#legends of the brethren court
Text
There's this line in SoF where Jack goes on and says "the man who's been raising you is plotting some way to overthrow the current patriarch and secure the family inheritance of plundered treasure for himself" idk sth like that,the thing is;;;
---> I'm fine with overthrowing the patriarch thing but it's the treasure on that's interesting to me, like Teague does own one of the biggest mansions in Libertalia and it's design seems to be extravagant per description :/ but it didn't appear (to me) that he was influenced by the need to accumulate wealth; like in the movies he seems only focused on the Code/ the order and keeping of it and enforcing it upon other pirates and that applies to tPoF as well,
.... Sure he must raid enemy ships or hunt down merchant, treasure- laden vessels cuz ofc he's a pirate+ pirate lord+ pirate captain and has an "esteemed position" in the pirate society, and yeah he is a blood thirsty murdered too as per Jack in LotBC, but I thought he'd do what he does to preserve his image/ reputation/ keep crew satisfied and ultimately acquire more authority to enforce his decisions over others, but idk that sentence in SoF makes it seem like he likes treasure just for the sake of it and I don't like the idea of it being an inherited one either, didn't think he'd be interested in family belongings and thought he'd rather leave these matters to his other relatives :/, he just seems too educated and above that kind of thing :/
Summary;
Is Teague interested in typical pirate treasure- hunting?
#captain jack sparrow#young jack sparrow series#young jack sparrow#edward teague#pirates of the carribean#potc#legends of the brethren court
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finally read the last book of the Legends Of The Brethren Court series. I may have been screaming at Jack’s obliviousness during half of it. Especially the epilogue.
And poor Bill. They stopped by Tortuga before North Carolina, and he never made it back home as planned. He was so close.
#spoilers#legends of the brethren court#pirates of the caribbean#in all seriousness i spent a few years trying to find a physical copy before i gave up and turned to the ebook#it's frustrating to have all but one in physical form
1 note
·
View note
Text
sometimes people will say to me "oh but in canon –– !" metaphorically i am putting a finger to your lips. i make stuff up. it pleases me.
#sometimes it's the game of the day to construct elaborate threads between various canonical elements and sometimes.#the story serves me not the other way around.#which one will you get ? guess.#ooc. ( ࿐ྂ ) lesjibbities dangereuses.#not so much here as my multi / lizzie because esme's canon is comparatively unknown.#it only rlly happens r.e. legends of the brethren court or dmtnt#which are TECHNICALLY more canon than my stuff but is it really ? let's think.#who do we trust ... a pirate nerd... or a mouse moneygrab (the answer is me)
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Made the realization that Wind matches a lot of Jack Sparrow quotes so enjoy.
(Wind talking to the chain)
Wind: Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. I know I’m crazy, therefore I’m not crazy, isn’t that crazy.
-
Wind: It’s not so much the destination as it is the journey.
Legend: No it’s not its 100% the destination.
-
(Wind doing something very epic)
Wind: Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing it again.
-
(Time being upset about fierce deity)
Wind: The problem is not the problem; the problem is your attitude about the problem.
-
Linebeck: How the blaze did you get off that island?
Wind: When you marooned me on that godforsaken island, you forgot one very important thing, mate. I’m Link hero of the Wind’s.
-
Wind: I have no sympathy for any of you feculent maggots and no more patience to pretend otherwise. Gentlemen, I wash my hands of this weirdness.
-
Tetra: The world needs you back something fierce!
Linebeck: A dark shadow has appeared and let blackblooded monsters into the sea and, they control the Ghost Ship.
Niko: Their taking over the sea!
Gonzo: The song has already been sung! The brethren court is called!
Wind: I leave you people alone for just a minute and look what happens, everything's gone to pot!
-
Legend: Who is this traitor?
Four: Not likely one among us.
Hyrule: Where's Wild?
Wind: Not among us.
-
(Lifting up a hourglass and dancing around)
Wind: Look what I got! I have a hourglass full of sand, I have a hourglass full of Sand and guess what’s inside.
(Everyone looks as him dumbfounded because their in a hostage situation)
-
Spirit: You’re mad.
Wind: Thank goodness for that because if I wasn’t this’d probably never work.
-
(During the events of lu)
Warrior: Yes, the rum is gone.
Wind: Why is the rum gone?
Warrior: One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Army is out looking for me. Do you really think that there is even the slightest chance that they won't see it?
Wind: But why is the rum gone?
(Later during the war of ages)
Wind: Captain!
(Turns to Tetra)
Wind: Hide the rum.
-
(One Tetra’s Ship)
Sky: Zelda, will you marry me?
Sun: I don’t think now is the best time!
Sky: Now may be the only time! I love you. I’ve made my choice. What’s yours?
Sun: Tetra! Marry us!
Tetra: I’M A LITTLE BUSY AT THE MOMENT!
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu#linkeduniverse wind#linked universe wind#lu wind#linkeduniverse warrior#linked universe warriors#lu warrior#linkeduniverse legend#linkeduniverse four#linkeduniverse hyrule#linkeduniverse time#linkeduniverse sky#linkeduniverse sun#linkeduniverse tetra#linkeduniverse spirit
292 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, I've never made a post in my life but i feel like sharing ye know?
Anyway
So I've been brewing something stupid in my head for quite some time, journey to the west but pirate-ish. Now let me explain, ever since the isekai'd to the west story i thought "man, pirate reader would be lit" and I've never stopped thinking it. And i would love to write a story like it myself but unfortunately i have the writing skill of a new born so I'd cringe the minute i see my own writing, so bare with me as i very poorly write a bare bones insight.
So imagine yourself as a legendary pirate lord ok, you're top dog of the high seas. Part of the brethren court, 9 pieces of 8 type shit, you captained fleets and all that. But you're old now, you don't have the same oomph as ye used to. So its the day of your hanging, you stand there at the gallows but you're happy as you've lived a good life, grand even. You get hung in front of hundreds of people and your crew, now you expect to be somewhere like the sea of the damned or Davy's locker or even on the Flying Dutchman but instead you're on some cloudy plain of existence and before you is Calypso. She's like "your jobs not done" and here ye are suddenly in a world of mystic shit and demons while the goal of sailing a monk and his strange companions to the west.
Now here's where things get interesting, after all journey to the west is a very land based adventure which is why this world is almost completely ocean. Can't have a pirate on land, thats just dumb.
You first meet the monk while out fishing with the hunter at the beginning of the story, you see the monk struggling to keep his little raft afloat and you're like "bloody hell.." already dreading this task. You save him, the hunter give you his fishing sloop to go on your new adventure. Now the part where you find wukongs buried butt under a mountain is kinda funny, because he's of course still stuck at the bottom of it, the only problem is with the world being covered in more water than usual this means wukong submerged probably covered in seaweed and algee.
Then so on and so forth, you get the idea.
I'd also like to note that you're not joining the Buddhism, you're a pirate after all and the only taste in gods is your encounter with Calypso and that was enough for you. So while their goal is to go west and get the scrolls, you on the other hand? Going back to the grind of rags to riches baby. Time to become an even bigger legend than last time.
Welp hope you enjoyed reading (or skipping this completely, idk, i aint you)
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
The First Brethren Court binds Calypso in her bones.
Calypso
"Calypso. An old legend."
"No. The goddess herself, bound in human form...fury or favor, you not be knowing, but when the mood strikes her, and it's her favor she bestows on a lucky sailor, well, you've heard...legendary."―Sao Feng and Hector Barbossa[src]
Calypso was an ancient goddess of the sea and daughter of Atlas. In the days of myth and legend, the beautiful Calypso ruled the seas, and all sailors both loved and feared her, even though the sea goddess also had mortal blood. As a heathen goddess, Calypso was able to take many forms, but she chose the form of a crab, since the crab was attributed by pirates as her symbol.
According to different versions of the same story, Calypso fell in love with a young sailor and mortal pirate named Davy Jones. And she rewarded that love by giving Davy Jones the Flying Dutchman as well as the sacred task of collecting all the poor souls who died at sea, and ferrying them to the worlds beyond. Because of that love, Davy Jones agreed to set foot on land once every ten years, where Jones would be free to come ashore to be with Calypso. But when Davy Jones came ashore after his ten year duty, Calypso was nowhere to be found, for the seas are fickle and unpredictable, as was the powerful goddess who ruled that domain. So Davy Jones plotted with the First Brethren Court, unbeknownst to Calypso, where they would tear the rule of the seas away from the sea goddess and imprison her into human form, the body of a mortal woman.
Over the years, the imprisoned Calypso assumed the alias of a voodoo priestess named Tia Dalma. It wasn't until around the War Against Piracy that she gained an opportunity for freedom. Tia Dalma/Calypso needed all the Pirate Lords in order to assemble the Brethren, so they could release her from her human bonds. The voodoo mystic resurrected Hector Barbossa and tricked him to retrieve Jack Sparrow from Davy Jones' Locker and summon a fourth meeting of the Brethren to release the goddess. But those Pirate Lords grew fearful, for when they convened, they only argued and fought among themselves, afraid of Calypso's anger at their treachery. While the Brethren convened, Jones reunited with Calypso, who intended to be free and punish the Brethren. However, during Barbossa's incantation which undid the spell that bound her to mortal flesh, Calypso learned of Jones' betrayal.
Now free, Calypso's wrath became horrible to behold as the enraged goddess gathered the waters of the ocean around herself in a massive maelstrom, where a battle raged at the center of it. And it was in that very battle that Davy Jones' heart was pierced and he died. With his death, Davy Jones was welcomed back into the dark embrace of the sea; for Calypso in her own way still loved him.
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you have any thoughts/theories about the armor of chthon? It strikes me as odd bc I thought chthon and the elder gods were particular to Earth and that the twilight court were more cosmic but I could be wrong
We don't actually know where the Twilight Court are from. They live in what appears to be a space station, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. There are plenty of characters who live or operate in outer space, but were born on Earth, including the current Avengers.
The Twilight Court was created by Myrddin, but we don't know anything about Myrddin's background, and his true identity remains a mystery-- "Myrddin," itself, is an alias. In Timeless (2023), Mordred confirms that she and her brethren were created to embody Arthurian legends, so I assume that Myrddin chose his name for the same reason. My best guess is that Myrddin, like Kang, is a time-traveler who was born on Earth and has witnessed many different periods of Earth's history. It would explain why the Twilight Court is inspired historical and mythical figures from Earth, and how they came to possess Earth-born magical items like the Armor of Chthon, or even Mordred's tarot deck.
My personal theory is that Myrddin is just another divergent iteration of Nathaniel Richards. If he can reinvent himself as an Egyptian pharaoh, why not a Welsh wizard?
Chthon and the other Elder Gods like Gaia, Oshtur and Set are native to Earth. They and their progenitor, the Demiurge, were born from this planet and they generally stay grounded to the Earth in some form-- most of them inhabit the Inner Planes, which are magical dimensions tied closely to Earth's material plane. This creation story was reiterated very recently, in Immortal Thor #5, to explain Toranos's origins.
Unfortunately, Chthon himself is a chronically misunderstood character. It's very easy to misintepret him as a Chthulu-esque cosmic horror, which is more or less what happened in that awful Carnage series. I'd like to think that MacKay, whose been writing Doctor Strange comics for a several years now, would have solid grasp on Marvel's magic lore, but you never know.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
the light dragon's tale
A tale for little Hylians, passed down the generations, of the events that faded into myth.
(big BIG spoilers for the dragon's tears, ye have been warned!) (can also be read on ao3)
In the long ago beginning, there was a princess crowned with gold.
Her eyes shone as bright as the stars, as vibrant as the newly bloomed spring. She bore the name that has been passed along with the Goddess’s blood, from mother to daughter in a long line that stretched to the beginning of time.
Her mind was sharp and her council wise, for she was the Chosen of Nayru, blessed with Wisdom. Her heart was generous and her spirit true, wilful in all her endeavours, for she was beloved by the Goddess Hylia, protector of the sacred Light.
Sudden was her appearance at the court, yet swiftly were suspicions shed in light of the good her careful thoughts and actions brought. She was soon bequeathed with the highest honours by the Queen, her distant kin, and allowed to sit and fight by Her Grace’s side.
Yet the true purpose of the princess’ arrival soon revealed itself.
A man hailing from the desert, in every way alike a viper hiding in the sand, sought to usurp the royals’ power. With a treacherous blow he fell the Queen, and her husband, the King, was helpless to put a stop to his destructive path.
The princess alone remained to stem the evil that had taken root in their realm. She knew the evil was merely kept at bay by the King’s last breath, and that it was plotting the youthful Hyrule’s demise still. She knew of the upmost sacrifice there was… and she knew that to make such a vow was to lose herself, never to return.
Even so, the princess implored the Goddesses. She prayed devoutly for the safety of her people, to rid the realm of the bane that plagued it. The Goddesses answered her prayers, bringing forth her birthright, the Light within her. It erupted from her every fibre as the princess cried, then roared, in grief and agony. It shone bright over Hyrule as a fourth dragon emerged from the princess’ last mortal moments, shooting for the skies to join its brethren. It trails after it still, bathing the land with its sacred protection.
And so the princess became the spirit of Light that watches over Hyrule, a beast wild and beautiful and full of woe. For eons past has it worn its path though the skies, and for eons future must it wear it still… until Hyrule, at last, stands stronger than evil.
“... and that is why we must show gratitude to the Light Dragon whenever it passes above us. We must thank the ancient princess who gave herself wholly for her realm, and pray that we grow stronger so that her sacred mission may end. Do you understand, Zelda?”
Zelda nodded, with all the solemnity of a four-years-old. “Yes, Mama.”
“Sweet child. Let us pray, now.”
Zelda’s eyes widened, twisting in the saddle to meet her mother’s serene gaze. “Pray on the horse?”
The Queen laughed. “Why ever not, love? The land and its inhabitants are full of tales, echoes of legends past. We must travel and acknowledge for ourselves the realm’s bounties, as well as its sufferings. Only then will Sweet Hylia see our devotion to our people, and allow us the use of the sacred Light.”
“Father says the Goddess believes in order and dis-ci-pline,” Zelda said, stumbling over the last harsh word. "But I'm not very... dis-ci-plined."
“Your father is not entirely in the wrong,” the Queen replied, stroking her daughter’s hair with the hand not handling her horse’s reins. “Discipline is very close to devotion. But it is not the same.”
“No?” Zelda was growing agitated on the saddle, unsettling the white mare. "How not?"
The Queen halted the mare with a gentle tug of the reins. She drew Zelda close to her heart and shushed soothing words as she rocked her child.
“Have no fear, my dear Zelda. I will guide you through your enlightening.”
Zelda breathed out and pressed her little nose in the crook of her neck, the way she usually sought haven. Then, she planted her little hands on the Queen's shoulders and pushed back, drawing herself tall in her mother's arms. She nodded firmly once more, green eyes meeting green eyes. The Queen smiled with such love that she glowed with it, and perhaps Zelda did, too.
After that, Zelda sat back against her mother. With a little press at her flanks, the mare resumed her walk back towards the castle. As much as she enjoyed their leisure rides through Hyrule Field, the Queen had matters to attend to. And a little one was in need of a nap, judging by the yawns she fought to subdue.
“Alright, Mama,” Zelda said sleepily. “Can you tell me again about the Light Dragon?”
The Queen smiled. “Of course. When you are old enough, I shall take you to the Sacred Springs. We shall pass through the Duelling Peaks, which are said to have been cleaved by the Light Dragon’s path. Some say the princess’ roar of anguish still echoes there…”
#the legend of zelda#the legend of zelda lore#zelda totk#zelda totk spoilers#dragon tears#twilys writes#hyrule folklore#light dragon
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blood of the Dragon
Summary: Lord Viseryon Draecyr and his dragon blooded companion Lady Aelora arrive in Rohan seeking refuge for a week. No one knows the true reason they're there, but many are suspicious of the lord's intentions.
Along the way, Gríma finds a sort of kinship with Lady Aelora.
Chapter 1
A Dragon in Meduseld
It was said that the scales of dragons could be used to create life.
The dragon blooded were volatile yet loyal creatures said to be gifted with the beauty of elves and the strength and cunning of their dragon kin. Their blood red eyes were a distinctive trait of the race, as well as the talon-like nails that grew from their nail beds, blending with the tips of their fingers. They were not scaly, nor were they slimy, and they did not sprout bat-like wings from their backs. Not much was known of what exactly it was these creatures inherited from their dragon kin.
The practice of creating a dragon blood was said to have been banned amongst sorcerers and alchemists across Middle Earth, for the life it created arose from a corruption of nature’s will. Those who defied their brethren to create such a creature often held ulterior motives - they created out of their need to play God and acquire power that was never theirs to begin with. And so, those who created a dragon blood were often banished from their homes… or they were put to death.
Never did Gríma expect to see a dragon blood in his court.
Naturally, when he was informed that the alchemist Lord Viseryon Draecyr and his dragon blooded companion Lady Aelora Draecyr would arrive at Meduseld he was suspicious. Sorcerers using their dragon bloods to carry out political assassinations was not entirely unheard of, in fact, it was part of the reason the practice of creating a dragon blood was banned. They were loyal, if their creator asked them to kill for them the companion often would.
The duo had clearly traveled far, seeing as Lord Viseryon was from Gondor. They had to have been traveling for three days straight, and for the most part, they looked like it. The usually well kept lord seemed exhausted, with dark circles under his silver eyes, and his usually slicked back silver-blond hair was frizzy and hastily pulled back into a ponytail. His dragon blooded companion seemed to fare better, with the only thing out of place being her similarly colored hair, which was braided back but similarly frizzy. Small bits of her hair fell from her braid and framed her face nicely. Lady Aelora was all around much more radiant than her creator.
Gríma quickly found the legends surrounding dragon bloods to be true. Lady Aelora was quite beautiful, with fair skin and striking silver-blonde hair and solemn red eyes. He was sure he was leering at her - or at least that’s what he assumed since any time he so much as glanced at a lady in court he would be accused of leering - but he certainly knew he was staring. She stood silently beside her creator with her hands folded in front of her, and although there was a sadness behind her icy expression, he could almost detect a loathing. Whether it was directed at him (which would hardly surprise him, most women stared at him with loathing), or the king who sat beside him, or the man she arrived with he would never know. One thing was for sure, there was something that lurked beneath her solemn and serene surface. It intrigued him.
For a moment he let himself get his hopes up, and at that he had to swallow a bitter laugh. Lady Aelora would never look in his direction if he wasn’t seated next to the king. Even then, she shared a last name with the Lord Viseryon, and while relations between a creator and their creations was frowned upon and even forbidden, Gríma wouldn’t put it past the treacherous lord. After all, he defied everyone in creating her and got away with it. He knew better than to underestimate and trust a man like him.
Ironic, wasn’t it?
Still, out of curiosity he would grant the lord whatever he pleased, and perhaps he would get something in return. Or he would lose another political rival. He considered both options a win.
“I apologize, King Théoden, for the intrusion. You see, my companion and I have been traveling for days… our home was…” Lord Viseryon trailed off, hiding hurt in his voice. Lord Viseryon talks too much, Gríma concluded as he tuned him out. He already recognized what the lord was doing - dressing up his story as a means to hide his true intention and invoke pity - a play Gríma was very familiar with seeing as he often used it himself. Despite the theatrics of her creator, Gríma’s attention was stolen by Aelora, who managed to enchant the advisor without uttering a single word. He wasn’t sure what brought the duo to Edoras, but against his better judgment, he was determined to find out.
Luckily for him, King Théoden was hanging onto every word that left the lying lord’s mouth. For a moment Gríma wondered if the king knew of what truly happened to Lord Viseryon - why he hadn’t been at a gathering in Gondor for years, why no one spoke of him anymore. It was as if the lord had ceased to exist.
“We humbly ask for a place to stay in our time of need, your highness. For the roads have grown perilous - lawless - as of late.” And there it was. Of course, Gríma never would have expected the lord to be so forward and obvious with his plans, but he assumed Lord Viseryon was not the brightest lord in Middle Earth. This was certainly going to be interesting.
The tired king glanced at his advisor, finding himself unable to answer the lord without the opinion of Gríma. The mere idea of having to think on his own was exhausting, and with his illness setting upon him again it seemed nigh impossible. All he could think about was the burning in his eyes and lungs, and the way his heart beat irregularly in his chest, and the ache in his bones. When he was able to think clearly, he found himself wondering if he was even fit to rule in this state.
This was, of course, by design - unbeknownst to the king.
The raven haired man beside him paused for a moment, taking one last look at the lord and lady before leaning over to whisper in the king’s ear: “Let them stay, they have traveled long enough.” His eyes flickered to Aelora, and for a moment her intense eyes held his gaze. Oh yes, this time he certainly saw something stirring within her. Had she been watching him?
He stood, still staring down at Aelora, and gathered his cloak. There was a chill in the air, and it was getting rather late. He could see the shadows growing longer and the sunlight shone a darker golden color. There seemed to be a shift in Aelora’s demeanor; her hands dropped to her sides and she was focused squarely on Gríma, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. For a brief moment, his heart swelled with pride - who was leering now?
No, he thought to himself, she must be tired. He could feel the disappointment as Aelora dropped her gaze once more, returning to her earlier stance but this time briefly looking at her creator. He shouldn’t be surprised, his own staring probably scared her away like it did everyone else.
“And how long did you intend on staying?” He inquired, somehow still finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the dragon blood. Viseryon took a step forward, most likely knowing the king’s advisor wasn’t looking at him, and crossed his arm across his torso in a half bow. Gríma knew the narcissistic lord wanted his attention, and for a moment he wondered what would happen if he didn’t give it to him. He hoped the lack of the spotlight would drive the lord mad.
“Only as long as it takes for our carriage to be fixed. From the looks of it, we should be gone by the seventh day.” Viseryon claimed, to which Gríma nodded and looked back to King Théoden.
The king appeared to be half asleep in his throne, and he gazed upon everyone with tired eyes. His advisor silently encouraged him to speak, but he could not find the strength to do so. Each breath took too much from him, the thought of speaking was nauseating. King Théoden solemnly nodded.
“Seven days it is then.” Gríma confirmed. “I’ll have the castle staff prepare rooms for you both.” There was a sudden, almost violent shift in Viseryon’s demeanor. He wondered what it possibly could have been about.
The lord let out a small sigh and all of the sudden tension in his stance melted away. He took another step forward and bowed properly, only addressing King Théoden and looking right past the raven haired advisor.
“Thank you, your highness.” The lord’s words fell on deaf ears seeing as the king was too far gone in his pain to hear him, and Gríma’s attention was stolen by Aelora, who coyly curtsied and locked eyes with the advisor once more.
It had to be some sort of trick - a tactic to distract him and throw him off of their track. No woman would ever willingly look at him like that… he would have to keep tabs on her and see what she was up to. With the king seeming sicker than he ever had been before, he figured that would give him a few days to do as he needed. With one last glance at the duo, with one last look shared between him and the dragon blood, he turned on his heel, his cloak billowing dramatically, and helped escort the king back to his chambers.
✵✵✵✵✵
Lady Aelora seemed to be a quiet girl, preferring to stay out of everyone’s way and only really spoke when spoken to. She enjoyed sitting alone in the courtyard with her books or embroidery. The day before she found herself amongst the other ladies of the court who seemed surprised by her presence, wearily spouting their introductions before taking over the space. They would gossip amongst themselves while someone gently played the harp in the background. He noticed Aelora subtly tapping her fingers along to the tempo of the music. She seemed to be able to hold her own in conversation with those women rather well, laughing along with them with a sweet laugh that reminded him of a bell. He could tell she was raised amongst the noble men and women of Gondor - she fit right in with the other lords and ladies.
Although, he did wonder if she knew what the others said about her, how they would give her odd looks and keep her at arm’s length when around her, never truly considering her “one of them.” The other women seemed to almost prefer not speaking or looking at her. He knew exactly what that was like, although in recent years it seemed like everyone was much more open with their disdain for him. They called him “wormtongue” to his face now instead of behind his back, often using it as a title or - even worse - in place of his actual name.
The people of Edoras often acted like they would rather die than be near him, not that he minded. Over the years he’d grown accustomed to the strange looks, and the way others would cross to the other side of halls when they’d see him coming. It hardly bothered him anymore.
He could sympathize with her, though - after all, he knew exactly what she was experiencing. He was sure she was used to it as well, she was a dragon blood, and no amount of odd excuses could hide that fact from the world. She must have lived her entire life this way, never truly being able to be close with anyone other than her creator.
What a miserable life that must be, he thought, stuck with Viseryon as your only friend and companion. Really it was no wonder Aelora seemed so at peace when by herself.
Gríma also noticed that she would go about her day without interacting with Viseryon. He would have expected her creator to lurk around her, or at least the other way around, but it seemed she spent her days unbothered by what the bratty lord may be doing. She was alone, but she seemed to thrive in her loneliness. He assumed being alone was better than the other option, better than the whispers and the hurt - being treated as the ‘other.’ It was no wonder she enjoyed the silence, the peace that came with being alone. He wondered how she dealt with the empty feeling that came with being alone. Perhaps it was because she was always occupying her mind, but he would never know for sure.
She hardly seemed concerned with the state of their carriage, only going once the day before to check on the progress with Viseryon before returning to her usual mundane tasks, which was slightly concerning to her raven haired admirer. It made him wonder if she was restless at all - it made him wonder if she had other business in Edoras that she hadn’t attended to yet.
He found it hard to keep convincing himself she was up to something, and he worried for a moment that perhaps Aelora was a red herring - a pretty distraction for him to chase around and get lost in his thoughts over. He dismissed that idea almost entirely, determining that Lord Viseryon wasn’t smart enough to think of that, and from what he knew, the obnoxious lord was too busy terrorizing others to get even remotely close to the ill king.
It had been three days since she arrived in Edoras, and she had yet to do anything worth noting so far. She seemed to have a routine that she followed closely; each day he would find her near the feast hall in the morning, where she would take a single green apple and stand silently beside Viseryon while he rambled on, before excusing herself and heading to her room. From there she would retrieve whatever activities she would use to keep herself busy for the day and head to the courtyard, and there she would stay until the sun would begin to set.
Yet that day, she seemingly broke her routine. When he followed her from her room that morning and she took a completely different turn than she usually did it completely threw him off. She walked right past the courtyard and out the front doors. Clutched in her hand was a leather bound book and a quill. She made her way down the steps and towards a small clearing just behind Meduseld.
She stood out amongst the sea of green, in her black and red gown with her silver hair. She shone like a beacon, and it was hard to miss her. She waded through the tall grass to a large, bare tree that had lost all of its leaves to the chill. It was old and twisted, and its bark had turned pale in the sun. The tree must have been dead, but that didn’t stop Aelora from sitting at its base. He watched her closely from the shadow of the hall on the hill, hoping she wouldn’t notice him. For a while all he could see of her was the top of her head, with the breeze revealing more of her every so often. She wrote for hours, only stopping for a moment when a court musician stopped and chatted with her. He could have sworn she glanced his way a few times during this conversation, and for some reason it made him feel uneasy. She was polite and even laughed at a few of his jokes, before he went on his way, and she went back to her leather bound book which she wrote so furiously in. That was another sign that she had been raised like any other high born lady, she could read and write.
“I don’t bite, you know.” She called out, and for a moment he was taken aback by the sound of her voice. He hadn’t heard her speak before. She had a regal voice that somehow reminded him of the sweetest song he’d ever heard. Surely she wasn’t talking to him. Her red eyes settled on his shadowy form, and she simply stared. “I’ve seen you every so often, I wasn’t sure if you were afraid of me, but I can assure you it won’t hurt to come sit with me for a while. I understand the curiosity… or do you prefer to lurk in the shadows?” She spoke with a jovial tone but he could tell there was more to her words.
Gríma stepped out of the shadows of the hall and into the sunlight. She didn’t gasp at his harsh appearance in the light, not like the others would. She didn’t speak either, though, and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad sign. He knew she had seen him before, but there was still a nagging insecurity deep down that she would treat him like everyone else did. He couldn’t have that happen when he needed to keep an eye on her. He inched nearer, the fallen leaves crunching beneath his boots.
“You’re a dragon blood.” He stated, still standing over her, trying to find a way to continue a conversation. She smiled wolfishly.
“How could you tell?” Aelora had a wicked playfulness to her that seemed to put Gríma at ease.
“Who’s your kin?” That question seemed to catch her off guard. She placed her quill in her book and closed it, placing it on the ground and standing. She was shorter than him by a few inches.
“Ancalagon the Black.” Impressive, he thought, very impressive. He wondered where Viseryon even managed to get one of Ancalagon’s scales.
“Really? I wonder what you inherited from him, certainly not your stature.” His tone wasn’t nearly as distinctively playful as hers, in fact, he spoke in his usual monotone. He worried for a moment that she might take his words the wrong way. The dragon blooded girl feigned being hurt, bringing a hand to her chest where he could see her blackened fingertips and nails. “Your hair is almost white…” He trailed off, bringing his hand up to touch it before stopping himself. He watched as her eyes flickered between his hand and his face.
“You seem knowledgeable, you should know my hair color is courtesy of my creator, Viseryon.” She stopped and gently grabbed his hand. Her touch was soft and took him off guard, he was so used to women - mostly one woman - recoiling from his touch. She brought his hand closer to the side of her head. “You can touch it if you’d like.” His eyes met hers and he was ashamed to say he felt something. It was a feeling he only had when he was around…
Her silver curls were softer than he’d thought they’d be, especially after seeing her that first day. His hand traced down the side of her head, gently pulling a tuft of hair forward with it, where he laid it over her shoulder. He found it hard to look her in the eye again, but he knew she was staring at him intensely.
“I know you know who I am, but you have yet to give me your name, king’s advisor.” She breathed. His eyes flickered to meet hers again before looking away. He focused on the tree.
“I am Gríma, son of Gálmód.” He finally introduced, bringing a smile to the dragon blooded woman’s face.
“It’s nice to have a name for my admirer.” She remarked, and silence fell upon them again. They both waited on baited breath, wondering what the other would do, both hoping the other would take the chance… It was Gríma who broke the silence.
“Does it get lonely?” She tilted her head at his question.”Being a dragon blooded, I mean. I see how others treat you.” She smiled, turning around to collect her book, before answering. When she faced him again, he saw something else in her eyes. She placed her hand on his chest, and in it was a piece of paper from her book. He paused for a moment, still unsure if she was comfortable with him touching her. His hand had barely ghosted hers when she pulled away, leaving the page from her book in his waiting hand instead.
“Of course not.” She began, trying her best to keep the conversation light. She brushed past him. “All I need is my creator.” There was a coldness in her voice, that loathing he saw when he first met her.
When he turned around she was gone.
✵✵✵✵✵
It was dark when Viseryon stormed down the halls of Meduseld. He often strut about the hall, acting as if he were king, much to the dismay of the staff. He always seemed to be worse at night, constantly mistreating the staff who would attempt to hand him new sheets or candles. He was an impatient, almost spoiled man, who felt the need to lash out at the world for whatever reason. He was rude, and thought highly of himself. Many attempted to avoid Lord Viseryon when they could, and those who did interact with him often wished they hadn’t.
The lord only had one thing on his mind, and it was that he couldn’t sleep. He mentally cursed the weaselly advisor for having the staff set up two separate rooms for Aelora and himself - the longer he was away from his dragon blooded companion the more he had convinced himself that Gríma had done it purposefully. Viseryon knew he needed to be rested for what was to come.
The halls were cold at night, and dark, with sparse torches lighting the way due to the straw roof. The stone steps were like icy daggers in his feet, but that would hardly stop him from getting what he wanted. As far as he knew, Aelora’s room was closest to that advisor’s. He wondered if she knew that when she spoke with him in the garden earlier that day, when she let him touch her hair. He wondered how long this had been going on - how long Gríma had been vying for his creation.
The mere thought of someone stealing something that was his made his blood boil.
He stopped at her door, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself before knocking. His knocks were gentle, unsure if Aelora was already asleep at this late hour.
“Aelora?” His voice was soft. He felt as if he was going crazy being without her. Ever since they arrived in Edoras she had been withdrawn. She hardly spoke to him when she was around him during the day, and now she sleeps by herself. In that moment he convinced himself she was cold and alone.
There was no answer.
He knocked again, this time harder.
“Aelora? Please, I need to be with you.” Again, he was met with silence. He banged his fist once against the door and shouted out. “Aelora!”
✵✵✵✵✵
His lips were heavy upon hers and his hands wandered around her body - feeling every inch as if to commit every curve to memory. Every now and then he would grip her hips and pull her closer to him, grinding his hardening cock against her, making her ache with need as she never had before. Her hands were tangled in his raven locks, tugging every now and then as a soft moan escaped her lips.
Her back was pressed against the wooden wall beside her bedroom door; only a measly few inches of oak shielded them from the watchful eye of the outside. No one would hear how she panted his name, nor would they see how his boney hand clung to her clothed pale breast. His body caged her in, pinning her in place as his shaking, slender fingers trailed to the lacing on her bodice. Slowly, almost in an unsure manner, he pulled the lace to undo the knot at the top of her dress. His hands felt frigid against her fiery skin, keeping her grounded in the moment when her head was buzzing.
She’d never done anything like this before.
The excitement of it all, the way it felt forbidden - oh it was too delicious.
When he had read the note Aelora had graciously written him during her time clearing before they spoke he was sure she was playing a joke on him. It was a relatively short note, laced with her usual sarcastic banter, but it was enough to frighten him and excite him at the same time.
To my admirer,
Meet me in my room after dark, I know your room is beside mine.
When the sun finally set and he was done with his duties for the day he rushed to his quarters, worrying for a moment what might happen. Their encounter in the garden left him thinking of her for the rest of the day, wondering why she felt so comfortable around him, wondering why she wasn’t repulsed. Her touch was burned into his skin.
Gríma’s lips left hers for a moment and she found herself desperately chasing him, wanting more, before he settled in the crook of her neck. He quickly pulled her dress’s bodice aside, exposing her breasts to the cool night air. He couldn’t help but run his hands up the length of her torso, squeezing her soft flesh as he bit down on her shoulder, eliciting a sigh from her - it was the sweetest sound he had heard by far.
He hardly knew her, and yet he felt as if he could love her.
He felt her body grow rigid at the sound of a knock at the door. His eyes met hers and he saw actual fear in them. They had nothing to fear, at least, that’s what he believed. In a moment of greed and pride, he continued to ravage her neck, pulling her close again. Let them hear, he thought to himself.
He paused at the feeling of her hands gently pushing him away.
“Gríma… Gríma, stop for just a moment.” She commanded in a hushed tone, and he obeyed, watching her with curious eyes. She didn’t attempt to cover up, and she still held him close despite pushing him away.
“Aelora?” Gríma couldn’t help but drop his head in frustration. It was Lord Viseryon, of course. Who else would dare bother Lady Aelora so late into the night?
Well, besides himself, of course.
Aelora held Gríma’s gaze for a moment, and he could tell she was trying to think of what to do. Another knock resonated through her room, this time louder. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and he could tell she dealt with him doing things like this often. Her hands began to slip from his shoulders, causing him to panic slightly.
No, no they couldn’t be done. He couldn’t just leave her like this.
Perhaps it was selfish of him to want to continue. He gently took her hands in his.
“Aelora? Please, I need to be with you.” Viseryon whined. The way he phrased that made a wave of unease come over Gríma. He hated to think of what the lord could possibly mean by that, surely it wasn’t the same as what they were just doing. He hoped it wasn’t.
Aelora’s hand slipped from his and she brought a finger to her lips, telling him to stay quiet. Viseryon hit the door this time, causing her to jump. He called out her name one last time, and Gríma saw her expression change from one of fright to that same icy expression she wore the day she arrived. He saw the loathing in her eyes. He was relieved to know it wasn’t directed at him after all.
“Not tonight, Viseryon.” She stated sweetly.
“Aelora, my dear, it’s been two nights. I haven’t been able to sleep without you.” Gríma furrowed his brow in confusion. She continued to stare at him.
“Please? I would like to spend another night alone.” She answered, practically begging to have her own personal space.
“You know you’re all I have.” Not for long, both Gríma and Aelora thought, unbeknownst to the other. “Just let me have this one night, then you can have the rest of our stay here alone, I promise.” She rolled her eyes, knowing every word from his mouth was a lie.
“Please go. I would like to sleep.” She finally said, this time much more sternly. There was a moment of silence, and he reveled in that silence. He watched how her expression changed as she returned to their moment - their moment of intimacy. He felt the urge to touch her again, bringing his hand up to her face. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. He wanted her more than ever.
He leaned close again, hoping she would reciprocate, and as she leaned in too…
Viseryon banged on the door once more, letting out a growl of frustration before storming off. They could hear him grumbling obscenities as he marched away, and she knew she was in for some sort of punishment the next day.
Gríma stared at her, unsure of what to do next. Much to his dismay, Aelora gathered her bodice, pulling the garment back over her arms and lacing it back up. She was done for the night. She looked back up at him, and for a moment he wondered if she could see the hurt in his eyes. As if to reassure him this wasn’t rejection, she leaned up and gently pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was short and sweet, but it was enough to set him at ease. When she looked at him again she had tears in her eyes.
“I want Viseryon dead.”
#lotr fanfic#lotr x reader#lotr x oc#grima wormtongue#grima wormtongue x reader#grima wormtongue x oc#asoif inspired#im sorry for this
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quick bare bones history lore for the universe Left Turn takes place in. Based on a small thing in chapter 9, I’ll put it under a read more if you want to ignore:
The mural in the court room is mostly propaganda, but Caleb will never know that. The Fae (as they are called by the Western European populace as they have several names and forms) never gifted magic to humans as the connection between their worlds was mostly unknown for thousands of years.
Humans developed a rare genetic mutation that allowed for them to have some control over the magic seeping into the Earth naturally. A mutation that only passed from mother to child, and often caused a whole host of issues as the human body was not meant to house magic, and especially not to use it. One could wager it was in response to the varying species of human predators that had started cropping up, a.k.a. the otherly evolved, as the capacity to carry magic in the blood, which wards the predators off, came part and parcel with the ability to control it.
When the Fae, an older, longer lived species discovered this connection to their world and the changes to the Earth happening because of it, they mostly just let it happen at first, largely ignoring their new neighbors, though this new place is become a popular vacation spot to cause mischief, chaos, and grief on what was seen as ‘lesser beings’. Then they noticed all these otherly evolved running around, most of them being resistant to magic and all of them feeding off people in one way or another, and that was worrisome but not really the Fae’s problem. Then witches started growing, slowly, in numbers, and while their mastery of magic wasn’t anything close to the Fae’s, the comparatively quicker reproduction rate and the human tendency to share and teach liberally over the course of generations was predicted to close that gap.
Thankfully, magic is poison to human kind, the use of which degrades the bodies not meant to be filtering and bending it to their will when they do just that. But, just as the knowledge was becoming greater and greater, a tolerance was building, each new generation able to do a little more than the last. And some have even been able to get into the Fae realm without needing a native letting them in, much to everyone’s horror.
So now we have a problem. Witches are getting smarter and stronger, they tend to make pacts with the powerful, magic resistant devils that prey on their unmagical brethren, have no love for the Fae who thus far have done nothing but cause mischief and chaos throughout human history under the guise of whatever legends the humans come up with in their thousands of niche societies, as is the Fae want, and the Fae Realm, a place full of wondrous things they really don’t want to share, is now under threat of being torn wide open like a beehive to the curious claws of a bear whose pelt is getting better and better at blocking out the Fae’s defensive stingers. What is a powerful race of tricksters supposed to do about that?
That’s right, you take on a several centuries long con to get those unruly witches under control, break up those blood pacts, wipe out the predators who won’t submit, and neuter both to the best of your ability. And it all starts with one little lie based on something that happened so long ago, no one but you can call bullshit on:
We gave you that magic and, honey, you owe us for it.
#monster dude and gym bro#none of this matters to caleb#who is a moron living in the 21st century and who is studying to be a physical therapist#the marriage and first born contracts are part of all of this#it wasn't something that happened for most of human history#also there was a large 'protect your fellow man' psyop for vilifying devils to witches#and a fun career of hunting these 'unnatural beasts' has only just mostly become extinct sometime in the 90's#anyways
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
One of the things that stuck with me while reading the Legends of the Brethren Court was this paragraph:
( I don't remember it's context by now but looked it up for quotation purposes)
" Jack shook his head as they walked down the stairs. He gazed lovingly at the Black Pearl, bobbing quietly in the water ahead of them. “Having a palace and a fort isn’t how a real pirate should live. A real pirate needs the smell of the sea and the feel of the wind in his hair. He needs to move quickly and take his world with him wherever he goes. He has everything he wants right there in the boards and beams of his ship.” "
First;; there's something just so vulnerable and intimate about it, I mean, regardless of the piece of wisdom and the logic/reasoning behind it; Jack had to share such sensitive information openly with people he hasn't known for that long, like why is he so trusting after everything he's been through so far? Isn't he afraid that info will be used against him some way? Hector was making it obvious that he has I'll will in store for Jack and the other is just oblivious to it....
Second ---> the Pearl is just one lucky ship to receive this amount of love from Jack , not even Amenirdis or Esmeralda or any other partner Jack could ever have will top the Pearl's place in his heart and I adore that for him
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
@thecodekeeper sent: Random headcanon time: What are Jack's feelings on his grandmother? How did the year spent living at her place effect him (short and long term). What is his understanding of generational trauma and how did it effect his desire (or lack of) to have a family of his own?
alright buckle up everyone we’re about to delve deep into Jack’s fucked up treatment at the hands of his grandmother as a child thank u Ace :)))))) i will put this under a read more but triggers will abound for child abuse and other unpleasant subjects:
so for some background, myself and Ace have essentially cherry-picked what we want from the young Jack Sparrow series and how it establishes Teague’s family and the dynamic with Jack. Jack’s grandmother ( who is awful by the way, I just want to state this right at the very start of this ) is present throughout Jack’s childhood and adolescence but there is a specific period of his life, between the age of 7 - 8, immediately following the death of his mother, where Teague in his grief leaves Jack with her for the better part of a year. so Jack is effectively just abandoned, very shortly after losing his mother, with no real explanation as to why Teague leaves and ends up in the company of a very violent, abusive, unstable woman for a whole year.
I have my headcanons as to what happened during this year period, but they are based in incidents that actually happened to Jack and that he references in the Legends of the Brethren Court series and Sins of the Father. it is mentioned that, when grandmama’s cousin prophesises that Jack will burn her ship down, she locks him in the brig of her ship. by the time of the Legends series ( which is set post EITC, pre-mutiny ). Jack also claims that she has tried to kill him on three separate occasions, and says that the ruby in her tooth gave him nightmares as a child ( hence why he doesn’t get one prior to DMTNT, thank you ). I don’t think I really need to elaborate much on how a year period spent with her as his sole caretaker and guardian would go fgksdfsd, we can all use our imaginations.
but if we’re talking specifically about the effects that this year had on Jack, the most significant one is that Jack cannot remember any of it. this was so traumatic for him that he literally blocked it out of his memory in order to cope. he can remember flashes of his treatment at her hands to know that it was bad, but he cannot recall specific incidences or moments. a lot of the abuse simply blurred together. the scar that Jack has in his right eyebrow was caused by his grandmother throwing something at him but, if asked, Jack cannot remember exactly what was thrown because it happened so frequently, this just happened to be one of the times when he wasn’t able to successfully dodge out of the way in time.
this year period also very much contributes to Jack’s abandonment / commitment issues, and also his issues in dealing with his emotions too because this happened almost immediately after Jack lost his mother. he was not allowed any real time to process what had happened and grieve before he was thrown into this very unsafe environment where he very much had to enter into and operate in survival mode from day to day. in modern verse, he also started school at this time too ( after being homeschooled by his mother up until her death ), so it was a lot of sudden upheaval and change that I really think feeds into the issues Jack has with expressing his emotions and dealing with them in a healthy way well into adulthood.
as for his feelings on his grandmother? he absolutely despises her. there is nothing ambiguous about the way he feels towards her which I think is because he ( fortunately ) didn’t spend enough time in her company for her treatment of him to become normalised, which is arguably what differentiates his feelings towards her abuse vs. Teague’s abuse ( and how he feels about her vs. what Teague feels towards her ). he’s still afraid of her, too, although a lot of those memories as to why are very much buried and repressed and remain that way. you would really have to dig deep in order to pull that trauma out for him to deal with, so for the most part it is just completely blocked out.
generational trauma is an interesting one because I think Jack is definitely aware that this abuse has been passed down through the generations of his family, although considering that Teague’s abuse of him is not as extreme ( not to say that it wasn’t damaging still, because it was ) as that year spent with his grandmother, Jack sometimes struggles to reconcile the idea that it was abuse even though it was only sometimes physical. but he recognises on some fundamental level that this is not how you treat a child, or at least that this is not how he would treat a child --- but naturally there is a lot of anxiety over whether he would still become like Teague were he to have a family. he is not convinced that he would be a good father at all.
he specifically says in TPOF that “Shipwreck Cove is no place to raise a child” in reference to his own childhood, and his attitude towards childbirth is that it is “dangerous, messy, and it took away one’s freedom” so, y’know, he doesn’t want kids we know this lmao. but I think to say that the only reason he doesn’t want a family is because he doesn’t want to be like Teague is definitely simplifying things. Jack has zero interest, like the idea of having kids is just not even on his radar regardless of verse. in many ways, he is much too selfish in his own lifestyle ( particularly in canon ) to think that having children is a good idea, so while he can be talked around, there has to be some real pushing involved to make it happen. in canon too, he just doesn’t want to become one of these sailors who marries and then leaves his wife in port to have children while he goes pirating. that is not the kind of life he wants for himself, his would-be wife or his would-be children in that situation. so in many ways, not wanting children is just as much about avoiding his kind of lifestyle and the danger and unpredictability it brings as much as it is avoiding having him for a father.
#thecodekeeper#&. and you want to turn pirate yourself. is that it? ( answered. )#&. depths few had ever begun to glimpse ( meta tag. )#&. as for raising? i more or less raised meself ( childhood. )#child abuse tw#jack is content to break the cycle of abuse just by adopting non-biological kids and treating them better lmao#having his own kids is a whole different ball game#there's a reason i've only successfully pulled it off once in eight years of writing him lmao
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
@slipperheiress said: "You're the captain? I've never heard of a woman commanding a ship before."
ESMERALDA SMILES AT THAT: they are, after all, a rare breed of creature, floating solitary and aimless among a SEA of men. she has been named unnatural, God's abomination and WORSE, for doing no more than shepherding the Caribbean's louts into fortune and security and fame. it is a position she assumes with tremendous weight, having a most respectable forebear, with a rather daunting pair of boots to fill.
❛❛ it is uncommon, yes. ❜❜
she counts herself LUCKY to know the likes of Mistress Ching, the only lord of the Brethren Court who had KIND WORDS for her ascent, and one of the few female captains this side of legend. most ladies beneath the black, as quartermasters and other lieutenants, exercised even MORE CONTROL –– though received less infamy in return.
❛❛ I owe it to my first mate. he convinced them to vote for a convent girl. ❜❜
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
14, 28, 30, 50
14. Do you send 1 long text or separate your thoughts into single texts?
Usually separate single ones. Long texts just look weird and annoy me for some reason 😂
28. What was the last thing you Googled?
"legends of the brethren court day of the shadow ebook"
I'm working on my birthday/Christmas list lol
30. Last song you listened to?
Soundtrack: Maarva's Rebellion by Nicholas Britell (on repeat rn)
Lyric song: Hall Of Fame (feat. will.i.am) by The Script
50. Is there one food you can’t live without?
I don't know what I'd do if I never ate another cheeseburger.
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Also, about the cameleon part, I agree with you. I believe that he was trying different methods to keep Jack with him. In the SoF Jack had run away and Teague had to show him that he didn't have any reason to be afraid of him, his fear and hatred of his family was unacceptable and stupid and he was "good", especially when he didn't annoy him, in order to persuade him to return home. I believe that he let him go in the end to emphasize the "I am a good dad, I let you go" and when Jack decides to return and he the abuse starts again he won't be able to use the "you forced me to stay with you!" card. (Petty spoiler: He uses some of this tactics again later, but I don't want to spoil you more)
In the pof he has total control of Jack. Since he works for him and he is his guardian/parent he can even decide how much money he will have, thus making Jack depend on him and unable to escape from him easily. So the "I am a good dad" mask slips and he shows his true self. That's how I see it, at least
I was not really going much into "in story explanation" yet. I was more focusing on the meta, which basically was "two different writers, two different approaches". Though, like I said, I didn't read Legends of the Brethren Court yet. The Price of Freedom is just SO LONG.
Jack didn't technically "run away in SoF" (he ran away before the action of the first book - The Coming Storm), but in SoF and Poseidon's Peak it is explained when exactly and why he ran away. Basically his reasons were family, his hatred of pirates, him feeling trapped and pressured to be something he was not, not feeling like he has a choice but being forced to choose what to do with his life, while he just wanted to be free. And the whole thing could be avoided if Teague just sat and talked with Jack just like he did in SoF (no he did not show him that Jack's hatred of his family was unacceptable, he just told him that he never saw him as less and that what Jack told himself his father thought about him was false). I do not think that Jack's hatred of his family was unacceptable or stupid, especially considering some of the things he says that specific members of the family did to him. His hatred of piracy is also not unacceptable. If I lived with pirates like this and only saw this, I would also not see pirates as good in general. Only when Jack left and had a life of his own, he realized that pirate is a word that describes any kind of person and that he can choose what type of pirate he can be. And he chose to be his own pirate. He is different than most of his family.
I suspect that Teague needed Jack to run away, so he would finally be forced to talk to him and show some development. Though this development was quickly murdered in the Price of Freedom where he is just a jerk all the time and I kinda wanna throttle him every time he appears. It is so weird to have so many portrayals of Teague. He is different in YJS, different in PoF, different in the movies. You can get a headache from all of those takes on his character.
Teague letting Jack go to me will always be a counter-commentary to the relationship between Laura and Arabella. Because Jack and Arabella are VERY similar and are in similar situations in those books. Then we see how Laura parents, and then we meet Teague, and we see his approach to parenting. I believe Teague was supposed to be the better version of Laura Smith, simply because he already was past the controlling part, while Laura just found Arabella again, and she could not see her daughter as an independent person and could only reinforce her parenting role by taking choices from her. Though that was a meta. In the story, Teague letting him go may indeed be a tactic to make Jack to come back on his own, so then Teague would not be blamed for his return and therefore any abuse will be seen as "Jack's choice" because he was naive enough to believe that smth will change. (And seriously, this is also super relatable to me).
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Legends of the Brethren Court: The Caribbean
3 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
suwoorai
SUMMER BREAK~
ectoavi
Alien Trash
biotinxtremehaircare
Biotin Xtreme Hair Care LLC
saphirehondabikes
Untitled