (also from the leaks). Who knew maybe Solas plan will ironically save the world? Doomed it? Saved some people? Only doomed half of the world? Will the world end? Or survive? Now i want all magic to come back but without have to kill millions of people in Thedas, Because it will solve non-mages vs mages problem, everybody will be mages and the centuries of problems will be solved, not to mention that with the minuscule amounts of magic Thedas physical world now have, people seemed to slowly devolving, being cut from magic of the fade is not only horrible for mages but also for non- mages (Because the fade is the sources of power and life itself, not to mention that Solas referred to it as ‘The sea of souls’ in Tevinter Nights) Here’s the thing, with or without Solas even waking up from his long sleep, i think The veil will be destroyed either way, here’s the evidences that supported my theories (But i still have no idea about What exactly will happen just like many other people out there ) Sandal Prophercy: “Sandal: One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Grand Duchess Florianne: “ A great CHANGE is coming for all of us lord seeker lucius: “ We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled, we had to be stopped” Kieran: “My mother is the inheritor of the next age” Mythal: WE HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT WHAT SOLAS PLAN IS, what is he going to do with other evanuris? What bout the titans? What about mythal? and ghilan’nain creatures that has been slowly emerge from the sea? What about the blight and darkspawn? I feel like Solas wouldn’t be the true next main villain, he wouldn’t be Corypheus 2.0, why? Because unlike the blight or Corypheus, Solas have important relationship with The inquisitor, while most any other fucking villain have little to no relationship with heroes. So here Solas quote from Tevinter Nights: His look pinned her “I have no choice.What I am doing will save this world, and those like you- the elves who are still remain-may find it better, when it is done.” Solas might call himself “Prideful, hot headed and foolish.” but he’s not a fucking idiot, he wouldn’t just tear down the veil just to bing elven glory back, there must be something bigger behind his motives, like the evanuris and well titans I don’t want to say much about the possible consequences of what might Solas do, because frankly we don’t know anything about it. It is possible tho that the veil destruction will be the same thing just like the fifth blight, mage and elves vs Templar and chantry/human war, Corypheus rises and fall and the fucking explosion of both Kirkwall chantry and temple of sacred ashes, it just going to happen, it is what fucking it is man. To quote Steve Jobs “One more thing” Patrick fucking Weekes and their wife supporting mage and mage rights MEANWHILE... if you could live anywhere in Thedas, where would you live? PATRICK: I would live in Rivain. Because Rivain is not as hung up on magic, because they have seers who let themselves get possessed... they also have a relatively peaceful relationship with the Qun. And they're kind of a melting pot and multicultural... they're a place where a lot of different cultures come together. And also? Beachfront property. KARIN: I was just gonna say... if you need further justification, they get to say, "I want to live on the beach."

Yeah, that was a really good one. Okay, moving on: Mages or Templars? PATRICK and KARIN (in unison): Mage

http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/05/castles-fennecs-and-player-engagement.html http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/04/chatting-with-weekeses-part-3-romances.html

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jackoshadows · 4 years

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One of the reasons for why I love Jon Snow in the books is because I find him to be the character who adheres closest to values I find admirable. IMO, Character traits like being broad-minded, intelligent and loyal tend to be more attractive in a character rather than than say good looks or good manners. Jon is selfless and honorable - to a certain extent. He can be pragmatic and bend the rules if necessary.

Jon Snow stands out as the only leader/main character in the series whose central narrative theme is about unifying people against a common threat. This is underscored by GRRM sending him off to the wall at the start of the books and Jeor Mormont telling Jon Snow:

When dead men coming hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne - Jon Snow, AGoT

With this in mind, we see Jon continually grow as a character from book one to book five gradually killing the boy to let the man be born.

When we first see him at the wall, he’s a bit of a privileged brat and offended by the other recruits. But after Donal Nye sets him straight, he uses his education and knowledge to help the other kids in the NW. Jon grew up otherizing the Wildlings and saw them as people to be kept on the other side of the wall. He then spends a lot of time with them and comes to see them as human beings same as him and the rest of Westeros. He wants his childhood desire of being Lord of Winterfell, but understands that he swore an oath to the NW and his job is to defend the realm.

There are two quotes that embody Jon Snow best in the books:

‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’ – First used by Ygritte to educate Jon Snow on his ignorance about Wildlings and then later used by Lord Commander Jon Snow to remind himself that he still has a lot to learn even as a leader of men. A take on Socrates ‘I know that I know nothing’ – a humble acknowledgment that even the best leaders are not experts but human beings who can mistakes.

‘We look up at the same stars and see such different things’ - Jon is able to understand that two people can see the same thing and have such different opinions and that their opinions are colored by their upbringing and situation. As someone who has to unite people against a common threat, this is an important understanding that Jon has earned – this could be why he is a damn good negotiator in the books, earning praise from even Stannis.

Jon is able to acknowledge these important little lessons because he is at heart a fundamentally good person. We see this in how he treats characters who are disadvantaged and mistreated by Westeros society. These are not big moments but small character relationships that highlight how Jon Snow often stands out in thinking differently to a majority of Westeros.

Jon Snow as a child comforting Arya when she comes crying to him about being a possible bastard because of her looks. Imagine how much this would have hurt? But he loves Arya enough to put aside his own hurt feelings to reassure her.

Once he gets to know Tyrion personally and differentiates him from the rest of the Lannisters, Jon is quickly able to see past appearances and Westerosi prejudices and considers Tyrion a friend:

He ran back to the common hall , where he found Tyrion Lannister just finishing his meal. He grabbed the little man under the arms, hoisted him up in the air, and spun him around in a circle. “Bran is going to live!” he whooped. - Jon, AGoT

Asks Tyrion to comfort and help Bran in whatever way possible. This is in contrast to Robb’s immediate dislike and distrust of Tyrion. Jon judges a person based on their actions.

“Thank you, my lord of Lannister.” He pulled off his glove and offered his bare hand. “Friend.”

Tyrion found himself oddly touched. “Most of my kin are bastards,” he said with a wry smile, “but you’re the first I’ve had to friend.” - Tyrion, AGoT

Realizes how Sam Tarly is ill equipped to fight, figures out what Sam is best suited to do, talks to Maester Aemon about it and arranges for Sam to work for the Maester instead.

Appoints Satin Flowers, a former male prostitute from OldTown as his steward despite opposition from his bigoted department heads. And he does this, because once again, he judges based on a person’s actions and skills, rather than on the labels society places on them

“My Lord, the boy’s a whore...a...dare I say... a painted catamite from the brothels of Old Town”

“What he was in Oldtown is none of our concern. He’s quick to learn and very clever. The other recruits started out despising him, but he won them over and made friends of them all. He’s fearless in a fight and can even read and write after a fashion. He should be capable of fetching me my meals and saddling my horse, don’t you think?”

“Most like,” said Bowen Marsh, stony-faced, “but the men do not like it. Traditionally the lord commander’s squires are lads of good birth being groomed for command. Does my lord believe the men of the Night’s Watch would ever follow a whore into battle?”

Jon’s temper flashed. “They have followed worse. The Old Bear left a few cautionary notes about certain of the men, for his successor. We have a cook at the Shadow Tower who was fond of raping septas. He burned a seven-pointed star into his flesh for every one he claimed. His left arm is stars from wrist to elbow, and stars mark his calves as well. At Eastwatch we have a man who set his father’s house afire and barred the door. His entire family burned to death, all nine. Whatever Satin may have done in Oldtown, he is our brother now, and he will be my squire.”

Jon appoints Leathers of the Freefolk as his Master-at-arms once again, against objections from the likes of Cellador and Bowen

Bowen: Is it true that you mean to replace Emmett with this savage Leathers as our master-at-arms? That is an office most oft reserved for knights, or rangers at the least.

Jon: Leathers is savage. I can attest to that. I've tried him in the practice yard. He's as dangerous with a stone axe as most knights are with castle-forged steel. I grant you, he is not as patient as I'd like, and some of the boys are terrified of him ... but that's not all for the bad. One day they'll find themselves in a real fight, and a certain familiarity with terror will serve them well

The Freefolk women: Jon sees them as capable and equal in all ways to the men. He sends Val off all alone to find Tormund. He garrisons Long Barrow fully with Spearwives, entrusting them to defend that castle and the wall.

And we find that Jon is hungry for knowledge, and in his spare time he learns the Old Tongue from Leathers so that he can communicate with the giant Wun-Wun. He is always reading the books Maester Aemon left him, conducting science experiments on wights and even thinks of building a green house on the Gift to grow food. Once again, Jon acknowledges the importance of learning that he picked up from characters like Aemon, Sam and Tyrion.

I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind.. and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book. “That’s why I read so much, Jon Snow.” - Tyrion, AGoT

There’s a reason for why Jon’s so good at what he does. Look at the people from whom he learns – Ned Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Jeor Mormont, Donal Noye, Qhorin Half-hand, Maester Aemon, Samwell Tarly, Mance Raydar, Stannis Baratheon etc. Every one of these men gives him a tidbit of information that he ends up using in the books.

Jon is very astute and has a deep understanding of the way the North and people in general work:

"The free folk despise kneelers," he had warned Stannis. "Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better." Soon or late, however, Tormund Giantsbane would assault the Wall again, and when that hour came Jon wondered whose side Stannis's new-made subjects would choose. You can give them land and mercy, but the free folk choose their own kings. - Jon, ADwD

Early on he advises Stannis to go with the Umbers instead of the Karstarks. Later we see his advice hold true as the Karstarks betray Stannis while Mors Crowfood allies with him. He also advises Stannis to approach Manderly – a decision that once again works out right. He explains to Stannis in clear detail how to approach the mountain clans for help

“And they will fight for me, you believe?”

“If you ask them.”

“Why should I beg for what is owed me?”

“Ask, I said, not beg.” Jon pulled back his hand. “It is no good sending messages. Your Grace will need to go to them yourself. Eat their bread and salt, drink their ale, listen to their pipers, praise the beauty of their daughters and the courage of their sons, and you’ll have their swords. The clans have not seen a king since Torrhen Stark bent his knee. Your coming does them honor. Command them to fight for you, and they will look at one another and say, ‘Who is this man? He is no king of mine.’ ”

In a way, it makes sense that Jon tries to see the humanity of people, tries to teach them, weeds out talent and designates based on merit and skillset – he works with the lowest of the lowest. He’s the military head of a group of outlaws, murderers, rapists, bigots, smallfolk with no education or access to education. He has to be able to see beyond labels to get this ragtag bunch ready to face an apocalyptic threat.

Contrast this Jon Snow to Jaime Lannister in AFfC who hangs some outlaws in the Riverlands and then proudly calls himself ‘Goldenhand the Just’ for meting out ‘justice’, failing to even acknowledge that those hungry outlaws were created by his war – a war that started because of his incestuous adultery.

To conclude, Jon Snow ending an 8000 year old feud between the north and the freefolk, bringing them over to this side of the wall, including them in the realms of men, making real alliances between old Northern houses and the freefolk epitomizes what Jon Snow stands for as a character in the books.

There’s a reason for why GRRM describes Jon Snow thus:

Jon Snow is the truest character--I like his sense of realism and the way he copes with his bastardy.

#Jon Snow #ASoIaF #A Song of Ice and Fire

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four-loose-screws · 4 years

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FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 - Larcei, My Love

T/W: Cousin incest and brief rape mention.

“I don't want to fight.”

Iuchar, King Danan's middle son, said to himself over and over again as he prepared for battle.

Iuchar was well-known as a brave axe knight, and wasn't the type to hold back in a fight. However, this time, he found himself feeling hesitant.

He checked that none of his soldiers were near him, then muttered once more, "I don't want to fight."

He repeated those words over and over, trying to ascertain how he really felt...

He had two reasons not to fight. The first was that he was completely against the child hunts his father, Danan, had ordered, and the second was that Larcei was a member of the liberation army.

Danan was every bit like his father, Lombard: cruel, arrogant, greedy, and quick to become infuriated when others didn't agree with him.

When he received the news that Ganeishire Castle had fallen to the rebel army led by Seliph, Danan summoned all of the commanding officers serving as castle lords to Rivough Castle and ranted at them, as he always did.

"Ganeishire was taken by a ragtag rebel army of peasants!? What is the meaning of this!? You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Even you, Iuchar! Your castle is the closest one to Ganeishire! Why didn't you try to send reinforcements!?"

'I did, but by that time, the castle had already fallen!' He started to say, but stopped himself. He knew that saying his thoughts aloud would just add fuel to the fire.

"My reputation is ruined! If the empire were to find out about this, what would His Majesty think!? Listen up, Iuchar, Iucharba! I want you two to deploy immediately, and fight with all you've got. Their numbers are small. If you surround them in a field, then it should be an easy win. Don't show them any mercy! Kill them all! Especially those I am about to call out now. They are the instigators of this rebellion. Whoever kills them will receive a bounty. You must come back with their heads!"

After starting with the traitor Sigurd's son, Seliph, he called out seven more names: Shanan, Oifey, Diarmuid, Lester, Ulster, and Larcei.

'Larcei!' The moment he heard her name, Iuchar's heart skipped a beat. 'So she's part of the rebel army?'

He'd first met her two years ago at a summer festival that he snuck out to attend.

A beautiful girl with gorgeous black eyes dancing in a circle with several others caught his attention, so he started talking to her. While her response was blunt, it actually made him fall in love for the very first time. Her masculine way of speaking was very fresh and new to him.

After talking to her for a while, she finally told him her name, and they made plans for their next meeting.

Since then, they'd met up about once every two months. But although they met, it didn't mean that Iuchar realized how he felt about her. They simply went on a picnic when the weather was nice, or to a restaurant in a random village when it was cold, and talked for two or three hours.

Her behavior never once changed. Whenever his words were even a bit sweet, she was relentless in pointing it out. Strangely, he didn't find it unpleasant.

'Whenever Father's words are harsh, he's angry, so why isn't it the same with Larcei?'

Once he thought very carefully about it, he realized the reason why.

His father only ever thought about himself. In contrast, Larcei's thoughts were never about her own personal gain. Her words may have been sharp, but they had no ill will. Rather, there were even times when she spoke like that for his own good.

For example, when he first learned about the child hunts, he simply thought "They're bad!" and left it at that. He didn't feel that they concerned him. However, when talking to Larcei, she explained that such acts would destroy society, and he came to be firmly against them.

As the son of a king and lord of an Isaachian castle, he'd always seen the world through that lens, but thanks to Larcei, he was now able to think from the standpoint of each and every parent and child.

While traveling home to Rivough Castle, he was accompanied for part of the way by his younger brother, Iucharba, lord of Sophia Castle.

"This battle is pretty serious, huh?" Iucharba muttered.

"You think so, too? I have the same feeling."

"Larcei was one of the names amongst the instigators, right? I know her, actually."

His brother's words startled Iuchar, but he didn't know how to respond right away.

"I think I have a crush on her, so please, Big Brother, don't kill her. Spare only her. I’ll beg Father afterwards, and tell him I just want to save her life, whatever it takes.”

Iuchar missed his chance to speak his true feelings, and only responded by silently nodding.

'Maybe Larcei likes Iucharba back. But if she does, then why did she spend time with me?'

The two parted ways, and as Iuchar continued back to Rivough Castle, that was the only thing he could think about.

'If she does like him…' Every time he had that thought, his chest burned with jealousy.

'Then why did she hang out with me?' That thought gave him a bit of hope.

'Or maybe she met with us to change our minds?' That last thought filled him with the sinking feeling that he'd been led on.

'But, if she did lead me on, then what? Do I fight her?'

In the end, he decided that he didn't want to fight her.

The members of Iuchar's cavalry unit met up at the place they'd agreed upon and prepared for battle.

As they marched, several of his soldiers broke away from the group to pillage a nearby village, but he didn't have the energy to stop them.

Late into the afternoon, one of the soldiers rushed up to him and reported, "A person carrying a white flag is approaching us!"

"Are they an enemy?"

"We believe so. They appear to be a woman."

'Could it be… Larcei?' He immediately thought. 'I want to meet her and see what she has to say.'

"Alright then, I'm going to meet her. I'll be fine on my own. Stay here, everyone." Iuchar said, and galloped ahead.

The closer he got, the faster his heart pounded in his chest.

'That silhouette… it has to be Larcei's! I knew it! It is her!'

He stopped beside her, and while still on his horse, asked, "Larcei, have you come to surrender?"

"Don't be stupid! We would never!"

"Then what is the white flag for?"

"To try and stop the fight, so we can make a proposal."

"Why?"

"We're trying to change this world, where child hunts are carried out every day. Our final goal is to topple the empire and the Loptr Church, but first, we must defeat your father, Danan, here in Isaach. But I do not want to kill you, so I am requesting we call a ceasefire."

"So you're telling me to disobey my father's orders?"

"You are half Isaachian."

Those four words dredged up the memories he'd buried deep within his mind.

His mother had not been a princess, but a woman Danan found and kidnapped from her village.

In about three months time, he’d gotten bored of her. He would no longer look at her, and treated her as a common maid. All Isaachian women were beneath horses to him.

She died during childbirth, so Iuchar had no memories of a mother's kindness.

Whenever he cried as a child, he was immediately told, "Your mother was always crying! That's why you're a crybaby!"

He hated it, and learned to hold back his tears. He was even inspired to become a soldier because he didn’t want to be used as an example proving that his mother was weak.

'Mother was just forced to suffer a horrible fate because of Father! She wasn't weak. I am proof of that! How am I weak!?' Iuchar had thought to himself when he once won a horseback riding contest.

"I'm taking that as a yes. We'll continue down this path tomorrow morning.”

Larcei's words snapped him back to reality.

“W-wait. You’ve met Iucharba, haven’t you?”

“I have. I wanted to teach Danan’s sons what is right. But…”

"But what?"

"I came straight to your unit. Do you know what that means?"

Those words confused him. 'What is she trying to say?'

"I'm heading back now. See you."

"W-wait! What if I don’t agree to the ceasefire?"

"Well, I can't do anything about that. I'll come leading my soldiers tomorrow. If you say you approve of the child hunts, then you and I will fight one on one, understand?" She said, then turned around and went back the way she came.

That night, he couldn't stop thinking about what she meant.

'I've always felt refreshed after meeting with Larcei, but today was somehow different.’

After feeling lost all night long, he finally reached his conclusion.

‘That’s it, that’s what she was getting at! Larcei knows that if I was that confused, she was able to convince me. But that doesn’t mean that I came to my own conclusion. If I agree to a ceasefire with her, I'll be turning my back on both the empire and my father. In other words, I'll be throwing away who I've been until now. If I threw it all away only because I was convinced by her, I might regret it later. But if I made my choice all on my own, then...’

With that thought, he fell asleep, though he hadn't yet decided what to do.

He woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed.

After breakfast, he saw the rebel army marching towards them in the distance.

"We still have thirty minutes until we fight! You can get ready without having to panic." Iuchar said to his subordinates while walking between their tables.

After cleaning up from breakfast, they got into formation, and began to march.

The rebel army was marching in one big group, while Iuchar and Iucharba's units were in "Crane Formation," a vertical line shaped formation that looked like a crane's wings spread out wide.

'If we stay like this, we can attack by surrounding them from both sides, and claim an easy victory.' Iuchar thought, but then realized that Larcei probably knew that's what he would do.

Larcei was leading her unit, walking ahead of them on her own, as she'd promised.

'She must know, and that's why she's been risking her own life like this since yesterday.'

He was overwhelmed with feelings of how beautiful she was. It was a different love than he'd ever felt for her before. He was seeing her not only as someone of the opposite sex, but also as her own person.

Iuchar halted his soldiers, and walked ahead alone.

He and Larcei stopped about ten meters from each other.

She was clearly nervous. The sight of that expression on her face made him realize how lovely she was all over again.

"Oh, Larcei… My love!” He called out loudly, sounding almost as if he was singing.

Larcei stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

"The day our fate is realized has finally come!"

"What are you talking about, Iuchar!? Did you eat something funny?"

"Larcei...

Your voice is like the song of a small bird

Your eyes sparkle like the stars

Ah, I think…

I can no longer live without you…"

"Stop it! You're making me sick! This is a battlefield. Have you gone mad!?"

"No, I am quite sane. I made a poem for you, though you didn't seem to like it very much. My words are no lie, though. I will show you the proof right now." Iuchar said, then turned around.

"Everyone, from now on, we will fight alongside the liberation army, and put an end to the awful child hunts! Starting today, we fight for love, justice, and Larcei!”

His soldiers all cheered in unison, surprising Iuchar, as he thought he'd have to join the liberation army on his own. However, his soldiers were mostly Isaachians, and agreed with him.

'Just about everyone finds the child hunts unacceptable.'

Seeing Iuchar try to team up with the liberation army made Iucharba go wild with jealousy and rage.

"Dammit! How dare Brother run ahead and ally with Larcei!? Now I can never forgive her! I'll kill every last one of them! All soldiers! Attack!"

Iucharba led his soldiers, and ran not for the rebel army, but Iuchar's army.

The battle immediately became harsh. Both armies were made up of well trained soldiers, so neither side was superior or inferior to the other. However, once the liberation army joined in to support Iuchar's army, the outcome was quickly decided.

Afterwards, the main force of the liberation army continued to march, as they'd decided they wanted to make it to Isaach Castle that day.

Around two in the afternoon, they saw a pillar of smoke coming from the direction of Isaach Castle. And when they got even closer, a cloud of dust rose up ahead of them.

"What do you think that’s about, Prince Iuchar?" Oifey guided his horse next to Iuchar's and asked.

"I think General Schmitt and his cavalry are responsible."

"Are they strong?"

"Yes, and quite so."

"Then we should probably retreat for now, I'm guessing?"

"There's a village atop the left hand side of the hill. I think we should go protect it."

The liberation army decided to take Iuchar's advice and retreated, then barricaded themselves within the village. The town was surrounded by a steep slope, so as long as they guarded the village's entrance, the enemy wouldn't be able to invade.

Schmidt's cavalry unit soon came to attack the village. They took turns charging the entrance and throwing javelins inside. The cavalry seemed to be well trained in this maneuver, as they put up a consistent, stubborn fight. If they had attacked in an area where they could put their horses' mobility to use, they probably would have been able to do a lot of damage.

However, Oifey's and Iuchar's units took turns protecting the entrance, and did not let the enemy invade the village. Any of Schmidt's soldiers that traveled the village perimeter looking for another entrance were met with Lester's arrows and Arthur's meteors.

As the calvary took more and more damage, both the soldiers and their horses started to look tired. When the time was right, Seliph shouted,"Okay, counterattack now! Everyone, chaaaarge!"

With their speed greatly hampered, the cavalry no longer had any strength left. The course of the battle changed so quickly that it was as if the two sides had never been evenly matched at all.

While the liberation army was resting up after the battle, Seliph approached Iuchar and said, "Prince Iuchar, thanks to you, we were able to save our allies. Thank you."

"Don't mention it! We're allies! And by the way, I'm not a prince anymore. I threw that title away earlier today."

"I understand, Iuchar. I look forward to working with you."

"Yeah, same here!"

They spent the night at the village, and arrived at Isaach Castle the next day around noon.

What Iuchar saw was there was a castle in ruin. The areas made of stone were left intact, but the rest was destroyed, torn apart, or on fire. Everything of value had been stolen.

'Father must have gotten angry and ordered this in response to my betrayal. But I actually feel relieved.'

Rivough Castle was surrounded on three sides, so the liberation army decided to wait for a while before carrying out a full attack on it. They were hoping that upon seeing their numbers, the Isaachian soldiers would come to surrender. As they'd predicted, over the course of five days, many of the soldiers snuck out of Rivough, and joined the liberation army.

When it came time to finally start the attack, they broke down the castle gate, and Iuchar led the front line into the castle. The remaining enemy soldiers didn't try to fight, instead rushing towards the main building, dismounting their horses, and running inside.

Iuchar’s father was sitting on the throne, encased in a full suit of armor.

Iuchar readied his battle axe and slowly approached him.

"What is this? Are you trying to turn your blade against your own father?"

Iuchar didn't answer.

Danan stood up and grabbed his own axe.

Iuchar walked up to the staircase leading to the throne. The three sets of stairs his father was standing atop of made him look very tall.

'In our current positions, I'd lose the fight for sure.' Iuchar thought.

His father didn't seem interested in giving up the high ground, so they glared at each other for a while longer.

His father's gaze made him try to remember what their relationship had been like until now. He'd been a person Iuchar couldn't possibly compare to, and tried to make him obey every order without question.

'I must forget the past, and think of what he's done! To the children, and the villagers, and my mother!'

However, it was hard to keep the exact same thoughts in his mind. Still, he tried his hardest to endure, and not give up.

He didn't know how much time had passed. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

Then--

"Iuchar!"

He heard someone scream.

It was just for a moment, but he looked away from his opponent.

That was when Danan jumped.

He tried to swing his axe at Iuchar's torso, but Iuchar was a split second faster, and dashed towards his chest.

Iuchar swung down his axe, smashing his father's helmet and lodging his weapon into the top of Danan’s head.

Iuchar heard his father's axe fall on the floor.

"Iuchar!" Larcei rushed up to him.

He slowly turned around.

"Iuchar! Thank goodness you're safe!"

After that, she tried to avoid him. He wondered why, but the look of relief on her face told him everything.

"I'm sorry, Iuchar. When I realized just how much you'd been forced to throw away, I couldn't bring myself to look at you. But then, when I saw you rush into the castle…"

"Don't worry about it, Larcei. The things I threw away meant nothing to me. What I gained is worth so much more."

A small smile lit up her face.

It was the first time Iuchar had ever seen her make such a kind expression.

#fire emblem #fe #fe4 #genealogy of the holy war #seliph #nintendo #super nintendo #snes #famicom #super famicom #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe4 suzuki novelization translation

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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On My Honor

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 8: Feyre

“This morning you will be running five miles, keep up.” That was all the warning we got before the lieutenant took off, leaving us to scramble after his disappearing back.

Even going to bed at a decent time last night, the first bell of the morning was a ridiculously early time to wake up. Stumbling and bleary-eyed, we gathered in a small clearing near the tents. Tamlin looked unfairly awake and ready to run us into the ground.

And one hour later he had done just that. The first mile: a rude wake-up call. The second two: a small taste of agony. The last two: the beginning of hell on earth. Tamlin set a brutal pace the entire time. By the end, he looked barely winded while the rest of us were heaving up the remains of last night’s dinner. Alex had fared no better than me, both of us doubled over with our hands braced on our shaking knees. Elijah, however, had managed to keep up a small stream of chatter the entire time, and though he was sweating and panting, he looked like he could go another five.

I sucked in as much humid morning air I could, the sun that was hiding behind the horizon had finally started its ascent, burning away the protective mist. Alex let out a groan beside me, his stomach clenching.

“If… you… puke… on… me…” each word was a gasp between breaths, “You’re… sleeping… outside.”

A rasping chuckle escaped his throat and thank the gods he managed to turn away before spitting up a vile liquid. My muscles burned like they never had before, my lungs felt as though someone had taken a dagger to them.

“Follow me,” were the only words Tamlin deigned to say to his whelps. He strode away, aiming for a large wooden structure, the only permanent building of the camp. Despite the still early hour, the sound of metal striking met my ears. The camp armory. Tamlin ducked inside a shed attached to the side and emerged dragging a crate. All of us limped up (except Elijah, damn him) and formed a loose semi-circle around him.

“Take a sword and pair up.”

Alex and I gave each other a small nod before grabbing a wooden sword each. We distanced ourselves slightly from the group, looking to Tamlin for the next command.

Over the next hour, Tamlin ran us through the basics of swordplay. Even though the battlefield was a hellish mess, it was still important to learn the basics so that we would have a higher chance of hitting the enemy rather than ourselves, or worse, each other.

As the drills progressed, it was obvious that Tamlin was… displeased with the state of our swordplay skills. Though every word that came out his mouth was only corrections, his tone made it clear that we have a long way to go.

The sun rose higher and higher, burning stronger with each minute. More and more sweat poured off my body, off all of our bodies. Some had stripped off their shirts, favoring the cool breeze over what little protection their clothes offered them from their partner’s blows. For obvious reasons, I kept my shirt on.

When Tamlin finally called for a halt, even Elijah finally looked winded. I could barely raise my arms anymore, wincing with pain from the blows Alex had landed. At least I had the satisfaction that I had gotten a few on him too, and he was just as exhausted as I was.

“You have thirty minutes for breakfast,” Tamlin said, his green gaze raking over the sorry state of his recruits, “Then you’ll be reporting to Captain Cassian Knight for formation. Do not embarrass me.”

The relief in the air was palpable. We all dropped our swords into the crate and slowly made our way to the pot of gruel that was waiting for us.

Breakfast was the same as dinner. We sat around the same—now extinguished—fire with the same people, all of us still too tired to start up a conversation. Except for Elijah, who had already managed to bounce back and start up a one-sided commentary about our training this morning.

Exactly thirty minutes later, we found ourselves in the heart of the camp. Tamlin had us lined up in three columns of ten with him at the front. From what I could tell, at least a dozen other commanders were doing the same with their troops. We faced a massive war tent, the Imperial flag flying high from the tallest pole.

“Quiet!” came the booming voice. All eyes turned to the front, focusing on the man who had barked the order.

Tamlin had lined us up by height, which put me in the second row from the front. From there, I could note that the man, Captain Knight I assumed, had dark brown hair that was tied in a tight bun at the nape of his neck. His frame was tall and bulky, similar to Tamlin’s, but he seemed more… grounded, secure. The captain surveyed the now quiet troops, his dark eyes carefully noting every detail.

Often there was little news from the fronts, other than what battles we’ve won and the losses. If families were lucky, they got a letter from Captain Knight himself about the death of their son or husband. The letters were short, but they still conveyed his sorrow for their loss and how much he admired them as a soldier. It was one of the few comforts the families could get. There were too many bodies for the army to send back, so they got burned in mass pyres.

What soldiers did make it home, they were too injured to continue fighting. Some now spent their days drinking away what little money they had from their pay at the pub in town, spewing their war stories and triumphs. Some spoke of the legendary Captain Knight, who led his troops through hell and back with a smile on his face. Yes, news was little from the front, but even I had heard of Cassian Knight, the leashed beast of General Knight’s.

“Soldiers, the Emperor thanks you for your service and loyalty,” he started, “Over the next three weeks, we will be training you men in swordplay, archery and hand to hand combat. Although most of our battles are fought sword to sword, you might lose your weapon on the battlefield and must survive until you can regain it or regroup. Along with battle training, you will be doing general strength and stamina training, as some of you might have already had the privilege of partaking in this morning,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice. One or two brave chuckles or moans wove through the ranks before silencing again. Captain Knight’s face turned solemn at this point and there was a collective intake of breath.

“Not all of you will make it home, I will not lie to you on that,” his voice grave but not soft. “This war has taken a terrible toll on Prythian and its people. But I swear to you all, through every battle, through every hard night, I will be there fighting for our country. We all will be fighting for our country! Our people!” his voice rose into a passioned pitch, dragging us all along with us. The lieutenants yells rose with the captain's voice, prompting the rest of us to follow suit.

Forcing my voice low and hoarse, I joined in on the battle cries, my heart thundering in my chest with the savage beat of war.

For my father.

For my sisters.

For Prythian.

Next Chapter

#mulan #acotar #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #sjm #sarah j maas

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lukeskywaker4ever · 4 years

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Aljubarrota Battle

Date: August 14, 1385 Location: Campo de Sao Jorge, Calvaria de Cima, near Aljubarrota, Portugal Outcome: Portugal's decisive victory

Belligerents: Kingdom of Portugal with the support of Kingdom of England Castile with the support of Kingdom of France and Aragon’s Crown

Commanders: Portugal - João I of Portugal/ Nuno Álvares Pereira Castile - Juan I of Castile/ Pedro Álvares Pereira (Nuno’s brother)

Forces: Portugal side - About 6,500 men:

4,000 pawns;

1,700 spearmen;

800 crossbowmen;

200 English archers.

Castile side - About 31,000 men:

15,000 pawns;

6,000 spearmen;

8,000 crossbowmen;

More than 2,000 French heavy knights;

15 mortars.

Drops: Portugal side - 500 to 600 men Castile side - 4,000 to 5,000; 5,000 in the aftermath.

The Battle of Aljubarrota was one of the rare great camp battles of the Middle Ages between two royal armies and one of the most decisive events in the history of Portugal. It innovated military tactics by allowing men of armored arms to be able to beat a powerful cavalry. In the diplomatic field, it allowed the alliance between Portugal and England, which continues to this day. Politically, it resolved the dispute that divided the Kingdom of Portugal from the Kingdom of Castile and Leon, paving the way under the Avis Dynasty for one of the most remarkable eras in Portuguese history, the Age of Discovery.

Directly associated with the victory of the Portuguese in this battle, was celebrated the legendary figure of the heroine Brites de Almeida, better known as "the Padeira de Aljubarrota", who with her shovel killed seven Castilians she found hidden in her oven.

Background

By the end of the fourteenth century, Europe was struggling with a time of crisis and revolution. The Hundred Years War devastated France, black plague epidemics took lives across the continent, political instability dominated, and Portugal was no exception.

In 1383, King Fernando died without a male son who inherited the crown. Her only legitimate daughter was the infanta D. Beatriz, married to King Juan I of Castile. The bourgeoisie was dissatisfied with the regency of Queen D. Leonor Teles and her favorite, Count Andeiro, and with the order of succession, since this would mean the annexation of Portugal by Castile. People were bustling in Lisbon, Count Andeiro was killed, and the people asked the master of Avis, D. João, the natural son of D. Pedro I of Portugal, to remain the regent and defender of the Kingdom.

Faced with the revolt of the Portuguese population in various points and cities of the Kingdom of Portugal, the king of Castile decided in 1384 to enter Portugal. Between February and October of this year, sets up a siege to Lisbon, by land and by sea.

A Portuguese fleet from Porto faces, on July 18, 1384, at the entrance of Lisbon, the Castilian fleet in the battle of the Tagus. The Portuguese lose three ships and suffer several prisoners and the dead; however, the Portuguese fleet manages to break the much larger Castilian fleet and unload the food it brought into the port of Lisbon. This food aid turned out to be very important for the people who defended Lisbon.

The siege of Lisbon by the Castilian troops does not work out, due to the determination of the Portuguese forces to resist the siege, the fact that Lisbon is well walled and defended, the help of food brought from Porto and due to the black plague epidemic that plagued the cities. Castilian forces camped outside the walls.

In June 1385, Juan I of Castile decides to invade Portugal again, this time at the head of his entire army and aided by a strong contingent of French cavalry.

Preparation

When news of the invasion arrived, the military council was convened in Abrantes to decide what to do. Many considered the invading army to be too strong and suggested a fun march to Seville to attract the invading army until the English reinforcements arrived. The Constable opposes and defends to give battle to stop the enemy, because Lisbon was with weak resistance; The king seemed to be of the same opinion, but did not decide immediately. Then D. Nuno leaves with his host to Tomar. The king sent a message asking him to return to Abrantes, but D. Nuno refuses and continues the march to Tomar, where he would wait for the king. They then meet and travel to Porto de Mós.

The vanguard is commanded by the constable and the rear by the king.

Arrangement of the Portuguese Host

With the English allies, the Portuguese army intercepted the invaders near Leiria. Given the slowness with which the Castilians advanced, D. Nuno Álvares Pereira had time to choose the favorable ground for the battle. The option fell on a small flat top hill surrounded by streams near Aljubarrota. However, the Portuguese army did not appear to the Castilian in this place, initially formed its lines in another side of the hill, and later, already in the presence of the Castilian hosts moved to the predefined site, this caused much confusion in the troops of Castile.

Thus, at ten o'clock in the morning on August 14, the army took its position on the northern slope of this hill, facing the road where the Castilians were expected. The Portuguese layout was as follows: infantry in the center of the line, a leading crossbowman with 200 English archers, 2 wings on the flanks, with more crossbowmen, cavalry and infantry. At the rear, they awaited the reinforcements and cavalry commanded by D. João I of Portugal in person. From this highly defensive position, the Portuguese observed the arrival of the Castilian army protected by the slope of the hill.

The Portuguese were positioned in a south-north direction and the early Castilians were north-south.

The arrival of the Castilians

The vanguard of Castile's army arrived at the battle theater at lunchtime, under the scorching August sun. Seeing the defensive position occupied by what he considered the rebels, the king of Castile made the expected decision to avoid combat in these terms. Slowly, due to the 30,000 troops that made up its troop, the Castilian army began to circle the hill along the east road. The southern slope of the hill had a softer unevenness and that was where, as D. Nuno Alvares had predicted, they intended to attack.

The Portuguese army then reversed its disposition and headed for the southern slope of the hill, where the ground had been previously prepared. Since it was much less numerous and had a shorter course ahead, the Portuguese contingent reached its final position long before the Castilian army was positioned.

D. Nuno Álvares Pereira had ordered the construction of a set of palisades and other defenses in front of the infantry line, protecting this and the archers. This type of defensive tactic, very typical of the Roman legions, resurged in Europe at that time. These defenses included wolf pits and moats that were concealed with branches.

In the final position the Portuguese are in the north-south direction and the Castilians south-north, with Lisbon in the back.

Since it was holy eve, the fight could not take place the next day. On the Castilian side there were those who did not want to fight, but there were others who wanted to end the Portuguese resistance that day.

The king of Castile sends emissaries to the Constable: Diogo Alvares Pereira, brother of D. Nuno, Pedro Lopez de Ayala and Diogo Fernandes, Marshal of Castile. These wanted to convince the Constable to reject his king and join them. The Constable refused and threatened to shoot.

At about six o'clock, the Castilians not yet fully settled decide hastily, or fearing having to fight at night, to begin the attack.

It is debatable whether in fact there was the so famous "square" tactic or simply this is an imaginative view of Fernão Lopes from reinforced wings. However, traditionally this is how the battle eventually went into history.

The battle

The attack began with a charge of the French cavalry: full force and force to break the opposing infantry line. However the Portuguese defensive lines repelled the attack. The small width of the battlefield, which made it difficult for the cavalry to maneuver, the palisades (made with upright trunks separated only by the distance necessary for a man's passage, which did not allow the passage of horses) and the rain of Crossbow bolts (aided by 2 hundred English archers led by Sir Leon Baade) caused the cavalry, long before it came into contact with the Portuguese infantry, to become disorganized and confused. In the end, the cavalry casualties were heavy and the effect of the attack null.

Not yet profiled on the ground, the Castilian rearguard was slow to assist, and as a result the knights who did not die were taken prisoner by the Portuguese.

After this setback, the remaining and most substantial part of the Castilian army attacked. Its line was quite extended by the high number of soldiers. In advancing towards the Portuguese, the Castilians were forced to tighten (which disrupted their ranks) to fit the space between the streams. While the Castilians were disorganized, the Portuguese redeployed their forces, dividing D. Nuno Álvares' vanguard into two sectors in order to face the new threat. Seeing that the worst was yet to come, King João I of Portugal ordered the English crossbowmen and archers to be withdrawn and the rearward advance through the open space on the front line. Before advancing, D. João I orders the execution of the imprisoned French knights, as a way to prevent a possible counterattack from the rear.

Disorganized, without room for maneuver, and finally crushed between the Portuguese flanks and the advanced rear, the Castilians could do little but die. By sunset, the battle was already lost to Castile. In haste, Juan of Castile ordered the general withdrawal without arranging the cover. The Castilians then disorderly disbanded from the battlefield. The Portuguese cavalry launched their pursuit of the fugitives, decimating them without mercy.

Despite the great victory at the front, the Portuguese carriage led by Diogo Lopes Pacheco was attacked by the Castilians. The Constable orders the persecution to be suspended and organizes the counterattack, repelling the enemy offensive.

The king of Castile himself, debilitated and having been present in the battle in a litter, was rushed on horseback to Santarém as a way of escape to the Portuguese who were in pursuit of the Castilians. At that moment, and in an attempt to capture the Castilian monarch, one of D. Nuno Álvares Pereira's knights is killed, and was later buried in Alcobaça.

Some fugitives sought to hide nearby, only to end up dead at the hands of the people.

Here a Portuguese tradition arises around the battle: a woman by her name Brites de Almeida, remembered as the Padeira de Aljubarrota, deceived, ambushed and killed some escaping Castilians by her own hands. The story is certainly a legend of the time. However, shortly thereafter, D. Nuno Álvares Pereira ordered the suspension of the persecution and gave respite to the fugitive troops.

The next day

On the morning of August 15, the catastrophe suffered by the Castilians was in full view: the corpses were so many that they came to bar the course of the streams that flanked the hill. In addition to infantrymen, many noble Castilian nobles also died, which caused mourning in Castile until 1387. The French cavalry suffered another heavy defeat against infantry tactics in Aljubarrota after Crécy and Poitiers. The battle of Azincourt, already in the fifteenth century, shows that Aljubarrota was not the last time this happened. It should be noted that, as was customary at the time, the Portuguese forces remained there for 3 days, awaiting a possible attack by the Castilians, successively improving the defensive positions.

Outcome

With this victory, D. João I became the undisputed king of Portugal, the first of the Avis Dynasty.

To celebrate the victory and to thank the divine help he believed he had received, D. João I had the Santa Maria da Vitória Monastery erected and founded the village of Batalha.

Just as, seven years after the battle, the incumbent D. Nuno Álvares Pereira had the São Jorge Chapel built in Calvaria de Cima, where precisely the São Jorge military camp is located, and he had deposited his banner that day.

Today in this very last place, there is also a modern interpretation center that explains the course of events, their antecedents and their consequences.

#aljubarrota battle #d. nuno alvares pereira #king joão i of portugal #history #portugal #batalha #reblog

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iarollane · 5 years

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Fictober...

I'm still trying to do these, I promise. Unfortunately, with Halloween just around the corner, the little bits of time that I would normally devote to writing are instead going to working on my son's Halloween costume. So enjoy this thing I was able to write when I couldn't paint bones!

Prompt "You could talk about it, you know."

Dragon Age pre-Origins, some Anders backstory

Rating general, very light mention of m/m

Anders was worried.

He'd passed his Harrowing last week, Karl his the week before, and he'd thought that once it was over, they would celebrate. Instead, Karl had avoided being alone with him almost since his Harrowing had ended. Anders thought it had been nerves, at first, but it had continued. Sitting in the library, not really reading whatever was in front of him, Anders tried to think if he'd done anything that could have upset his lover.

Could that be it? Was Karl upset at how their relationship had changed? They'd been friends a long time, and then, the night before Karl's Harrowing, they'd been talking about what might happen. Of all the things they'd never do if they failed.

And Anders had kissed him.

He frowned down at the text, demanding answers that it couldn't give. Karl had seemed as enthusiastic as Anders, but who knew how that could have changed after the fact.

That was it. Determined, Anders shoved his chair back and stood, leaving the book open on the table. He was going to find Karl and ask him.

He turned away from the table, and promptly collided with the mage he was seeking. They both went down in a flurry of muffled oaths and flailing limbs.

They disentangled themselves, Anders suddenly tongue tied. How did one bring up whether or not someone you thought you might love might, in fact, not love you in return? He ran his hands over his robes, casting around desperately for anything that might help ease the awkwardness.

"So... great weather we've been having." Smooth, Anders.

Karl hesitated, then ventured, "You look... good, Anders. I heard your Harrowing went well."

"Yes. Nearly getting killed by our supposed protectors is quite refreshing, isn't it?" Anders was rewarded with a brief flicker of a smirk, before Karl smoothed his face again. "So since we both passed, why don't we go celebrate?" Anders lowered his voice and said in sing-song, "I know where the Chantry mother keeps her sacred wine." He tried to give a bright smile, hoping that the tension was done with.

Karl shook his head. "I really shouldn't..." Anders couldn't tell if he didn't want to because he didn't want trouble, or because he didn't want Anders.

"What's wrong, Karl?" The words slipped out before he realized. Karl looked torn. Quieter, Anders said, "Whatever it is, you could talk about it, you know? We could figure out any problems. Just don't shut me out."

"Not here." Karl glanced around, then leaned close and said, "Meet me in The Spot," before hustling away.

Anders took a deep breath. At least it was something. Right?

Hoping it was something small being blown out of proportion, Anders decided to sneak some of that sacred wine away. Maybe they could try that kiss again...

A couple mages were talking as he passed. "Did you hear?" one said to the other. "Apparently the Kirkwall circle is in need of some new blood." The second gasped.

"Oh, I hope they don't pick me. The stories that come out of that city..."

"Don't worry," the first one assured her companion. "I heard they're only moving mages that have already passed their Harrowing. We're safe."

Anders moved out of range to hear more, but now that he was aware of it, it seemed like this news was all anyone could talk about. He heard whispers of it everywhere, and a trickle of unease went down his spine.

He shook it off. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he ducked into a mostly unused storeroom. It was perfect for hiding when you didn't want to be found for extra duties. Karl had discovered it, and shared it with Anders. From what they could tell, no one else ever came in here.

Karl was already there, pacing back and forth, gnawing on his lip. He jumped a little when he heard Anders enter, then relaxed slightly when he saw him.

"Good, you're here." He gestured to a crate he'd set upside down. "We need to talk. You... might want to sit down."

Anders felt a lump forming in the pit of his stomach. Karl doesn't want me, he thought. "It's alright," he managed. "I know what happened was very sudden, but you mean the world to me. I don't want it to mean we can't be friends anymore."

Karl's brow furrowed. "What're you..." His face cleared. "No! This isn't about that, not directly. I want that to continue, if you do." Karl was wringing his hands. "I'm leaving." His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. "Or rather, I'm being sent away."

Anders blinked, confused. He sat on the crate and licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "Why don't you start from the beginning." he said carefully.

Karl pulled over another crate and sat in front of Anders, taking one of his hands in his own. "Have you heard about Kirkwall?" Karl asked. When Anders jerked his head into a nod, Karl continued in a hushed voice. "I was one of the ones picked."

"No!"

Anders was startled. He hadn't even realized he had spoken the word aloud, but he pressed on. "They can't have you. Let them send someone else."

"I wish I could tell them all to stuff themselves," Karl said. "But it was done by lottery. The day after my Harrowing."

Anders squeezed his hand in Karl's, not accepting. "Then we'll leave. Tonight. We'll escape-"

"You know that won't work," Karl said softly.

Anders swallowed hard, trying to ease the ache in his throat. "How long until you leave?"

"A little less than a month. That's when the templars assigned to escort those of us chosen will arrive." Anders was silent, staring down at their hands. "If any of us aren't here when they arrive, they'll likely pull Knight Commander Greagoir from his position. He's the best chance any mage here has of keeping what little freedoms we do have." Karl reached out and lifted Anders face, looking him in the eye. "Without Gregoir to act as buffer to the Chantry, this place would likely be much more like Kirkwall."

Anders hated the sense that Karl was speaking. "I won't leave you to rot there."

"What other options do we have?"

"We have a month, right?" Anders asked. Karl nodded. "Then we take our time together. We enjoy it. And we plan."

"Plan for what?"

"I'll escape after you've left. I'll find you on the road, and we'll escape your templar guard dogs together."

A glimmer of hope bloomed in Karl's eyes. "Do you think? But so many things could go wrong."

"That's why we need to plan," Anders said firmly. "I'm not giving up on you. On us."

Karl smiled, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Anders'. "Neither will I," he whispered.

#fictober19 #Dragon Age #Anders #Anders/Karl #slightest mention of m/m

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fanonorcanon · 5 years

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Sebastian & F!Hawke (Past Handers)

Una Hawke stood frozen staring at the statue of what had once been Knight-Commander Meredith. How someone could be so tyrannical, so careless of others lives she didn't know. A part of her wanted to take her staff in hand and see if the statue would shatter. But the thought of red lyrium in shards and pieces possibly being picked up, perhaps even being smuggled away was enough to stop her.

“Is everything alright, lass?”

“Oh, Sebastian. Yes, everything is fine,” Una lied easily.

“You forced her hand and made her kill her lover. I doubt that 'everything is fine’” Fenris growled.

“You of all people wanted him alive? After what he'd done?” Sebastian argued.

“All he did was kill your precious Grand Cleric. Someone would have done it eventually. How can you see the other parts of Kirkwall, all the suffering people and say that the Chantry is justified in keeping that absurd amount of wealth to themselves? I disagree with his methods certainly but something did need to change,” Fenris said.

Una wished they wouldn't argue. It'd been hard enough to just get through the day.

“That's enough now, boys,” Isabela said in a honeyed tone.

“Can't you people leave her alone?” Varric sighed. “Head on home, Hawke. We'll deal with this,” he said, waving her off.

“Thank you, Varric,” Una murmured. She gripped her staff tighter and made her way back to the estate.

The loss of Anders still stung. It had been months ago and Una had done her best; going through the motions, putting on a happy face. It seemed to satisfy most people, save for Sebastian. He'd accused her more than once of 'simply paying lip service’ when the subject of Anders’ betrayal came up. As it often did if Sebastian had anything to say about it.

Una lay back in the bath. The water had long gone cold, any bubbles dissolved. None of it bothered her. She heard a commotion downstairs but was certain that it was just Sandal having fun.

“Messere, please. The Lady does not wish to be disturbed!” Bodhan said.

Una sighed.

“Sod it, if I want to see my sister, I'm going to,” Carver spat.

Una hustled out of the bath and wrapped herself in her favorite robe. She sat at her vanity and tried to look busy, she was reaching for her hairbrush when Carver burst in.

“Brother. A pleasure as always,” Una plastered on a smile.

“Stop making that face. It's weird. You don't have to pretend, you know. Not with me.”

Una let her face relax, the frown coming easily. “Thank you, Carver,” she murmured.

“So whose head do I need to knock around?”

“No one,” Una huffed.

“Yet,” Carver said with a smirk. “That stuffy Prince still bothering you? Seems no matter how many times people argue with him he won't see reason. Bet he thinks of old Elthina when he’s wanking off.”

“Carver Aristide Hawke!” Una groaned.

“What? I wouldn't put it past him,” Carver chuckled.

“He is strangely obsessed with her.”

“You're smiling,” Carver said smugly. “All it took was insulting Starkhaven's royalty. When is he gonna fuck off right back there?”

“Not soon enough for you, clearly,” Una snorted.

“I don't like him. It wasn't right what he made you do.”

“He didn't make me do anything, Carver,” Una sighed.

“I don't believe that for a second.” Carver rolled his eyes.

“Anders forced my hand just as much as Sebastian.”

Carver passed Una his handkerchief before she even realized that she was crying. She thanked him and dried her eyes.

“Go on and blow your snotty nose with it. I know you're just dying to,” Carver teased.

Una blew her nose loudly, taking pleasure in Carver's noises of disgust.

...

Una was slumped back in her chair nursing a bottle of wine from Fenris when a visitor arrived.

“Shall I send them away, Messere?” Bodahn whispered.

“Depends, who is it?”

“His Highness of Starkhaven, my lady.”

Una polished off the rest of the bottle while Bodahn waited patiently for her answer.

“Send him in. Along with a bottle of whiskey, please. I daresay I'll need it.”

“As you say, Messere,” Bodahn nodded.

Sebastian entered the study and stood by the fire. His posture was rigid and he held his hands behind his back. If Sebastian had noticed her shabby appearance, he chose not to mention it. From the lines on her face, to the dark circles under her eyes, it spoke much to what Una Hawke had endured. After several false starts where he opened his mouth only to close it and shake his head Bodahn entered with a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses that he set down onto the side table.

“Thank you, Bodahn. Feel free to retire for the evening, you deserve some rest,” Una said.

“Thank you, Messere,” Bodahn replied, shooting Sebastian a glare on his way out.

“I don't think he likes me very much,” Sebastian said haltingly.

“Not many people do,” Una snorted.

Sebastian's cheeks went red. “I came to apologize, Hawke.”

“Whatever for?” She asked as she filled two glasses with whiskey. Una sipped from one and handed the other to Sebastian.

“I shouldn't,” he protested.

Una pressed the glass to his chest.

“Drink.” Her voice stern and brooked no argument.

He threw back a mouthful and made an expression Una couldn't quite name.

“That's Starkhaven whiskey,” he murmured.

“Is it?”

“I'm getting off track, I came to apologize. About Anders. After everything that happened, I was still so blind in my need for vengeance. I thought I'd put that behind me after the people responsible for my family's murder had paid with their lives. You deserved better than to… I have prayed on it ever since that day and though I hadn't meant to, it was manipulative. That position I put you in. I can't apologize enough, and I know that words from a foolish man mean little when you've lost a loved one-”

“Drink,” she repeated, just as sternly as before.

Sebastian gulped and nodded. He took small sips, savoring the taste that reminded him of home.

“I'm tired of thinking about it,” Una said wearily and sat back in her chair. “I've put him out of my mind. Just another chapter in 'The Tale of the Champion’, ended.”

“You can't mean that!” He yelled.

“You're not making this any easier, Sebastian. Just leave it alone. I don't want to have this conversation anymore with anyone. If that's all you came to say, you've said it and now you can leave.”

“I know better than most what burying your feelings does to a person,” Sebastian said quietly. He finished his glass and set it back on the side table. “Thank you for the whiskey. Be well, Hawke.”

She had fled the city at the behest of Varric. Under cover of darkness on a draft horse. ‘Best to hide in plain sight’ Varric had said; a wise plan. As to where she'd go, she had not decided. She felt a lot freer than she'd been in years. No obligations, no responsibilities other than the welfare of herself and the horse.

“You need a name don't you?” Una murmured to herself as she ran her fingers through the horses mane. “Suppose I do as well. How about Ruby?” The horse nuzzled into her hand. “Ruby it is. Audra for me, I believe.”

...

She'd begun traveling years ago and had wandered the furthest reaches of Thedas; beyond the uncharted lands south of the Wilds, beyond the lands north of the Anderfels. Life was simpler as ‘Audra'. She was free to roam, beholden to no one, no longer duty bound to a city beyond saving. She found herself wandering back to the Free Marches. Perhaps she missed the only family she'd had left. The friends she'd been to hell and back with. Varric was easy to find and he was able to point her towards her former companions. Her heart somehow led her to Starkhaven.

The city had a splendor Kirkwall could never hope to match; buildings crafted of marble and granite, shops were clean and bustling with lively people.

Audra settled on the outskirts of the city and found herself falling into familiar habits, albeit not her own. It started with selling potions to get by. Then it was making remedies by request. The progression to healing the sick or injured seemed natural; perhaps too natural. She dreamt of Anders every night now. His resigned and mournful expression when she'd killed him. How his fingers brushed her cheek and he thanked her even as she sunk the knife into his chest. Audra thought she'd run out of tears only to be mistaken the nights she jolted awake thinking she could undo what she'd done. A life of service seemed an inadequate penance but she would set herself on that path all the same.

Several months after settling into her clinic a member of the city guard arrived at her door, his head bloodied and eyes unfocused. She healed the man and thought that was the end of it but before the week's end she had the city magistrate knocking on her door.

"Is there something I can help you with serrah?" She tried to keep her tone polite and even, though in her heart she was stricken with panic.

"You're the healer?" He asked with a frown.

"Yes, I am," she said slowly. "Are you in need of aid?"

"Not myself, no. There's an illness in the castle. And it's spreading. If you're half as good as my son says then you'll be able to sort it out."

"Your son?"

"He's a city guard," the magistrate replied proudly. "He said you healed him. Not just his head but his leg as well. It was an old wound. He'd thought it would never be the same, but he's got a spring in his step thanks to you."

She blushed and nodded. After she gathered a few things they were off. The magistrate brought her to the servants living quarters first. They were wracked with fever, chills, coughs and sores. After thoroughly healing five of the ill servants, Audra was growing weary.

"Magistrate, serrah, I need rest," she said. 'Or lyrium' her mind supplied, though she knew better. The people of Starkhaven were distrustful of magic and very superstitious. It was enough that they had accepted her aid. There was no need to remind them of her 'abnormality' by downing potion after potion just to finish the task at hand.

"I'll alert the seneschal and he will find a room for the night. We cannot afford for the illness to spread further."

"The Prince," she found herself saying, "is he well?"

"Quite. I'll return shortly."

Audra breathed a sigh of relief. Though she and Sebastian had not parted on the best of terms she did not wish him ill. The seneschal greeted her kindly but she could see his distress.

"Are you alright, seneschal?"

"It's my wife. She's with child but she's ill like the others. The magistrate said you need rest. But as soon as you're able, please heal her. I can't bear to lose her."

His desperation was plain to see. Audra couldn't help but think of Anders; how often he had pushed himself to heal just one more person.

"Will you take me to her?" The words left her without a second thought.

"I'd greatly appreciate that. Even just assessing the condition is more than I'd hoped at this time," the seneschal said and wiped his eyes.

…

His wife's condition was worse than she'd feared. The illness was robbing the mother of the capability to nurture the growing life inside her. Audra felt sweat gather on her brow as she poured her magic into the woman. Even as she felt the room sway, she pressed on. When Audra finished the mother had color back in her complexion and the baby wriggled energetically once more. The seneschal wept and thanked her profusely.

"Do you mind if I sit down a moment?" Audra tried to even out her breathing.

"Of course, anything you need." The seneschal gestured to the divan by the wall.

Audra made it four steps before she collapsed in a heap on the floor. The seneschal hadn't even had time to catch her.

…

Prince Sebastian walked past his chambers, only a single bodyguard- Ainsley- in tow, and onto the seneschal's chambers. The seneschal's wife was unwell and though Sebastian himself could do little to help, he wished to extend the man any and all services in his employ.

He knocked on the seneschal's chamber door and waited. Graham rarely left his quarters this time of night, opting instead to be by his wife's side as much as he could. Sebastian waited several more minutes before he tried the knob.

"Seneschal Graham?" Sebastian asked. He heard a scuffle of feet and let Ainsley enter the room first.

"Did this woman harm you, seneschal?" Ainsley asked, his hand ready to draw his sword.

"Absolutely not!" The seneschal seemed cross at the simple implication. "She healed my wife but she collapsed shortly after. I haven't been able to rouse her and she's heavier than she looks."

Sebastian stepped closer to the woman. Much of her figure was obscured by the dark billowing fabric that could only generously be referred to as a dress. Sebastian tore his gaze from her attire and onto her face. If it wasn't for the woman's long mass of golden ringlets, Sebastian could have sworn the woman was Una Hawke. She was softer in the face, more scars, even a burn along the side of her neck.

"Her name, Graham?" Sebastian asked.

"Audra I believe, your majesty."

Sebastian picked up the woman and carried her to one of the guest quarters. She was at least twice as heavy as Una -or at least the Una he remembered- had been, but he'd no trouble carrying her. He sat by her bedside until he grew tired, vowing to return in the morning before his princely duties.

…

The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that the woman was Una. Sebastian had wheedled the information of her whereabouts the last time he met Varric after he'd become the Viscount of Kirkwall. All the dwarf had said was that she'd returned to the Free Marches.

He'd instructed a maidservant to watch over her and to send a runner to him if the woman woke. He'd gotten no news of Una waking throughout the day and decided to take her lyrium potions.

He dismissed the maidservant and left Ainsley by the door. As Sebastian sat at her bedside he gazed at her body. She was as beautiful as he'd remembered. He'd never told her of his infatuation; it seemed inappropriate since she had been with Anders then. The regret he still carried over his hand in Anders' fate had faded over time but looking at Hawke now it stung anew. He wanted to tell her how sorry he still was. He didn't dare hope that she'd forgive him, or even attempt to rekindle the easy friendship they'd once had. As Sebastian watched her chest rise and fall he longed to reach for her hand but resisted. He doubted she'd even want him touching her so familiarly. Instead he laced his own fingers together and waited on in silence.

Hawke began stirring in her sleep some time after midnight. She thrashed against the covers murmuring apologies. Sebastian's heart ached to see her so unsettled. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Hawke, rest easy," he murmured.

Her eyes opened and they had a wild look about them. "Sebastian?" Hawke asked breathlessly.

"It's nice to see you awake, Hawke. Gave us quite a fright passing out like that."

"I'd hoped we wouldn't cross paths," she admitted slowly. "Not because I didn't want to, it seems silly now. I didn't want you to see me looking this way."

Sebastian frowned. "Collapsed from healing people? How could you have known you would?"

"I'm not as fit as I used to be is all," she mumbled.

"Hawke, I hold you in high esteem regardless of your shape."

"Oh," she replied blankly.

"I um, I've brought lyrium potions. And an additional offer if you've a mind. I would do well to have a healer at court. Especially one of your talents. Would you consider coming to work at the palace?"

Hawke's eyebrows shot up.

"The lyrium potions do not hinge on your acceptance of the position!" Sebastian added hastily. "You've done a great service for my people. And not just yesterday if the rumors are true."

"Healing people… For quite some time now I've considered it a calling," she said softly.

Anders, his mind reminded him. It should have come as no surprise that the mage had had such a profound effect on her. They'd been lovers, and nearly more. Varric had sought to twist the knife in him deeper and told him that Anders had meant to wed Hawke.

And in a single-minded fit of rage Sebastian had taken it all from her. The more he'd prayed on it the more he did everything he could to invite her rage. He deserved no less. She hadn't lashed out at all and that had been so much worse. Even now he still sought penance. Though as he stood at her bedside his traitorous thoughts ran wild with the hope that maybe after all this time she'd finally forgive him.

"Sebastian?" Hawke asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? You seem… unfocused."

"As you can imagine, I often have much on my mind. Starkhaven needs a deft hand to rule it," he chuckled.

"Apologies your majesty," she murmured. "I should finish healing the ill here. If they are willing."

"Why would they be unwilling?" Sebastian frowned.

"Aren't Starkhaveners distrustful of magic?"

"Who told you that?" He asked, seeming somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"That little bastard," she huffed.

"I beg pardon?"

"Varric. He's always told me that they abhorred magic!"

"I think he may have been trying to keep you in Kirkwall, Hawke."

"Well, I really showed him, didn't I?" She smiled gently.

#sebastian vael #female hawke #knight commander meredith #dragon age #da2 #dragon age 2 #fanon writes fic

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twinfanfics · 5 years

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The tale of the three head beast. The marching fishes (18/20)

Second part of the tale of the three head beast series, you can read the first part The chosen children Here and here, or look for the tag 3t3hb on this blog.

Resume: Three years had pased since Taichi won the hand of princess Sora and both get crowned King and Queen of the living land, now they must faced the duty of the monarchs, but the King is must worried about cover his affair with royal guard. The war started on the Honest Island, does the King Joe would manage it?. Mean while at the other side of the sea Takato and Ruki stronger their forces.

And you can read all past chapters of the marching fishes in the links below

ACT 1. ESCENE 1: THE RAIN

ACT 1. ESCENE 2: THE WILL

ACT 1. ESCENE 3: THE TRIP

ACT 1. ESCENE 4:THE SON

ACT 2. SCENE 1: THE ARRIVAL

ACT 2. SCENE 2: BROTHERHOOD

ACT 2. SCENE 3: MOTHER | **warning suicide attempt**

ACT 2. SCENE 4: THE BATTLE OF THE IKKAKU ISLAND

ACT 3. SCENE 1: THE INTERROGATION

ACT 3. ESCENE 2: DELIVERY

ACT 3. ESCENE 3: RED DRESS

ACT 4. ESCENE 1:TRIAL

ACT 4. ESCENE 2: THE SAINT QUEEN

ACT 4. ESCENE 3:THE SPY

ACT 4. ESCENE 4: INTRUDERS

ACT 4: SCENE 5: THE BROKEN SWORD

ACT 5: SCENE 1: THE WIDOW

ACT 5: SCENE 2: WELCOME HOME . after the jump

The war was over. It only remains the pain and the injuries. Yamato rested over his bed, the movement of the boat was a lullaby. His closed eyes a window at the horrors. The battlefield, the smell of the blood, the screams and the soldiers falling. Brothers of the Honest Islands against the army of the King. The ghost of his sword still on his hand and the arrows of Joe flying, aparting the enemies from him. They had win a battle, but his injuries were bad, the soldiers transported Yamato at the boat.

He closes his eyes and lets the movement of the boat lullas him. A knock at the door. It must be Joe, all concerned by his health, panicking already.

Taichi entered at the room with a discreted smile over his face.

“We won” The King said and then, Yamato remembered the horrors of this war. “How are you feeling, Love? are you hurt?”

Yamato didn’t answered, but his hand found Taichi’s

“Kouji had send the news at The Capital, the pigeons are going to arrive before us. They are gonna received us with a big fest for shure”

The injuries burn inside Yamato, maybe Iory hadn’t hit him so much, but he had fight at the limit of his strength. Any way, the little menace is going to have worst.

“Davis Motomiya and Ryo Akiyama are on the boat behind ours, some of our best soldiers are watching them”

Fourteen, Iory Hida had only fourteen, the age that he had when he went at the war for the first time. How few you know at fourteen years old.

“I know you don't like them, but I can see good on Motomiya, I’m glad that he join us. And the summon alchemist had told me some things about Akiyama, for what I understand he is all talk and no action”

Joe Kido was death.

“You need to rest” Taichi said and kiss him sweetie “You look bad, I´m gonna send someone to attend you”

He killed Joe Kido and he was crying with Taichi on his arms, who kiss him and clean his tears and talked about nonsense bullshit that Yamato couldn't care less about.

“You were right, Yamato. I didn't understand what war was” Taichi said and hold his lover’s hand when he closed his eyes. Yamato was tired and the ship kept moving. At the end, he heard the voice of the King, reciting with a musical cadence “ Forgive me God because I had sin, forgive the soul of the fallen. True God of Light, heal the sick, protect the weak…”

The war had been a mistake. Davis was thinking while he walk. The Light ship was big, the tropes were organized and fast. They weren't as the tropes that he had commanded. How much they could had avoid if his brothers would had listen to him? If they hadn’t be taken by the heat and the hate? He was in the winner said of the war, but he had lose so much.

“You did the right thing” his master said rounding his shoulder with his arm “History will give you the reason, believe me, I know about wars”

“My brothers…”

“They made mistakes” Ryo said “Big mistakes, that are on them, not on you”

“But I felt…”

“Betrayed, disappointed, maybe alone, those are perfectly reasonable feelings, but listen to me young man” Ryo take him by the shoulders and look at him directly at the eyes “ Never felt guilty for winning”

A moment of silence. The looks of the two men were intense and Ryo could feel the brain of Davis processing his words.

“That scar is horrible” Davis said and his master punch him on the head.

“You thing I didn’t know it?” Ryo claimed “I’m going to use a eye patch forever”

The scar of the poison arrow that Joe throw at his eye. The sea King failed at kill him, but he let him desfigurated, his precious face was now marked. What is his wife going to think?

“It's not that bad”

“That is good lie, son” Ryo said recovering his usual confident posture “We are going to need more of those”

“Master?”

Ryo walking him at the least crowley part of the ship.

“Going at the King side was the right move, but don’t get confused, The Light is still the enemy”

“Our enemy?”

“The enemy of humanity” Ryo said with undeniable certainty “The brothers and sisters of The Light are the lovers of the evil. Under any circumstance you must trust them. Over all never, never trust the summon alchemist, Koushiro Izumi is the worst”

“Koushiro Izumi?”

“Memorice the name Davis, is the name of the devil”

“The war is over, why we are still worry about enemies?”

“Oh Davis, enemies are not a business of war, is life”

The tone of his master was jovial, but Davis felt sadder every minute.

“I’m not going with you at the Capital”

“What? Why?” Davis said alarming

“The Light is there, and they don’t like me very much, but don’t worry, I’m not going to lose the track of you. I will come back for you, you just need to remember my wise advice, okey?”

“Don’t trust The Light”

“Specially...?” Ryo asked

“Don’t trust Koushiro Izumi”

“See, you are ready for the real world, Davis”

A pat in the back and Davis felt his world trembling.

The ships of The Light arrived at The Capital. White pendants where everywhere and despite the sun of the summer women are wearing long shirts and men all the buttons fastened. A Light committee was waiting for the King, the summon alchemist in person leading.

“Kouji”

The knight heard his name and turned himself to found his brother on the ship.

“Kouchi! What are you doing?” Kouji asked noting the casual clothes that his brother was wearing.

The brothers hug each other, happinest and release were palpable.

“You are alive, Kouji!” the youngest twin exclaimed “I don’t had much time, The Light had forbidden the entranced of warlocks and wizards at the first circle of The Capital”

“What?!”

“But I had to see you, the news of your victory are flying, brother. The moon knight, is how everyone is calling you, they said you won the battle of the Ikkaku Island”

“We won together, Kouchi” said Kouji with tears on his eyes “It was your sword the one who give me the victory”

“I had to leave soon, but I’m steading on the old house of my mother, at the end of the city”

“Kouchi…”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Kouji look around himself, the symbols of The Light were for all the city, they were no merchants on the streets and the festive music sounding was a praying at the true God of Light. Kouji hold his sword and his brother’s arm and walked to found Davis Motomiya, it was his duty to escort him and his master to land.

Davis and his master were talking on a corner of the ship.

“You both had to come with me” The knight commanded.

The two foreign look around them with fear. On land The Light Committee was talking at The King. The summon alchemist turned his head at the second ship, were the four men were standing. Kouchi and Ryo Akiyama kneel to cover themselves of the look of Izumi.

The two men look at each other with surprise.

“Not a fan of The Light?” Ryo asked.

“Lets said that I more slippery that the other warlocks”

“Ryo Akiyama”

“Akiyama? I’m Kouchi Kimura, my mother had a lot of stories about you”

“Kimura? You are the son of the dusk witch? ”

“I am the dusk warlock now”

“Awesome…”

“Guys” Kouji interrupted “I had to escorted Davis and Akiyama at land.”

“Oh boy, I’m not going to land, believe me, the next war is going to start as soon as the alchemist see me” Ryo said as look with curiosity at the two identical boys.

“twins” said the brothers at unisone.

“Nice”

“You can stay in my house” Kouchi offered “Any person who hide from the summon alchemist is welcome”

Kouji coughed a little.

“Come on, brother do it for the dusk in the universe”

“Alright, but Motomiya is coming with me”

“Thank you, I own you one, pretty boy” Ryo said

“He is the moon knight” Kouchi corrected him.

“Whatever” Ryo responded “Don’t forget my advise, Davis”

And after a last warning the two men scuttled out of the ship.

Kouji knew that he had disobeyed direct orders but if The Light had this much power now the heretics had to help each other more than ever.

The festive on The Capital was opulent. Taichi saw with enthusiasm the long pendants on the street, there was music that he didn’t heard since his time on the old Light monastery and the sisters of Light are wearing their festive attire. He turned his head to saw at Yamato, but the eyes of the knight were lost on a wall of the street when the words <king predator> were written over a draw of a wolf head. Taichi new Yamato was a little lost, a peaceful time on the palace will help him. They could organize a haunting travel when the festivities were over. He had ending the war, the people couldn´t ask him more than that. It was true that The Light had take some liberties at his absent, but the King is back, he wish nothing more that return at his old day to day life.

HIkary and Takeru were waiting at the entrance of the palace. The face of the King and the Knight illuminated when they saw their little siblings. Taichi could hug his sister, for Yamato and Takeru a careful <master you are back> was enough for Yamato to fall at the floor.

“Yamato” Takeru called alarmed.

“He is tired, he hadn't rest well” The King spoke “Prince Takeru, please scorted The Wolf Knight at the infirmary”

Takeru hurry to accomplish the order, Taichi knew that the time with his brother will help Yamato more that anything else.

“Brother” HIkary called him with tears on her eyes “Thank the True God of Light you come back”

“The Honest Islands are in peace” The King said with pride “we had made sacrifices but all had been for the good of my people”

“Your victory is not the only miracle that God has conceived us your majesty” Koushiro said with the biggest smile that Taichi had ever see him.

“What you mean?”

“On your absent the Queen had converted at The Light” HIkary said.

“What!? Sora converted? What said the Queen mother?”

Hikary and Koushiro saw each other with sadness.

“The Queen mother was murdered by some foreign assassins”

“Assassins? for where?”

“Your highness” Koushiro said “It looks like the crown had more enemies that we thought”

“How is my wife?” Taichi asked, Sora and her mother were opposite poles but they were as close as the storms and the clouds, she had to be devastated.

“The Holy Queen is illuminated, brother”

There were something on the way that Hikary said the title that made Taichi freeze his blood.

The King finally come back at the throne room. White flowers and golden feathers were decorating the room. In the center was the Queen, sat on the big throne of the King. wearing a gold armor with a embroidered phoenix next to The Light symbols, the crown shine over her head and the big sword of the King Gennai was tide it at her wip. Beautiful was not the word that Taichi would use to described her, she was illuminated, but it wasn't the kind warm light that Hikary irradiated when she heal his wounds, it was the light of fire, violent and free, burning the world.

The Queen stand up before Taichi could order her to leave the throne. She walked toward him and with the fakest of the smiles she said.

“I had been waiting for you”.

His wife was in front of him, holding his hands. HIkary and Koushiro were each one at one side of him. He had come back home. He had won the war. The Light had won the war.

#the tale of the three head beast #3t3hb #the marching fishes #digimon GoT au #digimon fanfiction #taichi yagami #yamato ishida #davis motomiya #ryo akiyama #Kouji #Kouchi

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uomo-accattivante · 6 years

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With Star Wars: The Force Awakens, director J.J. Abrams sought to prop up and revitalize the most popular film franchise in movie history, to preserve its qualities in amber for a new generation. The Force Awakens was very concerned about what you, the moviegoer and fan, thinks about Star Wars. It wants to please you. It wants to be comfort food. And it’s very, very good at that.

But with Star Wars: The Last Jedi, director Rian Johnson wants to burn Star Wars to the ground. Not because he harbors ill will toward it, but because he loves it. He loves it so much that he wants to cleanse the garden and allow something fresh and new to grow. The Last Jedi is not concerned about what you, the moviegoer and fan, thinks about Star Wars. It wants to challenge you and make you question what Star Wars is and what it can be.

(This post contains major spoilers for Star Wars: The Last Jedi.)

An Answer to the Ellipsis

Star Wars: The Force Awakens concludes with one helluva cliffhanger. The Force-sensitive Rey arrives on the planet Ahch-To, tracks down the elusive Jedi master Luke Skywalker, and offers him his long-lost lightsaber. Luke’s face flashes with a dozen different emotions. You can practically feel the words crawling up his throat. And then the film ends, to be continued in two years. It’s a grand moment. An epic moment. A perfect finale for a film built out of questions and mysteries, a film about legacies and the shadows they leave behind.

And when we return to that scene in Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Luke Skwalker accepts the lightsaber from Rey, examines it for a hot second, and casually tosses it over his shoulder. From its opening scenes, The Last Jedi makes it very clear where it stands – everything you thought this movie was going to be is incorrect. The symbols you hold dear, the symbols that J.J. Abrams held so dear in your stead, are being deliberately stripped of their power. If that shakes you, if that upsets you…well, that’s just Rian Johnson preparing you for what’s next. Abrams left him with an ellipsis, a “to be continued” that felt like a specific path. And Johnson takes a hard left turn in his land speeder, breaks through a fence, and goes off track into the wilderness.

Star Wars has gone off the rails. Either you’re going to be on board for the bumpy ride to a new place or you’re not. But the intentions are made early and they’re made perfectly clear.

Legends Bleed

Mark Hamill famously disagreed with Johnson on the direction of Luke Skywalker when he first read the screenplay for The Last Jedi, and it’s clear why. Luke, the farm boy who became a war hero who became a warrior knight who became his father’s savior, has fallen into disgrace. While The Force Awakens featured a Han Solo falling back into his old scoundrel ways (a position of comfort for those worried about a watered-down take on a character who was at his best when he wasn’t playing nice), The Last Jedi features a Luke Skywalker that is unlike anything we’ve seen before – a broken shell of a man who believes that everything he fought for and achieved was for naught. By telling young Rey that none of this matters, he’s also telling the audience the same thing. The stuff you love? The details that have reshaped pop culture and created a geek language that everyone speaks? Yeah, they’re wonky. Or rather, they’re broken. Your faith was flawed.

Luke’s hopelessness is especially affecting because the film is clearly on his side. This is not a movie where a plucky young Jedi-to-be shows up at the old master’s doorstep and teaches him how to hope again. This is a movie where a flawed old man with a lifetime of victories and regrets informs the decisions of a new generation of young heroes who need to find a new way to hope. Clearly, the old ways didn’t work because darkness rises again and there are still tyrannical man-babies trying to be the next Darth Vader. There’s a flaw in the system, buried too deep for most to see, and the only solution is to burn it all down.

The Last Jedi chooses to make this literal, as Luke Skywalker, wild and enraged, moves to burn down the ancient tree housing the ancient Jedi texts. But he doesn’t get to do it. Instead, the ghost of Yoda, the wizened master who trained him decades earlier, arrives, summons a lightning bolt, and does the job for him. This Yoda (once again depicted with a physical puppet after years of being a CGI creation) is very much the character we first met in The Empire Strikes Back – eccentric and wise and silly and profound in equal measure, the kind of old weirdo who has found grace and power in just letting go.

Johnson is clearly not a fan of the militarized, commanding Yoda of the prequels and the animated Clone Wars TV show. This Yoda cackles as he burns down what remains of the Jedi religion, the court jester whose mischief always carries greater meaning. This Yoda knows what Luke knows – the order to which he dedicated his long life is gone, and trying to recapture it is a fool’s errand. Why resurrect an archaic institution that cannot serve a new generation when you can let that new generation build something new for itself? Even Luke, a noble man who believed in the hidden goodness of Darth Vader, gave into his darkest feelings and considered murdering young Ben Solo in his sleep. The old ways failed Luke. They failed Ben. They will fail the Resistance. Luke knows this through anger and regret. Yoda knows this through wisdom and perspective.

It’s important that Johnson lets Yoda burn it all down and not Luke – the passing of the torch is not just the result of the failure of an old man who learned things the hard way, but it comes with the blessing of the wisest character in Star Wars canon. Luke knows that the Jedi must end, that they do not monopolize the Force, and that evil has flourished on their watch. But where Luke saw despair, Yoda sees a chance for renewal. Where J.J. Abrams saw a warm and comforting blanket that makes you feel really good, Rian Johnson sees that stagnation is the death of all things. Stagnation leads to Empires and First Orders. Hitting the reset button, breaking the machine, leads to revolutions. And after 40 years of circling similar ideas, Star Wars could use a revolution.

That revolution feels especially well-timed, as fans discuss whether or not “Luke would have done that.” Geeky debates will always exist (they’re the reason Star Wars thrives today), but maybe we should hone in on what The Last Jedi is telling us. Maybe it’s dangerous to worship our heroes to the point of idolatry, to convince ourselves that they can never do wrong, never make mistakes, and never let their hubris create monsters that threaten a new generation. Johnson sends Luke out on a high note, allowing him one more showdown with his former pupil in a fight that is pacifistic resistance at its most grand and extreme, but it’s the final gasp of the hero we once knew. Long live Luke Skywalker…but never forget that he erred. That he done fucked up.

Breaking Expectations

It’s easy to imagine Rian Johnson watching The Force Awakens and being thrilled. It’s a thrilling movie. It does that. It’s also easy to imagine Rian Johnson watching The Force Awakens and noting, “This Supreme Leader Snoke guy kinda sucks. I should do something about that.”

Despite being positioned as the Big Bad of the new trilogy, the overlord pulling the strings, Supreme Leader Snoke barely leaves an impression during his appearances in both Star Wars movies. His generic flavor of Almighty Galaxy-Destroying Jerk is something we’ve seen several times in Star Wars and countless times elsewhere. He’s dull. He’s especially dull when compared to the angsty, flawed, and powerfully human Ben Solo/Kylo Ren, played with such intensity and raw pain by Adam Driver.

But The Last Jedi knows our expectations. It knows that we think Snoke will remain a threat through the next movie and that Ben will find redemption. It focuses on Ben’s internal conflict as it showcases Snoke’s incredible power. As the son of Han Solo grows more sympathetic, his leader grows more godlike, revealing a command of the Force that allows him to flick enemies and allies alike around his throne room like gnats. The Last Jedi makes Kylo Ren more vulnerable as it makes Supreme Leader Snoke more unstoppable.

So yes, the death of Snoke is a disarming twist and a beautifully staged one – Snoke’s command of the Force bites him in the ass when he reads Ben’s feelings and intentions but cannot understand where they’re pointed. One little Force push from Ben Solo and Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber is activated, cutting the Supreme Leader in half and ending his reign of terror an entire movie earlier than anyone expected. It’s shocking. It’s hilarious. It’s bound to anger fans who have spent the past two years attempting to discern the identity of Snoke. Quite frankly, The Last Jedi doesn’t care about Snoke and it reacts accordingly – your Snoke theory never mattered because Snoke never mattered.

Part of this reflects Johnson’s interest in Ben Solo and his lack of interest in Snoke (can you blame him?), but it’s also a perfect reflection of the grander ideas at work in The Last Jedi. Luke Skywalker loomed large, but in the end, he was just a bitter old man with a chip on his shoulder. Snoke loomed large, but in the end, he was just an vicious old bastard whose backstory is unimportant and who gets stabbed in the back by his angsty student. In a universe where everything is connected, where we’ve been trained to expect greater meanings and profound truths, this is a punch to the gut. Not everything is connected. The mightiest can fall. And at some point, they probably should.

Snoke probably mattered once upon a time, to someone. But he’s gone now. Luke Skywalker mattered to the galaxy, but his time is over. The future has been yanked from the hands of past masters and the universe will be reshaped by Kylo Ren and Rey, who are both fighting for the same thing from opposite directions: the chance to build a future beyond the command of a generation that failed. Johnson’s decision to bring us even closer to Ben Solo, even allowing him to fight alongside Rey in an incredible lightsaber fight, before doubling down on him being irredeemable may be the best choice in a movie filled with audacious choices. Just because Darth Vader was redeemed doesn’t mean his nephew is going down the same path. And yeah, the motivations of this new villain make a certain amount of sense, don’t they? That should trouble you as much as it troubles Rey.

(As a side note, the sudden demise of Snoke feels akin to General Hux’s transformation into bumbling comedic relief. Some may take issue with him being reduced to a punching bag, but it once again feels like Johnson taking an ill-defined character from The Force Awakens and running wild with him, giving him something to do. The same goes for Maz Kanata, who is funnier and wilder in her brief cameo here than she was in The Force Awakens.)

Save the Things You Love

If the death of Snoke was The Last Jedi bursting a bubble, the revelation about Rey’s parents is…an even bigger bursting of an even bigger bubble. The Last Jedi is a movie about disappointment – your heroes are broken, your allies failed you, and your mystery parents, whose identity has been driving your entire existence so far, aren’t Skywalkers or Solos or Kenobis. They’re just some schmoes who sold you off and left you to rot on a backwater planet. If your last name is Skywalker, you’re destined for greatness. It’s a given. But what does it mean if your name is Rey? Just Rey?

The Last Jedi is full of nobodies brushing shoulders with somebodies. Rey discovers that her parents were drunks, simple traders who didn’t care about her, even as she trains under the legendary Luke Skywalker. Poe Dameron must grapple with the fact that he’s taking orders from General Leia Organa, a woman who has suffered and bled and fought for the Galaxy for 30 years, and therefore knows what’s right more often than him. And poor Rose must come to terms with the fact that Finn, a “hero” of the Resistance, is prepared to desert the moment things get tough. The new men and women of Star Wars (with the notable exception of Kylo Ren) are profoundly ordinary. Or rather, they’re profoundly ordinary people forced to live up to the extraordinary people around them, even as those extraordinary people often let them down.

I imagine we’ll see Star Wars fans upset about Rey not being a secret Skywalker or a Kenobi or a clone of Emperor Palpatine or the reincarnated Anakin Skywalker (the internet is a bad place), but Rey’s origin as just a person is more powerful than even the most shocking twist. Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker emerged from a nothing planet as nobodies and rose to the occasion, stumbling into destinies they could never have imagined. To tie every character of significance to them and their circle of allies and enemies would be to rob them of their power. The beauty of Star Wars, since its earliest days, has been the depiction of heroes coming from every corner and every walk of life. A farm boy. A princess. A smuggler. They have no business saving the galaxy, but damn it, they have to! Who else will?

And now we have an orphaned scavenger abandoned by her completely un-noteworthy parents, a conflicted deserter from a vicious military regime, and a skilled pilot with a lot to learn about leadership. The next generation of Star Warsheroes are born from disappointment, the disappointment of having to live in the shadow of heroes and the disappointment of having to fight the war that those heroes failed to actually win all those years ago. No one should have to do this. No young person should have to go to war. Why should these kids, with no connection to the previous generation beyond being unfortunate enough to exist in the same galaxy as Luke, Han, and Leia, suffer for the sins of the Skywalker family?

They shouldn’t, but this is the hand that was dealt to them. And they’re going to fight because that’s what heroes do, no matter where they come from. Secret parentage that supplies an easily digestible explanation for your superpowers is for chumps…and Jedi masters who spend their final days in self-imposed exile.

A Long Time Ago…

Think back to the original Star Wars, the 1977 film, back before it was subtitled “A New Hope” and before it inspired an entire multimedia franchise. Look at the man who made it: George Lucas, a young hotshot, a proper artist, whose previous brush with science fiction resulted in the grim THX 1138. That film wears its politics, and its anger and frustration, on its sleeve. And while Star Wars is an infinitely more accessible film, it’s still the work of the same man and he’s still speaking the same language. A “fun” movie about a team of freedom fighters battling an oppressive, fascist regime is inherently political. Lucas knew this more than anyone and he even kept it alive in the much-derided prequels, which ended up being an entire trilogy of films about the failure of democracy in the face of a tyrannical despot.

When Lucas conceived Star Wars, it was as fresh and radical as anything else made in the American New Wave of the ’70s. But by Return of the Jedi, the ragtag Rebel alliance felt safer and the Force more of a superpower than a mystical way of life. An already simple premise was made simpler, an undesirable turn after The Empire Strikes Back doubled down on Lucas’ original concepts. It’s telling that The Force Awakens feels like a cinematic adaptation of our nostalgic feelings about Star Wars instead of a Star Wars movie as conceived by George Lucas.

Perhaps that’s why The Last Jedi is such a jarring experience, one that feels specifically built to make audiences work through their feelings about this universe. Rian Johnson is unabashedly political and unafraid to slaughter the sacred cows. The First Order isn’t just a group of guys whose costumes provide cool cosplay opportunities – they are fascists, evil and cold and frightening. The Resistance isn’t a team of plucky heroes – they are a band of fighters who are specifically cast with diverse men and women to reflect the fears and frustrations of millennials who feel trapped and afraid in a world where resistance often feels futile (and who really wouldn’t mind tearing apart a casino city operated by the 1%). The Force isn’t just a cool excuse for heroes to lift rocks – it is something mystical and mysterious that cannot be easily explained and comprehended, something that even Luke Skywalker has a complex relationship with at this point.

Even the Lando surrogate, the unnamed codebreaker played by Benicio del Toro, offers no easy answers as he betrays our heroes and doesn’t even reach for apology or redemption. Even the goofy humor that arrives early and often is a departure from the norm, a case of Johnson making the movie his own rather than following a style guide. The Last Jedifeels like a movie young George Lucas, passionate and bold, would have made. It feels like a proper Star Wars movie by refusing to feel like a Star Wars movie.

The Force Awakens and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story want to please you. They want to hit familiar beats and remind you why you love Star Wars. They are so much fun. But The Last Jedi doesn’t want to remind you of anything. It doesn’t care about your relationship with Star Wars. The only relationship that matters here is Rian Johnson’s relationship with Star Wars, and for the first time in a long time, here is a Star Wars movie with a proper point of view, one delivered by a storyteller who is unafraid to shatter a universe he loves, to break down the heroes that mean so much to him. A wise and noble Luke is easy. A Luke with regrets? That’s hard. That’s tough to swallow. That’s what elevates The Last Jedi beyond a simple retread – it asks you to take these characters seriously in a way that other Star Wars films have not, to acknowledge them as something beyond a vessel for escapism. Star Wars can only matter in the long run if it’s given the room to grow. And right now, it feels like the sky is the limit. Right now, Star Wars feels…unsafe.

And that feels great.

###

I find this to be one of the better thought-provoking reviews out there of “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.” I, personally, am glad that Rian Johnson had the guts to make the movie he wanted to make and not be swayed by public opinion. Truly great movies are born out of a strong point of view, not by appeasing to crowdsourced ideas or demands from moviegoers. Not all viewers may like or agree with a filmmaker’s opinion, but then, there is no way that a film can be everything to everyone - and it shouldn’t be. I applaud Rian Johnson for the courage to make such an unapologetically bold film - it’s stunningly good.

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princee-ace1 · 6 years

Text

In Their Eyes - CH. 32

I feel like I’m sleeping, but I guess I’m not.

Alistair x Warden Cousland A love story told in the eyes of their companions and those who knew them.

[CH. 32] Amulet | Connor Guerrin

The scary lady is gone. No longer does he hear her in his dreams; he’s finally able to sleep without the worry that something bad will happen when he wakes up.

The mages and the Grey Wardens stay as they prepare a ceremony for the dead … all those villagers and guards that had died because of him. His mother tries to protect him, but even he can see how the people look at him now and blame him for the loss of a brother or a son.

Connor doesn’t stay to watch them send off the bodies for long, as his mother insisted he goes back into the castle to play. He obeys her, returning with a heavy sense of guilt, especially as he passes his father’s room where he remains unconscious and sick.

The mages from the Circle surround him, trying to do healing magic on his father while they’re there. By the look on their faces, it seems like nothing has changed even with the scary lady gone.

He only wanted to help, but … he only made things worst.

After the ceremony, the mages tell his mother and uncle that they need to return to the tower, as the Knight-Commander is waiting for them to return. The First Enchanter says he’ll welcome Connor once the tower is fixed so he can learn how to control his magic properly. He seems like a nice man, but his mother looks uncertain.

The Grey Wardens are probably going to leave soon, too. Connor must thank them before they go.

“This… this is my mother’s amulet. It has to be,” the male Warden says, staring at the trinket in his hand with awe. “But why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“I found it in the Arl’s study.”

“Oh. The Arl’s study? Then he must have … found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don’t understand, why would he do that?”

The other Warden smiles gently at him. “Perhaps you mean more to him than you think.”

Connor slowly approaches the Grey Wardens as they stand near his room. He doesn’t recognize the man, but he seems to know who his father is.

“Thank you. I mean it. I … thought I’d lost this to my own stupidity,” he admits as he looks at the amulet again. It’s still damaged, but it looks like it’s been pieced together as best as it could. Connor remembers his father working on it every now and then in his office. The man looks at his fellow Warden and asks, “Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow. I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”

“Of course I remembered. You’re special to me.”

The two Wardens exchange smiles at each other, even laughing as the man tells her a joke. Connor smiles a bit at them; it’s almost refreshing to see a bit of happiness after all that’s happened. They seem to finally notice him as the man turns his attention to him. “Oh, hello.”

“You … you’re the one who saved me?” he asks, peering up at the Wardens. The lady tells him one of their friends was the one who rescued him in the Fade, and he supposes he should thank her as well. “Father always said to remember to thank people who do nice things for you. I hope Father gets better soon. He will, won’t he?”

“I hope so,” the nice lady replies. “How are you doing, Connor?”

“Better, I think. I don’t hear the scary lady anymore. I’m glad she can’t hurt anyone now.” He pauses and hesitantly asks, “Everyone thought I should have died for what I did – for all the people I hurt. You and Mother are the only ones who said I shouldn’t.”

The Warden crouches down so she’s at eye-level with him. “I had a nephew about your age. Maybe a few years younger than you are. His name was Oren, but I wasn’t able to help him. A really bad man killed him, and I … I miss him so much. I miss all of them. And I knew your mother and father would miss you too if I couldn’t help you.”

“I … I wouldn’t want them to be sad,” Connor agrees.

“I’m glad I was able to stop her without hurting you,” the Warden says sincerely. Connor nods his head, and promises to keep an eye on his father while the Wardens are away.

He’ll study hard when he goes into the Circle Tower. He hopes that one day, he’ll make it up to the people in Redcliffe.

Thanks for reading! ⇷ prev | luna ✩ tip jar ✩ ao3 | next ⇸

#dragon age #in their eyes

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erniemcmlln · 6 years

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☣

☣ for a spy au

PART ONE: mandy

TW: blood, guns, violence

he had known mandy since they were practically babies. both of them coming from wealthy families, travelling around in the same circles. she was the sister he never had. it didn’t surprise ernie when she had been recruited for the kingsmen training too, and it didn’t surprise him when they had been the last two recruits left, fighting for the position.

ernie found the whole “knights of the round table” schtick a bit redundant, fighting for the title of lancelot had felt stupid at times, though perhaps he only thought that way now because he’d lost. though if he was honest, losing lancelot to mandy wasn’t a surprise either. mandy though found the titles stupid as well, and neither of them found themselves actually using them.

it had stung his pride at first, the weeks and weeks of training, trials and tests that he’d gone through, to make it to the final round and then, nothing. now back at his parents home in scotland, it only reminded him more on why he worked so hard to claim that kingsmen title in the first place. he chided himself for wasting his time with the whole thing, vowing to put it behind him. but when mandy showed up at his door in scotland, he didn’t hesitate for a second to follow her back to england.

“dumbledore’s been killed,” she told him in the cab on the way back to the headquarters.

ernie raised his eyebrows at that, albus dumbledore, the king arthur of the kingsmen, dead. “when and who?” he asked, trying to remove any emotional attachment he felt.

“the night you and the others left, and mordred.”

ernie drew a short intake of breath, a pang of guilt hit him. the night he left. he packed his bags in a rush, he’d bumped into mordred, snape in the corridor. he’d shaken his hand, “best of luck to you macmillan.” he’d said to him before they both continued on their way.

“where is he now?”

“at HQ” she responded simply.

“in lockup?”

“mordred has actually taken arthur’s mantle,” mandy said.

ernie blinked at that, “you’re not serious.”

“he’s the one who sent for you.” mandy said, “he’d like to offer you the title of palamedes.”

“and what happened to palamedes?” ernie asked his mind instantly thinking of palamedes, dean.

mandy hesitated, “there have been a lot of changes made, kingsmen is going under some rebranding.” she said, “severus and his team are rebuilding the kingsmen with a stronger foundation, with less unsavory ties.”

“what exactly do you mean by unsavory?” ernie asked but carefully kept the aggression he felt out of his voice.

“you know exactly what i mean ern.” mandy said not sparing him a look.

their cab pulled up in front of the familiar tailor shop. it didn’t hold the wonder it used to though. now it seemed to tower over him, daunting.

mandy undid her seatbelt, hand on the door looking at ernie, he couldn’t read her in this moment which concerned him.

“and what about wayne?” he asked.

mandy frowned, “he’s still allowed to stay.” she said.

“for how long?” ernie asked.

“ern, this is a chance for you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.” she said, “you can be an important piece in a strong foundation, we want you there.” i want you there.

it had always been hard saying no to mandy. even when they were children she usually got her way. and he wanted to say yes to her. it would be so easy to take her hand and walk out of the cab, back to the kingsmen. what he worked so hard for, but he couldn’t.

“i’m sorry.”

it was clear that she was hurt by this, but it was also clear that she wasn’t surprised. she nodded, “it’ll take you home.” she said quietly, she leaned over giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving the cab.

“goodbye ern.”

when mandy closed the door to the car it felt like a knife twisting through his heart because he’s losing her all over again, he wants to get out of the car and grab her, shake some sense into her, take her away from the kingsmen, but the cab pulls away, mandy shrinking into the distance as it drives down the road.

he closes his eyes, leaning back into the seat, letting the self-driving cab take him home, the last place he wants to be right now but he can’t think of anywhere better. the car comes to a red light and he hears the door open, he speaks before he opens his eyes, “this one’s taken-” assuming it’s some pedestrian looking for a way home. when he opens his eyes he’s met by a familiar face next to him, and a familiar fiery red updo sitting in the driver’s seat.

“neville, ginny.” he greeted hesitantly.neville gave him a half smile,

“hello ernie.”

they called themselves the children of avalon. the original name was the sons of avalon, but ginny shot it down, tired of (and rightly so) being bombarded with male presence what with all the medieval bullshit. so the children of avalon it was. they’d switched cabs, taking neville’s car to their “headquarters”- someone’s old childhood home, he couldn’t remember who’s, inside there were many familiar faces and many new. kingsmen recruits who never received the title and former kingsmen alike.

ginny’s older brothers, both former kingsmen who’d left after snape had taken over arthur’s mantle, had brought intelligence from behind the doors, that snape wasn’t truly the mastermind behind the reformation of the kingsmen but simply a pawn. whispers of a bigger organization, “knights of the walpurgis” though there was still no confirmation on who or what they were, or if they even existed. what they did know is that severus snape had to be taken down.

the nice thing about kingsmen being so set in their old-fashioned ways, was that things never changed. including how to enter their headquarters.

their raid was planned quickly and efficiently, though their numbers were strained. it was like sending one man against an army, an extremely well-trained army. the odds weren’t in their favour but they had to try. if killing dumbledore was all it took to throw kingsmen on it’s head then killing snape should have the same effect, and if it didn’t they would at least have the satisfaction of giving severus snape what he deserved.

he was paired with the twins. they entered through a passage that was practically in their house, their family had been one of the founding families of kingsmen, the macmillan’s not far behind them though his family had long disassociated themselves from the organization.

“you’d think they’d be smart enough to get rid of it.” one of the twins quipped, he wasn’t sure which one.

“maybe they’re still holding out.” the other twin responded.

they quickly got separated once inside. hearing footsteps, multiple heavy footsteps coming their way, fred (he was sure it was fred) pushed through the nearest door, finger to his lips with a wink.

ernie stumbled into the room though quickly froze, not wanting to make a sound, trying to listen to the muffled conversation between fred, george and whoever had caught them in the corridor. he waited until he heard them walk away before assessing where he was.

some sort of garage, it was a bit disorienting, he knew the corridors they’d be walking in were underground, but here it was clear. it felt dirty, even surrounded by the expensive cars (and some more self-driving cabs), the cement made the room cold. it felt somehow felt damp.

he checked his watch, deciding to allow himself five minutes before he could re-enter the corridor. by minute three though he hears the sound of a door creaking open and heels clacking against the cement instinctively he drew his gun, ducking behind a car trying to spot the source of the sounds, swallowing when the source came into view.

mandy.

without thinking he stood up from behind the car, his gun lowered, she lowers hers when he sees him and then they’re hugging out in the open in the middle of a parking garage, which is stupid because it hadn’t even been that long since he’d seen her, but he pushed that thought aside letting himself relish in holding her.

they forget where they are for a moment, the sound of the heavy parking garage door reminds them. mandy pulls away instantly, both hands on her gun backing away from ernie. ernie had both hands back on his gun as well, pointing it at the man who entered the parking garage in a second.

“lancelot, i’m glad to see you’ve found mr. macmillan.” severus snape said, “mr. macmillan, i’d like to think that you’re here because lancelot talked some sense into you joining us,” he said, “though i can’t help but assume that you’re here with the rest of those miscreants.” he said eyeing ernie’s gun on him.

“we know who you are.” he continued, “every single one of you. none of you will be leaving here tonight alive, and in the small chance you do, you’ll have nothing to return you. your families and everything you own we will wipe off this planet.” snape snarled.

“your bloodline isn’t connected to the kingsmen.” ernie said, “what are you going to do when they turn on you the way you did arthur?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge snape as the head of kingsmen.

snape seemed to laugh at that idea, the only acknowledgement of what ernie said before turning to mandy, “lancelot, shoot him.” snape instructed. ernie swallowed glancing at mandy who had frozen in place.

“lancelot, that’s an order.”

ernie held his gun steady at snape but continued to look at mandy, who wouldn’t meet his eye which made his heart pound with just a pang of fear. she wouldn’t, he knew she would never. she did shoot the dog, his mind supplied but he countered himself, no she didn’t really, and you’re not a fucking dog.

“lancelot. now.” snape commanded.

mandy slowly let go of her gun, lowering it to her side in defiance. she looked up at ernie in confirmation which sent a flow of relief through him, almost letting himself smile. snape seemed to see the confirmation at the same time, he sighed pulling his own gun out like it was a chore, raising it and there was a loud ‘bang’ and then things went silent.

he didn’t have time to react. panic was the first thing on his mind, he could see mandy screaming his name but he couldn’t hear her which was weird. he tried to asses her, he didn’t see any wounds on her, he felt his knees giving out and soon they were hitting the pavement, his hands going down to catch himself and oh. he was the one who’d been shot. he must be in shock he thought rationally, he couldn’t feel anything. he looked up to see mandy, both hands on her gun and another shot ringing out, and then all of a sudden all the pain he didn’t feel he felt and holy shit.

he’d had people describe to him what it was like being shot before. one described it like being punched in the gut with the wind knocked out of you, another said it was like a ton of tiny knives attacking one spot. they were both wrong though because this felt like being fucking ripped apart and it burned. he was light-headed, felt himself falling backwards but then mandy’s hand was on his back supporting his weight.

he tried to talk but his mouth felt like it was full of drool, mandy attempted to quiet him but he managed to finally ask “did you get him?”

she nodded, before trying to move ernie to a more comfortable position, ernie catching a glimpse of snape as they moved. right between the eyes.

“you’ve always been a better shot than me.” ernie commented quietly leaning against her, not wanting to look down he closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing. if he could just keep breathing.

“ernie please stay awake.” she said firmly

it was hard to listen to her though, and he knew it would probably annoy her if he didn’t but he was very comfortable where he was, and if he kept his eyes closed he could pretend he didn’t just get fucking shot. he blinked at an attempt to stay awake to avoid mandy’s wrath but it was no use.

“i’m sorry mandy.” he murmured, leaning further into her.

“ernie stay with me”

(1/3)

#au #meme #au drabble meme #c: mandy #//again no spellcheck no 1 come 4 me #//also do i write when im nervous ??? clearly because this got a lot longer then i meant it to be lol #//sue n hannah r next watch out hoes #//ernie getting shot ?? foreshadowing 2 the boh ?? maybe #//B)

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orodrethsgeek · 7 years

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Kellan and Orsino - Taking a bath together

This prompt got away from me a bit; they insisted on plot. Takes place just before the beginning of Act III, following the events of the Legacy dlc. Thank you for the excuse to write about my babs!

A place should not feel at once so alien and so familiar after only two and a half months absence. Orsino does not realize how much he’s missed even just this, the estate, Kellan’s trappings hanging on the walls and the cheerful crackling of the fireplaces, until he’s there, so overwhelmed with it all he just—freezes.

“First Enchanter?” Orsino blinks, half turning. Bodahn is looking up at him, one of his broad smiles dawning between his mustache and braided beard. “It is you! Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes, no mistake.” Orsino feels his breath catch somewhere in his throat. He has not allowed himself to entertain the doubts whispering at him since he first heard the news, but now that he’s here they all come rushing up at once.

“My apologies for showing up unannounced,” he manages. “Sebastian said—that is—” He cannot even bring himself to say the words; ridiculous.

Bodahn winks. “Just back not two hours ago! I suppose word really does travel fast in this city. He’s just off getting ready for a bath.” His smile dims, then, just slightly, and Orsino’s relief curdles. “I’m glad you’ve come. He’s in a—well. I think it’ll do him good to see you, that’s all. Go right on through; you know the way.”

“Thank you, Master Feddic.”

“It’s Bodahn!” the dwarf calls after him; he barely hears, already striding down the corridor. He cannot reach the bathing room fast enough, can’t be bothered with niceties like knocking. Two and a half months, more than twice as long as Kellan had anticipated; two and a half months with no word, no way of knowing what might have happened, and his dreams filled with nightmare after nightmare—

The door opens. There’s the deep, claw-footed bath, already filled with steaming water; there’s the little three-legged stool piled with soap and a cloth and the smaller bucket of warm water for washing; there’s the Orlesian screen Leandra Hawke had bought before her death.

And there, standing by the fire clad in nothing but a loose shirt and gloves, is Kellan.

“I said I’d ring, Bodahn,” he says shortly, not looking away from the flames. Orsino swallows, shuts the door behind himself.

“I’ll come back later then, shall I?” he asks lightly. Kellan whirls. He is grimed from head to toe, dust from the road in his hair and a small pile of indeterminately stained clothes growing on a sheet at his feet. Beneath the filth his face is gaunt, hollows under his eyes and something hollow in them, as well, when he stares at Orsino. There are dingy bandages looped tightly around his right forearm. But he is alive. He is here. And even as Orsino watches he can see some of the coiled-spring tension draining out of him. “Orsino,” he murmurs, dreamlike. “You’re here.” Then his eyes dart sideways. “How’s your arm?” “Healing.” In truth, the assassin’s blade had bit deeper than either of them first realized—or perhaps, Orsino acknowledges wryly, he is merely old and cannot expect to recover as quickly as he once might have. He still feels the ache in the muscles of his upper arm, especially in the cold, and he’d finally bowed to common sense and switched to carrying his staff in his off-hand to avoid taxing them. “What happened to yours?” Kellan grimaces and clasps his hand over his wounded arm.

“It’s nothing.” Orsino frowns, but lets the lie go, at least for now. Whatever injury is hidden beneath the bandages, it doesn’t seem to be hampering Kellan over-much; it likely isn’t serious. It can wait.

“Where did the trail lead?” he asks instead, finally stepping away from the door.

“The Deep Roads.” Three words, his lips curling miserably around each one. Orsino feels something like understanding bloom.

“Are you—?”

“Fine. Everyone’s fine. Anders says we’d be showing symptoms by now if we weren’t. Still…” Kellan gestures vaguely, and firelight glints off the blade Orsino hadn’t realized he was holding. “Better safe than sorry,” he quips humorlessly, and cuts through the collar of his undershirt. The fabric gives, and he shrugs it down over his shoulders and steps out of it, letting it flutter to the top of the pile at his feet. He tosses the knife straight into the fire, followed by his gloves, and stands there, naked and shivering. Then he sighs, and rings the bell on the mantle.

The door opens and Bodahn bustles in; Kellan splays one hand low over the mottled scar tissue where his navel used to be. The move makes him look more vulnerable than any number of scars ever could, and Orsino turns away, stepping behind the Orlesian folding screen.

“Take all this out back and burn it,” he hears Kellan say, “carefully.”

“Right you are, messere,” Bodahn says cheerfully. “And will you be wanting another towel?” “Yes,” Orsino says, already draping his outer robe over the screen. Kellan chuckles softly, murmurs an assent to Bodahn. Orsino unbuttons his under robe methodically. Away from the fire and the wet heat coming off the bath there’s a chill in the room; he feels gooseflesh break out along the back of his neck, and his right arm throbs as he rolls his shoulder. On the other side of the screen, Bodahn promises to send his son along with the extra towel shortly. The door opens, the door closes.

Briefly, Orsino entertains the notion of leaving his underclothes on, just for a while longer. The image of it in his mind’s eye is absurd, and besides, Ser Thrask would be bound to notice if he came back with patches of damp rising up through his robes. He shucks the last of his clothes off and steps out from behind the screen before he can think better of it.

Kellan is just straightening up, dripping wash cloth in hand, when Orsino reaches him. The man half turns to meet him, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to lean in further and kiss him. He tastes overwhelmingly of pulped elfroot, a flimsy defense against the Blight at best, but better than nothing. Kellan makes a small sound of surprise, and then sighs into the kiss, wrapping an arm loosely around Orsino’s waist.

“I’m filthy,” he points out when Orsino pulls back, his eyes half-lidded.

“That’s true,” Orsino agrees, and laughs at the face it earns him. He reaches for the wash cloth and tugs it out of Kellan’s hand.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Kellan acquiesces with a shrug. He settles cross-legged on the floor while Orsino sits on the stool and sets to work wiping away the layers of muck. A line of vivid bruises emerges across the span of Kellan’s shoulders, but even so there’s a strange comfort to feeling him, safe and undeniably real after so long. “I’m surprised the Knight-Commander let you out on such short notice,” Kellan remarks, apropos of nothing, as Orsino dips the wash cloth back into the bucket. He smiles, though Kellan cannot see it, though there’s truly nothing funny about the likely prospect of Meredith’s retribution. “She didn’t want to. But Sebastian insisted you had a pressing issue that required my expertise.” He doesn’t say, I doubt we’ll be able to use that again, or, She suspects us, or any of the other fears clamoring away in the back of his mind. Certainly not, I was afraid you had died. Kellan reaches up, catches his hand, and squeezes gently; only then does Orsino realize he’s trembling. Kellan shifts, turning to look up at Orsino, his quicksilver eyes somber. “Has it been that bad?” Do not try my patience, mage; the Champion isn’t here for you to hide behind. “Worse. Her paranoia grows by the day.” Give me a reason and I will have you whipped for your insolence. He forces a laugh that sounds hollow even to himself and resumes sponging the grit from Kellan’s skin, taking the opportunity to wash his upturned face. “We’ll have to invent something to tell her. Some arcane spellbook you found, perhaps, or—” Kellan shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. Sebastian wasn’t wrong.” He stares into the fire again, at the vague shape of the knife, still just visible in the flames. He shudders, and says, “What does the Circle know about talking darkspawn?”

“Talking… darkspawn,” Orsino echoes, uncomprehending. He feels a chill he shouldn’t be able to feel, so close to the fire. “I… don’t suppose the question is academic?” “No,” Kellan says shortly, and twitches on the wash cloth as Orsino runs it over his collar. “I can reach the rest. Can you get my hair?” Orsino surrenders the cloth, reaches for the soap and the ladle in the bucket. Kellan’s dark hair is a mess of tangles, the ends already damp from where Orsino has washed Kellan’s neck and shoulders, the wet and warmth lending it a slight curl. He should say something teasing, lighten the mood. Talking darkspawn…

Instead, he washes Kellan’s hair in silence, and listens to a brief, clipped account of the creature whose agents were apparently behind the assassination attempts. “The Wardens knew about it?” he asks, when Kellan pauses for breath; Kellan makes a derisive noise that has Orsino’s throat aching in sympathy.

“I don’t know what the bastards knew. Larius was insane, and Janecka wanted to use the thing, somehow.” He shakes his head, sending droplets of suds hissing into the fire. “We killed it, but all the same…” Then he sighs, the bitter fury fading. “Anders says he’s encountered a talking darkspawn before, back in Ferelden. He’s going to try to write to the Hero, but—”

“I’ll look into it,” Orsino promises. There are enough old tomes in the tower’s library, some even dating from the days when Kirkwall was still Emerius of the Imperium. He doesn’t know if any of them will help, but he can at least research the phenomenon, see if any of the magisters of old ever encountered such a creature. Meredith won’t like it; he can hear her already, sneering at him for chasing after one of the Champion’s wild tales while corruption festers all around you. He is so tired of endless suspicion and accusations.

Kellan finishes washing just as Orsino finishes with his hair. The suds have run a dingy sort of gray; Kellan upends the bucket over his head to rinse, then catches Orsino’s hands, kisses both palms. “Bath?” Orsino closes his eyes and nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He lets Kellan help him into the tub, holding on to the man’s hands longer than strictly necessary, because he can; because the demons were wrong, after all; because Kellan is back, shaken but whole, talking darkspawn or no talking darkspawn. The water has cooled slightly; it takes only the gentlest flickers of mana to bring it back to steaming warmth.

“Your bandages,” Orsino remembers, as Kellan makes to step into the tub. Kellan pauses, mutters a curse under his breath, and steps back toward the fire, unwinding the offending cloth. It joins the knife and his gloves in the fire when it’s unraveled, and then finally Kellan turns and slides into place behind Orsino. He pulls Orsino back against his chest, presses his lips to the crown of Orsino’s head, and a cold knot of fear finally loosens its grip on Orsino’s heart.

He will need to magic his hair dry before returning himself to Ser Thrask and the Gallows. There is nothing to be done about the smell of Kellan’s soap on his skin, but Orsino cannot bring himself to care about that minor detail. He will need to tell Kellan that he has to return to the tower tonight, warn him about Meredith’s increasing instability. He will have to deal with Meredith herself, all her dangerous insinuations and for-now empty threats. He will have to give the disturbing thought of talking darkspawn some considerable amount of attention.

None of that is now. None of it matters, at least for the present moment. Not while Kellan is a solid weight behind him, holding him, breathing slowly into his thinning hair. For now he can let go and feel safe for the first time since the assassins had drawn Kellan away from Kirkwall.

“I’m here,” Kellan promises. “I have you.”

Orsino closes his eyes and sighs.

#dragon age fanfic #DA:2 #Hawke #Orsino #my writing #c: kellan hawke #c: orsino #kellan/orsino

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naiatabris · 7 years

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Cullen Appreciation Week: Day 2

It’s Commander Cullen day over at @cullenappreciationweek! I am shamelessly reposting something from the very first fic I ever posed: “The Tale of the Champion.” The main character, Cecily Trevelyan, is an avid Varric Tethras fan, and each chapter opens with an imagined epigraph from Varric’s Tale.

But Varric’s story does not necessarily paint the Knight-Commander in his most flattering light.

We took Keran back to the Gallows and made a full report to the Knight-Captain about what we’d found. That probably should have been the end of it, but then someone made a comment about the depravity of mages in general.

Most apostates would have noticed that they were surrounded by Templars and kept their mouths shut. Not Hawke. "Perhaps your mages would be less hostile if they hadn’t been locked in a prison simply for existing.”

“How can you say that, after what you’ve seen? Mages cannot be treated like people,” the Knight-Captain said angrily. “They are not like you and I.”

Hawke crossed her arms. “Mages aren’t people?" She gave him a bland smile. "How astonishing. To the untrained eye they look so similar. But I suppose you’d know better than I.”

I don’t think the Knight-Captain realized how close he’d just come to being incinerated.

“I’ve had another letter from home,” Cecily said, approaching Cullen at the war table after an unusually short meeting of the council.

Cullen had been reviewing the latest numbers on the coin and supplies for his troops, but he set down his ledger when Cecily stepped to his side. “Do your parents seem more at ease with the Inquisition?” The Trevelyans' first message from Ostwick had contained several veiled questions about whether Cecily was being held against her will. Fortunately, more letters and a promise that she'd visit when she could seemed to have soothed their nerves.

“They do. They might be too much at ease, in fact,” Cecily replied. “My parents are trying to find suitors for my sister Evie. They have their eye on a Ferelden Arl's son. I think they’re hoping Josephine might drop a few favorable words in the Arl's ear.”

“I’m certain she could.” Cullen frowned. “Although I’m not sure the Inquisition ought to be in the matchmaking business.”

Cecily laughed. “I have to agree. Besides, Evie also sent me a letter, and she calls the young man in question an ‘utter tit.’ She enclosed a sketch of him. I think my parents may regret the drawing lessons they forced upon her.” She pulled the letter out of her pocket; a lock of hair fell across her cheek as she bent her head to unfold it, and she stepped closer to show him the picture.

Cullen tried not to think about how appealing she smelled, or what her skin might feel like if he tucked that bit of hair back behind her ear. He had noticed those sorts of thoughts crossing his mind a few weeks ago; at first he thought they would pass, but they’d only become harder to ignore.

Fortunately, Evie’s sketch was an effective distraction. He snorted with laughter. “Maker. Is he picking his nose?”

“I believe he is.” Cecily folded the paper back into her pocket. “Any word from your family?”

“I haven’t written to them in several weeks,” he admitted. Several months, more like. “They are used to long silences from me, though. After I transferred from the Ferelden Circle, I’m afraid my letters became shamefully irregular.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you where you served,” Cecily said. “Most of the Ostwick Templars were from the Free Marches, but we had a few Fereldens, even some Orlesians. Where did they send you?”

“I served in the Ferelden Circle during the Blight.” Cullen prayed she wouldn’t ask about that. “Then I was promoted to Knight-Captain and transferred to Kirkwall. I spent several years there, until Cassandra recruited me a few months ago.”

Silence fell in the room.

Cecily’s demeanor visibly changed. Her brow knitted, her shoulders stiffened, and she looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. “You were a Kirkwall Templar? The Knight-Captain of their Circle?”

Cullen’s stomach sank at her expression. Of course she would feel that way about Kirkwall Templars. He felt as if he should apologize, but wasn’t sure where to start. “I was. I am not proud of what happened there. Red lyrium drove Knight-Commander Meredith mad, and I should have seen it sooner. There was a lot I should have seen sooner.”

She didn’t look very reassured by that. “Did you know Varric? Or the Champion?”

“I only knew Varric as the Champion’s friend. As for the Champion—yes. We met several times. I fear I did not make the best impression.” An understatement, I’m sure.

Cecily appeared to be thinking about whether to ask something. Finally, she spoke, her voice thin and unsteady. “The Knight-Captain in Varric’s book, the one who said mages weren’t people, that there were arguments for expanding the Rite of Tranquility. Was that you?”

Cullen’s veins turned to ice. For a moment he wanted to lie, to say Varric had made it up for dramatic impact, but … “Yes. It was.”

She opened and closed her mouth for a moment, looking at him with a mixture of astonishment, horror, and hurt. Finally, she said, “Why?” Her voice heated a bit. “Maker’s breath, Cullen. How could you think that?”

Shame coursed through Cullen. He wanted to be angry at Varric for putting that in the Tale, but he knew the blame was his. He’d come to Kirkwall so angry, so paranoid about blood magic, that he’d been willing to accept almost any measure to curtail the mages’ freedom. He’d worked side-by-side with Meredith—even with Alrik.

But after the Qunari rebellion, and with more distance from what happened in Ferelden, his views had slowly begun to shift. Perhaps it had been watching the Circle mages risk their lives to fight the Qunari, to get Hawke into the Keep. Perhaps it was seeing Hawke go toe to toe against the Arishok in defense of her city and nearly lose her life for it. Perhaps it was Meredith’s increasing madness. But finally, he’d remembered what the Order was supposed to do—and seen how far they’d come from that ideal.

Much too little. Far too late.

He forced himself not to look away from her; he deserved the reproach in her expression. “Because I was angry, and ignorant, and arrogant, and a thousand other things I regret.”

He paused, trying to find the right words. There were none. “I am ashamed of what I said. Nothing I say now would excuse it.”

Cecily looked at him for a long moment, then nodded a bit. “Thank you for being honest. I’ll let you get back to work.”

As she walked away, Cullen called out, “I’m sorry.”

Her head turned back. “For what?” she asked, not stepping closer.

For so much. “For what I said, and thought,” he began. “For not stopping Meredith. For not doing more in Kirkwall to protect the people there—especially the mages. I failed. But I will not fail the Inquisition, I swear it.”

Cecily’s face was serious, but not unfriendly. “I believe you, Commander,” she said quietly as she walked away.

#cullen appreciation week #cullen x trevelyan #kirkwall #regrets

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youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat · 7 years

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Title: “The Swan” (2/?)

1 . 2 (AO3)

Rated M (for eventual smut)

Summary:

Revenge-minded, scourge of the seas Captain Hook has one comically disastrous, drunken encounter with golden knight of the realm Emma, and, whether he’d like to admit it or not, it ends up changing his life. A few years later, the knight tracks him down to enlist his help on a quest that will lead him straight toward his vengeance. But Killian turns out to be much more than Emma first assumed, and Emma proves to be just as dangerous to Killian’s heart as he suspected…

Three years later...

Emma wore armor during council meetings. The court loved its ceremony. She didn’t mind though, it wasn’t uncomfortable. She’d much rather be wearing it in the warm council chambers, arguing about diplomacy, than on a mud and blood-streaked battlefield.

“If there’s a chance that her offer of an alliance is genuine, we need to consider it.” Her father stood from his place at the table, cloaked and crowned. Depending on how long and how heated the meeting got, he might start shedding layers.

At Emma’s side, Regina - who was often the cause of those long and turbulent sessions - scoffed.

“Zelena is my sister. And you think she can be genuine?”

Emma’s mother gave the sorceress a pointed look. “Well considering you’ve become a friend and member of this council, yes.”

Regina looked as if she’d swallowed a bug with that statement. Emma wrestled down a laugh. Regina didn’t like too much attention paid to her softer traits.

“Shouldn’t we talk about the...the offer itself?”

Everyone turned to look at Henry who, as her son, occupied the chair to Emma’s right.

Henry glanced around at them a little nervously. Emma tilted her head when his gaze landed on her, encouraging him. Her boy was young, barely thirteen. He hadn’t been coming to the council meetings long and was still getting used to commanding the room.

“Well,” he continued, “I mean, she sends this man who’s around your” - he gestured toward Emma - “age. She says he’s a high ranking and trusted lord...Says she hopes he can ‘forge a bond’ between our courts?” He gave the rest of the council an expectant look.

“What are you getting at, sonny?” Leroy snapped. Henry flushed and Emma shot the knight a glare.

Henry forged ahead. “I’m just saying...it sounds like she expects this to be a marriage alliance.”

There was an uneasy shift around the table.

Henry was voicing the obvious, really. Walsh had arrived a few days earlier - with no announcement, but “maybe it was too much trouble to send word between realms” Emma’s mother had rationalized - bearing gifts for the whole family. Munchkin-made weaponry for King David and Henry. Clothing for Queen Snow. For Emma? Flowers and jewels. He’d kissed her hand on their introduction with a cheeky little smile. He’d paid just a bit more attention to Emma than everyone else at dinner that night, their conversation edging on playful when no one else was listening. He’d asked her to lead his tour around the castle the next day and listened with what looked like genuine fascination as she told him about their kingdom, their world. Every now and then he’d provide a thoughtful question or a quip that actually made Emma laugh.

It reeked of courtship.

The whole court had been on edge since Regina discovered she had a sister in another realm. A sister in another realm who had a very handy and destructive way to travel to their own realm. Their kingdom had a good relationship with the giants, but getting a magic bean still meant months of debate, contracts, and general diplomatic hell. No matter how many times Emma asked Anton to just do her a favor and smuggle her a bean on the sly, he never did anything but laugh. But apparently, Zelena could just snap her fingers and a whirling vortex of doom would appear to suck her to another world. Regina had delivered this news with extra snide bluster to cover the anxiety in her eyes.

If Zelena’s power was so strong it gave Regina pause, there was definitely cause for alarm.

“Plus,” Henry said, emboldened, “he shows up just when we’re getting ready to throw a wedding.”

Everyone glanced at Philip and Aurora who shared a nervous look themselves.

“It’s possible that Zelena is angling for a marriage alliance, but she couldn’t have known about the wedding,” Snow said.

“Please,” sneered Regina. “Mirror spells can cross realms. If there are mirrors in Oz, you can bet she’s used them to spy on us.”

There was an uneasy murmur around the table. Mirrors had been banned from the council chambers as soon as Regina had become a member.

Leroy growled. “We just wrapped up the War of Broken -”

Snow cut the dwarf off with an “ahem,” and a pointed look. Emma closed her eyes, exasperated with her mother’s lack of subtlety.

“Uh, the um, war with Maleficent,” Leroy amended.

“The peace has held strong for over seven years,” Archie said.

Leroy harrumphed. “Like I said, we just finished with one crazy witch -” (“no offense,” he muttered to Regina, who shrugged) “- now we gotta deal with another one!”

“As I said,” David’s voice rang out over the ensuing chatter. “All the more reason to consider building a friendly relationship.”

“Through marriage?” Henry asked, skeptical.

Everyone turned to look at Emma.

“Marriage isn’t something to be rushed into,” Snow said, sternly.

Emma tried to give her mother a look that said It’s fine. “I agree with Dad. We should be open to a genuine offer of friendship.”

Regina grumbled.

“But, we should be ready for anything.”

That seemed to placate the sorceress, and the King and Queen nodded their approval.

The meeting didn’t last much longer, and Emma and her parents drew the visiting prince and princess aside as they all trooped out of the council chambers.

They were a picturesque pair: Philip handsome and doting, and Aurora pretty and kind - if a little reserved. But as they followed the king to a secluded alcove in the hallway, they looked weary, anxious.

“We’re not going to let anything interrupt the preparations for your wedding,” Snow said.

Emma smiled to herself. “Romantic” was not a strong enough term to describe her mother. When she was young, off studying magic, Emma remembered reading letters from the queen, mortified at her attempts to subtly gauge if Emma was lovestruck. The annoying part was that Snow had an uncanny ability to guess the object of Emma’s infatuation. More annoying was that Emma’s romances tended to end in disaster, but that was neither here nor there.

“Absolutely,” David said, laying a hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “You’re father entrusted us with you because he knows we can keep you safe. And we will.” He glanced at Emma who nodded on cue, making sure to look tough and capable.

“We know,” Philip said. “And we’re no strangers to the threat of magic.”

Aurora had been a sort of casualty of the war. Maleficent had somehow whisked the princess away to a place even the dragon couldn’t find. There, she cursed her to sleep forever. Or at least until Philip finally tracked Aurora down and woke her with True Love’s Kiss.

The war may have ended with the treaty seven years ago, but Aurora had only been awake for half that time. Peacetime had only served to make her family nervous, apparently.

Now, the princess clutched her prince’s arm and nodded dutifully, smiling. Emma noticed that it was kind of a stiff smile. There was a faint discomfort in Aurora’s eyes.

Huh. Emma made a note to find the girl later and double down on the security talk.

For now though, it was a rare day where Emma’s only pressing duty had been a council meeting. She was going to dodge the wedding planning by taking her son out to joust.

Sort of. Henry was still a little short to wield her lances, but he practiced with smaller ones of the same weight. He smashed them on wooden targets and Emma handed him new ones. Their usual roles were reversed - Henry was her squire during tournaments - and she faked insult whenever Henry felt it necessary to critique her techniques. When Walsh found them, they were splattered with mud and smelled like horse. Emma was yelling, “Excuse me? I was doing this before you were born, you little runt,” over Henry’s laughter.

Henry sobered when he noticed their visitor, calling, “Hey, Walsh.”

Emma turned to see the subject of this morning’s meeting smiling at their antics, gold cloak flapping cheerfully in the breeze. Walsh was tall, thin, and handsome in an unintimidating way. He had dark eyes and hair - which he kept artfully mussed.

“I was just exploring the grounds,” he said. “I didn’t realize there was a tourney going on.” He made a little bow to Henry. “Congratulations, my lord. Although I have to say, your opponent looked a bit...sickly.”

Henry scoffed. “Don’t compete if you’re not fit for the fight.”

Walsh gave an exaggerated wince. “Ruthless, huh?”

“You can find out for yourself, if you want,” Emma said. “We were about to switch to swords. Henry needs an opponent, if you’d like to volunteer?”

“Uh,” Walsh said, playfulness gone. “I’m not a swordsman.”

She clapped him on the shoulder. “Perfect. You can use the practice, then.”

Bewildered, Walsh allowed himself to be wedged into a breastplate and a helmet. Soon he was awkwardly brandishing a sparring sword as Henry circled him.

Walsh managed to block a few attacks before a particularly aggressive lunge knocked him off his feet, armor clanking as he landed, legs straddled, in the slop.

Henry froze but Emma guffawed, clutching her side as she moved to help Walsh to his feet. “I’m sorry,” she told him, her laughter ruining the effect of the apology.

“It’s fine,” Walsh chuckled. With Emma’s help he pulled off the helm. “No harm done, my lord,” he told Henry as he joined them. “Except maybe to my pride.”

Deciding that they wouldn’t be able to top the spectacle of Walsh lying in the mud, Emma and Henry loaded the armor and lances onto their horses. Henry volunteered to lead them back to the castle and Emma and Walsh trailed after him.

“So is that usually the exercise?” Walsh asked her. “Setting your son on helpless visitors?”

Emma patted his arm in consolation. “I’m sure there’s something you’re good at.”

Walsh glanced down at her hand as it dropped away. There was something very...satisfied about the little smile he gave her when he looked back up.

This flustered Emma, but she kept her expression serene as she said, “Zelena called you a ‘trusted member of the court’ in the message you delivered. That must mean she finds you useful.”

“Actually,” Walsh said. “I advise her on matters of security.”

“What?”

“I know, I know -”

“And you don’t know how to fight?”

“I’m an advisor,” he justified, rolling his eyes when this only made her laugh harder. “You don’t need to be a warrior to know how to strategize.”

Emma composed herself, digesting this. Then, lightly, she asked, “And she sent you to sniff out weaknesses in our security?”

He dipped his head in concession. An understanding guy. “No. I’m not the only lord at court who advises her on that sort of thing - kind of like your council - so she knew she could spare me.”

For now, Emma decided to ignore that he knew about their council meeting. “That’s it?”

His smile was sheepish “Well, she also considers me a friend. I think she hoped you could come to see me that way too.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, as coy as she got. “Me?”

He smiled, revealing nothing. “Everyone.”

Emma nodded. “So that’s what Zelena hopes. What about you?”

He turned serious.

“I know it’s only been a few days, but...I’d love to have you as a friend, Emma.”

His eyes were large and sincere. Emma studied them, warily.

Walsh blinked. “I mean, Your Grace.” He blushed, charmingly. “I’m sorry, I -”

“It’s fine,” Emma said, giving him a smile.

They parted ways at the stables, Walsh going on to the castle while Emma and Henry unloaded the horses.

They worked silently at first, Emma mulling over the lingering look Walsh had given her as he left.

“Mom,” Henry’s voice came from behind the saddle he had hoisted over his shoulder. “Are you really thinking of marrying him?”

Oh boy. Emma thought of how best to approach this. She’d never appreciated her parents’ uncomfortable lectures until she had to start giving her own uncomfortable lectures to Henry. But with this particular topic, she was flying blind. It had probably never crossed Snow or David’s mind to give her a talk about arranged marriages. She thought of them after the morning meeting, bickering affectionately about the wedding plans. Gods.

She helped Henry hoist the saddle back onto its rack and decided to start with some easy truths.

“You know I love you, don’t you, kid?”

“Yeah, Mom, I know,” he said. She felt satisfied that he could roll his eyes about it. That it was such a given.

“And I will never let anything hurt you.”

“Mom.” He gave her a look as he led his horse into a stall.

“Henry.” She followed him in and cupped his face in her hands, turning him to face her. He had to drop his hold on the harness he was trying to unstrap, and he sighed impatiently. His head could just reach her shoulders now.

“An alliance,” she said, “is a partnership. So is marriage.”

“So...you are going to marry him?”

“What did I tell the council?”

“You said...we should consider every option.”

She squeezed his shoulders. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

“I know, and he’s nice. I like him fine.”

The faint praise made Emma laugh as she turned to finish Henry’s work on the harness. “Good.”

“But do you like him?”

Emma thought about it. Thought about how comfortable he seemed with her son. Thought about his easy smile and his quick humor. Thought about the gentle expression she’d started to see on his face when he looked at her.

She sucked in a breath as she turned back to hand Henry the harness. “Sweetheart -”

“Grandma and grandpa say that marriage is for love.”

“And they're right,” Emma said, carefully, as she watched him put away the harness. “But people don't always fall in love as quickly as grandma and grandpa did. Sometimes love grows. Out of living together, working together...Plenty of people don't fall in love until after they're married. And plenty of people who fall in love never get married.”

Henry grabbed a few brushes, handing her one as he mulled this over. “Like...you?” he said finally. “And my dad, I mean?”

Emma’s stomach lurched.

“...Yeah, like me and your dad.”

“And Lily?”

That prompted a bigger lurch.

Henry flushed. “Sorry.”

Emma shook her head. “No, kid, it's ok.” She lifted a hand to smooth down his hair. “I promise you, no matter what, I am not going to marry anyone who isn't right for us.”

He smiled her favorite of his smiles. The one that was full of faith and assurance.

“Anyone who's right for you is right for me,” he said.

That made her grin and she ruffled his hair, much to his annoyance.

“I will say this for Walsh,” Henry said, as they started to brush down the horse. “He makes a decent training dummy.”

Emma laughed.

And that evening, she tracked her mother down in the library with Regina.

“We don’t know anything about this Walsh guy.”

At her entrance, the queen and the sorceress looked up from where they were hunched over piles of ledgers and scrolls, elbow deep in wedding plans. Snow’s eyebrows flew up under her fringe. “Henry was just telling me you liked him.”

Emma closed and locked the door. She waved her hand to slap a quick soundproofing spell on it before striding over to join them at the desk. “Sure, he’s nice.”

“A ringing endorsement,” said Regina.

Snow glared at Regina. “I thought you two were getting along.”

As usual, when it came to discussing feelings with her mother, Emma had to take a minute to bolster herself before laying her cards on the table. “He seems like a smart...kind...interesting person.”

Regina jumped on that description. “And that terrifies you?”

“No.” A little. “I think...it could be...good for me. As well as the kingdom.”

“Oh, ok. He’s boring.”

“He’s not boring,” Emma said, exasperated. She glanced at her mother expecting her to start scolding Regina but was surprised to find Snow avoiding her gaze. “Mom. You think he’s boring?”

“No! I just...well, considering your former…beaus -”

“Oh gods,” Emma said. Regina snorted.

“I guess I can see how you might find him boring, is what I mean,” Snow said.

Emma grit her teeth. She did not want this to turn into a rehash of her spectacular romantic failures. “Look. I like the guy, alright? But if I’m really going to consider this, I just think it would be smart to do some investigating.”

Regina laughed. “You are so running scared.”

Emma and Snow glared.

The sorceress tried her best to compose herself. “But I agree, that is smart.” Then she really sobered. “Of course, that would mean learning more about Zelena and she’s been smart enough to block herself from any sort of scrying spells.”

“That is suspicious,” Snow said.

“It doesn’t help that she’s probably known about us, longer than we’ve known about her.” Emma said. “Longer than we’ve known about Oz.”

Snow’s eyes widened. “You think she’s been spying on us.”

“Oh, it’s definitely possible,” Regina said. She turned to Emma. “Any ideas, then?”

Emma took a deep breath, knowing this would be a hard sell. “Maybe if we consult someone who’s been around longer, who might have been aware of Oz before us…”

“Like who?” asked Snow.

“Like…” Emma steeled herself and took the plunge, “one of my old teachers.”

Regina snorted. “It may have been years since our treaty with Maleficent, but I don’t think we’re at a ‘borrow a cup of flour’ stage just yet.”

Emma winced. “Not Maleficent.”

There was a heavy silence.

“The Dark One?” Regina squawked.

Snow was aghast. “Emma...that’s -”

“Insane?”

Emma went on the defense. “He wasn’t that bad.”

Regina let out a disbelieving “Ha!”

“He wasn’t the reason I left, anyway,” Emma said, quietly.

“Speak for yourself,” Regina muttered. “Look, no one’s seen him in years. I haven’t seen him since the bastard stole a curse from me.”

Snow gave her a scolding look. “The curse you were planning to use on us?”

Regina waved the accusation away and Emma cut in before they could dust off an old argument. “But you remember where he used to live don't you?”

“‘Used to’ is the crucial part there.”

“Didn't you say he had a servant for a while?”

Regina forgot her sarcasm for a moment, sharp, black brows furrowed. “Yes...pretty young thing...dark hair, accent -”

“He has an accent,” said Snow.

“Hers was different,” Regina said, absently. “I got the feeling he was...fond of her. I thought about snatching her when he took that curse. Ransoming her to get it back.”

“Lovely,” Snow said.

“I said I thought about it,” the sorceress snapped, “I didn’t do it. It's not like I needed the stupid curse anymore, we were allies by then…”

Snow broke into a fond smile. Regina rolled her eyes.

“You think he could have taken her with him?” Emma wondered. “To wherever he disappeared to?”

“I said he was fond, not that he’d completely lost his head. Even with a student, Rumplestiltskin always struck me as a loner.”

“Mm,” Emma said, not bothering to mention Baelfire. The Dark One’s son would probably agree with Regina’s assessment. “If we found her, you think she might have a guess on where he is?”

Regina sighed. “You’re obviously set on this.”

“We need a plan,” Emma said. “And I think this is our best chance right now.”

Regina nodded. “Then she’s probably your best chance at finding him, yes.”

“Are you going to go yourself?” Snow asked, and Emma smiled. Her mother’s tone wasn’t doubtful or judging. If this was Emma’s plan, she was ready to enact it.

“We don’t even know where she is right now,” Emma said. “I’ll send one of my men to track her. If he finds her, I’ll approach her then.”

“And I’m guessing Walsh won’t know where you’re going?” Snow asked.

“We have time to work on my excuse,” Emma said. “For now, our focus is just acting the same as always.”

Snow cupped her cheek. “Your focus should be resting if you’re planning on gallivanting off on a quest soon.”

Emma gave her mother a dry look. “If anyone should be resting, it’s you, Mom. You’re killing yourself with this stuff.”

Snow smoothed her skirts. “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Aurora’s family expects us to be good hosts.”

“You should leave some stuff for Dad to take care of. He’s such a showboat, if you don’t he’ll be impossible.”

“He’d be impossible either way,” Regina said. At a look from Snow she muttered, “You know he would be...diva…”

“Alright,” Snow said. “Emma’s right, it’s late. We should all go to bed.”

“I decide my own bedtime, thank you,” Regina grumbled, but she allowed Emma and Snow to hug her goodnight.

Later, Emma squinted up at her bed canopy through the dark, wide awake.

She wasn’t running. She didn’t think so. There was barely anything to run from, besides. Just a man who may be kind and safe, or who may be lying through his teeth. Or a man who was kind and safe but beholden to a witch that was lying through her teeth.

It was sort of nice knowing the possibly disastrous outcomes of a relationship before she entered into it, for a change. Technically, she also knew the possibly disastrous outcome if she didn’t enter into a relationship with Walsh. Something else to consider while she...considered him.

Not that her parents would ever expect her to marry anyone untrustworthy.

Emma sighed. A piece of hair that had fallen into her face during a particularly frustrated toss or turn fluttered. Emma blew out a few more times to watch it rise and fall.

Walsh wasn’t exactly the type of person she’d imagined herself marrying, either. But to be fair, Emma hadn’t given a thought to marriage in years, if ever. She thought of Henry, not much younger now than she’d been when she had him. What sort of romantic dreams had she had at his age? They’d been full of adventure, she remembered that much, just like her parents’ story. She remembered loving the idea of forbidden love, too. Ugh.

She’d had plenty of action and high drama with her romance when she was young. After the war, she’d preferred to stick to adventures with her family, with her son, or, occasionally, alone. And they’d been good. If she was honest with herself, though, she did catch herself...wanting...something every now and then. When she caught her father looking at her mother a certain way. When she listened to Leroy talk about his wife.

But that was them. That sort of love wasn’t her.

What she’d told Regina was true. If Walsh was genuine in his interest, marrying him could be good for her. He might not be some grand, true love, but he could be a partner.

The thought didn’t comfort her as much as she wanted it to. And the sleep she finally fell into was fitful.

A week later, she listened with disbelief as Lance debriefed her on his search for the Dark One’s ex-servant.

“She’s a pirate?” Emma asked.

“Doing a pretty good imitation of it,” the knight confirmed. “She’s been spotted at enough ship raids, anyway.”

“Regina’s description of her didn’t really scream piracy,” Emma said.

“Well, I guess she makes it work,” Lance said, wryly. “And lucky for us we know her captain.”

“We do?”

“Remember Captain Hook?”

A few vivid images appeared in her mind’s eye immediately. A flash of silver curving from a black sleeve. A bitter grin. Entertaining insolence.

“He was that drunk asshole that challenged you to a duel on our way back from Aurora’s kingdom a few years ago, remember? It took me a while…”

Emma blinked. She didn’t have the same problem, apparently. “She’s on his crew?”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Guess she’s got a thing for dangerous men.”

At that, Emma grinned. “Oh I don’t know. After years of being the Dark One’s slave? I bet she’s enjoying being the dangerous one herself...”

#captain swan #captain swan fic #cs #cs fic #killian jones #emma swan #emma swan x killian jones #ouat fic #emma x hook #my stuff #fucking hate having to re-italicize everything

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