#even when he broke the rules it ended up benefitting the council in some way
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Aggressive Negotiations Episode 2: Old Friends
Hello!!! It’s been a little bit and due to some personal issues I haven’t been able to write, so I’m not sure how good this part is, but I still wanted to post something!
“Padme! It’s been so long, how have you been?”
“Satine!”
*the two friends hug briefly*
“This is a lovely gathering. I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Oh, good, I’m very glad.”
*padme realizes Anakin is still standing awkwardly next to her*
“Oh! I’m sorry. Satine, I’m sure you remember Jedi Knight Skywalker.”
“Indeed. Hello Anakin.”
“Nice to see you. If I would’ve known the Duchess of Mandalore was coming, I would’ve made sure my Master was here too. It’s very unprofessional of us, I apologize.”
*he said this with a smirk and you just KNOW he’s stirring the pot*
“Hmmm, yes, I would’ve enjoyed seeing him as well.”
*int. With Anakin*
“I know you want to ask me so yes, I have a plan!”
You have a plan?
“Have you ever seen the parent trap?
Yeah…
“Well, Obi-Wan and Satine are the two parents and I am both the children. Or, maybe Ahsoka can be the other one. That’s not relevant. Anyway, now that I know Satine is here, I need to get her and Obi-Wan back together. Operation Parent Trap is a go!”
Is there a reason for this plan?
“Look, I love Obi-Wan. He’s like an older brother. Perhaps a father figure. In another lifetime, we may have even been lovers. In short, I want him to be happy. I know he loves the Jedi Order, but I also know he still loves Satine. I’m gonna have to get Padme and Ahsoka in on this.”
*back to the scene*
“Yeah, maybe you can leave with us later and we can all hang out.”
“Perhaps. Well, Padme, I’ll certainly be back around to speak more with you, but I must go speak to some more people to sway their vote.”
“Of course. See you soon!”
*she turns back to Anakin in a yell-whisper*
“What do you mean his girlfriend?!?!?”
“I would love to tell you now, but I don’t exactly think it would be appropriate to tell all the senators and the Chancellor about Obi-Wan’s past, maybe current secret relationship.”
“Okay. Good point. But you’re spilling it all the second we get home!”
“Definitely.”
*int. With Padme*
“I cannot believe this! Look, I’ve known Obi-Wan for a long time, and since Anakin is his Padawan I know him very well. So Anakin telling me that Obi-Wan, The Jedi Master Golden Boy, the most perfect Jedi there ever was, BROKE THE RULES for love and attachment is utterly unbelievable. I mean, this whole time Anakin and I have been hiding and sneaking around when Obi-Wan has been doing this for years?!?! I’m speechless.”
*intro and title card*
“You know, you should try to set Satine up with someone next time she’s over here.”
“What good would that do? I thought you wanted her and Obi-Wan to get back together.”
“I do. But everyone thinks she’s single, so we have to keep up that ruse. If you offer to set her up with someone, she’ll have to make up insane excuses and that will prove she’s not over Obi-Wan!”
“I don’t know, Ani. Seems a bit manipulative of our friends. It feels wrong.”
“Nonsense. The manipulation of our friends is for their benefit, so it’s fine.”
“Okay, fine. But I’m only doing this because I still don’t fully believe you that Obi-Wan was ever secretly in love with someone!”
“That’s fine, cause by the end of the night you’ll believe it.”
*they split off. Padme seeks out satine and Anakin stays by the snack table to watch this all unfold. Also, the cocktail weenies. Luckily for Padme, satine is leaning against a wall near a window looking outside and she’s alone.*
“Enjoying the view?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve always loved looking over Coruscant at night. It’s beautiful. Every time I’m here I end up looking out at the night sky longingly.”
*int with Padme*
“Okay, so she’s clearly been here many times. I only know of a few official times that she’s been here for political business, so she’s definitely been here for personal reasons.”
*back to the scene*
“I agree. It’s a pleasure to get to live here. Although Mandalore is gorgeous as well.”
“Indeed.”
“So, you know Anakin already?”
“Oh, yes. Last time I was here, Obi,…….Wan Kenobi introduced us. He’s a very interesting man. He and his master seem to care about each other greatly though.”
“Yes they do indeed. They get in each other’s hair from time to time but they are very close.”
“It seems like you’re very close to him too, no?”
“Yeah, I met Anakin when we were children, and we’ve been friends ever since. In fact,
*she pulls out her necklace revealing it to be the one we all know from the phantom menace*
“he made me this when he was nine.”
“Hmm, friends? It seems as if it’s more than that. How long have you been together?”
“Oh! No! Uh, no we’re not-it’s not….I’m single actually. Not interested in anyone. And he’s a Jedi, so….”
“So they can’t love. No attachments. Trust me, I know. Although, that’s never stopped anyone from breaking those rules, hmm?”
“I suppose so, but no, I’m not currently seeing anyone. How about you? Any secret Jedi lovers?”
*satine coughs and chokes on her drink at that making Padme smirk evilly*
“Oh, no! No, definitely not. In fact, I’m not seeing anyone either. Not interested. Completely content by myself. In fact, I haven’t been with someone since I was nineteen.”
“That many years by yourself! What do you say I set you up with someone? I know some great people.”
“Oh, no, I think I’ll pass, Padme.”
“Aw, come on! It’ll be fun.”
“Perhaps we could go on a double date then?”
“What?”
*int with satine*
“I know Padme and Anakin are together. There’s no way she’ll agree to going on a double first date with me because she’s already seeing Anakin. Therefore I won’t have to go either.”
Is there a reason that you don’t want to go?
“.......that’s unimportant.”
*back to the scene*
“Oh, you know, if you’re going to set me up with someone, I might as well do the same for you! So what do you say? We’re both single, we could both go on a date, yes?”
*panic is clear on Padme’s face. We switch to an int. with Padme*
“What the hell is she doing?!?!? If I don’t accept, then it looks like I’m hiding something! If I do accept, then I’ll have to go on a date! And not with my husband! But we need to get to the bottom of this!”
*back to the scene*
“Of course! Sounds like a fun time!”
*int. with satine*
“....Haar'chak.”
*back to scene*
“Great! Luckily I’m here on Coruscant for the rest of the week! Just let me know when!”
“Will do! See you later, Satine!”
*padme walks back over to Anakin*
“So?”
“So I have good news and bad news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Good news is that you’re totally right. She’s hiding something. Bad news is that she agreed to go on the date, so now I do have to set her up with someone.”
“Alright, that’s not so bad-“
“There’s worse news.”
“...what happened?”
“She definitely knows we’re together and in order to prove it she suggested setting me up with someone too on a double first date! She was trying to get me to say no to spill the details of our relationship!”
“Okay, but you did say no, right?”
*padme looks down at the floor away from Anakin*
“Right???”
“I had to say yes! I’m sorry! I wasn’t going to expose us and get you expelled!”
*anakin sighs*
“Okay. Okay fine. But tomorrow, you, Ahsoka, and I are getting to the bottom of this and making a plan.”
*we switch now to obi-wan Kenobi. He is exiting a Jedi council meeting when suddenly he stops and closes his eyes. He senses something.*
“Master Kenobi, are you alright?”
“Oh, uh, yes, Master Windu, I’m quite alright.”
“An imbalance in the force, did you feel?”
“Something like that. I just need some rest. I’m off to my quarters now.”
*int. with obi wan*
“I swear I felt her through the force. I haven’t felt it since the Coronet. I must be going crazy. I really do need some rest.”
*he leaves the interview before anyone can inform him that satine is indeed here. we are now back at Anakin and padme’s apartment, the day after the senator gathering. On the couch is Padme and ahsoka. Anakin is standing a few feet away next to a whiteboard with his back turned to them both as he’s writing something down.*
“Padme, what in the galaxy is he up to?”
*before Padme can answer Anakin turns around and interrupts*
“I’m so glad you asked, Snips!”
“What is that????”
*she points to anakin’s torso, more specifically at his shirt. He somehow had time to customize a black t shirt in less than a day’s time.*
“Ah! So you like my shirt!”
“Like isn’t the word I was going to-“
“I’m glad you do! Because you get one too! And so do you, Senator.”
*he smirks and tosses them both the same black t shirt that he’s wearing*
“What the heck is an Obitine? And why are we on its team?”
*anakin steps to the side to reveal the whiteboard. At the top in capital letters it says OPERATION PARENT TRAP: OBITINE EDITION. On his shirt in big white letters is TEAM OBITINE*
“That, my Padawan, is a mashup of Obi-Wan and Satine’s names.”
“But why?”
“Cause they’re in love, Snips. Must I spell this all out for you!”
“Anakin, are you on death sticks? Cause it certainly seems like it. There’s no way Master Obi-Wan has attachments, let alone a lover.”
“I’m gonna prove it to you today. Look, even Padme is in on it.”
“That’s true. I didn’t believe him either until I talked to Satine last night. I attempted to set her up with someone since she claimed she was single, but now we’re stuck because she also called me out on being single. Now there’s going to be a double first date that we need to plan for.”
“Wait a minute, you’re not single??”
*anakin and Padme give each other the ‘oh shit look’*
*int with Anakin and Padme*
“I really shouldn’t have let that slip.”
“Great. Now we have to not only get you a fake date for a day but now we have to get you a fake date for forever!”
Or you could just, tell ahsoka you guys are together, right?
*in sync* “NO!”
“Who knows who she’ll tell! Too many people already know!”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean too many people know? Who knows other than us?”
“Well other than me and you, I’m 90% sure Obi-Wan does, Satine definitely does, I guarantee that Rex knows by now and maybe more of the 501st and probably Cody too. And Ahsoka might too! Plus Artoo and Threepio if you count them.”
“Oh, for Force sake, Anakin.”
“I’m not the one who told Ahsoka I was seeing someone!”
“I’m sorry! We’ll just keep it super secret and not tell her much. It’ll be fiiiine.”
*back to the scene*
“Well, yes, Ahsoka, I am, but it’s very secret and not super official, so I don’t really tell anyone. I do trust you though, so I’m sure you won’t tell anyone, yes?”
“Oh, of course Padme! No problem. So, we have to find you a fake date since you can’t take your real one and we have to find a fake date for Satine?”
“Well, my date is up to Satine, but otherwise yes.”
“Great. Let’s do this!”
“Glad you’re on board, Snips. But first, we really have to figure out whatever the hell is going on between Obi-Wan and Satine.”
*he writes and draws on the board*
“Ta da!”
“Is that supposed to be Obi-Wan and Satine?”
“Yes. It’s obvious. These are great drawings. Anyway. What do we know about their relationship is the question. Anyone wanna contribute first?”
“Well, last night, she definitely slipped up and called him ‘Obi.’ She casually said Obi, realized it, and then slipped in ‘Wan Kenobi.’”
“Calls him Obi! Great!”
*he writes that down on the board*
“Oh! And she’s definitely been to Coruscant on her own personal business before. Like, many times.”
“Thank you for your contribution, Padme. Now, since I’m his former Padawan and best friend, I know a lot more about their past. Sadly not a lot but at least more than you guys do.”
“Yeah, which is why I’m confused as to why I’m here.”
“Because you have to understand everything so that you can be in on this plan, my impatient Padawan. Here’s what I know. I know that when they were both nineteen, they were on the run together on a mission that the Jedi Council assigned Obi-Wan and his master Qui Gon. I also know that something happened between them during that year, I just know it. Obi-Wan hinted at it and assured me it was ‘all in the past,’ but that’s definitely a lie. I mean, they were nineteen, on the run, and had to keep everything a secret. Nothing’s more romantic than that.”
*he writes this down as he speaks*
*ahsoka gives the camera a look like ??? as Anakin winks at Padme who rolls her eyes*
*int with ahsoka*
“Did he just….?? Did Anakin?? Did he just wink at the Senator???? Is he really flirting with Padme while talking about Obi-Wan’s relationship??? He really needs to get over this crush.”
*back to the scene*
“Aaannnyway. Yeah. Something happened during that year.”
“Wait, Ani, did you say they were both 19 during that time?”
“Uh, yeah, why?”
“Satine told me last night that she hadn’t been in a relationship since she was 19 years old!”
“See Snips!!! See!!! I told you!!”
“Okay, you have a point there.”
“I have the best proof, though. Something I haven’t told anyone. Obi-Wan doesn’t know that I overheard him and Satine on the Coronet. Satine thought she was going to die. She told him that she’s always loved him. Obi-Wan was hesitant, but he told her that he would’ve left the Jedi Order if she would have asked him. He would’ve left the Jedi Order!!”
“Why didn’t you START wIth that?? That’s kriffing insane! Obi-Wan said that??? Our Obi-Wan.”
“That Obi-Wan, yes. You should’ve seen him before that. He was a nervous wreck. And he was flirting with her!”
“Alright, master. I’m on board. Operation Obitine is a go. Let’s do this!”
*switch to obi wan. he’s walking down a hallway in the senate building at night. No one else is there due to how late it is. He can’t sleep. He decides to go out onto a balcony that he’s particularly fond of to watch the chaos of Coruscant at night.*
“I should’ve known you’d be here. This is where we’d watch the sunrise whenever I was visiting.”
*he turns around*
“Satine??”
“I’ve missed you, Obi.”
END OF PART 2
Oh! Bonus:
Anakin’s Whiteboard
#star wars#the clone wars#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#ahsoka tano#anakin x padme#padme amidala#anidala#obitine#satine kryze#star wars fic
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beneficial {seblaine week sneak peek}
Hi everyone! I can’t WAIT for Seblaine Week this year. I’ve actually been working on my longest fic yet, and it’s going to fulfill both the College and the Friends With Benefits prompts (and probably Free Day, tbh). It’s ~27,000 words and basically done except for final edits, and I’m too anxious to wait any longer to share, so I figured I would post a little sneak peek to get everyone excited!
More details to come when the full fic is posted, but it’s a NYADA AU where most of our McKinley friends are in attendance and living in the same apartment building. Blaine was never a Warbler, he attended all 4 years of high school at McKinley and dated Kurt the whole time, but they broke up Senior Year. He and Sebastian are friends, but very casually. Blaine and Santana live together and get along famously (I have a thing for this friendship apparently). And The Nest is the Warblers’ apartment, where Nick, Jeff and Sebastian live; the rest you’ll just have to wait to find out! See you on July 12!
When Saturday night comes around, everyone starts pouring into The Nest: Rachel and Kurt are begging Nick, the de facto DJ, to play at least one show tune (he refuses), Mercedes is belting out a song on the cheap karaoke machine and Sam and Blaine are playing beer pong.
Well, Sam is playing; Blaine is getting his ass kicked.
He’s downing what feels like his thousandth beer of the night when he feels someone give him a small hip bump. He shows Sam the empty cup and looks up to see Sebastian standing at his side.
“Not to insult you, but you know you absolutely suck at this, right?”
Blaine laughs a little too loudly, “I’m sorry, but which part of that wasn’t supposed to be insulting?”
Sebastian always has a quick response. “That you’re smart enough to know it. Plus, if memory serves, you weren’t always this bad.”
A memory flashes through Blaine’s mind, one he had almost forgotten.
This isn’t something he and Kurt would ever normally do, but he and Kurt aren’t exactly normal these days. Santana had come into Glee Club earlier in the week, saying that the Warblers were throwing a party at one of their member’s houses this weekend and they should all go in the spirit of healthy competition.
And if she could get drunk and make out with one of the girls from the other schools, so she wouldn’t have to have that awkward “what are we” conversation the next day, well, that was a pretty nice bonus too.
“This will be fun, right?” Kurt is speaking just to interrupt the silence as Blaine drives, and Blaine smiles politely.
“Yeah, it’ll be good to get to know some of the Warblers a little better.”
“Well, you’re already friends with a couple of them, aren’t you?” The question isn’t meant to sound accusatory, but Blaine can’t help but wonder if Kurt is trying to figure out if something is going on behind his back.
It’s not. Blaine is too heartbroken about what’s happened with his first love to even think about being with anyone else.
“Not really,” Blaine says quietly, and that effectively ends the conversation. They’ve been fighting a lot lately, and neither of them want to say anything that will push the other too far. When they arrive at Nick’s house, the party is already in full swing and Blaine hears Rachel shout “Kurt!” almost as soon as they walk in the door. Kurt gives him a half smile and goes to join her and Mercedes. Blaine hates that his boyfriend leaving his side relieves some of the tension, but it does, and he instantly spots Sam over by the kitchen counter, mixing drinks and laughing with some of the Warblers.
“Hey, what’s up bro? Want a drink?”
“Please!” Blaine knows Kurt hates it when he drinks too much, but Kurt is already out of sight and he needs something to calm him down. Sam pours him a fruity concoction that barely tastes like alcohol and has the capacity to be very dangerous. He takes a sip and gives Sam a thumbs up signaling his approval when a figure jogs up beside him.
“All right listen up, I’m putting together a team to destroy Trent and Jeff, who’s in?”
Blaine turns to his left and there is Sebastian Smythe, another Warbler he has met in person only briefly, but they did exchange numbers at that meeting. So, if they’ve texted a little since then, it’s harmless, right? He’s felt lonely lately, he’s just looking for a friend.
It’s just a coincidence that Sebastian also happens to be incredibly good looking.
“Anderson, looks like you’ve got a fresh drink. Care to join me?”
“What am I agreeing to?”
“Smart question to ask,” Nick says with a laugh and Sebastian gives him the finger before explaining, “Beer pong. But we play with water, so you can bring your shockingly red drink too.”
“It’s party punch!” Sam yells as Sebastian leads Blaine away from the kitchen island to a table set up outside in the backyard. He doesn’t notice Sebastian’s hand on his lower back until it’s gone, but when it’s no longer there, the feeling lingers.
Sebastian reaches for his drink on the table and Blaine notices the cups have already been arranged. He’s seen enough movies, he knows what beer pong looks like, but he’s never actually played. Hell, he’s never really even been to a party except that one night at Rachel’s, but they don’t talk about that.
“Okay, you’re gonna think I’m totally lame, but I have absolutely no clue how to play,” Blaine admits, but Sebastian just smiles, and god, this punch must be strong because his stomach is doing somersaults.
“It’s okay, Trent knows how to play and he sucks ass at it, so you’ll be fine.”
Trent scoffs from the other side of the table and Blaine laughs, relieved, as Sebastian explains the rules to him.
And then the game begins, and he is shockingly good. Almost every ball he throws goes in and Sebastian cheers every time he makes a shot, which feels warm in his chest for some inexplicable reason. And then he realizes, he’s happy to be appreciated.
“You undersold yourself, Anderson. Sure you’re not hustling us?”
“Well, it would be pretty pointless to hustle my own teammate, wouldn’t it?” Blaine takes the last sip of his drink, batting his eyelashes just a little, and is he...flirting?
Sadly, (or thankfully?), he doesn’t get to find out the answer as he’s brought out of his trance by someone shouting “Blaine!” He turns his head and there is Kurt, walking toward him, clearly irritated. Fuck, had he seen him flirting with Sebastian?
He starts, “Kurt, it was nothing, we were just…” but Kurt is already on his own train of thought.
“Can we go? Rachel has had way too much of whatever that party punch is, and she’s making a big scene with Santana, and I’m just over it.”
“I…” He looks back to Sebastian who is standing at the table with his hands up in a “don’t get me involved” gesture and sighs, turning back to his boyfriend.
Guess the clock has struck midnight.
“Okay, sure.” Kurt looks relieved and is already heading for the door. Blaine smiles politely, “It was a pleasure being your partner, Sebastian.”
“Hey, maybe we can do it again sometime,” the Warbler says with a smirk, and all Blaine wants to do is stay.
But all he can do right now is go.
“So then I guess I should be smart enough to ask you to be my partner...again?” Blaine smiles and throws the ball back.
And for what feels like the first time all night, it goes in.
“Definitely,” Sebastian grins, “Evans! Grab a partner, Anderson’s called in the cavalry.”
“Brittany!” Sam calls and the girl peeks her head out from the kitchen where she and Santana have been adding more vodka to the jungle juice. He motions her over and she nods, rushing over, drink in hand. She points across the table, “Wait, is this our competition?”
Blaine feigns like he’s just been shot in the chest, and Sebastian stands up straighter, motioning between himself and Blaine. “Listen, this team may have been lacking in talent before, but I’m on board now. Let’s rack 'em up.”
“You can’t talk this way about your own teammate!” Blaine playfully slaps Sebastian on the arm and Sebastian leans over to murmur conspiratorially, “All part of the strategy” and his breath feels warm in their close proximity. Blaine thinks he’s clearly had too much to drink, but hey, he only lives down the hall.
Sam and Sebastian set up the cups, and the game begins. Sebastian must be a good luck charm because every ball Blaine sends flying is managing to hit its intended target. At one point, they’re doing so well that Blaine whispers something in Sebastian’s ear which causes both Brittany and Sam to quirk an eyebrow. The next time Blaine makes a shot, he and Sebastian perform an elaborate handshake and Sam’s mouth falls open in shock. He certainly did not expect his and Blaine’s secret handshake from when they ran for Student Council to be used against him.
“Dude, not cool!”
“All part of the strategy,” Blaine says with a shrug and a smirk, and Sam turns to Brittany and says, “Okay, handshake meeting after this game.”
They all laugh and finish the game, which Blaine and Sebastian win easily, and that’s when Blaine realizes that most everybody has already taken off. Nick and Jeff are on the couch playing video games and Santana is sitting on a barstool next to their game, chatting with Brittany, but everyone else seems to have left while they were wrapped up in their tournament. Even Sam looks around and finds himself dateless.
“Damn, lost the game and lost my girl too,” he says with (mostly) fake resignation and Blaine laughs from the other side of the table. Santana hums and clarifies, “Nah, she just said she’d rather go to sleep than continue to watch you get humiliated.”
“See, aren’t you glad you don’t have someone to talk about you like that?” Sebastian murmurs low to Blaine, but clearly not low enough as he’s soon on the receiving end of a glare from Sam. Sebastian shrugs unapologetically in response.
Santana hops off her stool and holds out her hand to Blaine, “Come on, Anderson, I need my beauty rest.”
“Psst lies,” he responds dramatically, and they both giggle, and okay, he’s definitely had too many. He turns back to Sebastian and smiles, “Thanks for being a great partner.”
Sebastian smirks back and Blaine definitely doesn’t feel his insides melting at his response. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
He and Santana leave and walk the short distance to their apartment, arms around each other’s waists. She reaches over and boops his nose. “Well, you are very good at that game, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, you’re drunk,” he responds, but can’t manage to wipe the smile off of his face.
#seblaine#blaine anderson#sebastian smythe#seblaine fic#seblaine week#seblaine week sneak peek#author: mollywritesseblaine
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Day 6, (Paris: Downtown; Place de la République, Place de la Bastille, Palais-Royal, Pont Alexandre III, Eiffel Tower, Gare de Lyon), 30-9-2019
Written by Ahmed Hassan, edited and corrected by Aya Ashraf.
I just woke up and it’s my last day in Paris. That feeling is always aching my soul yet I always plan to have all of the new places right after Paris just to feel less pain leaving this city behind. Today I’m doing nothing except visit some new places I haven’t visited before, meet a friend from Brazil and then start preparing for my departure to Italy.
I started moving from home at around 7:30 AM, It was that early because I wanted to say a fine goodbye to the city. For a change, I wanted to try taking the bus to the City, discover how it feels going through the suburbs of Paris to reach the city. Took a bus near the Aulnay-sous-Bois train station and switched for another bus till I reached my first destination; Place de la République.
At the center of the square is a bronze statue of Marianne, the personification of the French Republic. The square is well known for being a protesting spot as it can contain large numbers without severely affecting traffic.
I proceeded to Place de la Bastille, another spot I wanted to visit, the place is another square centered by July column, topped by a gold Génie de la Liberté.
The Bastille square in Paris is where the Bastille prison stood until the storming of the Bastille and its destruction during the French Revolution, and with no remains in sight at the moment.
I started moving by bus to Gare du Nord. A very interesting benefit of having a free day without itinerary is how free it feels to switch to buses or walking instead of quicker transportation methods like trains and metros. It gives you that feeling of being a resident for a while, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. One of the priceless benefits of travelling is remaining silent, observing and actually listening to nothing but street noises. I can’t remember that I’ve put headphones and listened to a song during the 33 days I’ve been outside Egypt. You don’t need to escape anything anymore, you’re just there to feel and enjoy the moment, and be proud of the present that’s happening and achieving everything you’ve ever planned and dreamed of.
Trying to waste time before meeting a Brazilian friend of mine, I had another walk from Gare du Nord. I passed by Église Saint-Vincent-de-Paul, the scene looked cinematic; people were sitting on the stairs leading to the building entrance in the middle of a Parisian street, and behind them a very symmetrical building of the church itself.
I continued my long walk and passed by the Opera again, nothing looks the same when you’re saying goodbye. I mean, I still remember how it felt leaving Paris the year before. The feeling is indescribable when you’re looking at anything knowing it’s the last time to do so. The image below might seem like a regular picture of a street in Paris, but it was me observing that golden statues, street noises and beautiful buildings for the last time for a long time.
In realization that I’m closer to visiting Palais-Royal, I started moving to the Palace to check another place I’ve never visited. Palais-Royal is a former French royal palace, and now it’s the headquarter of Ministry of Culture, the Conseil d'État and the Constitutional Council.
The Palace is famous for tourists for Les Deux Plateaux, which are rows of columns with different heights put in an old parking lot. The columns were put in this place between 1986 and 1985, and it’s been a touristic spot since then.
I mean come on, this looks like fun!
The palace also features very fine gardens, which I like to describe as gardens inside a building inside a city.
And like Versailles, the gardens had this set of trees aligned in a very symmetrical scene.
I was about to leave the palace, but couldn’t do it before stealing another symmetrical shot. (Okay it’s not very symmetrical and i’m personally hurt the lanterns aren’t perfectly aligned lol)
Moving on, the Palace’s exit was right in front of the Louvre’s side entrance. And no matter how stunning and breathtaking the main entrance with the pyramid looks, the side entrance fits the authenticity and classic side of the Louvre.
I started walking along the Seine, Moving towards Châtelet. I passed by Pont Neuf, Notre Dame, Fountain Saint-Michel, Hôtel de Ville, Centre Pompidou and ending my long walk at Les halls, the famous mall in Châtelet. I had a fast meal at a Burger King nearby, then started moving again to the Louvre.
The sky was very colorful and a bit clear that day, I had an amazing time sitting near the fountain of Jardin des tuileries. A fountain, ducks, fine architecture, good sky view, all in an indescribable harmony creating a scene I’ll never forget.
I finally received a notification of the arrival of Samuel, that Brazilian friend i’m meeting. We’ve met on Couchsurfing and agreed to tour the city together. He had just arrived from Madrid to Paris so he depended on me to show him around. In one trip, I showed the city to two people who briefly described me as a “local” because of the way I fully memorized city information like the landmarks and the streets.
We met and started to introduce each others, he started complementing my Instagram posts and telling me he’s been dying to see Paris the way I show it in my pictures. I was extremely happy because I’m someone who’s very proud of his Instagram account, I count it as one of my strongest assets of memory preservation. When I introduce or share this account with people, I always tend to mention that it’s like a museum for Ahmed Hassan, as my photographs capture my timeline for the past few years, showing the development of tastes and interests, also what i’ve lived, witnessed and documented during this time.
Continuing our conversation about pictures, Samuel asked me to photograph him near the Louvre. He was amazed of how he pays no effort in explaining what exactly he needs to see in the captured photos. We started discussing various topics like cultural difference, travelling and photography. Samuel wanted to visit the Eiffel tower so bad and start posing for photos next to it. He asked me for good shots for it, I suggested we take a walk along the Seine, crossing Pont Alexandre lll, passing by Les Invalides till hitting Champs de Mars right behind Eiffel Tower.
The below photo was the last photo I took for the Louvre, It was me saying goodbye to on of my favorite places on earth.
Moving from the Louvre, we walked and talked along the Seine, capturing some fine scenery for the landmarks, showing it all like a postcards you wanna receive so bad.
Below is Musée d'Orsay
Pont de la Concorde
And finally one of the best -and saddest- pictures ever, a sunset in Paris. Why saddest? It’s my last sunset there. It looks like an oil painting that has a presence that never fades, or even fails to remind you of what you’ve felt taking such picture.
We passed by Pont Alexandre lll, and the bridge never fails to be impressive at any time of the day. The timing was perfect because we got to capture a golden bridge under golden weather.
It’s my favorite bridge in Paris, and It never fails to remind me of the first time I recognized it in Adele’s “Someone like you” music video. I’m no drama queen, or maybe sometimes I am haha, but I slightly felt the same that day walking there, and yeah, nothing is the same when you’re saying goodbye. I’m intending to describe more on that matter, you feel like you’re aching in a way that doesn’t show a physical pain, everything you’re hearing sounds the same, yet you feel it’s distorted. It’s complicated, Anyway, here’s another picture of the bridge capturing Les Invalides.
Moving forward, He asked for amazing places to capture the Eiffel tower inside the city itself, so I suggested the below location I initially used for my Trip in 2018.
We continued walking towards Champs de Mars and when we arrived, Samuel was astonished of how the tower looks marvelous the closer you get closer, we arrived there a few minutes before it got all lit so we captured both moments.
And same way with the lights starting to glow
We got closer for a better shot, and captured one of my finest Eiffel tower photos ever!
We again moved to the Seine to pass to Trocadéro to capture my last photo of the tower, which started to light in purple in solidarity with Breast Cancer Awareness Month that occurs annually in October.
So, That was it. I said goodbye to Samuel as I had to move to prepare my luggage and head towards Gare de Lyon for my 6 AM train, which was pretty early to be there almost 7 hours before the train, but me and Mohamed thought it should be better for him not to pay another night for a few hours, and it was risky to depend on getting there on time less than one hour after the public transportation starts the next day.
On my way to Islem’s home though, I was stopped in the metro station and got fined 35 Euros for violating the Metro’s rules of having an image and a name on my transportation Card, the whole situation didn’t make my Paris ending any prettier, It was scary and worrying being stopped by metro officials, yet I gotta admit it was my fault as I was notified I should update both the photo and the name 5 days earlier.
Arriving at Islem’s, My luggage was Pre-Packed, I just showered and collected my belongings and started moving, I thanked Islem for his GREAT hospitality for the second year in a row! It was almost 11 PM when I started moving, I stopped and took a last look at the house before for my last RER ride to Gare de Lyon.
I arrived at Gare de Lyon, Mohamed arrived a couple of minutes after. We were ready for our more than 6 hours time of waiting. We tried to discover the station, discovering that, obviously, every single shop or store is closed. The only available items to purchase are the snacks of the vending machines. The only thing that broke the silence that night is a man playing piano closer to midnight.
We stayed and talked about what we’ve progressed so far in the trip, which is completely nothing to what’s coming up a head, before we were ordered by station security to exit the station as the station is “Closing” till the morning. That was another bullet to my head that night. We roamed the scary streets surrounding the station at night searching for any café or restaurant that might be working after midnight with no luck, we even tried our luck with fancy hotels like Holiday Inn to try and stay for a drink or something in the lobby which was refused as well. It was a scary couple of minutes before we decided to head up to the Station’s door and try our luck again, The security asked us to come back in and wait for the train as he’s been searching for us for a while to tell us to get back inside. We were a bit relieved knowing that we’ll be in a safer situation, we faced another hazard of creepy Algerians who were roaming the station searching for a cigarette or a lighter to smoke weed. We ran into a Brazilian guy and his dad. They only spoke Portuguese so I used google translate to communicate. They were both heading to another French city and they were terrified by the creepy Algerians roaming the station. We stayed together for an hour or two, talked for a while. I gave him a souvenir of an Egyptian coin which he was crazy about given the fact that he was a coin collector.
It was finally around 5 AM when we noticed that our train was already in the station since before midnight, not ready to be entered though but we were finally that close. The doors are finally opened near 6 AM and we got on, in separate cars unfortunately but still, safer than ever.
Before the train moves, I wanted to take a moment to appreciate the Paris effect it has on me for the second year in a row now. The city attracts my senses and brings out the best of me, I’m thankful for it as it captured my first experience as a tourist the year before, and it’s the only city I visited twice, and intending to include in every Europe trip I’m intending to pursue. The city also confirmed and enriched my passion for architecture and art. Unlike most Egyptians, I don’t find it an ordinary “overrated” city, I find the streets talking with history and beauty, the bakeries are running and keeping history of recipes, preserving a significant European cuisine. The fact that I remember leaving the city in the two years I visited leaves me speechless. In both trips, Paris was the start of my tour, and even though it was followed by GREAT cities and countries after, It still doesn’t feel the same.
The train started moving and I finally felt safe and calm enough to sleep, The ride takes around 7 hours to Milan. I tried to ditch the previous night away and think about the amazing Italy adventure coming up ahead, the first country I’ve ever wanted to visit. I napped for an hour or two before the Police officers started passing and checking our passports, it’s a normal procedure for intercountry trains or transportation in general. Everything is going well and smooth now, Let’s hit Italy!
Self reflection:
I’m finalizing this blog post on October 9th from Egypt’s North Coast, nearly after three months of not blogging because of the heavy work load I have. And even though it’s all still packed with no time to take a proper break, I found a way to return and preserve moments like this because it’s all still there. Once I started writing, it took me less than a day to finalize the whole post.
So, hmm, a self reflection. I’m currently unaware of my feelings towards anything, I feel better than the last time I blogged, but I currently have a general understanding that everything isn’t worth the effort of thinking anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking anymore, Haha -I wish though-. by going through 2020, I’m developing weird facts about how everything should be understood and acted upon. Starting from relationships, work, personal spaces, caring, and everything. I feel like I’m still discovering these things for the first time, like a kid learning to walk in his first year. Nobody told me getting ready to turn into a 30 year old has a reset button of your whole belief system. You go through the same things you go through on daily basis, but with growing mind and easier letting go abilities. You go and evaluate friendships, actions, hobbies and whole life style, you check how responding differently can leave your mind in peace, how going an extra mile doesn’t always bring what you’ve been missing or expecting, how being a selfish person is not as bad as it’s been showed to us growing up.
Now we’re less than three months away from the end of 2020, I gotta say it’s still hurting me revealing all my scars at once to myself in one single year, and at the same time I’ve never been more thankful for such an evolution of thoughts in the same year. If I’m allowed to say a piece of non-cliché advice, I’d say go selfish to liberate yourself from the restrictions that keep you from discovering who you really am. Instead of unrolling yourself as a carpet for others to grow with whoever they wanna be, be your own red carpet.
Be your own superstar.
#Paris#France#Tourism#Travel#Travelling#Love#Adele#Someonelikeyou#Reflection#Louvre#Art#Tour#Eiffel#Tower#Bridge#Pont
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The failure of Cummings' British culture war
By Chaminda Jayanetti
They were meant to be good at this. That was the whole point of them. Boris Johnson and Dominic Cummings didn't have much to commend them, but having their finger on the pulse of the public was meant to be their one special skill.
Instead Tory MPs are being deluged with furious letters and emails from voters - often Tory voters, Leave voters - furious that the prime minister's henchman was allowed to swan across the country when people were locked in their homes and their loved ones died alone.
How have they got it so wrong?
The category error made by this government's advisers, supporters and indeed its critics was to mistake Britain for America.
Yes, there is a values divide in British (not just English) society - particularly on immigration and sovereignty, and to a lesser degree on law and order and political correctness.
Cummings and Johnson exploited these divisions to win the EU referendum and then channelled that support towards hard Brexit, pitching a 'them and us' narrative which saw some of the richest people in the country deride others as the elite.
This worked for two reasons. First, it told a lot of instinctively eurosceptic, anti-immigration voters that they could have what they wanted. Second, it created caricatures of Remainers that these voters not only could not identify with, but actively identified against: Guardian-reading liberals in expensive Islington townhouses (the sort Cummings lives in), politically correct student activists who'd find all your jokes offensive, and the whispered smearing of London as a city that is not truly English - meaning, bluntly, not truly white.
What none of it involved was God.
There are three pillars to America's culture wars: 'freedom', racism, and religion. America's mad mutation of personal freedom into a 'Live Free or Die' creed of gun rights and hating 'the state' goes well beyond Britain's understanding of civil liberties. Racism, while ever-present here, does not run as wide nor as deep as it does in the States.
But the role of religion is the biggest contrast. The tens of millions of Americans who believe that abortion is murder, homosexuality is evil and sinners will burn in hell are wedded to such stances in a way unimaginable in contemporary Britain's secular politics.
Factor in the enormously influential Fox News, whose commitment to fake news makes the Sun look like the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and it is easy to see why such voters turn out each election to back a Republican party that promises to uphold Biblical bigotry and bog standard racism no matter what - even if the candidate is a serial philanderer like Donald Trump, and even when that party's other policies threaten their homes and health.
White religious conservatives are bound to the Republicans by God. That creates a bond of trust that is similarly fervent on any issue - be it on guns, tax, the media, anything. Give them a man who'll endorse their every last prejudice, and they will believe whatever he says and forgive whatever he does.
No such dynamic exists in Britain. Nothing even comes close.
That is why coronavirus became a culture war in America but not the UK. In the US, Fox News, the Republican right and the demented end of the internet combined to cast the pandemic, lockdown and vaccines as vast conspiracies to a cult like audience.
But in Britain, older voters - Boris' base - were the most supportive of lockdown before Johnson backed it. The anti-lockdown movement promoted by conspiracists, Spectator columnists and Nigel Farage was a pathetic embarrassment. Opposition to lockdown never rose much beyond ten per cent of the public.
More recently, the relative national unity behind the government collapsed even before the Cummings scandal broke, as its blatant mishandling of the pandemic cost it the support of Labour voters. Again, this was not a culture war or values divide. It was about trust. Yes, Leave voters voted Tory because they trusted Johnson to deliver Brexit. He was their guy - they gave him more leeway, more benefit of the doubt. But the trust they placed in him over the pandemic was not about the Brexit divide, because the pandemic is not about the Brexit divide.
That bond of trust is now fraying rapidly, hacked by the twin blades of a catastrophic death toll and an adviser and prime minister who are treating the public like fools.
Cummings' defence was the display of someone who as a child might have scribbled out the word 'truth' from his first dictionary. Even if his trip to Durham were morally excusable, his subsequent jolly to Barnard Castle patently was not. It was blatant and unnecessary flouting of the rules, even accepting his implausible stated reason.
He was able to state that reason in a time and manner of his choosing, with the full backing of the prime minister, in front of the nation. Those brusquely arrested and charged by police for infringing the lockdown rules over the last two months enjoyed rather less leeway. It is just another inequality in a crisis defined by inequalities.
For all the lies and bad faith on show, some will be persuaded by it - primarily those who want to be. Others will feel it's time to move on. After all, if Johnson wants him to stay then what else can be done? He's given his side, what use is there in dragging this out? Let the government focus on dealing with the pandemic.
But the Cummings episode is not an aberration. It is not some deviation from the Tories' norm. It is the Tories' norm.
Secrecy, incompetence, dishonesty and detachment from reality have marked the government’s entire, shambolic, world-trailing handling of the pandemic. They rarely publish the scientific advice they claim to base their decisions on. They whip out targets to draw attention from their failings, then fail to meet those targets, then lie about the failures. They created a catastrophe in care homes and then simply denied it to our faces.
The Tories, in one guise or another, have spent a decade in government without knowing or understanding what it is they are governing, dismissing swathes of lower-profile public services as 'bureaucrats' or 'public sector waste'. Thus their response to the pandemic paid little attention to public health infrastructure, cut council leaders out of discussions, and treated care homes as a dumping ground to clear NHS beds for new covid inpatients - as we now see, with catastrophic results.
And why would a government led by a pampered faux-aristocrat advised by an angry cosplaying philosopher king with a family castle have any idea that care workers inhabit a world where they can't afford to take time off sick?
The government will attempt to move on and get back to the job in hand. There is no reason to believe that will make things better. A faulty engine will go on sputtering. A malfunctioning printer will keep chewing up paper. Cummings is one of the many malfunctions in Britain's government, and a key one at that. When he operates, things go wrong. That is the norm we would return to.
And what millions of people will continue to see - with no need for a half hour drive - is a government lying in order to retrospectively move the goalposts to protect an unelected adviser. A government that does not care about the truth, does not care about fairness, and does not care that setting fire to its own guidance risks undermining key public health messages that are meant to save lives.
Johnson will throw everything, including the country's safety, under the bus to save his key strategist. Because his only strategy is to bang a culture war drum pitting the masses against a nebulous 'elite' that somehow comprises anyone who disagrees with him.
But in shielding Cummings, he is showing millions of his own voters that he and his adviser are the elite, for whom the rules are purely advisory.
It is the rest of us, with no private woodland or family castles, who are all in it together.
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The Russian Revolution
Probably one of the most shocking and important events of the 20th century the Russian Revolution shows us two sides of extreme politics and how much influence the common people have over the establishment.
What was the Russian Revolution?
The Russian Revolution was a series of events between 1905 and 1917 ( however this has been a topic of historical debate) that brought down the autocracy of the Russian Tsar and lead to the rise of a strict communist rule in Russia for the next 70 years.
Who were key figures?
Tsar Nicholas II
Tsar Nicholas reigned from the 1st November 1894 to his abdication on the 15th of March 1917
He was unfortunately a weak and out of touch autocrat kept in the dark about the state of his country and was ill equipped in mind and temperament to rule the Russian empire through the early 20th century. He loved his wife Empress consort Alexandra and his children dearly hardly being able to part from them, Unfortunately his obliviousness and stubbornness to change caused him to lose his throne, The Tsar along with his wife and children were brutally executed in 1918 by the Bolsheviks
Vladimir Lenin
Lenin was leader of the newly formed Soviet State from 1917 to his death in 1922. Lenin was a staunch Marxist and revolutionary who formed the Bolshevik party which eventually overthrew the Tsarist government in the February revolution of 1917. He was a very well educated and manic man who believed strongly in the Marxist worldview.
Grigori Rasputin
Rasputin is probably one of the most infamous and mysterious figures in all of modern history, a lowly peasant monk became one of the most politically powerful men in all of Russia. It was his close relationship and power over the Russian royal family that brought their downfall as well as his own.
Leon Trotsky
Trotsky was a key figure in the Bolshevik party although his beliefs weren’t as radical as Lenin’s. He was a well educated and highly rational intelligent man who initially sided with the Mensheviks in 1905 before switching to the Bolshevik party where he frequently clashed with Lenin’s extreme ideas.
So what caused this revolution?
Historians generally believe these were the issues that brought about the Russian Revolution...
Discontent Urban workers
Russia had just hit the Industrial Revolution in the late 19th century behind the rest of the world by about 150 years or so. The concept of factory work was new and therefore working conditions were terrible many workers got sick and severely injured. As a result they eventually got sick and tired of working 12 hours a day and barely being able to survive and support their family and so they rebelled and easily had hatred towards the autocracy
Discontent Peasants
Russian peasants still lived under feudalism in the 20th century, when there was poor harvest and lack of food year after year and their young working men were forced to fight and be brutally slaughtered in the Russo-Japanese war in 1905 and then in the First World War in 1914 they pretty much had enough of the establishment and combined with them being uneducated easily indoctrinated
The social structure promoting privilege and autocratic rule
Only 1.1% of the population controlled the population and lived in luxury while everyone else lived in feudalistic conditions. The peasants and working classes also had no legal protection no government body to represent them to the nobility and have their point of view considered. The newly educated urban worker also had to deal with limited civil liberties and disgustingly low wages. The Tsar and the other nobels refused to consider social and political change that may make the scales of Russian power more equal. To add to this the Tsar wasn’t a very charismatic or competent leader
What were the main events?
The revolution of 1905
Also known as Bloody Sunday this revolutionary event started as a protest march and petition the first strike was at the Putlov steelworks in St Petersburg on the 16th of January. The protesters hoped to achieve a guarantee of civil liberties such as freedom of speech, Measures to alleviate poverty, the introduction of an income tax, better working conditions such as a eight hour work day. However Nicholas II opposed every bit of that aim, he believed the Tsar’s word was law he made all decisions as a result he used censorship and his secret police to quash any ideas of political reform during his reign. The Revolution of 1905 was no exception and became known as ‘Bloody Sunday’ when a bunch of the Tsar’s soldiers went into the protest killing 92 people the backlash was two political parties against the status quo the Mensheviks and the more radical infamous Bolshevik party lead by Lenin.
The October manifesto and the Dumases
After everyone started calling the Tsar ‘Nicholas the bloody’ the government thought it was a good idea to give the people what they want or at least appear to. So the October manifesto was written as a sort of constitution. The Tsar also created the Dumas a representative government of which he had complete control. The first two Dumas in 1906 and 1907 were critical of the autocratic government and were quickly disbanded. The Tsar had been given the chance to hear the people and make social and economic amendments that benefited the majority. Instead he chose to remain ignorant of the people’s discontent. Before the third Duma was created the Nicholas altered electoral law and significantly reduced the representation of peasants, land owners and urban civilians. As a result these Dumas were more conservative and in favour of the Tsar. The third Duma was allowed to run its full term from 1907 to 1912 as was the fourth Dumas from 1912 to 1917.
World War One
The outbreak of WW1 put huge pressure on a country that was not equipped to deal with modern warfare let alone on that immense scale. Initially the country banded together to support the motherland the nobility and the impoverished alike this was not to last. In late August 1914 the Germans issued a devastating assault, the Russian army had lost 3.5 million men by the end of 1915. The war was the tip of the iceberg for a already discontent nation yearning for change, the massive economic toll the war took on the people was devastating with Fathers, sons and even horses being lost to what seemed to be a pointless war.
The first revolution of 1917
On the 8th of March civilians hungry for bread took to the streets of Petrograd (St Petersburg) supported by 90,000 men and women on strike, the protesters clashed with police and refused to leave the streets. By the 10th of March the protest had spread to Petrograd workers, mobs destroyed police stations, several factories elected deputies to the Petrograd council of workers following a model devised during the 1905 revolution. The army garrison was sent to quell the uprisings, there were some occasions where they opened fire killing demonstrators. Despite this the protestors stood their ground and eventually the army grew frustrated and began supporting the protesters. The imperial government had no choice but to resign and a provisional government was established, the Tsar formally abdicated three days later ending four hundred years of tsarist rule.
The October Revolution
The provisional government set up was still run by the nobility who hoped to prevent this revolution going any further and although the socialist soviets who represented the lower classes had a voice and control over some militia the government still had capitalist and aristocratic interest at heart. This period of dual power was very chaotic for Russia as a whole there were many strikes during this time. When Lenin called for an end to Russia’s involvement in WWI and the leaders of the new government decided to keep fighting this unpopular war the Bolsheviks and other socialist factions were able to exploit virtually universal disdain towards the war effort as justification to advance the revolution further. The Bolsheviks turned workers' militias under their control into the Red Guards (later the Red Army) over which they exerted substantial control. the Bolsheviks led an army of workers and soldiers in Petrograd that successfully overthrew the Provisional Government, which gave all its authority to the Soviets the was capital being relocated to Moscow soon afterwards. The Bolsheviks had secured a strong base of support within the Soviets and, as the now supreme governing party, established a federal government dedicated to reorganizing the former empire into the world's first socialist republic, practicing Soviet democracy on a national and international scale. The promise to end Russia's participation in the First World War was honored promptly with the Bolshevik leaders signing the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk with Germany in March 1918. To further secure the new state, the Cheka was established which functioned as a revolutionary security service that sought to weed out and punish those considered to be "enemies of the people.” Soon a civil war broke out between the red army (Bolsheviks) and the White army ( counter revolutionaries) and other less extreme socialists this lasted many years until the Bolsheviks took complete control and therefore rebranded themselves as the communist party, paving the way for the for the creation of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) in 1922.
Sources:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17910046
https://youtu.be/KOK1TMSyKcM
https://youtu.be/VHQWpcpJVM0
https://www.netflix.com/title/80145290?s=i&trkid=13747225
https://youtu.be/zXHybEb4b_o
https://www.netflix.com/title/80158770?s=i&trkid=13747225
And my own Essay lmao
#mine#20th century#wwi#the russian revolution#european history#history#1900s#romanovs#communism#socialism#revolution#royalty
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Goodbye and Hello - 2
Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.
Tagging @itach-i @nestasbucket @manontrashbeak
If you’d like to be tagged in the next few parts, let me know!
Kingdom of Ash spoilers
fanfic master list (including the link to my fics on AO3, under the same username)
Part One: I Wish…
Part Two: Another Day
Giving up on sleep, Manon pulled herself out of bed. With a heavy, wool blanket wrapped around her, she poked at the dying fires in the braziers. The winter moon was still weeks away, but with each night, the temperature dropped.
This would be their first full winter living in the Wastes and she hoped they had enough stores to see them through. If they didn’t, or if something went wrong, there was always Briarcliff.
Upon arriving from Orynth with not much more than the packs they carried, she’d reluctantly accepted Ansel’s offer to use Briarcliff as a base until the weather eased. And so, while the majority of witches stayed in the Western Wastes, scouting parties were sent to Rhiannon Crochan’s ruined city, to do whatever might be done to ready the place for the spring.
Refusing to sit idly by, Manon often led the groups herself, despite protestations from Petrah. She did it to keep herself from dwelling on the memories and what-ifs eating away at her, to keep from giving in to the darkness that always called.
Unexpectedly, it had the benefit of raising her status in the eyes of the Crochans, some of whom were reverting back to their distrust of the Ironteeth. Without a common enemy to unite them, witches from both clans were falling prey to old grudges. Manon quickly realized that sheltering and feeding thousands of witches might not be the hardest thing she would face as queen.
The food and housing aspects were progressing well at least. Luckily, the ruins hid some relatively undamaged structures, enough to hold the witches who’d come with their families. The rest stayed in tents as they rebuilt. And although they had no prior experience in the Wastes to judge whether their recent harvest would be sufficient, her council was pleased by the crops brought in and the other supplies gathered.
All of their work and planning would soon be put to the test, she thought now, staring out her window as the first rays of dawn filtered through the bands of purple clouds. A heavy layer of frost sparkled as the sun broke over the horizon.
Rhiannon’s original Queen’s Keep was long gone, but they’d found one building still standing that could take its place for now. Manon eventually gave in to the demands of the council and moved into it. Her rooms were on the top floor, and because the stone Keep sat on a rise, she was able to see well beyond the city walls. After experiencing that view, she’d given up the battle to stay in a tent.
The true beauty of the Wastes could only be seen from above. Perhaps in gifting this seemingly barren and empty land to the witches, Brannon knew his people would not protest its loss. But with their love for the wind and ability to fly, her ancestors saw what the humans couldn’t: the ocean of rippling grasses that changed from a springtime green to fiery autumn red, the lazy rivers that stretched and curved like snakes sunning themselves, the rocky outcrops that cut through rolling hills like the earth itself was cracked open, the herds of game leaving swaths of bare dirt in their wake, the patchwork of flowers that filled the short, hot summer with their brilliant colors and scents.
Manon loved all of it. It didn’t matter if she was soaring on Abraxos or walking on her own two feet. The Wastes were her home.
And yet, she still felt like something was missing.
For a long time, she’d thought her coven was that something.
But as the months had passed, and the edges of her grief had become a little less sharp with each day, that missing something remained. Diminished, but still there. Always there.
A black shape darted across her peripheral vision and Manon’s heart stopped.
The crow disappeared, only to glide back into view a moment later. It swooped and cawed before finally landing next to a refuse bin in the street below. With quick movements, it hopped into the bin, took a piece of something, tossed it into the air and ate it. Another caw, and more appeared, joining their friend for breakfast.
Definitely just a regular bird.
For a second, she had thought maybe...
But no. There was no reason he would come here. Not with his own kingdom to rebuild. And not when she had ignored all of his letters.
They had planned to meet at the Ferian Gap, without deciding on the timing. Neither knew what truly awaited them, so it was foolish to try and set a date. Waiting until things stabilized made the most sense.
What had not been planned was the unbearable heaviness that greeted her every day. Or the slowly disappearing willpower required to get out of bed on the bad days. The long, empty nights spent staring into the dark.
Manon leaned on Glennis during those bad days. She was the one person who felt like family. The trust she had in her great grandmother grew each day, but there were things she still kept to herself.
Like the guilt of being the one who survived. The untethered feeling of knowing there was no one left who’d known her as a witchling. The irrational anger at seeing her Crochan cousins, in name only, gathered around a fire.
The constant glances over her shoulder expecting to see Asterin following close behind, the rest further back in their usual formation.
The longing to have them here so she could tell them how much they meant to her. Something she felt she hadn’t done when they were alive.
If Dorian had been here, she might have shared this with him. But he wasn’t. And they weren’t things she could convey in writing.
Replying to his first letter would’ve taken no time. Setting it aside for another day, a better day, was so much easier though. When it happened with the next letter, and the next... the stack was eventually placed in a drawer, out of sight.
There were mornings when she woke with the best intentions, a reply already half written in her head. But her attention always seemed to be pulled in other directions.
And then, five months ago, the letters stopped coming.
Since then, each time she thought of him, she tried to remind herself that this way was better. This way, neither of them would be forced to choose between their duties and their desires. A false choice because ultimately, there was only ever one option, for both of them. The only real choice they had was to spare each other more pain.
And if her inaction forced them both to move on, then so be it. This way was less painful than being on the receiving end of that choice.
Sunlight crept across the floor. Manon closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to prepare herself for another day of ruling. Another day spent not thinking about her coven, or the king.
***
Chaol was the only one who noticed the ice spreading out in a circle from where Dorian sat at the head of the table. The yammering nobles wasting their time didn’t have a clue. No surprise, as they were here arguing against letting the Wild Men have representatives at court. Apparently, giving the people of the Fangs the same access to the King that the nobility enjoyed was too much for this group of lords to bear.
Dorian glared sidelong at Chaol. His friend gave him a look back that clearly said this had not been his doing. He knew that, but his annoyance with these men was about to become uncontrollable.
As someone began listing off their grievances, Dorian stood, not bothering to keep his chair from screeching against the floor. Chaol winced, from the sound, and the fury radiating from the King.
“The men and women of the Fangs fought and died for Adarlan. While you hid in your country estates and watched it burn. Nothing you say will change my mind in this matter. Get out.”
The lords’ exhaled breaths were visible in the now freezing air and Dorian forced himself to calm down. Chaol ushered them out as quickly as he could and by the time he returned, Dorian was slumped back in his chair.
“I wouldn’t have let them in if I’d known that’s what they wanted,” Chaol offered as apology. “I’ll be more careful with the next group.”
Dorian waved him off. He knew Chaol was in favor of including the Wild Men in their councils and wouldn’t have given those lords an audience with him if they’d been honest about their intentions. Leaning forward, he propped his head in his hands and rubbed his temples.
He’d never been under any illusions that ruling a kingdom would be easy. After a war, after his father’s reign, he knew it would be much more difficult. But the day to day drudgery and petty politics were beginning to wear him down.
The door creaked open and they both turned to see a young woman enter. “A message, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing and waiting to be called over.
Even after months of disappointment, a rush of excitement coursed through him. Chaol motioned her forward and all of Dorian’s hope died when he saw that the letter bore the royal stamp of Eyllwe. Thanking her, he waited until Chaol escorted her out before he tossed it over onto his desk. Without a word, he returned to massaging his aching head.
“So, how long do you plan on wallowing like this?” Chaol asked as he leaned back against the long meeting table and crossed his arms.
Dorian ignored him.
“You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. But as your friend, it’s getting rather annoying.” When Dorian didn’t take the bait, he continued, “Or does this qualify as brooding? Your vocabulary was always better than mine.”
He lifted his head and growled, “It’s neither.”
“Obviously,” Chaol said with a wave. “You’re not wallowing or brooding. You didn’t almost leap out of your chair just now, thinking that letter had come from the Wastes. You don’t walk around at night in all kinds of weather. You don’t-“
“Enough,” Dorian said. But his voice had lost all of its earlier bite as the truth of his best friend’s words sank in.
Chaol pulled out a chair next to him and sat. “It’s been ten months-“
“I know how long it’s been.” Down to the day, he knew.
When they’d parted ways in Orynth, he’d worried that the time and distance might weaken his feelings for her. The opposite had occurred. Even Manon’s silence had done nothing to diminish the bond he felt connecting them.
Most days offered plenty of distractions with paperwork, meetings, and visits to war torn villages. Sometimes the drudgery, he’d had to admit, was better than nothing. Nights were a different matter.
Dorian had fallen into the habit of walking around the grounds or on the parapets and imagining her life in the Wastes. Imagining her life with him, in some vague yet happy future that he shouldn’t allow himself to consider. It was the only way he could hope to get any sleep.
At least he wasn’t having imaginary conversations with her, he thought. At least, not yet.
“Dorian.”
“She never replied. Not once.” He hadn’t told anyone that, but Chaol didn’t seem surprised. “It’s been ten months, as you so helpfully pointed out. Why are you bringing this up now?” Guilty eyes glanced around the room. “What’s going on?”
“First, I just want to say this was not my idea,” Chaol said.
Dorian sighed. “What has Yrene done?”
“She’s been writing to Glennis. For a while.”
“What?” He couldn’t hide the anger and annoyance. The humiliation. It was bad enough that Manon had ignored him. Apparently, it was a popular topic of conversation.
As if reading his mind, Chaol explained. “They were corresponding about the Torre that Yrene wants to start. She’s planning to include Crochan and Ironteeth instructors.”
“Oh. Of course,” he said, kicking himself for jumping to conclusions. “That’s a good idea.”
Chaol nodded, then slid his chair closer. His face, his whole body, was lined with concern. Dorian tensed, not sure what was coming, even as worse case scenarios filled his head.
“Manon isn’t doing well.”
It was a struggle to remain seated and not go to the balcony and shift. He could be there in a few days if he went as a wyvern, if he didn’t stop for rest. But he stayed where he was.
“What do you mean, not well?” A few seconds ago, his worst case scenario involved her no longer caring for him, either due to the distance or because she’d met someone new. To immediately think that and not consider anything else. How selfish could he be?
“Glennis didn’t give any details,” Chaol replied. “But I don’t think it’s hard to figure out. A witch losing her coven...” He didn’t need to elaborate.
“I stopped writing,” Dorian said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief at his own stupidity and stubbornness. Quickly, he rose and spun, looking around the room. “I need to go and...” He trailed off as his eyes landed on the desk overflowing with proclamations and treasury reports and messages from Eyllwe and Terrasen and on and on. All waiting for his attention.
"As it so happens,” Chaol said, a smile forming on his face, “Glennis, Yrene, and I have arranged a meeting at the Ferian Gap.”
Dorian froze, not knowing what to say. Thank you seemed inadequate for the gratitude he felt.
Looking a bit apologetic, Chaol added, “There are actually some things that need to be settled between our kingdoms. Boundaries, trade, the usual. And that small matter of the aerial host you are creating? Orghana reported last week that the wyverns were big enough to begin training. At least, she thinks they are. She’s only ever dealt with ruks.” He shrugged. “So, it’s perfect timing.”
Realizing he hadn’t asked the question, Dorian breathed, “When?”
A grin practically split Chaol’s face in two. “You’ll need to leave in the morning, so I suggest you go pack.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Yrene wanted to. But, I thought that this way, you only have one night to wait, instead of weeks or days.”
Too many emotions thundered through him to speak as Dorian walked around the table and pulled Chaol into a hug. His friend laughed, and offered to thank Yrene for him.
When he stepped away and turned to rush to his chambers, Chaol called after him, his voice grown serious again. “You know her better than any of us. And I can’t imagine what she’s going through. But you can’t fix her.”
He paused at the door, considering everything that had befallen her just in the short time they’d known each other. There was a part of him that knew he couldn’t fix her. But it was overshadowed by the part that knew she wasn’t broken, would never be broken, not even by grief. Dorian left without replying, and went directly to his rooms to pack.
***
“You did what?”
Manon was rarely stunned to silence. But Glennis had just managed it with her announcement that their queen would be meeting with the King of Adarlan in a few days. The witches attending the council meeting didn’t so much as blink, thinking nothing of having Bronwen and Petrah take over for the week Manon would be at the Ferian Gap. Thankfully no one looked at her. The shock would have given away that she’d had no part in this development.
After the others left, Manon regained her composure and cornered Glennis for answers. Only to discover she had planned this with the healer and her husband.
“I am one of your close advisors and I took it upon myself to arrange a meeting with the King-”
“Yes,” she growled. “I understand that part. You wrote to his friends? About me?”
Her great grandmother didn’t back down. “I mentioned you only in the course of discussing Yrene’s plans for a Torre in Rifthold. She wants to allow our healers to teach there.”
“And why was this Ferian Gap thing only brought to my attention now?”
Glennis frowned, staring at her with the bright eyes of a hawk. Eyes Manon had no defense against. “Sit down, granddaughter.” She pulled a chair out and stood by it until Manon gave in and sat.
She didn’t know why she was angry about Yrene and Glennis writing to each other. If it was truly about the Torre, she could understand. But clearly, that was not the only thing they’d discussed.
Sitting across from her, Glennis said, “I’m not blind, Manon. Nor am I stupid. And my memory works quite well for my age.”
Unsure where this was going, she said, “I wasn’t implying-”
“I was with you two for long enough to see what was going on. Refusing to admit you have feelings for him won’t make them disappear.”
Of course, she thought, releasing an annoyed huff. “I’m not refusing to admit it. But even with your keen eyes and perfect memory, you can agree that it won’t work.” When Glennis had no reply, she stood and turned to leave, certain that would be the end of it.
“Manon.”
The authority in her great grandmother’s voice made her stop and turn around, albeit reluctantly.
“I will agree that it might not be easy. But that is true of all relationships, regardless of titles or distance or whatever else you want to claim is standing in your way. This is not insurmountable. But it might become so if you don’t take some time now to explore what’s already there.” Glennis walked over to her, a soft smile on her face. “You deserve to be happy.”
Manon opened her mouth to argue that no, she did not deserve it. And what made anyone think Dorian would be the thing to make her happy? A look from Glennis and she closed it, saying nothing.
“At this point, it doesn’t matter,” the crone said, done with arguing. “We need to come to an agreement with Adarlan about our eastern border. And our scouts have said the wyverns at the Ferian Gap will be ready to fly soon. You agreed to train them, so you will be going.”
Fine. It was fine, Manon thought, even as her stomach tightened with anxiety. She would go and work with the Rukhin and their wyverns. She would even meet with Dorian and negotiate for whatever the council wanted. But she would not let herself give in to any feelings she might still harbor for him.
Before she went, she stared down at Glennis. “I am the queen, you know. It’s my place to give the orders, not take them.”
Glennis gave her a bright smile. “And I am your great grandmother. There are times when that outranks royalty.”
This was why she’d come to trust her. Even if she didn’t like what she heard, even when she flat out disagreed with it, Manon knew Glennis had her best interests at heart. And like the witch’s hawkish stare, Manon had no defense against her smile.
“When do I leave, great grandmother?” she asked with a faint smile of her own, and a dip of her head.
“First thing in the morning.”
For the second time in one evening, Manon was speechless.
Glennis linked their arms together and walked out the door. “Come. I’ll help you pack.”
To be continued...
#manorian#manon blackbeak#dorian havilliard#throne of glass#kingdom of ash#goodbye and hello#my writing#throne of glass fanfiction#tog fanfiction#kingdom of ash fanfiction#koa fanfic#crochan witches#ironteeth witches#the wastes#while editing I found the phrase Chaol sexplained...#that would have made for an interesting turn of events#lol
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Jaig Eyes (Ch 13)
Jaig Eyes (Ch 13/?)
Always available here.
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Chapter Thirteen: Holocron Heist
“You look like you need a drink.”
I lifted my eyebrow at the drunk Twi’lek. Before I could even get a snappy word out, Merl cut in from behind the bar I leaned against.
“Beat it, shabuir,” he growled over my shoulder before handing me a drink. The Twi’lek scurried away quickly as I turned to lean forward over the bar, taking a long swig of the dark liquid in the cup.
“You spoke Mando’a,” I commented with a small smile. “I’m impressed.”
Merl merely shrugged at me as he continued to fly out drinks to the pressing customers of my club. “You mumble it enough. I started to catch on a bit.”
I raised my brows. “Did Pinky help you?”
“Pinky helped a little.”
I laughed, not only because I found it endearing, but because an elderly Weequay saying Pinky with as much sass as Merl used was rather amusing. I leaned back on my stool, letting the man work the bar as he always did. My club was doing well, as usual, but had seen an abrupt increase in clone attendees. They would always give me nods, but I made it obvious that I wasn’t about to go party with them. I needed to stay unattached. Despite not going out of my way, I’d heard what they had started to call my club.
“Fett’s Place,” they called it.
No one seemed to catch on to what they meant apart from the clones, so I let it slide. It was endearing in a way. Still, deep down, I worried that one day Boba would hear about that. It was no secret that I was mentored by Jango, considering I didn’t really try to hide my Jaig eyes when in my club, but I preferred Boba didn’t add me to his hunting list. I’d prefer not to beat up my little brother.
A group of clones laughed boisterously in the corner, each holding up their glasses as they toasted something. Probably something cliche. Like the Republic. I rolled my eyes in good humor as they cheered and knocked back their drinks.
“You alright, Kida?”
I turned to look at the concerned Weequay who’d finally found a moment of peace at the bar. He spread his arms over its shining surface and stared into my eyes.
“Why do you ask that?”
Merl shrugged. “You haven’t been the same since you stopped working for the senator.”
“You know why I had to stop that,” I sighed. “We’ve been over this before.”
“I know, I know. I just think...maybe it wasn’t the right choice.”
I watched Merl silently for a long moment before shaking my head and rising from my stool. “I’m not having this conversation.” I turned away and walked through my club, many of my patrons giving nods or lifting their glasses to me. I downed most of my drink as I greeted some of my most loyal guests, giving them dazzling smiles and fake laughs.
“Drink with me, Kida,” many of them would say. With most, I complied. I had to keep my club up and running, after all. At one table, as I drank with a Bith and a Dug, I heard the boisterous clone table quiet suddenly. My nerves sparked to life as I sensed familiar presences.
“General,” one said formally, despite the slight slur of his words.
“At ease, soldier,” returned the smooth curved words of Obi-wan Kenobi.
I nearly spit out my drink, coughing wildly. The Bith mumbled at me in his language, asking if I was alright. The music quieted around me as the entire club stared at the jedi.
“I’m fine,” I insisted between coughs. “I’m fine.”
“It seems you may have drank a bit too much tonight,” Kenobi voiced as he walked toward me. I coughed a few more times before casting him a dark glance. My security team, made of two massive Gen’Dais, were slowly moving towards the jedi and his companions, their giant armored hands moving to grip Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I would advise you to release me,” he said to no one in particular. Whether it was to me or the Gen’Dai, I couldn’t say.
“Stand down,” I ordered gently, looking over the jedi’s shoulder to see Cody and his men. My security team backed away, but stayed close. I understood. “Please excuse my team,” I said slowly. “Down here on the lower levels, we don’t have much trust for jedi.” I would have added clones, but the patrons of my club had gotten rather used to their presence of late.
Obi-wan hummed, watching me. “I see.”
“What brings you to my club?”
“A job.”
“Are you looking for someone? If so, don’t expect me or my guests to rat anyone out. We have a code.”
The jedi hummed again. “Fortunately, I’m looking for you. Is there somewhere more private we could discuss? I have an offer for you.”
My mind raced. If the Republic was asking for my help even after what I’d done, it must be serious. “Who has an offer? The Republic?”
“The council, actually.”
Windu knew my lineage. Did Kenobi? I kept my expression calm and my emotions on lock down. “Delilah,” I said to one of my passing servers--a pretty Mirialan. “Please take the jedi and his companions up to my office. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Of course, miss,” she said, immediately setting down her tray and gesturing for the group to follow her through a back door. I knew that door would lead to an empty hallway that held only a password-protected elevator that led to my office upstairs. Kenobi cast me a backwards glance as he passed through the doorway, suspicion rippling off him in waves.
“Kida,” Merl started, but I waved him off, snatching a bottle of ale from behind the counter before heading towards the service door.
The girls were flooding the back rooms, donning new outfits and applying new products to their hair and faces.
“Kida,” a few of them greeted as they hurried around.
“Miss Kida, good evening.”
“How are you tonight?”
“You look well today.”
I gave them all polite nods, but didn’t respond. They knew I cared for them. I may have been their boss, but I protected them. That’s why so many dancers wanted to work at my club. They wouldn’t be touched, as per my policy. And if someone broke that policy, they’d hope they were never born.
I climbed the swirling metal staircase at the end of their hall, sweeping back my hair nervously. Why was I nervous? Since when was someone like me nervous?
I rolled my eyes at myself as the door’s security recognized my handprint before opening. Inside, the jedi and clones waited for me. Kenobi stood beside Cody, both of them looking out my one-way glass that displayed the club’s main showroom. The floor was smooth and polished, clicking beneath my heeled boots. The walls were a dark gray, only illuminated by the gentle glow of my few wall lamps. I didn’t try to hide the displays of Mandalorian armor and various weaponry, since the Republic was already well aware of my affiliation.
I walked casually past the clones, snatching glasses from the polished cabinet before placing it all on my wooden desk that sat before the massive windows. Kenobi turned to watch as I poured out various glasses of the dark liquor, his eyebrow raised.
“Come on,” I prodded as the clones hesitated, lifting a glass towards one of the soldiers. “Take off your bucket and try it.”
“What is it?” Kenobi asked, lifting a glass to his nose and breathing in the spicy scent.
“Ne’tra gal.” The interest of the clones peaked at my words, their helmets coming off slowly. The first man accepted my glass with a gentle nod of thanks. Cody didn’t hesitate to accept my next glass, immediately taking a long sip of the sweet and spicy black ale.
“Ne’tra gal,” Kenobi repeated, his accented tones smoothing off the harsh consonants of old Mando’a. He tried it, seeming to like it.
I sat easily once the glasses were handed out, taking a drink from my own. “So what is it the council wants from me?” I tensed as Kenobi breathed deeply, taking a long drink as I waited for what he may say. I silently requested that the will of the force be in my favor.
“Your knowledge,” the jedi answered vaguely.
“About…” I prodded.
“Skywalker’s men mentioned that you were acquainted with a bounty hunter called Cad Bane?”
I sighed a slight breath of relief. It wasn’t about my heritage. I supposed the scholar was good to his word...and my money. Good. I’d have hated to have to kill him.
“I know him,” I said nonchalantly. “What of it?”
“Did you know he was on Coruscant?”
I shrugged. “I’d heard he took a job here. Don’t know what it was.” Despite my feigned relaxation, I worried for a moment if Padme was alright.
Obi-wan seemed to think for a moment, his gloved hand stroking his beard. “The men of the 501st mentioned you’d have a checkered past with him. Would you be opposed to working against him?”
I paused, my cup touching my lips. My eyes lifted to meet the jedi’s. They wanted to hire me to oppose Bane. Interesting. My mouth curled into a smile. “What did he do?”
“Are you opposed to it?”
I allowed myself a drink now. “Of course not. He’s a selfish bastard who abides by no code.” I rolled my eyes at myself. “Not that I’m actually part of a guild.” What could I say? The guilds, while holding their benefits, were sometimes too restrictive in specialities. Besides, my clients came to me personally. Not through the usual network of scum. So who needed a bunch of so-called hotshots breathing over my shoulder, making sure I followed their rules?
Obi-wan regarded me for a moment. “He stole a jedi holocron.”
I nearly choked on my ale, coughing violently. “I beg your pardon?” I choked out. The jedi didn’t respond as I calmed down. “How in blazes did he get into your temple?”
“That’s beside the point,” Kenobi dismissed. “We need you to help us get it back.”
I leaned back in my chair, thinking. “Why did he take it? It’s not like he can use it.”
“Precisely. In addition, in order to open a holocron, one needs a kyber crystal.”
“Easy. Don’t you jedi have them in all of your lightsabers? He’ll just steal one. Or snatch one of a black market.” I shrugged, thinking. “Or whoever he’s doing the job for already has one.”
“That’s not how they work,” Obi-wan sighed, leaning against my desk as he took another drink. “Our holocrons, while they can contain information, are also a means of reading kyber memory crystals. The crystals in our sabers are very different.”
“Seems like an impractical way to store information,” I mused aloud. “So he needs a crystal. Is he looking for one in particular?”
“Ahsoka caught Bane’s accomplice, Cato Parasitti.” I lifted my eyebrow, knowing the name. Good for the padawan for besting the shapeshifter. “She mentioned Bolla Ropal.”
“Who is?”
“He’s a jedi and a keeper of one of our memory crystals.”
I regarded the group for a moment. “What does this crystal contain? Why would Bane want it?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
I hummed, downing the rest of my glass and standing. “It seems you have this all figured out, Kenobi.” I brushed past the jedi and clone commander, making my way to the elevator. “Get to your jedi first and catching Bane should be easy.”
The jedi sighed as I cast him a wink over my shoulder, electing to not get involved in the war.
“It contains all the names of known force-sensitive children,” Obi-wan called finally, his voice grim. “The crystal, I mean.”
I stopped, staring at the closed elevator doors. “That sounds serious.”
“Bane is working for a dark force,” he continued, putting down his glass and walking behind me. “Whether it be Dooku or his master, Bane has the backing of the Separatist army and will be able to track down hundreds of children.”
“What would he do with them?” I asked, turning back to look at him. For a brief moment, I wondered if my name was ever on that list.
“I don’t know.” Obi-wan’s face was worried and sad. “But if he gets that holocron, those children are in danger.”
I thought for a moment. “How would I help?”
“You know Bane. He may even have a respect for you.” I pressed my lips into a line, mulling over the jedi’s words. “Anakin and his men have already headed towards the Devaron system, where Cato was last seen. Meet them there. Advise them. Appeal to Bane if you have to. But don’t let him get the crystal.”
I breathed slowly. “Bane won’t take a counter-deal. He’s not like that.”
“Could you stop him? Despite that?”
“Maybe. He’s clever. And he’s had time to plan this, so he’ll always be one step ahead.” I glanced between the clones, seeing their varying expressions. “But I’ll do my best.”
Obi-wan’s face washed with relief, despite trying to hide it. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Don’t think I’m doing it for free.” I tried to keep my voice hard.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He smiled at me. “I’ll contact Anakin and tell him you’re on your way.”
I hummed in agreement, turning heel and opening the display case that held my armor. “Apex,” I spoke aloud, the room beeping as the AI came to life in the mechanized room. “Get my ship ready. We have a job.”
“Wonderful.”
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MANDO’A
Shabuir-- extreme insult (‘jerk’, but much stronger)
Ne’tra gal-- black ale; sweet, almost spicy black beer
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Author’s Note:
As always, thank you for reading. Reposts/reviews/PMs/comments/likes are always welcome and appreciated!
-Ryder
#clones#clone wars#the clone wars#star wars#star wars the clone wars#star wars oc#captain rex#captain rex x oc#fanfic#fanfiction
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Fictober18 Day 18
Original Fiction
Prompt: ““You should have seen it.”
Erin/Gerald Story!! Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6
At Wilhemina’s declaration, all the students standing near Erin stood several steps back, leaving her in a space standing by herself. Surprised, angry, she looked up at the student council vice president, shaking her head.
“I haven’t…”
“OF COURSE you’re going to deny it!” Wilhemina interrupted, laughing. “But if you look at the facts, I think it’s easy to see just how obvious of a trail you’ve left behind.” She stepped down from the stage, the students parting to make a path for her as she moved closer to Erin, finally stopping just a few feet away. Her smile was cruel as she lifted a finger to point in Erin’s face.
“Normally I wouldn’t have done this so publically. But I have a duty to my fellow students to protect them from danger, and if the administration is going to ignore you because of your powerful relatives, then my only choice is to expose you for the devious criminal you are!”
At the girl’s self-righteous tone Erin felt her blood boil. Her magical power surged within her, a ringing in her ears beginning as the growing magic pressed up against the restriction spell. She wanted nothing more than to reach forward and crush the girl in front of her.
It would be so easy to destroy her.
She wouldn’t even have time to realize how she died.
As she stood there, struggling, she felt a hand rest softly on her shoulder, and a familiar voice spoke out, breaking her from her angry spiral.
“If you are willing to declare this so publically, I assume you have hard evidence of wrongdoing?”
Gerald’s voice was so cold the surrounding students took another step back, trying to distance themselves from the two. Between Erin’s terrifying aura and Gerald’s glare, even Wilhemina felt the pressure and wanted to retreat. Breaking out in a cold sweat, she stepped forward, her smile a little more forced.
“It’s simple:” She counted off on her fingers. “First, the only person who would benefit in this school from stealing level 3 fire powers is someone who has lesser abilities. In this school, admission criteria are high, there is only one student who has all abilities under level 3.” She chuckled. “In fact, despite being in your period of growth, you have yet to increase your power by even a single level, isn’t that right, Erin?”
The murmuring of the surrounding students grew louder, Erin felt more than one angry stare on her back.
“Second, despite her only having level 1 powers, she was able to strike a blow to Frederick several weeks ago, knocking him down. This would take considerably more power than she is known to have.”
Her eyes looked over at Gerald, and her grin widened. “And the final proof is you yourself, prince. Upon meeting her, what was the first thing you said? That she was the most powerful student in this academy, right?”
“But that…” Gerald tried to break in, but Wilhemina would not let him talk.
“Not even you can explain away how a student with only level 1 abilities can suddenly be the most powerful student in the academy… unless she is stealing powers from her fellow students.”
The murmurs around her had grown into angry shouts. Erin shook her head, realizing she had no hope of convincing them in this atmosphere. She looked her accuser in the eye, making the other girl grow pale.
“Wilhemina, you and I both know that I am not behind these. You can continue take advantage of this situation now, and spread these lies, but just know this:”
She stepped forward, only inches separating them now. When she finally spoke, it was just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “When the time comes, and the truth comes to light, I will remember to repay my debts. And you won’t be able to afford the cost.”
Wilhemina showed a vicious expression. “You know where to find me, Worthless Princess.”
The assembly ended with that, but Erin’s troubles were just beginning.
Her school life had never been pleasant, but now it had descended into absolute hell. Some students simply ignored her, refusing to be near her and pretending she didn’t exist. Erin preferred these methods.
Some, however, took a more devious route. Destroying her belongings, shredding her assignments before they could be handed in. Small, almost undetectable magic attacks struck her throughout magical theory class. Wind magic ripped out her hair, fire magic singed her clothes, water magic filled her shoes and froze into place. Exhausted, Erin would spend the majority of her mental energy countering or protecting herself from attacks in all directions. Her head pounded constantly as she was forced to draw on magic over and over, pushing constantly on her restrictions.
Things were even worse in the practical studies. Once on the practice field, sash after sash was thrown at her feet, as students lined up for the opportunity to face her in a magical fight. Unable to reject, she accepted each duel, and fought bitterly to the end. With her restrictions still in place, there was very little she could do, and each fight ended with her on the ground, her anger and bitterness growing with each loss.
Gerald was beside himself. He stayed by her side despite the pressure, healing her after each fight. His face was pale, his hands trembling as he helped her to her feet each time.
“Let me help!” He begged her one day after her fifth loss since practical studies had begun, wanting to take her place. “This is killing you!”
Erin smiled wanly, reaching out to gently touch his face. “I have to fight my own battles.” She shook her head, trying to clear it as she tried to steady herself on her feet. “Besides, they may not realize it, but they are actually helping me grow stronger.” She grinned. “That was the point of the restriction spell in the first place, after all.”
Gerald did not return her smile, looking more worried. “Being stronger in the future won’t help anything if you’re dead.” He looked at her determined expression, and then sighed loudly. “At least let me help out with the ones who are breaking the rules to attack you during theory class.”
Erin tilted her head, blinking her eyes as her vision blurred briefly. “Would that make you feel better?”
His expression was grim. “No, but it will definitely make them feel worse.”
Laughing bitterly, she agreed, turning to face her next opponent.
Having gotten her agreement, Gerald didn’t waste any time. He immediately went on a rampage, challenging every student that had attacked her secretly during class. Caught in the same trap that Erin was, they had no choice but to accept a formal duel.
They didn’t stand a chance.
Against average students, his level 5 Insight truly shined, allowing him to counter and utterly defeat each opponent. He showed no mercy, often attacking faster than they could surrender. Many were carried off the field unconscious, broken bones and internal injuries became a common sight in the infirmary.
It didn’t lessen the number of challenges that Erin received each day, but quickly the secret harassment she received during class stopped, as word got around that it was a easiest way to find oneself facing one of the strongest students of the academy.
Erin knew that it was causing Gerald to be viewed as an accomplice, that he was being avoided and ostracized as well. She felt guilty about it, talked to him multiple times, but still he stubbornly refused to leave her side.
“How can I convince you to marry me if I can’t handle a little pressure like this?” He would say with a grin before going out to challenge students once again.
Day by day Erin’s frustration grew. Each fight she pushed harder on her restrictions, trying to win. Occasionally she would be able to pull out extra power and land a blow, but it always came at the cost of headache, dizziness, sometimes to the point of knocking her unconscious. And any time she did use more power, the rumors regarding her being the attacker simply grew stronger.
Erin was getting tired.
In the midst of this situation spiraling out of control, she received a summons from Lady Belanna, the headmistress of St. Julienne’s Academy. Frustrated, Erin considered pretending she hadn’t received it, but knowing it was unavoidable as long as she was at this school, she headed slowly to the administrative office. This had to be about the rumors of her being the attacker.
Immediately after arriving Erin realized this meeting was not going to go well.
“Sit down, dear! Can I get you a cup of tea?” Lady Belanna’s voice was sickly sweet, her face a perfect mask of concern and caring. All it succeeded in doing was making Erin more uncomfortable, as she hunched her shoulders, avoiding contact with the older woman.
“No I’m fine, thanks.”
“Alright then.” Abruptly frowning, the headmistress sat at her desk, staring over at Erin with a pensive expression. “You’re in a very difficult position, dear.”
“I’m not…”
She waved a hand, interrupting Erin mid-sentence. “Oh, I know you’re not the attacker. You’re simply not capable of that advanced magic.” She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “The problem is that everyone now believes you are, and I have really no way to prove that you are innocent.”
“Shouldn’t you have to prove I’m guilty?” Erin asked, shaking her head.
“It’s the perception of your guilt that’s important, dear. No one has ever cared about the facts. What they want is a story.” She smiled, but the expression didn’t reflect in her eyes. “If this continues onward, I will be left with no choice but to move forward with your expulsion.”
“…” A few breaths of silence hung in the air as they both processed the implications of that statement. Finally Erin broke it, throwing her head back and laughing loudly. She laughed for a while, unrestrained, until she finally caught her breath, wiping tears from her eyes.
“What, may I ask, do you find so funny about this situation?” The headmistress’s voice was cold.
“I just thought about what my father’s reaction will be to his only child be expelled.” She chuckled again. “I am the only black spot on his otherwise perfect reputation. He is going to lose his mind when he hears this.”
Lady Belanna lost it. “I can’t believe you would find that amusing!” She stood up, her face red. “Your father has given you everything, you ungrateful brat, and all you have done is caused him trouble!” At those spiteful words she seemed to catch herself, and realizing that her mask was slipping, carefully tried to rearrange it into a pleasant expression once again.
“I’m sorry, Éirinne. I’m not angry, I’m just worried about your future.” She sat back down with a sigh. “Why don’t I contact your father? Between the two of us, I bet we can get this nasty rumor business all sorted out. You shouldn’t have to suffer like this, dear.”
Erin stood up herself with a calm smile, startling the older woman. “I’m not suffering at all, Headmistress. I know that in the end, the truth will win out. So thank you for the offer, but I don’t need your help, or my father’s.” She turned towards the door, pretending not to notice when the chair arm that Lady Belanna was grasping cracked in her grip. “I’ll see myself out.”
With that, she left the office, feeling satisfied for the first time since Wilhemina called her out in the assembly.
“Erin!”
Hearing her name called out by a familiar voice as she left the administrative building, Erin paused and turned to face them.
“Olivia. How have you been?” Her tone was bland, her face blank. She had barely seen the other girl since the student assembly. Despite sitting near each other in class, they hadn’t spoken or spent any time together since her harassment started.
Olivia stood in front of her, looking exhausted and worn down. Erin looked in her eyes and was startled to see unshed tears hovering there.
“Look, Erin, I know I’ve been a terrible friend. I should have been there for you… but…” The girl trailed off miserably.
“I understand you have your own issues, and you have to prioritize your family and scholarship over my troubles. I would have never wanted you to hurt yourself trying to stand by me.” Erin spoke slowly, trying to reign in her temper. “But I can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to see you ignore me. I mean, we share a dorm suite and I still haven’t seen you in days. Where have you even been sleeping?”
Olivia shook her head. “I saw you leaving the Headmistress’s office. Are you in trouble?”
“You should have seen it.” Erin grinned. “She tried to pressure me to depend on her and my father, using vague threats without a shred of evidence. Her face when I turned her down was priceless.”
“… Why did you turn her down?” the question was asked so quietly, Erin almost couldn’t hear it.
Even when she realized what had been asked, she didn’t believe she had heard right. They had been friends for years. Although Olivia didn’t know the specifics about her family situation, she knew that her father hated her, and that Lady Belanna wanted to use her to get in her father’s good graces. Just that alone should have prevented her from asking this.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Erin’s voice was cold, and Olivia shuddered visibly and shrank back. But seeming to find some hidden determination, she met Erin’s eyes again and pushed forward.
“You have to think practically! You could get expelled! Is it really that big of a deal to depend on people, even if you don’t like them?”
Seeing Erin’s stony face and obviously realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere, Olivia sighed and continued. “This isn’t even why I was trying to talk to you. I wanted to warn you.”
Erin raised an eyebrow. “Warn me?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to say anything because he seemed so nice and liked you and everything, but you need to be careful around Gerald.”
“…” Erin stared at Olivia in shock.
“Look, the timing of the attacks is just too coincidental. They started right after he got here! How much do we really know about him anyways?” She trailed off again, realizing that Erin’s expression was growing more and more angry.
“And why do you think he would be stealing powers from other students?” Erin struggled to keep her voice calm. “He has level 5 insight, level 4 water and earth abilities. How would he benefit from stealing powers that were weaker than what he currently has?”
Olivia hesitated, before reaching out to grasp Erin’s hand. “What if he’s doing it for you? He may be planning to transfer their abilities to you, to help you get stronger…”
Erin stared at Olivia. She considered telling her the truth… that she wasn’t weak, that there was no reason for him to bestow powers onto her. But in the end she stopped herself, pulling her hand away from her friend’s grasp.
“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong about him.”
“Erin…” Olivia sounded like she was about to cry.
“I have to go.” With that, Erin turned around and walked away, refusing to look back.
Erin spent the night in her dorm room, thinking things over carefully. Everything was happening too quickly. She briefly thought over Olivia’s accusations before brushing them aside, unwilling to exam too closely why even the idea of it made her heart hurt. Closing her eyes and sighing, she leaned back in her bed.
I need help.
She turned the silver ring on her finger, and whispered the incantation to activate the artifact her aunt had given her.
-This had better be an emergency, Erin.
Aunt Elsinore’s voice sounded in her ear, the irritable tone strangely comforting.
“I’m sorry, but honestly, I don’t know who else to talk to.” Erin felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and absentmindedly wiped them away.
-… What the heck is going on? Do I need to kill someone?
With a quiet laugh, Erin detailed all of the attacks that had been going on, including the accusations against her and Gerald, as well as Lady Belanna’s offer.
-That stupid girl is still lusting after the devil while thinking he’s an angel.
Aunt Elsinore was nothing if not blunt.
- You were right to stay far away from her and your father. As for these attacks… it’s very strange.
“What is?”
- Procurement is a top-secret ability, much like my restriction. It is a variant of the spiritual reinforcement power combined with a healing ability, but instead of strengthening the ability in question; it cuts it off at the source and heals off the connection, as if the person in question had never had the ability to begin with.
Erin frowned, getting more frustrated. “Who would be able to do something like this?”
- They would have to have high up connections in the government. I don’t know the magic user, their identity is hidden much my own, but whoever it is produces artifacts that can be activated to steal abilities.
Her voice was cynical.
- It’s supposed to be used as a military grade weapon. For the artifacts to appear at a school… whoever it is has some serious backing.
“Can the victim’s powers be restored?”
- If you get your hands on the artifact used to steal the powers in the first place, they can be used to reverse the process.
Erin sighed with relief. “Well at least that’s something.” She rubbed her face, exhausted. “Now I just have to figure out who is doing this… and why.”
-There’s not much I can do to help you…
Her Aunt hesitated, before speaking in a much sterner tone.
- Erin, What have you done to the restriction spell?
Erin’s eyes snapped open, confused. “What do you mean?”
-It’s cracking, coming apart at the seams. I don’t know what foolishness you’ve been up to, but stop it. If you break the spell forcibly, the backlash could kill you.
“Why don’t you just remove it then?” She threw up her hands in frustration, forgetting that her aunt couldn’t see the gesture.
-If I remove it, I won’t be able to fully seal your powers again like I did when you were thirteen. You will lose your advantage when it comes time to kill your father.
Aunt Elsinore’s voice sighed quietly.
-Just be careful, and let the spell do its work. I’ll do some research, I may be able to repair the spell somewhat. I’ll contact you soon.
With that, her aunt’s presence was gone. She was alone once again.
Unable to sleep, she went outside for a walk. Despite it being dark out, Erin couldn’t find it within herself to feel nervous.
After all, she reasoned with herself, right now they’re successfully blaming me for all this, it would be counterproductive to attack me right now.
Despite this, she was fairly distracted, keeping her head down and walking forward… only to run straight into someone’s chest.
“Fancy meeting you here.” A cheerful greeting immediately slowed down her racing heart rate.
“Gerald.” She looked up at him with a smile, before glancing around. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I heard about you getting called to the Headmistress’s office, and I was worried.” He shrugged. “So I snuck over to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m…” Erin tried to force out the word “okay”, but it stuck in her throat.
Distressed she looked away, and so was surprised when a pair of arms surrounded her, pulling her into a gentle hug.
“You don’t have to be fine, Erin. You’re allowed to be not okay after all this.” Gerald spoke quietly, his breath warm against the top of her head.
“I hate this.” She whispered back, “I’m angry, and I want to hurt whoever is doing this.”
He chuckled in response. “I’ll help you hold them down and you can beat them up.” He straightened up, slowly letting go of Erin, and giving her a wide smile when she made a reluctant face at the parting as well.
“Okay, I’m going to change the subject, before my brain fries from excitement.” He took a deep breath, looking away, a light flush coloring the tips of his ears. “What happened this afternoon?”
Erin summarized her encounters with the headmistress and her aunt, but left out Olivia and her accusations. She felt bad, but didn’t want him to dislike her best friend for some poorly chosen comments.
He nodded with satisfaction as she described turning down the headmistress. “Good. She’s super creepy and staying away from her seems like a strong plan. As for what your aunt said…”
He then hesitated. “Erin, I have to confess something.”
Erin balked, her face draining of blood. Please don’t let it be…
Gerald saw her expression and held his hands up quickly. “No! Nothing terrible… it’s just…” He ran his hand through his hair, obviously uncomfortable. “It’s just… I may know who is behind this.”
Erin reached out, grabbing his arm. “Who?!”
“It’s not that simple.” He shook his head. “I only have suspicions, not evidence, and I think there’s something bigger going on behind the scenes. What your aunt said about the culprit having high up government connections confirms that.”
He pulled away, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out two packages.
“I have to confirm one last thing, and then I promise I’ll lay all my cards out on the table, and we’ll talk this through. I just don’t want to accuse the wrong person and hurt someone. But just in case, I want you to take these:”
He opened the first package, pulling out a simple gold chain necklace with a red stone.
Erin reached out, but then hesitated to touch it. “It’s an artifact?”
Gerald grinned. “It’s a level 5 insight type artifact, you don’t have to worry about it crumbling to dust when you touch it.”
“Okay.” She took it from him, looked at it a moment, then placed it around her neck. “What is it for?”
“It has a tracking ability.” He gently tapped the red stone on the chain. “It has a drop of my blood used in the forging of it. If you activate it, you should be able to find me, no matter where I am.”
Erin frowned. “Why should I…”
“If you need me, you can reach me.” His grin was rueful. “I can’t make communication artifacts, this is the best I can do.”
“Fine.” She looked at the cloth package still in his hand. “What’s that?”
“This?” He hesitated, weighing it in his hand for a moment. “This is just the level 2 wind artifact that I owe Olivia. You know, the one i tossed you that was accidentally destroyed? I had it made in town, but haven’t had a chance to give it to her. If you see her, can you make sure she gets it?”
Erin thought about refusing, saying that Gerald should give it to her himself, but remembering the other girl’s accusations earlier, decided against it. “I can’t touch this one, though, with my wind abilities, it will immediately self destruct.”
“You’ll be fine if you keep it in the cloth.” With that he handed it to her and sighed, seemingly relieved.
“I’m going to go do my best, please promise me no matter what that you’ll take care of yourself.”
Why did this seem like a final goodbye?
Worried, Erin reached out to grab his hand, but Gerald simply took it, bowed, and gave a light kiss to the back of her hand before stepping away.
“Gerald…” She couldn’t conceal the anxiety she felt, but he only smiled in response.
He paused, and then spoke once more. “The last student who was attacked... She had grade 4 wind magic. You should know this, just in case.”
“What do you…?”
“Goodbye, Erin.”
With that, he turned and strode away, leaving Erin alone on the walkway. She stared at his back, a dark sense of foreboding welling up within her.
He’ll be okay. She told herself. He has to be.
Except he wasn’t. The next day, he didn’t show up to theory class, to practical studies, or anywhere else on campus. He was gone.
Erin wandered around the pathways, as the sun was setting. Moving away from the other students, she looked around trying to find a place where she could be alone.
“Erin? What are you doing here?”
It was Olivia again.
“I’m looking for Gerald, have you seen him?” Erin was distracted, barely noticing when the other girl flinched slightly at his name.
“No, Erin I thought I told you to stay away…”
“Nevermind then I’ll keep looking.” Distraught, she looked around helplessly.
Where could he be?
Wait… the artifact! She remembered that Gerald had given her the necklace to track him down. Had he predicted something like this would happen?
That reminded her.
“By the way, this is for you.” She tossed the cloth covered wind artifact over to Olivia, who caught it. A curious expression on her face, she unwrapped the pendant…
Only to have it dissolve into dust in her hands.
“Erin?” Olivia’s voice was strangely flat. “What was that? An artifact?”
“It was the replacement…” Erin trailed off, confused. It was a level 2 wind artifact… why would it self-destruct in Olivia’s hands? She had level 2 wind powers, at the same level of ability or lower, it should have been fine…
Unless…
She thought about what Gerald had told her, right before he said goodbye.
“The last student who was attacked... She had grade 4 wind magic. You should know this, just in case.”
She had gained abilities from someone else.
“Olivia…?” Erin’s voice cracked on the name, her hands trembling so badly she gripped them together. “What have you done?”
#fictober18#writing#short story#part 7#magic#revenge#plot thickens#i really hope you guys like this#the twist is necessary#big battle coming up in next part#more reveals as well#erin/gerald story
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the black sparrow || reign
♔ three ~ a new alliance ♔
As weeks slid into months, Alisa was enjoying her time at court, while searching for an alliance that could possibly benefit Russia, to no avail. She was frustrated, but at the same time, she was glad, glad that she could stay in France a little longer. Francis and she grew closer, even if it was wrong. He spent his time as much as he could. The two rode horses together, took walks in the gardens, and read in the library, whenever Francis had free time. Mary did not like the idea of him spending time with Alisa but did not mention it to either of them. When Francis was not with Alisa, he was in the throne room, conversing with the nobles and guards. regarding the politics with both France and Scotland. Alisa too was busy focusing on her own country. She advised Dimitri the best she could, as she received frequent letters from him. He seemed to be doing very well. When she was not doing anything, she roamed the castle’s halls deep in her own thoughts, sometimes with her ladies, but other times she was alone. Bash was probably spending all of his time with Aaliyah, while Katya and Natasha were with Greer and Lola, whom they grew quite close to.
Summer had reached its peak in the castle, before it became less warm, as it was mid-September. While it was beautiful outside, Alisa preferred to stay indoors this day. She walked inside the throne room, where Catherine was getting everything ready for another party. She loved throwing them, and Alisa had to admit that she was rather good at it. Catherine looked over at Alisa with a warm smile.
“Ah, Tsaritsa,” She beckoned the young Tsaritsa over, “Tell me, what do you think that the decorations, dark red or gold?” She held the decorative flowers in front of her, as she was preparing the throne room. Alisa pursed her lips.
“Red. A little pop of color never hurt.” Catherine smiled at her.
“You have good taste, my dear,” She nodded at one of the servants, before taking Alisa’s arm and walking with her, “Tell me, how is Francis?” Alisa was taken back by the question and cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Madame...”
“Catherine, please.”
“Very well, Catherine. I think you know your son better than I do. You tell me.” Alisa told her softly. Catherine chuckled deeply.
“That may be true, but I have not been spending so much time with him, but you have.” Alisa’s gaze darted to the side. “Oh, don’t be so modest. I am pleased to see that he is with you.” Alisa raised her eyebrows with confusion.
“I thought you of all people would be against it, it could jeopardize your treaty with Scotland.” Catherine smiled at her ever so slightly, causing Alisa to inhale, realizing that the Queen of France was not too happy with the engagement. “You do not want Mary to marry your son.”
“I have been talking to Henry,” Catherine continued, completely ignoring Alisa’s previous statement, “And he agrees that if France and Russia could come to a sort of agreement, then this would be one of the most powerful alliances in all of history.”
“What are you saying?” Alisa whispered, unable to believe what she was hearing. Not only will she get an alliance, but she could possibly be wed to Francis if the king decides to break the alliance. Catherine did not say anything, just patted her arm.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, and you just might end up getting what you want.” She told her, before walking out of the throne room, calling out to one of the servants. Alisa stared after her, letting out an uneasy breath, as she smoothed her dress, trying to look as though nothing happened. She turned around and continued to walk, admiring the room.
“Alisa!” She turned and saw Francis moving up towards her, a little flushed.
“Francis, are you alright?”
“I am, but a little problem has arisen. There has been some shortage regarding meat and poultry, there is not enough grain to go about. Even the nobles that supplied us with it cannot do anything about it.” Francis said this all hurriedly, in a rush. Alisa’s gaze turned sympathetic.
“I am sorry, won’t Scotland be able to help?” Francis shook his head.
“Scotland itself is not stable, it has its own problems going on as of late. It is in no condition to help us.” Alisa nodded.
“I see,” She looked up at him with a sad smile, “I’m so sorry.” Francis shook his head with a smile of his own.
“Don’t be, we will figure something out.” He paused himself, tilting his head to the side as if he was trying to calculate a very complicated problem.
“Francis?” Alisa’s dark eyes flooded with concern.
“Hang on, I’m trying something here...” Francis muttered, before opening his mouth once and closed it. His eyes finally lit up, before his gaze fell upon hers, “Dobroye utro.” Alisa’s mouth nearly fell open, before she broke into laughter, closing her eyes as she did so before her gaze shifted back to Francis again.
“Dobroye utro. Kak ty sebya chustvuyesh?” She giggled at the reaction of his face. He looked extremely confused. “I think you might need to learn a little more than ‘good morning.’ Who taught it to you, anyhow?”
“Aaliyah.” He grinned cheekily.
“Why do you always look at so many ways to impress me?” Alisa laughed again. “I am not that difficult to please.”
“I am not trying to impress you, maybe, I am just trying to learn some Russian.” He feigned his innocence. Alisa raised an eyebrow.
“You’re failing remarkably.” She told him, to which he chuckled.
“Maybe I just need someone to teach me.” He was cut off midway, as a guard approached Alysa. He bowed before her and Francis.
“Your Majesty, your uncle, Yuri of Uglich, has requested an audience with you.” Alisa’s eyes widened. She wondered why would her uncle be here. He should be with his son, supporting his rule. Dimitri gave her the impression that everything was going fine, but he should have his father’s council at his side. She nodded firmly.
“Of course. Send him in.”
“Pardon me, Your Majesty, he requested to be alone with you. He asked that I show you to the room.” Alisa’s eyes narrowed further, but she nodded, complying. She turned to Francis.
“I am sorry, I suppose I will have to speak with you later.” She smiled a little. Francis nodded.
“Of course. I shall wait for your return.” Alisa turned on her heel and followed the guard into one of the living rooms, where her uncle was at. He was pacing around the room impatiently, but paused once the Tsaritsa entered, escorted by the guard.
“You may leave us.” Alisa instructed. The guard bowed and swept out of the room. Yuri smiled once he saw Alisa and moved forward, kissing her cheek.
“My dear niece. You look well.” She smiled warmly.
“As do you, Uncle. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Yuri’s eyes hardened ever so slightly, as a frown grazed his lips, letting out a soft sigh.
“Unfortunately, Alisa, my visit will not be a very pleasant one. I bring bad news. It’s about Dimitri.” Alisa’s eyes filled with confusion, wringing her hands, as she always did when she was nervous.
“I-I don’t understand.” She stammered, . Yuri gently took her by the arm, sitting beside her on the couch. “He told - he told me that he was doing fine. Russia was fine. He said that---”
“He lied.” Yuri interrupted, gripping arm. “He is not coping well under pressure, but that is not the worst part. The people are unhappy with the regency. They are beginning to revolt. A week ago, there was a violent attack. Our soldiers managed to hold them back, but there were deaths.” Alisa’s breathing hitched. She swallowed, trying to think rationally.
“How many?” She finally asked.
“Ten. Twice more have been wounded.” Yuri locked his eyes upon hers intently. “Tell me, Alisa, how successful are you in finding an alliance? Because we need more men, and we need them now, or else a bloody revolution will break out, and Dimitri will lose his head.” Alisa swallowed hard.
“Alliances are not that easy to come by, Uncle, you know that. I have been trying to find a suitable one.” Yuri sighed heavily, leaning back.
“But you have failed to do so.” He stared at her long and hard, his gaze becoming cold. “You are Russia’s Queen, you must do something, or you will lose your country. I have been working hard to not let this... catastrophe come to light, but if it well, you are less likely to find alliance, than you are now.” Alisa nodded once, finding no point in arguing.
“I know. My duty as Tsaritsa comes first. I will find a way to end this protest.” Yuri huffed, yet nodded in response.
“Do that, and do so quickly. Time is of the essence.” Alisa stood up shakily from the couch and left the room without another word. She bit her lip, playing with her friends. The more she thought about it, the more worried she got. She had no alliance. Even if she were to find an alliance, she could possibly not hear back from the chosen country for days, maybe weeks. She felt her chest tighten, something that often happened when she began to panic. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bash and Aaliyah talking to one another and laughing. It made her feel even worse, more miserable and alone. They did not notice as she passed by. Francis noticed that there was something off with her from the start, even as he was speaking with some guards about something. He broke off the conversation at once, walking over to her, hand reaching to touch her wrist. She jerked her hand, before relaxing seeing Francis. Francis’s face softened upon seeing her distraught one.
“What happened?” He asked gently. She shook her head feebly, unable to speak. “Is it Dimitri? Russia?” Alisa nodded feverishly. Francis took her hands in his gently. “What’s wrong, Alisa?”
“Dimitri created a whole mess of things, he was pressured by the nobles, and now, the people are revolting, and our troops are not enough. My uncle is telling me that I need to find an alliance as soon as possible, but I---” Her voice increased in volume from panic, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Alright, alright, slow down,” Francis interrupted gently, squeezing her hands, “You need more men?” Alisa nodded softly, letting out a shaky breath. “I think we can help with that. We have eight companies of men, I am sure I can convince my father to send some Russia.” Alisa gaped at him.
“You can do that? For me? For a country that you barely know?” Francis smiled at her.
“I would do anything for you. You need only ask.” Alisa bit her lip, before stepping forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Francis did not push her away, in face he pulled her closer, his fingers making their way into her dark locks. She pulled back with a smile, before her eyes lit up with an idea.
“You said France needed meat, right?” She asked slowly. Francis nodded. “Russia has quite a surplus of it, always getting imports from other countries, through trade. Maybe, I can make an offer to your father.” Francis felt his lips curl up into a smile.
“You want to propose a temporary alliance.” Alisa nodded once. Francis took her hand, the feeling more natural every time he did so.
“Let’s go find my father.” He agreed, before leading her towards his study, Alisa feeling hopeful again. She did not notice, Aaliyah and Bash this time, who were sharing a brief kiss in the hallway. She did not notice Katya walking down the hallway with a handsome noble, chatting away. She especially did not notice Mary, who was hidden in the shadows and watching her and Francis, both angry and envious.
♖♖♖
Alisa and Francis found the King hunched over his desk, with a few of his nobles, talking amongst themselves. Henry could not seem to find a solution, his face creased into a frown. He looked both frustrated and annoyed. Francis pulled Alisa inside, causing Henry to look up. He looked extremely surprised to Alisa there, and cleared his throat, nodding at all of the nobles to leave for the time being.
“Tsaritsa,” He stood up, looking over at her, “What can I do for you?”
“You do not need Scotland to get the meat you desire. You need Russia.” Alisa spoke plainly. Henry’s eyebrows rose, before a thin smile tugged from the corner of his lips.
“Go on.” He nodded at her.
“Our people need meat,” Francis spoke up, looking up at his father, “Russia has a surplus of it, and Alisa has offered to send some our way. She proposes an alliance.” Henry pursed his lips in thought. An alliance with Russia? It is almost too good to be true, but of course, King Henry was a proud king and a stubborn one as well.
“What do you get out of this?”
“I need men to shut down an uprising against my cousin’s regency.” Alisa explained. “Three companies. That is all I ask.” Henry looked over at her, calculating her eyes. She seemed to be desperate.
“You seem sure of yourself, Queen Alisa. What makes you think that I would give them to you?” Francis tensed from besides her, his hand slipping out of hers, a stern expression flashing upon his face.
“Father---” He was cut off by Alisa, who strode up to King Henry. Her eyes now burned with determination and with a fire Francis has never seen before.
“You have just been offered an alliance with one, if not the, most powerful countries in the world. Are you really telling me that you are about to decline? If so, you are a fool!” Alisa shot at him, glaring at Henry through her intense eyes. “Russia is not England, the country that you are so keen on getting, it is better. England is just one small country. Russia is an entire empire, an empire that I am sworn to protect. So, if you won’t give me the resources that I need, I shall find someone else who will!” Alisa turned around, catching Francis’s eye who was stunned at the way she spoke to his father. He even looked somewhat impressed and rightfully so, as the King started clapping slowly from behind, causing Alisa to turn around.
“Well done. You are a true Queen, Alisa,” He smiled appreciatively, “You have a way of getting what you want.” He paused for a moment. “Four companies. They will leave at first light tomorrow for Moscow.” Alisa let a smile grow on her face as she bowed her head.
“My country and I thank you. I will send my uncle over to negotiate the amount of meat to be sent to France.” Henry nodded once, and Alisa knew that she was dismissed. She headed to the door, Francis behind her.
“Oh, and Alisa?” Henry called her, causing her to freeze in her tracks. “I look forward to working with you in the future.” Alisa merely smiled, as she walked out, Francis at her side. She looked over at him.
“I cannot thank you enough. You are the one who offered to help and gave me the idea of an alliance.” Francis chuckled.
“As a said, I will do anything for you.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “But now, I would like to ask you something.”
“What is it?” Alisa smiled a little as she gazed into his blue eyes.
“Teach me Russian. It sounds beautiful, and I am sure I will learn better when you’d be the one giving me the lessons.” Alisa laughed lightly.
“It will be hard and frustrating.”
“I have all the time in the world.” Francis insisted. “At night, we could go use one of the living rooms. I’ll bring some wine, you bring the books, and we will study together.” Alisa felt her face flare up.
“People are already talking about our friendship, Francis,” She told him. She especially did not want to get on Mary’s bad side, as Mary was not exactly pleased seeing the two of them together.
“Then, let them talk. Besides, no one will know about it, it will just be me and you.” He smiled ever so slightly, gazing at her.
“Da.” Alisa finally agreed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I accept.” Francis grinned at that, continuing to walk with her, holding her hand tighter. He couldn’t wait for those lessons. And although Alisa would never admit it, she was too.
#the black sparrow#catherine de medici#henry ii#alisa ivanova#francis valois#reign#reign cw#lady aaliyah#sebastian de poitiers#mary stuart
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Writing prompt: "would you give everything up, if it would save him?" "No."
Another prompt given to me pre-War Storm. Forgive the late delivery.
See Part 1 here…
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Remember, War Storm Spoilers are involved…
And reblog to share with a friend.
Paranoia isn’t an unfamiliar partner after what I’d been through, but I am certain it’s not just my damaged psyche nor the influence of the alcohol. People are watching us. Strangers that I don’t know crane their necks and track us off the dance floor. Each step becomes a stomp that defies their judgement–real or imaginary.
So close to him, I can’t imagine allowing enough space to do anything but test the strength of the thread holding his buttons. Cal is like no other lover I’ve ever had because there is.. was.. I guess is actual love between us. Has been, will be, forever. Some part of me belongs to him even if that part got left behind on a battlefield. Perhaps he carries it with him like I carry his earring. I’m eager to see if I can find it, the search will be fun enough of a reward.
Except, Farley looks at me like she looks at Clara when she’s headed for a collision with gravity. But I know she’ll let me fall and scrape my knees and cry just the same. Only Clara gets a cuddle and set back on her feet. Farley won’t patch the holes I tear into myself. We’ve been through too much together for me not to respect what that look means: slow down.
Just outside the door I stall. He slows to match. I swing my head around. He takes note of our surroundings. We stop entirely.
Cal is agitated, glaring at a gaping serving girl. He exudes enough warmth that I don’t think I’d need a coat even though it’s snowing. He tugs me, resigned to the gossips. But It doesn’t feel right leaving with him, not like it did before I saw Farley’s face.
“Door’s there. Or I guess we could find some place here to talk.” He waves around us. I swallow. There is no place in the palace without ears. “Second thoughts?” he asks, bitterness coating his tone as he internalizes my hesitation.
He drops my hand and runs his fingers through the curls on his head. It sticks up in weird ways showing exactly how long the top has gotten. I have a third thought, then a fourth, but that’s mostly the alcohol.
“Hey, I want to talk. We should talk. How often are we in the same place, right?” I cringe at his wince. I’m an expert at throwing salt in his wounds. “I just don’t think now is a good time. I mean, I have had more wine than I should. We deserve clear heads, right?”
He swallows, agrees because there’s no other option being given then we hastily make plans. He is scheduled in most of the same sessions as Farley. Almost an entire week completely booked from nine to six. Dinners with various councils and factions take up his nights. I can hear the unspoken conclusion: this is the only time he isn’t already booked.
“But you have to eat lunch, right?” I ask before he can suggest otherwise.
“Provided.”
“But it’s not scheduled. I mean, it isn’t for Farley. Can you get away for lunch? I know a cafe that makes nice sandwiches.”
“Okay, lunch, I guess. I get out of session at eleven-thirty, rejoin at one-fifteen. So, at best, ninety-minutes.”
“Plenty of time,” I respond.
Cal’s face falls. He looks as if he can’t breath, a feeling I know so well that I hurt for him. But I can’t quite fathom why he’s stricken when he never answered my last letter.
“If you’re not ready, that’s okay. It’s okay.” He doesn’t sound like he’s talking to me but to himself, assuring himself.
His chin snaps up in a court-trained posture. He’s let his emotions drip down his sleeves and he makes an effort to recover.
“I meant to start talking. I didn’t mean… I don’t know Cal. Don’t look at me like that.” I can’t help but snap at his neutral mask.
The muscle in his jaw flexes. His eyes are steady and controlled, his temperature moderated, and his voice even when he says, “Where is this cafe?”
Cal gives me whiplash when he squeezes my hand gently and pulls his lip up on one side. Regardless of how much time it is, or what gets said, or what he thinks I’ll say when we get there, we have a date. No, not a date. A meeting. It’s just a meeting, we’ll talk, catch up, trade war stories like other soldiers. We’ll see where he is and where I am. And it’s a fucking date, and I can’t help the surge of excitement.
I walk away, back to Farley who’s critiquing dancers on the floor with another Red General. I’m too caught up in how quickly my word choice crushed Cal to remember her name. One hand, he still likes me, obviously. On the other, he didn’t exactly strike me as emotionally stable. Then again, I almost broke down before dinner just from seeing him, so who am I to talk?
“Oh, you’re still here. Lovely, let’s leave,” Farley muses, flashing teeth.
“Leave? There’s still wine isn’t there?” I smirk as I snag another glass.
I don’t see Cal reenter the ballroom nor can I stop looking for him. I don’t even finish the glass. I hold it just to make Farley wait, which she does with expressive sighs and head rolls. Clara kept her up the night before, too excited about visiting grandma to sleep. But if I wasn’t a pain in Farley’s side, would she still think of me as a sister?
Wriggling out of ballgowns, even those so delicately tailored to my requests, is still a relief second only to a hot bath. Farley’s tub is not luxurious. It barely holds enough water to consider it a soak and my knees stick out if I want my shoulders in, but still, I fill it with water, bubbles and –for good measure– I drop Clara’s mersive and her battleship from eye height just to see them splash.
Between evasive maneuvers and using a bubble-cloud as a fog-storm, my mind veers off of elementary battle tactics and towards the more dangerous realm of silver princes. Ex-princes. Generals. Men.
Cal got upset so quickly I wonder if he expected to sweep me off the dance floor and back into his life. I very nearly left with him. I could have let him carry me out the door and to where ever he has a bed if only for a few more minutes of his warmth. But that was always our problem, too much chemistry and not enough math. We never added things up, not until the very end, and then we were both surprised when we couldn’t quite make it work. Bad analogy, I was never that great with math.
More like we’re two pieces so closely shaped that if you squinted, we fit together perfectly. But eyes wide open, at least when we last parted, there were gaps. We didn’t fit. I couldn’t keep squinting and neither could he.
Maybe I’ve managed to fill-in the right parts of me, and maybe he’s made himself into a new shape, too. That’s what I hoped time would give us. Walking away last night, seeking a clearer head, I don’t think I could have done that before. Surging with pride, I sink the mersive to strike the battleship from below.
“Don’t sleep all day,” Farley tosses something at me, it lands with a thud. She’s out the door before I can roll over.
Bundled together with a rubber-band are brochures, pamphlets, and adds from a newspaper all about jobs. Red retraining programs touting the achievement of a true education and a trade all in one. The Guard’s military brochure is a three page tri-fold with the benefits listed in bold, red letters on a white background. The Montfort pamphlets are similar but green and lack a navy. More describe the training to join the tech sectors in the old tech towns. I let them fall on the floor and flop back over.
It’s not that I don’t want a job, or that I don’t have one. I just don’t have one that pays money with any regularity. I can smell my mom’s complaining on the bold gesture. When we first got to our small town west of Ascendant, I helped Gisa set up her shop, read documents, kept the ledgers, took down orders. But Gisa learned to read and write and then there was little for me around the shop. Besides, my mom deserved the easy job of helping my sister. I haven’t held a steady job since. I’m unreliable. I’m flighty. I’m sensitive to sounds, fast movement, aggressive tones. At least Farley had the sense to offer me service positions, when I tell mom where I got the brochures, she’s gonna let Farley have it.
With a small pinch of joy, I fall back asleep imagining Farley’s face as my mother lectures her on getting me out of trouble and not into it.
The sun is high and the light is beautiful through the translucent drapes over the windows. They alternate purple and blue and cream creating shadows and casting color on the plain walls. I haven’t woken so rested in a long time, at least a month. My stomach growls.
I am hungry.
The sun is up, high in the sky.
Flying from the couch to the kitchen I squint through sleepy eyes at the clock and panic. There’s no time. I yank on pants, a mostly clean shirt and stuff my feet into boots. I squirt some tooth paste into my mouth and rinse with water. I am leaving five minutes later than I should. I run and it feels so good to be heading somewhere, to have the adrenaline, to chase that high all the way up the hill and down the other.
At the bottom of the hill, work crews struggle. Water pulses out of the storm drain onto the street. On the edges, it freezes into ice and builds up in layers as the waves come faster than the nymph can redirect. The silver isn’t very powerful and can do little more than redirect the water. The entire street is blocked.
I race up the hill to the road at the top and rush down half a block to the alley and then back down the hill. The detour forces me to loop around the building that holds the cafe. The clock on the bank across the street says it’s almost noon. I am nearly thirty minutes late, fifteen if he didn’t leave the council until eleven-thirty.
Through the door, I pause to watch. I want to see him without him knowing that I’m watching. I want to read him, how he is without me. How he is when he’s on his own and not a general or a lord of a high house. He looks stoically at the server behind the counter. His coat floats up as his arm pushes into it and pulls it on, preparing to leave. When the server looks away, he glances back at the table in the corner. Cal turns back, eyebrows drawn together, mouth looking pained. A few coins come out of his hand and fall in the tip jar. A bag is pushed across to him, his lunch to-go. I time it so that I walk through just as he turns to head out so I can clearly see his face.
He is appropriately disconcerted that his path is blocked, then his entire face lightens as he flushes. Blood rushes his cheekbones, he blushes into a pallor and a coy smile. Cal’s caught not knowing what to say, lips moving, tongue still. His eyes are so soft and kind and then concerned.
“Thought you might have gotten lost,” he lies.
“Nope. Just late.” I step forward.
For every two steps, he backs up one, leading me towards the table in the corner. He slips his jacket off and sets it on the chair, his back to the wall. I peel off my coat and drape it over the chair.
“I’ll just order, be right back.”
I order a sandwich, a cup of coffee, and an apple. Cal isn’t fast enough to look away when I glance over, but the fact that he tries confirms where his eyes were wondering. It’s nice to know he still appreciates me in that way. I hope we’re ready to consider something a little more. As weak as I am when it comes to him, I try to swear my self to a resolution: slow, steady, and not just for the sizzle.
“I over slept.”
“Ah, the troubles of the victors.” He teases, I think.
I don’t laugh, stuffing my mouth with a bite of food instead.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Not if you’re going to talk with your mouth full.”
The disgust on his face is real. That makes me laugh for real. I cover my mouth with my hand, somewhere between me and Mareena in my manners. He unwraps his sandwich.
“So?” I ask.
“So… how’s your family? Do they like Montfort?”
If he’s asked Farley then he should know, but it’s an easy enough topic to break the ice. He keeps me talking. He asks about everyone: mom, dad, Gisa, Bree, Tramie –no one is left out.
“And finally, Kilorn. What’s that fucker up to?”
There is no other way I would want someone to refer to Kilorn. For all he is, he is at his very heart a pain in the ass. An amazing, wonderfully loyal and insufferable friend. He has managed to endear himself not just to me and my family but to Farley, and Cameron, and even, apparently to Cal.
“Couldn’t keep him away from the water. He’s in the Nortan Navy. We get letters sometimes, mostly he’s bored. Sometimes he’s in trouble. But he’s always got a good group of people around him.”
“What ship?”
“The Cardinal.”
“I’ll keep tabs.” He holds my gaze and I know that even now, Cal will help keep Kilorn safe in what ever way he can, for me.
“Thanks.” I catch myself dry mouthed and tired lips. My coffee is cooling and my sandwich is only missing a few bites while his is all gone. I’ve talked so long. “What about you?”
“Well, you know. I’ve got fewer to look after, I guess it makes things dull.” He pushes quickly past the pain but I see it all the same. “I just keep my soldiers fit, ready, mind our posts.”
“You haven’t picked up a hobby?”
“I have, actually. I am becoming an expert at budgeting.” He smiles broadly, proud and cheerful in acknowledging his new position.
“Damn, did you have to cut back on the armor?” His eyes flick past me, again.
He’s been looking over my shoulder, at the door every few minutes. I turn and look. The door swings shut and a patron greets another at a table.
“You waiting for someone else?” I ask, turning back.
“No. I am here completely for you.” His eyes flick again and I hear the door shut again.
“Why you watching the door?”
“Nothing. Just a habit.”
He crushes the paper from his sandwich between his fists. I can still read him well and there’s shame in his posture. I glance behind me again, the suspicion that I’m sitting square in a trap flashes through me and the lightning comes to my fingertips.
“Easy, Mare.”
“You’re making me nervous. Why are you watching the door?”
“I’m… checking for assassins,” he barely mumbles. When the door opens again, I watch him fight his insticts then finally give in with a glance over my shoulder.
“Assassins? You’re not the King, Cal.”
“Yeah, well, some people forget. And the last time, I almost didn’t make it.”
Silence. Stillness. Processing is slow when someone you love is uncomfortable and embarrassed and admitting their weaknesses when they want you to think they’re strong. It made Kilorn shake under our house in the Stilts, and Maven dare me from his bathtub, and Cameron open up to me as we circled the Piedmont base. I want him to tell me more, trust me with what he finds shameful. So I wait and let him come to his words.
“The girl, the one the papers got a photo of me–”
“Kissing?”
“Yeah. She got me alone, um… and then she stabbed me.” Something about how his hands drop into his lap is defensive not casual, an indication of where. I wince with him. “I almost bled to death.”
“Who found you?” The idea that he had a couple suitors never crossed my mind before. But who else would come to find him in his bedroom?
“I didn’t let her get away without injury and she didn’t make it very far before the alarm was raised. Thank my colors, I had my bracelets on.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I sip my coffee and avoid looking directly at him. He’s ghostly pale he’s blushing from his collarbones to the tips of his ears. Some levity seems to be needed, I reach out and touch his hand. He looks up, shocked I’d touch him. “Most importantly, did they take care of that… um… curve?”
“Shut up. It is not curved.” he retracts, losing his breath in laughs.
“Well, I mean maybe not now. I wouldn’t blame you for taking advantage of the situation. I mean, making some improvements.”
“Surprised you didn’t say bigger.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not about the size. It’s how you use it.”
“And how was I at using it?” his knee brushes mine under the table and his lip pulls up goofy and flirting.
“You got better,” I begrudgingly admit after some contemplation.
“I’d happily remind you by how much.”
“I might just…” I stop myself. His lips slam shut. He straightens and clears his throat. I can’t finish what I’m saying.
“Sorry.” He looks at his watch and then back at the door. It’s time for him to return to sessions, discussions, strategies. “Time is up.”
“This was nice,” I admit. My hand is still on his on the table.
Warm fingers slide over mine until he’s gently massaging my palm. “I liked it.”
“Enough to say the past is forgiven?” I ask.
“You never needed forgiveness from me.”
“Didn’t I?” I hold his eyes steady, not letting him look away. For the first time since we sat down, I’m being completely serious. I need to know what might follow us forward.
“What for?” He asks.
“Just one question, one honest question. If you could go back and do it all over again, if you could just flip me that coin and walk away? And I never fall into that arena, would you go back?” I can’t bring myself to use the words, but I need to know if he will live his life regretting meeting me because, in the end, and actually at the beginning, I took his brother.
Cal pulls back, leans against the chair. “Julian says it’s the curse on the survivors to spend our time trying to remake our regrets.”
It’s a non-answer that might as well be a yes. I start to stand, tears prickling. Laughing with him, hearing him sigh, and joke reminds me of too many things I want to keep. But I don’t want to be a reminder of all that he lost. Why he lost everything.
“Mare, I have a lot of regrets. But you’re not one of them. Elara would have ruined him no matter the path. Maybe I could have had a few more years, or a few months, but she would have taken him in the end. Jon only knows, but I tend to think this might have been the best I could have hoped for, at least the way it happened, I didn’t go through it alone.”
“So, where does that leave us?”
He stands and pulls on his jacket. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “How about same time tomorrow?”
And the next day and the next. We have one week of sessions and meetings before he’s back on a plane to Norta. And it’s exactly the slow pace I need, that we need, to see exactly where we’ve grown and what we’ve left behind. Maybe at the end, we’ll find that we finally fit. Or maybe it answers the question differently, with less pain, fewer choices to rehash that never asking in the first place.
Reblogs appreciated.
#Anonymous#War Storm Spoilers#Red queen Fanfiction#marecal#my writing#fanfiction#mare barrow#cal calore#war storm#red queen
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being betrayed by a friend feels terrible
and our Creator knows just what that is like.
Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is chapter 14 in the book of Mark:
Two days before the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the leading priests and religious scholars were committed to finding a way to secretly arrest Jesus and have him executed. They agreed that their plot could not succeed if they carried it out during the days of the feast, for they said, “There could be a riot among the people.”
Now Jesus was in Bethany, in the home of Simon, a man Jesus had healed of leprosy. And as he was reclining at the table, a woman came into the house, with an alabaster flask filled with the highest quality of fragrant and expensive oil. She came to Jesus, and with a gesture of extreme devotion, she broke the flask and poured out the precious oil over his head. But some were highly indignant when they saw this, and they complained to one another, saying, “What a total waste! It could have been sold for a great sum, and the money could have benefited the poor.” So they scolded her harshly.
Jesus said to them, “Leave her alone! Why are you so critical of this woman? She has honored me with this beautiful act of kindness. You will always have the poor, whom you can help whenever you want, but you will not always have me. When she poured the fragrant oil over me, she was preparing my body in advance of my burial. She has done all that she could to honor me. I promise you that as this wonderful gospel spreads all over the world, the story of her lavish devotion to me will be mentioned in memory of her.”
One of the twelve apostles, Judas Iscariot, went to the leading priests to inform them of his willingness to betray Jesus into their hands. They were delighted to hear this and agreed to pay him for it. So immediately Judas began to look for the right opportunity to betray him.
On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover Lamb is sacrificed, Jesus’ disciples asked him, “Where would you like us to prepare the Passover meal for you?”
So he sent two of his disciples ahead into Jerusalem with these instructions: “Make your way into the city and watch for a man carrying a pitcher of water. Follow him, and say to the owner of whatever house he enters, ‘The Teacher wants to ask you: “Do you have my room ready where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?” ’ And he will show you a large upstairs room ready and with a table set. Make preparations for us there.”
So they went into the city and found everything to be exactly like Jesus had prophesied, and they prepared for him the Passover meal. And when evening came, he entered the house and went upstairs with his twelve disciples. Over dinner, while they were reclining around the table, Jesus said, “Listen to the truth: One of you eating here with me is about to betray me.”
Feeling deeply troubled by these words, one after another asked him, “Is it I?”
He answered, “It is one of you twelve who has shared meals with me as an intimate friend. All that was prophesied of me, the Son of Man, is destined to soon take place, but it will be disastrous for the one who betrays the Son of Man. It would be far better for him if he had never been born!”
As they were dining, Jesus took the bread and blessed it, and broke it, and gave it to his disciples. He said to them, “Receive this; it is my body.” Then taking the cup of wine and giving thanks to the Father, he declared the new covenant with them. And as each one drank from the cup, he said to them, “This is my blood, which seals the new covenant poured out for many. I tell you the truth, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the day comes when we drink it together in the kingdom feast of my Father.” Then they sang a psalm and afterwards left for the Mount of Olives.
Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away and desert me. This will fulfill the prophecy of the Scripture that says:
I will strike down the shepherd
and all the sheep will scatter.
“But after I am risen, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.”
Then Peter spoke up and said, “Even if all the rest lose their faith and fall away, I will still be beside you!”
Jesus said, “Mark my words, Peter. This very night, before the rooster crows twice a few hours from now, you will deny that you know me three times.”
But Peter was insistent and replied emphatically, “I will absolutely not! Under no circumstances will I ever deny you—even if I have to die with you!” And all the others repeated the same thing.
Then Jesus led his disciples to an orchard called “The Oil Press.” He told them, “Sit here while I pray awhile.” He took Peter, Jacob, and John with him. An intense feeling of great horror plunged his soul into deep sorrow. And he said to them, “My heart is overwhelmed with anguish and crushed with grief. It feels as though I’m dying. Stay here and keep watch with me.”
He walked a short distance away, and being overcome with grief, he threw himself facedown on the ground. He prayed that if it were possible, he would not have to experience this hour of suffering. He prayed, “Abba, my Father, all things are possible for you. Please—remove this cup of suffering! Yet what I want is not important, for I only desire to fulfill your plan for me.”
Then he came back to his three disciples and found them all sound asleep. He awakened Peter and said to him, “Simon, are you asleep? Do you lack the strength to stay awake with me for even just an hour? Keep alert and pray that you’ll be spared from this time of testing. For your spirit is eager enough, but your humanity is feeble.”
Then he left them a second time and went to pray the same thing. Afterward, he came back to the disciples and found them sound asleep, for they couldn’t keep their eyes open and they didn’t know what to say to him.
After praying for the third time, he returned to his disciples and awoke them again, saying, “Do you plan on sleeping and resting indefinitely? That’s enough sleep! The end has come and the hour has arrived for the Son of Man to be handed over to the authority of sinful men. Get up and let’s go. Don’t you see? My betrayer draws near.”
At that moment Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, along with a large crowd of men armed with swords and clubs. They had been sent to arrest Jesus by order of the ruling priests, the religious scholars, and the Jewish leaders. Now, Judas, the traitor, had arranged to give them a signal that would identify Jesus, for he had told them, “Jesus is the man I will kiss. So arrest him and take him away.” Judas quickly stepped up to Jesus and said, “Rabbi, my teacher!” and he kissed him on both cheeks.
Then the armed men seized Jesus to arrest him. One of the disciples pulled out a sword and swung it at the servant of Caiaphas, the high priest, slashing off his ear.
Jesus said to the mob, “Why would you arrest me with swords and clubs as though I were an outlaw? Day after day I sat with you in the temple courts, teaching the people, yet you didn’t arrest me then. But all of this fulfills the prophecies of the Scriptures.” At that point all of his disciples ran away and abandoned him.
There was a young man there following Jesus, wearing only a linen sheet wrapped around him. They tried to arrest him also, but he slipped from their grasp and ran off naked, leaving his linen cloth in their hands.
Those who arrested Jesus led him away to Caiaphas, the high priest, to a meeting where the religious scholars and Jewish leaders were assembled. Now, Peter had followed him from a distance all the way to the chief priest’s courtyard. He sat with the guards and was warming himself by the fire.
The chief priests and the Jewish council of leaders were doing their best to find false charges that they could bring against Jesus and condemn him to death, but they could not find any. Many false witnesses came forward, but the evidence could not be corroborated. Some came forward and testified against him, saying, “We heard him say, ‘I can destroy this temple made with hands and then build another one again in three days not made with hands!’ ” Yet even on this point the witnesses did not agree.
Finally, the chief priest stood up in the middle of them and said to Jesus, “Have you nothing to say about these allegations? Is what they’re saying about you true?”
But Jesus remained silent before them and did not answer. So the chief priest said to him, “Are you the anointed Messiah, the Son of the Blessed God?”
Jesus answered him, “I am. And more than that, you are about to see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Almighty and coming in the heavenly clouds!”
Then, as an act of outrage, the high priest tore his robe and shouted, “No more witnesses are needed, for you’ve heard this grievous blasphemy.” Turning to the council he said, “Now, what is your verdict?”
“He’s guilty and deserves the death penalty!” they all answered.
Then they spat on his face and blindfolded him. Others struck him over and over with their fists and taunted him by saying, “Prophesy to us! Tell us which one of us is about to hit you next?” And the guards took him and beat him.
Meanwhile, Peter was sitting below in the courtyard when a girl, a servant of the high priest, came near the fire. When she saw Peter there warming himself, she said to him, “I recognize you. You were with that Nazarene, Jesus.”
But Peter denied it, saying, “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Then he went out to the gateway of the courtyard and the rooster crowed.
When the servant girl noticed him, she said to all the bystanders, “I know this man is one of his followers!”
Once again, Peter denied it. A short time later, the bystanders said to him, “You must be one of them. You’re a Galilean, like he is, for your accent proves it!”
Peter cursed and said, “I tell you, I don’t know this man you’re talking about!”
At the same moment Peter spoke those words, the sound of a rooster crowing pierced the night for the second time. And Peter remembered the words Jesus had spoken to him earlier: “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” With his heart shattered, Peter broke down and sobbed with bitter tears.
The Book of Mark, Chapter 14 (The Passion Translation)
Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 6th chapter of the book of Job with Job’s response:
Job Replies to Eliphaz
[God Has Dumped the Works on Me]
Job answered:
“If my misery could be weighed,
if you could pile the whole bitter load on the scales,
It would be heavier than all the sand of the sea!
Is it any wonder that I’m howling like a caged cat?
The arrows of God Almighty are in me,
poison arrows—and I’m poisoned all through!
God has dumped the whole works on me.
Donkeys bray and cows moo when they run out of pasture—
so don’t expect me to keep quiet in this.
Do you see what God has dished out for me?
It’s enough to turn anyone’s stomach!
Everything in me is repulsed by it—
it makes me sick.
[Pressed Past the Limits]
“All I want is an answer to one prayer,
a last request to be honored:
Let God step on me—squash me like a bug,
and be done with me for good.
I’d at least have the satisfaction
of not having blasphemed the Holy God,
before being pressed past the limits.
Where’s the strength to keep my hopes up?
What future do I have to keep me going?
Do you think I have nerves of steel?
Do you think I’m made of iron?
Do you think I can pull myself up by my bootstraps?
Why, I don’t even have any boots!
[My So-Called Friends]
“When desperate people give up on God Almighty,
their friends, at least, should stick with them.
But my brothers are fickle as a gulch in the desert—
one day they’re gushing with water
From melting ice and snow
cascading out of the mountains,
But by midsummer they’re dry,
gullies baked dry in the sun.
Travelers who spot them and go out of their way for a drink
end up in a waterless gulch and die of thirst.
Merchant caravans from Tema see them and expect water,
tourists from Sheba hope for a cool drink.
They arrive so confident—but what a disappointment!
They get there, and their faces fall!
And you, my so-called friends, are no better—
there’s nothing to you!
One look at a hard scene and you shrink in fear.
It’s not as though I asked you for anything—
I didn’t ask you for one red cent—
Nor did I beg you to go out on a limb for me.
So why all this dodging and shuffling?
“Confront me with the truth and I’ll shut up,
show me where I’ve gone off the track.
Honest words never hurt anyone,
but what’s the point of all this pious bluster?
You pretend to tell me what’s wrong with my life,
but treat my words of anguish as so much hot air.
Are people mere things to you?
Are friends just items of profit and loss?
“Look me in the eyes!
Do you think I’d lie to your face?
Think it over—no double-talk!
Think carefully—my integrity is on the line!
Can you detect anything false in what I say?
Don’t you trust me to discern good from evil?”
The Book of Job, Chapter 6 (The Message)
my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, April 13 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs
A post by John Parsons about the True nature of trust:
“Cast your burden upon the Lord, and he will sustain you” (Psalm 55:22). It is important to fully appreciate what this means. When you truly “cast your burden upon the Lord,” you are insisting on peace of mind, refusing all worry, and resolving to let go of your anxieties... When you are tempted to consider trouble, when you hear the whisper of fear within, remember to cast your burden upon the Lord and he will sustain you, for “he will never permit the righteous to be moved...” But what of unutterable pain or sorrow? What of intractable sickness or irrecoverable loss? What if you cannot express the burden you carry? Then get alone with God and lay your soul bare: the heart has its own voice regardless of the words we are able to articulate. As it is written: בטחוּ בוֹ בכל־עת - “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us” (Psalm 62:8). The Holy Spirit repeatedly calls out: al tira, “do not be afraid.” Let not your heart be troubled; be anxious for nothing; believe that the LORD faithfully cares for you (John 14:27; Psalm 42:5; 1 Pet. 5:7).
Pouring your heart out to God in an honest, spontaneous, and intensely personal way is sometimes called “hitbodedut” (הִתְבּוֹדְּדוּת) in Hebrew. After we “talk our hearts out” before the Lord, in our emptiness we can begin to truly listen, as it says, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength” (Isa. 30:15). Only after we sigh deeply and surrender are we receptive to the voice of the Spirit’s whisper. אַשְׁרֵי כָּל־חוֹכֵי לוֹ - “Blessed are all those who wait for Him” (Isa. 30:18). We wait, we abide, we persevere -- even when God seems to “take his time” or does not immediately intervene in ways we might apprehend. We must not lose heart, for we find strength when we trust in God’s love... The Light of the world still shines: Yeshua, be my inner word, my heart, and my groaning for life today, and forevermore, amen. [Hebrew for Christians]
4.12.21 • Facebook
and another post about good vs. evil:
These are lawless days, where worldly culture celebrates moral anarchy and teaches the narcissistic philosophy that everyone "should" do what is right in his or her own eyes... These as the "days of Noach," where the wickedness has become great in the earth, and intention of the thoughts of people's hearts has become evil continually... Because worldly culture has suppressed and exiled the truth of God from the public domain, God has pronounced "like-for-like" judgment by giving people over to the tyranny of their darkened passions, resulting in inner chaos and self-destructive impulses. The very worst judgment of God is when He removes his hand and says, "Have it your way..." We now live in a stupefied age wherein people are unable to think clearly or use logic, but instead resort to violence and ad hominem attacks on others because of their depraved thinking and deadened hearts...
The importance of the Torah, or the "law" of God, cannot be overstated, friends. Yeshua plainly said to his followers: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. I tell you the truth, until heaven and earth pass away not the smallest letter or even a stroke of a letter (קוצו שׁל יוד) will pass from the law until everything comes to pass. So anyone who breaks one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do so will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever obeys them and teaches others to do so will be called great in the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:17-19). He further solemnly warned: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter into the kingdom of heaven– only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day, many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, didn't we prophesy in your name, and in your name cast out demons and do many powerful deeds?' Then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you. Go away from me, you workers of lawlessness' (Matt. 7:21-23).
To the ungodly, "freedom" means being lawless, that is, acting under their own authority apart from the will of God. This of course was the original temptation in Eden, when the nachash (serpent) told Eve that if she acted under her own authority, her eyes would be "opened" and she would be "like God," knowing both good and evil (Gen. 3:5). That is always the creed of the wicked: "Do as thou wilt..." True freedom, however, is not the supposed right to do whatever you want, but instead is the power to do what is right, living in harmony with moral reality, and being liberated from the slavery of impulses to do evil. The moral law of God, then, is the blessing of having boundaries, order, and moral sanity within our lives, and that is why the Holy Spirit inscribes the law “within” us - to help guide our steps, protect our way, and to empower us to live in obedience to the truth of God (Jer. 31:33). If you are led by the Spirit, you are no longer enslaved to the law of sin and death -- that is, the lower nature and its idolatrous impulses -- but you will bear the fruit of righteousness, goodness and truth (Gal. 5:18; Eph. 5:9). Let no one deceive you with vain words. “By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother” (1 John 3:10). [Hebrew for Christians]
4.12.21 • Facebook
Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research
April 13, 2021
When...Then
“Know therefore that the LORD thy God, he is God, the faithful God, which keepeth covenant and mercy with them that love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations.” (Deuteronomy 7:9)
Moses knew Israel would tend to succumb to various temptations in the Promised Land and encouraged them not only to obey God’s law but to use temptations as an opportunity for growth in character. Standing on the border, he proposed three “when...then” situations and exhorted the people to decide in advance how they would react.
“When the LORD thy God shall have brought thee into the land...to give thee great and goodly cities, which thou buildest not,...Then beware lest thou forget the LORD” (6:10, 12). Moses knew that a satisfied people, recipients of easy wealth, would forget the Lord. The remedy: “Thou shalt fear the LORD thy God, and serve him, and shalt swear by his name” (v. 13), and “ye shall diligently keep the commandments of the LORD your God” (v. 17).
Next, “when thy son asketh thee in time to come, saying, What mean the testimonies...which the LORD our God hath commanded you?” (v. 20), the fathers were to instruct them with: “The LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand” (v. 21). “And the LORD commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the LORD our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive” (v. 24).
God also knows our tendencies to compromise, and “when the LORD thy God...hath cast out many nations before thee,...thou shalt smite them, and utterly destroy them;...Neither shalt thou make marriages with them;...For they will turn away thy son from following me” (7:1-4).
In these and other situations, we would do well to follow Moses’ exhortation and decide beforehand how we will react. JDM
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CHAPTER 25 - Creep
He wasn’t back soon.
Sasuke slept in his own bed for the first time in over a month, and spent the night wondering what he was missing. There was obviously something, and not just the events that were currently going on and Sasuke wasn’t there to see. But however long Sasuke stared up at the ceiling and tried to puzzle out Naruto’s concerns, it wasn’t long enough.
At about ten in the morning, Naruto flashed back into existence, this time with Shikamaru and their complete assortment of luggage in tow.
“Let me explain,” Shikamaru said the second Sasuke opened his front door. He had a hand over Naruto’s mouth and turned his perpetually unimpressed gaze onto Sasuke. “Sasuke, we all need to talk. Let’s get inside.”
They got inside.
Sasuke started making tea, watching Shikamaru and Naruto cautiously out of the corner of his eye while they muttered between themselves.
“Just like you practiced,” Shikamaru told Naruto, who looked nervous. He looked nervous about talking to Sasuke, and Sasuke couldn’t remember ever seeing that before. Ever.
“Sasuke, I’d like to bring up the baby topic again,” Naruto said. “Specifically Hinata. We should make her a second baby whether or not the baby becomes a jinchuuriki. If she says no to the jinchuuriki part, we have another kid. If she says yes, we stay with one baby each. What do you think?”
That…was not the topic Sasuke expected. He watched Naruto with a frown, and then glanced over at Shikamaru.
“Just humor him. He’s getting to it,” Shikamaru said with a stunning amount of patience.
So, Sasuke pulled out three cups, pouring each of them some tea as he said, “She’s going to say no to the bijuu. After Kazuki, we know the Hyuuga clan will only accept a standard-issue Hyuuga, and that means no jinchuuriki. Which means we end up having a baby.”
Naruto dumped the same disgusting as ever amount of sugar into his tea with a shrug. “Okay, so I’m not excited about the infant care part, but who ever is? Actual baby babies aren’t fun. But even without the whole ‘saving the human-nature spirit connection from destruction when I die’ part, I’m kind of…I kind of like the idea of a you and me baby? And seriously, how awesome would our kid turn out?”
He didn’t like the idea of bringing a child into the world without feeling the glorious loving enthusiasm he had for Sarada, but Naruto did have a point. Their kid would be pretty awesome. Still, Sasuke took a sip of tea to give himself time to formulate a reply. “The timetable would be tricky,” he said, and ignored the ecstatic grin that broke across Naruto’s face. Or tried to, at least. “I’m going to be pretty busy in a month, since you’re giving me another genin team, which I’m pretty sure is against the rules-”
“It’s not,” Shikamaru provided.
“Whatever. But I’m not going to be able to create a foolproof you-and-Hinata baby seal and a jinchuuriki-bonding baby seal for us in one month. You either get me training a genin team, or me making us a baby. I can’t do both,” Sasuke said. And it was true. No matter how involved the bijuu claimed they would be or how easy they could make the process, the fact remained that they both had male chakra.
Bolt existed because Kurama could be male, female, or any other gender the fox desired. Kaguya Lee existed because it was technically Sasuke, Rock Lee, and Kaguya herself who had given birth to Kaguya Lee – two male chakra signatures, but in the end it was actually one very powerful and very female soul being given a body.
A Sasuke-Naruto baby would be two male chakra signatures, and one bijuu tossed in to fool Sasuke’s jutsu and get sealed inside the tiny creation. It would be tricky, and if there was one thing Sasuke wasn’t willing to fuck up, it was magically creating babies. Particularly if it was their baby.
“That’s fine! The bijuu can wait until the next chuunin exam,” Naruto said. “Maybe they’ll use the time to decide which one of them is getting sealed in a human again. And also you shouldn’t spend much time with your creepy genin team because I’m pretty sure they’re going to try and kidnap you.”
“What?”
“I’ve only had the opportunity to really observe Eichiro – who goes by Uchiha Eichiro when you aren’t around – but it’s enough that I can tell his obsession with you is getting to a dangerous level,” Shikamaru said, and finally started drinking his tea with a heavy sigh. “It starts with if I’m good enough, he’ll love me, and then moves on to I’ll convince him, I’ll make him love me, until it reaches the if I can’t have him, nobody can stage.” Shikamaru looked up, eyes piercing into Sasuke’s even with the curtain of hair covering one of them. “Eichiro is now at the second stage.”
Sasuke scoffed. “That’s-”
“Eichiro is now at the second stage,” Shikamaru repeated. “He gave you a report about an attempt on Naruto’s life, which he stopped. He offered to present Konoha the entire village of Oto on a silver platter. He expressed regret you know he doesn’t feel. All of it was lies, and all of it was for your benefit. None of his work got your genin team, Eichiro most of all, what they want. They threw all of their best attempts at you, and they didn’t work.” Shikamaru sighed again, taking another sip of tea. “I was watching him closely during your exhibition match, Sasuke. He snapped when you started smiling.”
“I didn’t smile.”
“Yeah you did,” Naruto said, and grinned at the memory. “You were having so much fun, it almost made me want to join in until you went all avenger-mode.”
“Which was also Eichiro’s doing, in a way,” Shikamaru added. “Akishige’s regular taijutsu technique is a fluid state of movement, not-”
“Wait. Wait wait wait, Eichiro told him to do that?” Naruto asked. When Shikamaru nodded affirmation, Naruto demanded, “Why?”
“Because mental instability is the easy gateway to manipulation,” Shikamaru said, and paused briefly for another sip of tea. “You break someone, and then you can piece them back together how you want.”
“This is ridiculous,” Sasuke said. “They’re not trying to mind-wipe me. They’re just…” He frowned, looking for an adequate word. “They’re lost, they’re still stuck in their own heads, and they need help.”
Shikamaru sighed (he did that a lot) and slumped against the table, looking towards Naruto. “You’re the only one who can ever make him listen.”
Naruto frowned. “Sasuke, I know you still think you need to take care of your creepy genin,” he began carefully. “I know you still see them as children you need to protect, even from themselves. It’s good of you to think that, but they’re beyond help.”
Uzumaki Naruto saying someone was beyond help, or beyond saving was laughable. And Sasuke laughed, backing away from the kitchen counter and saying, “Says the idiot who tried to save me. For years and years, people told you I was beyond help, and-”
“That’s because you’re different, Sasuke!” Naruto shouted. “It was a completely different situation! You ran off to try and get strong enough to kill Itachi, which you were kind of justifiably obsessed with after all the manipulative shit people kept doing to you.” He scowled. “Which people keep doing to you, and you’re not seeing it – and that’s the point! You not seeing it or noticing it or whatever is their goal, but we’re here. And we see it. So trust us, trust me, and stay away from Eichiro.”
Sasuke did trust Naruto. He trusted him with everything, and the dissonance in Sasuke’s mind ached as he tried to resolve the conflicting truths of ‘Naruto wouldn’t lie about this’ and ‘my genin team is team and needs my help.’ It left him pressing his head against the sink, trying to find comfort in the cool metal against his forehead.
“I can’t see it,” Sasuke whispered, a final confession. “But I trust you can.”
“There are things we can’t tell you, proof we aren’t allowed to provide, but Naruto’s right. You need to trust us on this. They want their Kage, and they’re willing to do anything,” Shikamaru said.
How many times had his creepy genin team told him he couldn’t understand their feelings? They’d attributed it to his own background every time, like Sasuke was the mentally unstable one of the group. And fine, Sasuke wasn’t exactly a paragon of mental health or anything, but he should’ve seen that there was something skewed about how they thought of him. He’d known they were creepy and obsessive, but…did he even want to know the things Naruto and Shikamaru were keeping from him?
“They aren’t beyond saving, Naruto,” Sasuke said, raising his head to look Naruto in the eye. “I’ll stay away from them, but they aren’t beyond saving.”
“Your team hunted down Kisame and tortured him to death for information about Itachi,” Naruto said, dead serious.
“Kisame was already dead,” Sasuke said.
Naruto shook his head. “He managed to survive, he got his brain in a shark summon that turned half-human or something, it was weird – anyway, point is, he’s definitely dead now because your creepy genin team found him in a tiny village where he was living peacefully and killed him,” Naruto said, and gave Sasuke a pointed look. “So they would have information on Itachi. Which gave them sensitive information on you.”
“Are we ignoring the information-sharing Sasuke policy now?” Shikamaru asked.
“For this? Yeah,” Naruto said firmly. “Listen to me, Sasuke. Eichiro is smart, and he’s obsessed, and he has one goal. It’s not – fine, so maybe they aren’t beyond saving, but they are past the point where they’re safe for you to be around, okay? Can you accept at least that much?”
Sasuke nodded, staring at the wall.
“Give us a minute, Shikamaru,” Naruto said, and Shikamaru obliged, up and out the front door without a word. “Look, you know about the policy where we keep you out of the loop and the council keeps it’s mouth shut about my ex-traitor co-parent?” Sasuke nodded again. “Screw it. This is a big deal, and you deserve to know this shit. If you have a question, if you want to know about what your creepy-”
“I don’t,” Sasuke said.
“If you change your mind, the offer’s not going away, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Sasuke went for a walk. He wasn’t due back in Konoha for another week, so he took a walk for four days, came back, and cleaned the house and tried to get his shit together for the other three days. And when Sarada and Bolt came back through the front door Sasuke had to fight back tears because finally, finally he was holding his kids and the were so excited and so happy and Sasuke hugged them so hard it had to hurt as he choked out, “I missed you too.”
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Duplicity
An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.
Chapter Four- Offering
~~~
Garrus's mandibles gently clicked beside him, the rush of air becoming grating as they waited for the boarding party to be free of the Purgatory. In usual Shepard style, the whole thing has gone down in flames- and almost in record time.
The crew left behind on the deck was hardly surprised when EDI had announced the shift of events. A brave Warden was biting off more than he could chew in his attempt to take Shepard as a prisoner. A rookie mistake for anyone thinking that the old legend was just a legend.
It wouldn't stop Kaidan from worrying,
Garrus, the newly awoken Krogan, Jacob, and Kaidan had charged into the dock before the Normandy had a chance of being disconnected from the starship. EDI waged her war with her host of programming suites, and the ground team had their mission- reconnecting the Normandy. So by the time that the rest had returned from getting Jack, they could be off this ship. If the mission went according to the rules set by most others, it would be going down in flames.
The four had quickly taken over control of the ship despite Jack's efforts to tear the vessel apart. Grunt paced in the corner of the room, stopping to kick at the pile of bodies again just to make sure they stayed dead. Jacob typed furiously on his Omni-Tool likely relaying a message to the Illusive Man about the progress of this mission, and they betrayal by the Blue-Sun Mercs.
That left Garrus and Kaidan to look over the video feeds, helping in what little ways they could. It was nearly useless as Jack ripped through walls with nothing but her biotics, even if they did try to direct her toward Shepard or the Normandy.
Garrus's mandibles clacked again, before he drew in a sharper breath, "I was expecting you to be the last person to ever work for Cerberus."
Kaidan's eyebrow raised. "Life has a funny way of changing things."
The Turian huffed, not getting the response or answer he wanted, "After I heard you had been kicked from the Alliance I would have thou-"
"Batman wasn't a Turian, either," he replied bitterly.
Garrus cocked his head, "Batman?"
"Old Earth superhero defended Gotham City from criminals because no one else could or would," Kaidan relaxed, "outside of the law, of course. All you need is a sidekick in revealing spandex."
"I'm sure it would be funnier if I got the reference," Garrus still chuckled, "All I can imagine is Wrex in spandex."
They both shivered.
Kaidan's eyes returned to the screen, watching Mary bend down to gather up heat clips. His gaze rested on the curve of her ass, traveling up her back to rest on her smirking lips her eyes lighting as she made the Salarian laugh. Miranda shook her head, pretending as ever not to be amused by Shepard's antics. Mary ran a hand through her short hair, before looking straight into the camera. But her hold only lasted a second as they moved for the next room.
"So, uh, things back to normal for you two?" The Turian prodded.
"Are you interested in Shepard?"
Garrus paused, eyes widened as far as they could manage, "She's a nice female, sturdy waist, but one I think is rather involved with someone else. I've never considered a.."
Garrus coughed, then ended his sentence as Kaidan grinned. It was hard to tell when a human was joking. This was one of those times.
"I was just asking because-" Garrus rubbed the back of his neck, "things are tense."
"It turns out Mary doesn't like working for the organization that killed her entire unit," his words returning to dry.
Kaidan wasn't really aggravated by the Turian, Garrus meant the best. Thre three of them has been unstoppable in the days against Saren. Their individual strengths complemented each other in the best ways; Mary was the talker as they both tended to be a little more awkward. While they could deal with any of the technology Shepard did not have the patience for. It went further than that, as they could work together seamlessly without the use of words. Kaidan and Mary would draw the line of fire while Garrus relocated to get a better view of the field. Mary would charge across the field to sandwich in the enemies without the need to declare her intentions over their headsets.
It had been much simpler then. It was an impossible task to prove any enemy that the council would not believe in, but it seemed possible then. Brighter. Kaidan hadn't remembered feeling more alive than he had in those short months. He missed it. He missed the old crew. The Alliance. He missed Mary.
"I'm just worried about old friends is all, I heard Mary passed out the night before you guys got to me," Garrus murmured softly, turning his back to the human. Pretending to find interest in the panels behind them.
"You know Mary, she pushed herself too hard," Kaidan shuffled, "I haven't been exactly open about what happened after she, she died. We haven't talked either."
"It might make her feel better, or it might make her kick your ass harder," Garrus's claw gently touched Kaidan's arm, "either way, tell her before she has to read about it on the extranet."
"And you better get back on the Normandy before she finds out you were out of the med bay," Kaidan teased in the attempt to get away from the uncomfortable conversation.
"At least I won't be the only one scrubbing toilets with my toothbrush."
Kaidan snorted, "Then we better get going."
~~~
"Uhhh, Alenko?" Joker's voice cut through the intercom.
"Yes, Joker?"
"Commander wants you up in her quarters, asap-"
The click at the end of his message demonstrated how little Joker wanted to be involved in this feud. Perhaps it didn't mean anything that EDI had not delivered the message either, but Kaidan got the feeling the AI was angry at him for his part in attempting to destroy the cargo bay. EDI had kept them apart when possible, claiming a 'malfunction' whenever one of them was near the exit of the elevator. He pretended not to notice.
Leaving behind the screen he had been working on; he made the awkward journey through the command deck. Chambers looked at him with pity, her words fighting behind a clenched jaw. Kaidan couldn't fight the dark frown that formed on his face as the pitying green eyes watched him enter the shaft. Kaidan was glad when the doors finally closed and left him a moment of privacy. He felt a confusing mixture of anger and calm. Both welling up in him at the same degree, he hoped things could be settled between them- and at the same time he prepared for Mary to throw another tantrum.
The elevator clicked as it arrived at the Commander's private quarters, the door left wide open for him to walk through. Mary wasn't standing in the first section either. Instead, her private terminals were open. A picture of a man with black hair and very familiar eyebrows stared at him with a big tagline. On her personal PDA, another image and another line typed in bolded capital letters. And a third and fourth device from elsewhere stacked on the desk, all with different stories and words he knew too well.
Mary's throat cleared to announce her presence. Her shoulder leaning into the beam that worked as a divider between the two rooms. One had held two glasses, and another a bottle of whiskey. Some things never changed.
"Do you want to explain this before a drink, or after?" her words practiced and monotone.
"How about over drinks?"
The Commander nodded, pivoting tightly on her heel. A few long steps transported her to the corner couch. The glasses set down and poured, finally setting the bottle between them. Kaidan took the seat at the opposite corner of the table, watching Mary take the first sip of the bitter liquid before he took his own drink.
"I'll, um," Kaidan cleared his throat, unsure of how to start this conversation. Her eyes narrowed, but her judgment was left unreadable, "I was hoping to talk to you once things had cooled down."
Mary's eyes closed tightly, "You didn't think I would use the extranet?"
"It's not like you, M-ma'am."The Commander huffed, pale blue eyes rolling. The corner of her lip fluttered, unable to completely suppress her amusement. "Wh-what made you look?"
Mary's face turned to a complete frown, "They both looked at you like they were seeing a dead person."
Kaidan didn't need to answer. Both meant Tali and Garrus. They likely knew the situation but didn't dare to speak about it. Fearing what awkwardness they would rehash by bringing it up in front of two previously thought long gone friends.
Mary sat quietly, a hand pressed into the cushion, while the over slung over the back of the headboard. Her eyes didn't leave him, watching each inflection on his face. Her pupils narrowed on any part of him that moved, readying herself to strike. The woman looked relaxed but was far from it. Waiting for his words to come was surely testing her burning patience. But it was Mary's way to only prod when it came to tendered revelations- even if it caused her ire to stir.
Kaidan was allowed another sip before Shepard broke the moment of silence.
"Red sand, really Alenko?" those words outside of this room would be sharp and hurled at him, but in this safe place, they were gentle, concerned.
Kaidan snorted, drawing a perplexed look from Mary, "I'm surprised that upset you the most."
"What else should bother me?"
"That, that's the Shepard I knew," he knew his laughter would infuriate her.
"What's so damn funny, Alenko?"
"You didn't read the entire article."
The whole bottom half of her face lit into a smile, eyes rolling. Guilty. Before she could replace it with a frown, Kaidan had caught it.
"I would start explaining," Mary threatened weakly.
It was about time he had. It would be easier to have this hurdle cleared. Perhaps things would get back to normal, or he would be kicked from the ship. Both had benefits and drawbacks that he had already started to process. She was alive. That was enough. She was still Mary. That was more than enough.
"We were all grounded after Alchera. The aliens sent home, and the rest of Alliance personnel stationed back on Earth. The investigation took months, and none of us who lived were able to leave- except for the Memorial for all those lost on the Normandy. Joker got fired. And I was stationed back in Vancouver and given the job of training a few potential biotics back at home," Kaidan paused to look back up at Mary. His hands fidgetted with one another in his lap.
He continued after giving her ample time to interrupt, "I was a mess. It took me, well, longer than I would admit to adjust. I wasn't ready to stop fighting or to stop going after the Reapers. Shepard, I-I couldn't sleep, and the migraines got worse, so I drank until I passed out most nights. I had seen things, and nobody believed me. They separated all of us that were left to shut us up."
Mary nodded. Before the Collector attack, she was already fighting to keep the team together.
"Eventually, after you don't show up, or show up late enough times they start asking you questions... then they take discharge you."
Mary's pupils narrowed, but she refrained from belittling him. Lips pursing before easing into another frown.
"After you get discharged, you find other ways to keep your ass off of the street."
His dry approach was not sitting well, as her eyebrows pinched together. But her eyes held pity, and her lip quivered gently. It was a lot for her to process.
"Shepard?" He asked, after taking notice of her next sip that emptied her glass.
"It's, it's a lot to take in," Mary sighed heavily, "we lost a lot of men fighting Saren. Good men. I must have been hard to cope-"
"I hadn't lost anyone I loved," he inserted softly.
The couch was lucky Mary had already finished her drink, the glass toppling to the cushion as she abandoned the piece of furniture entirely. He had pushed the thin film of Mary's patience that remained, and she quickly unraveled. Emotions weren't her strong suit and being hit so squarely with it was cruel of him. He regretted that those feelings were held so tightly in his throat. They begged to come out and clawed to escape the prison in they were bound. It was sweet to have them finally voice, like some secret he didn't want to contain. Bitter because of the turmoil he knew it would make Mary face.
Her fingers ground into the base of her skull, trying to destroy the ghost itch.
"Kaidan, I-," her sigh bordered on a growl, a scream, "I think I've heard enough for today."
He set down the drink, moving quickly before the events in the cargo bay repeated.
"Wait," Mary's hand gripped his wrist, "Why Cerberus?"
"They offered you."
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Brexit complete: UK officially leaves European Union
https://newsource-embed-prd.ns.cnn.com/videos/newsource-video-embed.js
Brexit has happened. After 1,316 days of political turmoil, the UK now stands alone as the first nation to have ever left the European Union.
It has ended the careers of two Prime Ministers and left the very future of the United Kingdom in question. Scotland’s case for independence is becoming harder to ignore while Britain’s perceived selling out of Northern Ireland has played into the hands of those wishing to see Irish unification.
That’s just the politics: Britain’s economic future and place in the world have not been this uncertain since the end of the World War II.
Speaking to the nation an hour before Brexit finally happened, Prime Minister Boris Johnson acknowledged that the country was divided: “For many people this is an astonishing moment of hope, a moment they thought would never come. And there are many of course who feel a sense of anxiety and loss … I understand all those feelings, and our job as the government — my job — is to bring this country together now and take us forward.”
Johnson has political capital to spend. His election landslide last year means he has the power to start rebuilding the UK in his own image. It also means he can remold the country’s position on the international stage. And in a world of shifting geopolitics, whatever path Johnson decides to walk will have implications beyond Britain’s borders.
The key question that needs answering in the next 11 months: Will the UK stick with its European neighbors and their multilateral view of the world? Or will it drift across the Atlantic and team up with an increasingly confrontational American foreign policy?
Why 11 months? Because, according to the deal Britain signed with the EU, this Brexit transition period ends on December 31, and whatever deal the two parties have reached on their future relationship — if any — kicks in.
Mark Leonard, director of the European Council on Foreign Relations think tank, says that Johnson faces a huge strategic choice: “For decades, the foundation of British foreign policy has rested on two pillars: the UK has been an influential member of the EU; it is also part of the transatlantic alliance, with NATO and the US at its core.”
In an ideal world, post-Brexit Britain would now be free to forge new economic relations with both the EU and the US, while maintaining a diplomatic equilibrium that allows it to be a power broker between the two.
But as Trump’s America drifts further from the European agenda on so many big issues — from climate change to Iran engagement with China — any decision Johnson makes favoring one party risks straining relations with the other.
Johnson is already attempting to navigate the China minefield that stretches across Europe.
The EU’s China problem is acute. On one hand, stagnating European economies benefit from Chinese investment. On the other, that investment comes with the potential security risk of allowing state-owned Chinese companies to operate in Europe. And that has implications for Europe’s intelligence-sharing allies, such as the US.
Earlier this week, Johnson’s government decided that it would allow the Chinese telecoms firm Huawei to build part of the UK’s 5G network, despite serious security concerns. The government said Huawei’s role in the project would be restricted to areas that meant it wasn’t a risk to the UK.
One person unlikely to be happy about this is US President Donald Trump. In his economic war with China, Trump is looking for friends. And as the UK leaves the EU, desperate to sign trade deals — especially with the US — he sees an opportunity to pull the UK into his orbit.
Trump seemed distracted as the news broke on Tuesday and it’s possible that London’s assurances were enough for the President. However Johnson chooses to handle the Huawei issue going forward, officials in both Brussels are DC will be paying very close attention. And whatever decisions he takes, it creates an immediate short-term problem for Europe’s own power-balancing act between the US and China.
“The EU’s top priority is balanced relations between the big two: China and America,” says Steven Blockmans, head of foreign affairs at the European Center for Policy Studies. “If the UK has a closer relationship with either, it could create problems for Europe.”
Europe also has a complicated relationship with Russia. Many EU nations rely on Russian investment and natural resources. But Europe has led a sanctions charge on Russia for its illegal annexation of Crimea and alleged state-sanctioned attacks on Russian dissidents living in Europe. Arguably the most high-profile of these cases was the poisoning of Sergei Skripal in England. Russia has repeatedly denied any involvement.
Johnson was British foreign secretary at the time and was quick to blame Moscow, driving a push for the international expulsion of Russian diplomats.
That was then. During last year’s election, Johnson made big spending promises to the public he now leads. Russian investment could help make ends meet, given that the City of London is a favored destination for wealthy Russians.
“A clampdown on assets that are held or transferred through the city is crucial to maintaining a common European stance,” says Blockmans. Johnson’s advisers assume he will stick to his hard line on Russia, but there are long-term concerns in eastern Europe. If he budges even slightly, it causes problems for Ukraine, whose independence from Russia is an EU priority.
Sarah Lain, an associate fellow at the Royal United Services Institute, says that Brexit “creates uncertainty over what resources the UK will have to maintain its position on eastern Europe.”
While the UK remains committed to supporting Ukraine, Kiev’s concern is that, “given the possible economic impact from Brexit and the perceived blow to the UK’s reputation as a strong foreign policy actor,” Britain might be unable to support Ukraine in the same way, says Lain.
Johnson’s policy shifts could be subtle. But they will color a complicated picture in the international community. A big economy with serious diplomatic power nudging in one direction shifts the weight in a delicate balancing act.
The most complicating factor in all of this, of course, is the unreliable figure currently occupying the White House — who happens to be up for reelection in November.
“We are in a period of negotiating a new world order, and Britain needs to navigate a path that maintains strong relations with as many of our allies as possible,” says Sophia Gaston, managing director of the British Foreign Policy group.
That new world order will largely be determined by how successful Trump is in his attempts to reshape the world to America’s advantage, and of course, if he’s still in the White House this time next year. “The UK is leaving the EU at a time when Trump is trying to renegotiate the transatlantic relationship as he pivots his attention from Europe and the Middle East to competition with China and Asia,” says Leonard.
It’s no secret that Trump’s priority with Brexit is a trade deal that could buck global norms on food standards and the regulation of medicines. Doing so would present the US with the opportunity to set precedents in trade that were previously unthinkable — and could even see a hike in global drug prices.
For Johnson, a trade deal with Washington would be a political prize, proving that Brexit had been worth it all along. However, a wide-ranging deal with America could damage the UK’s relationship with the EU. Leonard says that Trump, unlike presidents before him, is “much more transactional” in his dealings with other nations. The price of cozying up to him could cost Johnson big with European allies.
So, what will he do? Gaston believes that Britain will ultimately “operate as a mid-tier military power with top-tier assets in soft power, diplomacy and development.”
The big question: what global status does Johnson want the UK to have five years from now, when Brexit is done and dusted? “There’s a danger that as Britain leaves the EU, it puts getting trade deals above all else and will not be a big strategic player as it becomes obsessed with bilateral relationships,” says Leonard.
As foreign secretary, Johnson didn’t say much about how he saw the new world order. As the UK moves into its brave new future, the world is still in the dark as to exactly who will benefit from its considerable heft.
And while some claim that this won’t matter, it’s not a view shared by those at the helm of many world powers. If Johnson does decide to move further from Europe, there’s “a danger from a European perspective that Britain could become a disrupter, a bit like Turkey or Russia, that tries to divide and rule different European countries, is not reliable and is unpredictable,” says Leonard.
And if it does drift across the Atlantic towards America, Brussels could soon miss having one of the world’s loudest diplomatic voices, with nuclear weapons, a big economy, a world-class intelligence network and a permanent seat on the UN security council, firmly in its ranks.
from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2020/01/31/brexit-complete-uk-officially-leaves-european-union/
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India in Afghanistan After the Soviet Withdrawal
In 1989, Soviet forces, India’s ally in Afghanistan, manufactured a total withdrawal from the place and still left India in a precarious situation. 30 many years down the line, India is now going through a very similar circumstance — the probability of a full withdrawal of U.S. forces, underneath whose security umbrella India had crafted its existence in Afghanistan by means of largely developmental financial commitment and gentle electrical power initiatives.
The Soviet intervention in Afghanistan earlier in 1979 had place India in a challenging place. Although India was averse to the thought of a superpower meddling in the domestic affairs of a modest impartial nation, New Delhi was equivocal in condemning the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. In the UN debates in the course of an crisis distinctive session, India in truth broke ranks with its nonalignment associates and openly supported the Soviet posture. India’s solid relations with the Soviet Union and Chilly War geopolitics, wherever the United States alongside India’s rival Pakistan was propping up the Afghan resistance, were being instrumental in prodding India to just take the Soviet side in Afghanistan.
Soviet Withdrawal and India-Najibullah Bonhomie
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In the late 1980s, as the war simmered in Afghanistan, India appeared to play a vital job in mediating peace between many events. It also wanted to postpone or slowdown the process of Soviet withdrawal right before the nation experienced stabilized. But with the situation becoming untenable, Mikhail Gorbachev eventually requested the Soviet troops to withdraw. Right before the complete withdrawal, the Soviets put in Mohammed Najibullah, a member of the Parcham faction of the People’s Democratic Bash of Afghanistan (PDPA) and previous head of the dreaded KGB-influenced Afghan intelligence agency KhAD, as the head of the Kabul authorities. Moscow hoped the strongman would be able to reconcile with the recalcitrant rebel leaders and effect a peace settlement among the numerous Afghan factions. India was supportive of Najibullah, in whom New Delhi observed a sturdy Afghan chief who was cautious of the escalating Pakistani influence in Afghanistan. It is alleged that KhAD, through its contacts in Pashtun areas of Pakistan, assisted maximize India’s covert profile.
Moreover, then-Indian Key Minister Rajiv Gandhi and Najibullah shared a close personal bond. The aftermath of Soviet withdrawal and the unsteady assist coming from Moscow only strengthened India’s ties with Najibullah as their relations grew to become more symbiotic.
Having said that, Najibullah, as a previous intelligence head of the infamous KhAD and a professional-Soviet figure, didn’t delight in a lot preferred guidance between the masses and in the absence of Soviet floor forces it was challenging, if not difficult, to drive back the Mujahideen’s onslaught. India, exhibiting incredible determination to Najibullah, threw its good deal in with the pro-Soviet routine, but New Delhi didn’t have the wherewithal to singlehandedly safeguard the Najibullah governing administration. Hence when Najibullah’s governing administration fell, India was with no any “friends” in Afghanistan – on the contrary, the Mujahideen governing administration of Burhanuddin Rabbani and other war lords experienced a negative view of India, offered its aid for the professional-Soviet regime.
Reaching out to the Mujahideens and the Increase of the Taliban
Pakistan, owning assisted in setting up the (mostly dysfunctional) Mujahideen authorities just after actively playing the purpose of the crucial mediator in the Peshawar Accords of 1992, experienced brought about a favorable stability of energy for by itself in Afghanistan. To ameliorate India’s problem in Afghanistan, New Delhi less than the Narasimha Rao governing administration brought modifications to India’s Afghan tactic and began reaching out to all the Mujahideen factions in Afghanistan, irrespective of their ideology or relations with Pakistan. It was resolved, as previous Indian diplomat M.K. Bhadrakumar afterwards set it, that India should offer “strictly with the federal government in Kabul, no matter its proximity with Pakistan or its security agencies” and “deal with whosoever was in energy in Kabul and target … on cultivating a helpful govt that was sensitive to India’s critical pursuits and main concerns.” Rao’s plan on Afghanistan also centered on setting up people-to-people relations and profitable goodwill in the state via contributing “towards Afghanistan’s economic welfare.”
Although it has been claimed that a few Mujahideen commanders taken care of covert ties with the Research and Analysis Wing (Uncooked), India’s intelligence agency, even all through the Soviet period, under Rao’s management, India’s diplomat and bureaucrats, who had been previously in the firm embrace of Najibullah, quickly started making overt and tangible interactions with Mujahideen leaders. Health care and humanitarian supplies were provided to crucial war lords. Surprisingly the Mujahideen management was not averse to Indian outreach. Rabbani, the then-president of the Mujahideen govt, in 1992 produced it clear that the Afghan Mujahideen would not glimpse to interfere in the Kashmir challenge. He experienced mentioned, “We hope the Kashmir difficulty is solved on the foundation of UN resolutions and talks and negotiations.” Excellent relations with India benefited Mujahideen leaders not only as a resource of help and provides but, to some leaders, also as a counterweight to stability their overdependence on Pakistan.
When in the midst of intra-Mujahideen combating a minimal-regarded militia known as the Taliban reared its head, Indian policymakers noticed it as a fringe group and a lesser player in the total fratricidal conflict in Afghanistan. In 1994, when the Taliban forces captured the strategic border publish of Spin Boldak and made considerable improvements with immediate Pakistani help, Indian strategists did not react in haste. Intel about the Taliban mainly came to Indian intelligence by means of welcoming Mujahideen contacts. India experienced no engagement with the Taliban instantly and experienced no deep knowledge of their prowess and sway more than the Pashtuns, who were suffering from instability and brutality less than Mujahideen war lords. So when in 1996 Taliban forces marched victoriously onto the streets of Kabul, it was a large shock for India.
The Northern Alliance and India’s Endeavours at Clinging on to Afghanistan
India, like most of the globe, was averse to the Taliban, which it noticed as a radical extremist Islamic group with a sturdy misogynistic mold. It endorsed UN Protection Council Resolution 1076, which censured Taliban for its extreme violations of human and women’s legal rights. More, India chose not to figure out the Taliban regime. In that instant of disaster, India experienced virtually zero clout in the huge bulk of locations in Afghanistan that ended up ruled by the Taliban and New Delhi instead sought to create up relations with the Northern Alliance (United Entrance), which still controlled a compact slice of the region. It has been credibly noted that India presented covert enable to the forces of the Northern Alliance in their battle versus the Taliban. India’s airbase at Farkhor in Tajikistan was critically essential in delivering goods to the team.
However India did not acknowledge the Taliban routine and supported their rivals in the north of the country, the Taliban did not just take overtly anti-India positions, nor did it interact in anti-India rhetoric. In 1999, when a hijacked Indian Airlines airplane was taken to Kandahar, the Indian federal government was compelled to open up talks with the Taliban. Even with the risk-free return of Indian travellers from Afghanistan, just after the release of a few Indian-held terrorists, it was alleged that the Taliban took a favorable placement towards Pakistan in the full episode. Even though India experienced had no official get hold of with the Taliban right before the incident, Pakistan experienced solidified its patronizing romance with the Taliban by then.
The tide shifted nevertheless once again in 2001. With the U.S.-led war on Taliban, India located its way back again into Afghanistan. Nonetheless, in the over-all geopolitical calculations, Pakistan emerged as an all-essential place thanks to its proximity to the Taliban heartland and its strong leverage in excess of the militant group. A lot of situations it has been alleged that, to cater to Pakistani needs, India’s energetic involvement in Afghanistan has been discouraged – even nevertheless India and the United States share prevalent objectives and concepts in relation to democracy and advancement in Afghanistan. In 2001, India was not invited to the Bonn meeting, where by the write-up-Taliban buy in Afghanistan was mentioned. Although at some point India joined as an observer and engaged in casual negotiations, it experienced to shift its help from its old allies like Qanooni and Abdullah from the Northern Alliance to the United States’ favored Pashtun applicant, Hamid Karzai. In supporting to deliver about a consensus about the Pashtun management of Karzai, India also misplaced its current clout among the the non-Pashtun management, its pals in the erstwhile Northern Alliance.
The Professional-Pashtun Tilt
The Northern Alliance leadership disintegrated following Bonn and India appeared for better ties with the Pashtuns. Inspite of India’s support, Karzai at the begin of his tenure did not have a favorable outlook on India’s involvement in Afghanistan. Furthermore, as instructed by writer James Dobbins, the United States was keen to retain India at a distance from Afghanistan so as to allay Pakistan’s fears. India faced a bleak picture, but then Karzai’s outreach to Pakistan failed. With the Taliban getting produced a comeback, Karzai seemed towards improved and nearer ties with India.
India’s relation with Afghanistan improved markedly underneath the Karzai presidency and New Delhi invested intensely in developmental and infrastructural projects in Pashtun locations to forge better ties with the Pashtun people and their leadership. Underneath the Modest Development Venture Plan, India has invested in a disproportionately high quantities of jobs in the Pashtun-dominated locations of Afghanistan so as to achieve out to the people today living in these areas. The Durand line that divides the Pashtun heartland in between Afghanistan and Pakistan lends the region excellent great importance, as Pashtun linkages can lead to powerful leverage across the border much too. It is also vital for India to maintain a sturdy presence in the Pashtun region as it inbound links to the Increased Balochistan location. Doing so also keeps Pakistan wary above India’s expanding linkages with the Pashtun leaders and people.
In 2011, Afghanistan signed its 1st Strategic Partnership Arrangement with India — right after Karzai experienced rejected a similar offer from Pakistan. Immediately after Karzai’s expression finished, nevertheless, India confronted similar concerns with his successor, Ashraf Ghani, who also attained out to Pakistan in hopes of bringing the Taliban to an Afghan-led negotiation. But when Ghani’s rapprochement to Pakistan unsuccessful to provide, India again identified by itself in the superior guides of the leadership in Kabul.
Since 2001, India’s investment decision in Afghanistan has improved a lot of folds. Apart from investing in developmental, educational, and capability-making projects, India has also made a geostrategic outreach towards Afghanistan by linking the Iranian port of Chabahar to Afghanistan through the Zaranj-Delaram street. A tripartite agreement to relieve the exchange of merchandise from India to Afghanistan and vice versa by the Iranian port of Chabahar has been signed by India, Iran, and Afghanistan. India trains somewhere around 1,000 Afghan officers each individual calendar year and has supplied Mi-25 and Mi-35 helicopters alongside with 285 navy vehicles to the Afghan Nationwide Security Forces (ANSF). India’s engagement with Afghanistan has only enhanced around the many years, but with the sixth round of Doha talks on peace settlement in Afghanistan at this time underway, a whole U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan may well be imminent in the around foreseeable future.
Are Talks With the Taliban a Feasible Way Ahead for India?
In a fragmented polity like Afghanistan, India has typically dependent its engagement on just one or a several certain factions and thus, due to the treacherous character of domestic politics and strife, generally risked getting rid of its stakes in the region. This has improved substantially in the latest scenario but India maintains a potent Pashtun tilt and continue to formally is not ready for talks with the Taliban.
In today’s Afghanistan, the Taliban form each the problem and the alternative. The group has emerged as an ethno-nationalist power with a variety of factions stitched collectively via tribal-ethnic allegiances fairly than a mere Islamic extremist firm. There are teams and subfactions in the Taliban that do not watch their overbearing dependence on Pakistan favorably.
The Taliban are players in Afghanistan and India requirements to have interaction with them, even if only with the subfactions that may well be motivated to acknowledge the Afghan Constitution. In contrast to the Taliban period, India may well not avail by itself of the whole aid of Iran and Russia, as the two nations have had confined ties with the Taliban and their interests are not wholly congruent with India any more. In a submit-U.S. Afghanistan, India can safeguard its pursuits as a result of an strategy that is balanced, nuanced, and conciliatory in mother nature, but also moderately partisan when and if required. There are possibilities for India to build a more robust consensus among the Afghan stakeholders (Pashtun and non-Pashtuns alike), via mostly conciliatory approaches, to existing a united front against the Taliban although at the same time also engaging in or facilitating negotiations with the Taliban.
Avinandan Choudhury is a doctoral fellow in the office of Politics and International Studies in Pondicherry University.
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Pyromania
a short story by Brian Bourner
The little but’n’ben my old Auntie Jean had lived in for many years was left jointly to her nephews, Mike and myself.
Mike was my half-brother, my father’s son from a previous marriage. When my mother and father divorced Mike was thirteen and I was eleven. Both parents were smokers and the small fires that sometimes broke out in our Edinburgh home were one of the main causes of their arguments and eventual break-up. But I have to admit I still enjoy the odd cigarette myself. After the split Mike decided to stay with my father in a new home at the opposite end of the town and I stayed with my mother. Nowadays we were a good deal older.
Of course since Mike emigrated with our father to Canada, Toronto, when he was about sixteen, it meant we’d seen very little of each other over the succeeding years. There was the occasional phone call and the ritual exchange of Christmas cards. I suppose we’d lost touch. We both had other more important things to worry about. We had families of our own; children who were at that awkward college age, adults but not yet earning enough to keep themselves, and needing financial support. But no-one needed a house in the Highlands so I knew we’d have to agree on its disposal.
On the odd occasion we’d spoken by phone or via Skype the conversation was always stilted. I’d refer to local Edinburgh talking points and he’d refer to general events in world geography. Somehow we always ended up talking about fires. Things like massive bush fires in California or Australia, police making bonfires of illegal ivory or narcotics, those kind of things always caught his imagination. When I tried to engage in the conversation, embellishing minor events, little things like the bushes catching fire on Arthur’s Seat and vandals setting litter bins alight, it barely registered with him. Even Glasgow Art College burning down seemed small beer by comparison.
I vaguely remembered his enthusiasm for the big bonfires we helped build together and light for Guy Fawkes Night, and the Scout camps where we’d sit happily for ages throwing logs on to the fire and staring into the flames. I think it was one night when the Scout-master had been struggling to get him to leave the campfire and get him into his sleeping bag that he’d called him a regular little Zoroastrian. That kind of became a nickname, although younger kids found it difficult to pronounce so it was quickly shortened to Zorro. It was years later before I actually read about Zoroastrians, called Parsis in India, and their ancient religion and its fascination with the everlasting fires that occur in the oil soaked surfaces in parts of Persia and Azerbaijan.
When I made one of my very occasional phone calls to discuss what we should do about the legacy my father happened to be at Mike’s house and answered the phone. To pass the time before Mike came to the phone he mentioned that the main news in Toronto was about the number of fires breaking out in old buildings. Some people were pointing the finger at vagrants and squatters, people they said were lighting fires to keep out the cold and letting them get out of control. There was also some speculation that it was a result of failing companies going in for a bit of arson as an insurance scam. The Toronto Fire Department was investigating that possibility, alongside the idea that maybe there was some mad fire-raiser on the loose. All I could offer, a little lamely, in reply was that since the Glen Picture House Fire in Paisley, Hogmanay 1929, the health and safety rules in the UK changed to make it very unlikely that there would again be any large loss of life caused by a fire breaking out in Scottish public gathering places.
When I finally got to speak to Mike he quickly agreed that the best option would be to sell the house, together with all its contents, and use the money for the benefit of our families.
Of course, as he was in Canada, making all the practical arrangements for the sale was left to me.
Some weeks later I phoned Mike again to say the solicitor had finalised the sale and I told him the figure, after legal expenses, that he would receive. He was quite happy with the outcome. Then he said he’d been thinking about Auntie Jean’s house and it brought back memories of the trips we’d made up north with our parents to see her when we were youngsters. I was taken aback, it didn’t sound like the Mike I knew at all, overcome by a wave of nostalgia. ‘It would be really great to look around that house one last time. I mean,’ he enthused, ‘I’ve been thinking of coming back to Scotland for a little holiday for some time anyway.’
This was news to me. And it did seem to me that if his Aunt Jean had meant that much to him, and he’d been planning a trip back anyway, surely he could have managed to come back while she was still with us. But of course I said nothing. No point stirring up bad feeling in families, especially between remote siblings whose connection was hanging by a thread anyway.
As it turned out, taking a direct flight from Toronto to Edinburgh must have been about as easy as catching a bus along Princes Street. He was here in no time, arriving late one cold night at the end of October. The trek into town from Edinburgh Airport didn’t appeal and he decided to stay overnight at the nearby Marriott hotel. Unfortunately, a fire broke out in the hotel and, as he told me later, Mike ended up, along with all the other hotel guests, standing outside in the freezing cold at four in the morning while fire engine sirens wailed and water gushed from hoses into the flames licking round a section of the building.
Despite the loss of sleep Mike still seemed cheery enough when the taxi dropped him off at my house. He was raring to go but, as I’d pointed out before he even bought the plane ticket, Auntie Jean’s house was already sold and new owners had moved in. According to the lawyer it was someone called Meikle.
I wasn’t too taken with Mike’s suggestion that we should just take a speculative drive for hundreds of miles up to Torridon anyway and see if the new occupants were around to answer the door and let us in. Nevertheless, after I’d phoned Torridon several times and got no answer that was exactly what he talked me into doing. I suppose I felt obliged to play the dutiful host, even while secretly hoping his trip would be over in a few days.
October had turned into November on that grey early morning when we settled into my little red ember-coloured Fiesta. There was a hint of garderers burning leaves, or farmers’ burning off stubble, in the air as we battered our way up the twisting roads, reaching Torridon by noon and proceeding up to the top of a narrow glen.
The little drystone wall surrounding the cottage had collapsed in places and the little croft was totally overgrown. The roof of the cottage itself was in a dire state of disrepair with holes visible and I realized how hard the solicitor must have had to work to find any buyer at all. It had clearly been well beyond Auntie Jean’s capacity to look after. I knocked on the door rather gingerly and was relieved when it was dragged open a little. A small, suspicious-looking woman peered out at me.
‘Hello, Mrs Meikle is it? You don’t know me, or my brother here, but our Auntie Jean used to live in this house. Unfortunately, as you probably know, she passed on recently. We wondered if, for old time’s sake, it would be possible to let us have one last chance to see inside the old house? It meant so much to us at one time.’
She eyed us up and down as if we were travellers offering to sharpen her knives. It was immediately obvious that we weren’t going to be invited in to share some coffee, scones, and reminiscences. In fact it was only when Mike admitted that he had flown all the way from Canada in the hope of seeing his dear old aunt’s house one last time that she reluctantly allowed us to pass over the threshhold. Once inside our polite enquiries as to her family and how she was settling in were met with frowns and monosyllabic answers. A traditional but’n’ben, there were only two rooms, both fairly bare, only a sagging bed and brown tallboy in the bedroom. It took no time at all to walk around. Standing in front of the cheerless hearth I was on the point of offering my thanks and farewells when Mike suddenly became quite animated.
‘There used to be a nice big rocking chair Auntie Jean let us play on, what’s happened to it?’
She led Mike out of the cottage and into a small rundown wooden shack at the back while I was left to watch through the cottage’s bedroom window.
When they returned Mike was still talking, his voice raised to an almost threatening pitch. ‘But why do you want to get rid of it, it fits in very well, and it’s very functional? When we stayed here for a few days it was a great source of entertainment.’
Mrs Meikle squinted at him as if dealing with a simpleton. ‘Hamish said it took up too much room. Too far to take it to a recycling centre. He wanted to arrange a Council pick-up. I told him we’re not spending his meagre gamekeeper’s pay on that kind of nonsense. Soon be Guy Fawkes Night, I told him. Come November 5th we’ll build a little bonfire round it and have a few fireworks. There’s one or two kids in the glen would like that.’
That seemed to do it for Mike, the last straw. Shocked, he trudged back with the little shuffling woman for one last look at the old chair and returned. As I stood at the door of the bedroom he gestured that we should go. Nodding a grim-faced brief goodbye to Mrs Meikle he hustled me back into the car.
As we drove away back down the glen I looked in the rear view mirror and saw thick black smoke billowing from the cottage. Mike saw it too. ‘I don’t remember that stingy old witch even having had a fire on in the place’, he said.
‘No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t’, I replied cautiously. But it was soon easy to see that fire was building from the back of the house. The whole cottage was quickly becoming engulfed in flames, and there was nothing to do about it.
‘I suppose we should be grateful we’d already sold it,’ said Mike. ‘Any house insurance required was up to that stingy Meikle woman and her husband.’
It had already been a long day. I‘d been driving a very long time and now the narrow Highland roads dotted with occasional passing places were starting to irritate me. As we came to a short stretch of moorland I said ‘Mike, I’m afraid I’ve been caught short. I’m going to drive the car off the road onto the moor and take care of business.’
The car bumped and crunched over a rough area of ferns and heather before I eventually brought it to a halt. I turned and reached for an old newspaper lying on the back seat. Sitting beside me I saw Mike suppress a chuckle.
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘and I forgot, the battery in my phone’s dead, I should have recharged it yesterday. Could you lend me yours for a minute Mike? I’d better phone the wife and let her know when to expect us back.’
But I could see Mike was looking at me suspiciously, as if I might have guessed something. Looking back at the burning cottage I have to admit that it had been running through my head that all it might take would be to dial 999.
Then I stepped out and walked away from the car, using the remote locking device on the car keys to lock the doors with Mike inside. He stared out at me, bewildered.
I took a couple of steps back towards the car and removed the fuel cap just as I saw him unclick his seat belt and start banging on the window. His shouting was muffled but still audible. ‘Don’t do it Zorro, it’s madness, you’ll never get away with it.’ But I already had my little cigarette lighter out and the newspaper was burning. It was too good an opportunity to miss. I dropped it in the petrol tank and ran for my life.
After the explosion there wasn’t much left of Mike or the car. I sent a text message to the police using Mike’s phone saying ‘I am addicted to arson. I’ve killed people. I’ve just burned down my Aunt Jean’s cottage and I can’t bear to live with myself any more.’ I thought it was a nice ‘Goodbye cruel world’ kind of text. I tossed his phone into the blazing mess.
I used my own phone to call the police and started to walk back towards some kind of civilisation. I resolved to make sure to tell the police that it had really been damned nice of Mike to push me out of the car before he decided to end it all. I’d tell them he’d always been interested in fires. He probably preferred a suicide like that, like the guy on top of a bonfire, to the rather more boring carbon monoxide method with the tube fixed to the exhaust pipe. I was pretty sure no-one was going to hold my feet to the fire about all this.
It was a pity, but Mike was just getting too close to drawing conclusions and sometimes, you know, you’ve just got to fight fire with fire. Starting fires in Holyrood Park and turning litter bins into braziers was fun, but I couldn’t really aspire to compete with the natural kind of fires they had in California or Australia or even the multiple episodes occurring in Toronto. Mike hadn’t been too upset about the accidental fire at the Marriott but, to be honest, I felt pretty unlucky not to have been there to watch.
And the way I see it now, he’s sort of sacrificed himself for the family; for me really. A bit like a martyr burnt at the stake. If he’d been a Hindu widow in the old days of suttee maybe he’d even have flung himself on the fire instead of having to wait for me to do it for him. Oh well, if Dante’s right about anything I’ll probably end up in the seventh circle, right in the middle of the Inferno. I suppose I might even like it. Thus spake Zarathustra, eh?
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