#master king is the bane of my existence
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I am not normal about the new update
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I have a lot to say about the Totk story, and how it fails, but there was one particular thing I felt the need to note that only occurred to me while I sat in my warm tub, contemplating my sad existence in this world.
It occurred to me that Zelda, a person from the future with knowledge of said future, does not try to attempt to find the hero or the master sword of Rauru’s era.
And while that might seem like a minor thing, I don’t think it is.
In Zelda lore, we have a few other instances where a hero does not show up, but it is not for a lack of trying. In the case of LttP, for instance, the people sought the Master Sword, a powerful weapon said to be the bane of evil, in order to defeat Ganon and his spreading evil. But they could not find the Master Sword, no matter how hard they looked. And eventually, they ran out of time, and had to turn to the Knights of Hyrule and the Sages to complete the job. This ended up with the near total genocide of the Knights, and Ganon only being sealed away into the Dark World as a temporary measure.
As for the Wind Waker, the people did basically nothing, because they had anticipated the Hero of Time to travel through time to their rescue. They relied on a hero who had rescued them before and therefore, through their negligence, failed to seek a hero of their era until it was far too late. By then, their only recourse was to pray to the gods to be saved from Ganondorf’s evil. Even after all of that, the King of Hyrule still sought the Hero of Time. It was only until he met WW Link that he realized that he could not rely on an ancient hero who was never going to show up.
But what about the Imprisoning War in Totk?
Zelda joins the ancient sages (who have no names or faces btw, I have no idea why they even bothered) and King Rauru in order to attempt to stop Ganondorf. But his power was too great, so Rauru sacrificed himself in a last ditch effort to seal Ganondorf for thousands of years, so that Link could defeat him in the far future.
At first, I didn’t really have any issue with this general set up. But as I thought about the other two No-Hero eras, I realized that Zelda really failed Rauru and his era.
Zelda’s time is not one of complete ignorance. They have history and legends, recorded for thousands of years. It was common knowledge that the Princess sealed the darkness, and the Hero took up the Master Sword in an epic battle against evil. It was so known, in fact, that that was their entire plan against the Calamity. Find the Hero, awaken Zelda’s powers, and then defeat evil.
And yet, when Zelda is forced into the past, it apparently does not occur to her to find the Hero of that era? If she remembered that the Master Sword could hurt Ganondorf, then surely she might think of seeking it in Rauru’s era?
Rauru’s era seems to be one of ignorance. They do not seem to know about the Master Sword, or the concept of the Hero. So I don’t blame them for not looking for a Hero or the Master Sword. But Zelda DOES know. And yet, she never brings up the possibility of a hero of that time? Like, imagine if they looked for the MS and the Hero but failed to find both, and THEN resorted to their war?
I am sure you could make all sorts of arguments as to why Zelda never bothers to mention the hero. Perhaps she didn’t know the Master Sword already existed in Rauru’s era. Perhaps she made all the connections too late. These are all technically valid, but do not excuse the writing of her character, which makes her seem kinda slow and pretty stupid.
She never makes the connection that Ganondorf is Calamity Ganon. She never considers that her actions in the past MIGHT change her future, perhaps even in drastic ways (she just decided she wanted to help the past, unsure if this would even affect her future). She and Sonia made a pretty foolish plan to confront Phantom Zelda, and then Zelda made no attempt to use her powers to rewind time to save Sonia. Zelda also never makes an attempt to use her sealing powers either, and while you can argue she lost her sealing powers at the end of BotW, this is also never brought up in Totk so it feels like a conversation is missing.
It feels like at every turn, Zelda makes the worst decisions left and right, with her only decent decision in being to restore the Master Sword in a sacrificial mental suicide. But even that is full of oddities.
How did she know that turning into a dragon would allow her Light powers to pour into the Master Sword? She is explicitly told that her Secret Stone amplifies her Time powers. As far as she knows, turning into a dragon will not enhance her Light powers in any way.
Furthermore, how did she know that clutching the Master Sword during the transformation would allow it to be embedded in her body in such a way that Link could access it later?
She took a HUGE gamble based on two facts: That the MS gains power as it absorbed sacred power, of which she possesses, and that eating a stone will make one a dragon forever.
That’s it, that is all she knows. She knows nothing else, and yet jumped into this huge risk. As far as she knows, she could have dropped the MS during the transformation, and then her sacrifice would have been for naught.
And it’s not like this is a knowledge Zelda. TP Zelda, for instance, is not a character who is fully explored, so any knowledge she possesses is fully believable. I don’t know what TP Zelda knows, so if she knows about the MS, then yeah, I believe that.
But BotW Zelda is explored more, and we know what she knows. And she does NOT know all the details about the dragonification process. She only knows eating a secret stone makes you a dragon. She got so unbelievably lucky in her guess that it borderlines insanity.
This world and this Zelda was not designed for this story, and it shows in a big way.
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She could care not for the busy streets of The Entertainment District and it’s copious inhabitants.
Too bright lights and bustling commotion made the Dhampir twitch in uneasiness — being out in the open fields of imminent danger should suspicions arise was the bane of her existence when the red head was riddled with under-the-wraps anxiety. She had sought out different realms through means of teleportation in order to broaden the horizon on her research, catching wind on the existence of demons that weren’t tied with The Fated Place’s blood — no, these demons were apparently oni, and feasted mercilessly upon the bodies of the mortal beings.
Interesting. It beats the repetition on Skaven experiments. When you’ve conducted research after research and written book after book on the same old subject for years, it progressively becomes tiresome and monotonous. Bethanne desired something new. Something fascinating. Something far away from her universe’s clutches.
—
“ Muzan..Kibutsuji…hm. “
Intriguing. The isolated portion of her castle had suddenly been drenched in blood and organs, the demon she had kidnapped and been torturing studying reduced to nothing but a deflated husk of flattened skin and burbling organs — simply by speaking his master’s name. Having seen this type of curse before, Betty’s eyebrows rose in astonishment and interest, smearing the blood off her journal to jot down more notes on the discovery. So this is the mastermind behind the oni creations..
—
“ Daemon(?)…not of any origin or a descendent..of Slaanesh nor Khorne…completely separate breed.. “
Mumbling aloud, the Dhampir continued to write her studies as she made her way down the night streets of Japan. Seeking out Muzan and finding no better option than to rely on her enhanced perception amongst the crowds, her pointed ears fidgeted underneath of her velvet hood, picking up on all sorts of sounds and music — but no sign of a demon. This was proving to be more difficult than she originally thought. How burdensome.
Closing her book, the undead being stood still and focused all of her energy into one singular spell — Locate Creature. Fortunately for the shaman, that pitiful demon shared cells of the demon king, giving her direct access to his whereabouts. Perfect. This was much easier than a game of hide and seek.
Humming in delight, Betty strolled through the crowds with her head held high. Following her wicked sense, one gloved palm finally perched upon a human-disguised Muzan — and the demon king was met with inhumane, emerald eyes lighting up the darkness under her hood.
“ My, my ~ … are you not a sight for sore eyes ~ ? I will admit, tracking you down would have been insanely more troublesome if it were not for your leetle demon servant giving up your name, “
Her Romanian-Russian accent chimed, hushed amongst the busy life of the living surrounding the two,
“ Muzan, nyet? Bethanne Drozdov, a pleasure. Shall we travel to a more silent space to converse, my darling ~ ? “
Painted, black lips stretched upwards to reveal a twin set of pointed fangs.
Yes, this would be an interesting night.
@calamxty
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Onderon found its way from Legends to Clone Wars. I noticed the changes immediately from the mounts to the storyline.
Onderon first appeared in Tales of the Jedi comics, with Disney clearly having borrowed from the storyline of Knights of the Old Republic . The first difference you notice between the two versions is the mounts. Clone Wars has the flying mount, the ruping.
Tales of the Jedi was a completely different beast with the drexl.
One thing I loved about the drexl was it’s unique and creative design. It actually looked alien being an amalgam of different creatures with leathern wings, mandibles, claws and a stinger-like tail. Especially when compared to the ruping, which feels less inspired and more like a slightly modified pterodactyl.
The drexl also played a crucial role in the history and storyline of Onderon. For starters, drexls aren’t native to Onderon but to it’s moon of Dxun. Every few years, Onderon and its moon of Dxun would get close enough for their atmospheres to form an oxygen bridge. Some drexls eventually took this bridge onto Onderon where they quickly became the apex predators.
As the image above shows, they often feasted on humans. As a result, if you wanted to look for someone on Onderon, they were easy to find given they all lived in one spot: Iziz. Their entire race sheltered behind the walls of the city for protection from the drexls and other beasts as over time they developed increasingly more advanced weaponry to defend themselves.
When dealing with crime, as punishment they would dump prisoners outside the walls into the wild which was tantamount to a death sentence since anyone outside Iziz would likely be eaten by drexls. But then, some of the exiles managed to survive in the wilds and more shockingly, domesticate drexls and turn them into mounts. Beastrider states sprouted along Onderon, and waged war on Iziz atop their drexl mounts.
A Jedi party led by Ulic Qel Drome came to Onderon, and while intially antagonistic towards the beastriders, they eventually learned that long ago, Sith Lord Freedon Nadd came to Onderon, and took over making himself a king. His descendants have been following in his footsteps practicing the ways of the Dark Side ever since.
Or in true Star Wars fashion, we learn that the insurgents are the good guys and the royals are the evil Sith lords which stands in contrast to the storyline in Clone Wars where the Jedi and the insurgents are trying to reinstate the sitting King Ramsis Dendup while the one who overthrew him, Sanjay Rash, was the villain, or the typical Disney storyline of “rightful king overthrown by evil usurper.” It all culminates in the Battle of Iziz where the beastrider states all united under Modon Kira launch an assault on the city.
In this epic battle that determined the fate of Onderon, the drexls that were once the bane of the existence of the Onderonians become the tools of their liberation (along with a little help from the timely arrival of Jedi Master Arca Jeth).
I’m sorry but Tales of the Jedi and storylines like Onderon will always have a special place in my heart. The drexls are also pretty metal beasts.
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Chapter 2: Safe Distance
Narrated by Bane.
Smuggler A: Come on, guys! The client offered a very good reward.
Smuggler A: We dig it out, and we can relax for a bit, spending the money on whatever we want.
Smuggler B: It’s been a whole week. Does the Frost-Stone really exist? I’m so tired!
Smuggling Ring Leader: Everyone, take a break for half an hour.
Narrator: On the edge of the Pigeon Forest near Lake Bovaly, a group of smugglers were mining some ore.
Narrator: I was one of them at the time.
Smuggling Ring Leader: This time the client is an elf! They say he’s a Light Elf nobleman from the Pigeon Capital!
Smuggling Ring Member: What’s so fancy about elves? Except the wings on their back?
Smuggling Ring Member: No one worships those elf nobles who know nothing but pleasure-seeking!
Smuggling Ring Leader: At least they have loads of money, like our current client.
Narrator: The client they mentioned was my master, Duke Darrell.
Narrator: A month ago, the Duke received a secret report that someone found traces of a new ore near Lake Bovaly.
Narrator: It could be the legendary Frost-Stone.
Narrator: Legends say the Frost-Stone granted the Snow Elf the power to leave the Pigeon Forest.
Narrator: I had no idea what power the Frost-Stone has, but it seemed very important to Duke Darrell.
Narrator: He hired smugglers to dig out the Frost-Stone in secret, while ordering me to infiltrate into the group...
Narrator: ...as precaution to watch over their actions and make sure the real Frost-Stone was brought back in one piece.
Smuggling Ring Leader: You! What’s your name? Right, Bane! And Issa! Make sure the fire is still burning!
Narrator: Most of the smugglers were old friends, except for two newcomers: Issa and me.
Narrator: Issa was very handsome, with light blond hair and dark gray eyes.
Narrator: But he was always wearing a hat, expressionless, and didn’t talk a lot. I could tell from his accent he’s from Apple Federation.
Narrator: Issa wasn’t a part of these smugglers according to my investigation.
Narrator: Even now, I had yet to find out his true identity or purpose.
Narrator: Was he here just to earn a share of the payment? I didn’t think so.
Narrator: Besides, he was always wearing a scarf. I felt there was much more to it.
Smuggling Ring Member: While the elves look elegant and noble, they’re... as selfish as men are.
Narrator: Not far away, the smugglers were still speaking ill of the elves.
Narrator: Unexpectedly, Issa spoke to me first.
Issa: Bane, what do you think of the elves?
Bane: Elves? They are a noble and elegant race that contributed to the glory of the Pigeon Capital.
Issa: Do you believe in the legend about the Snow Elf then? That the Snow Elf represents the elves’ love for humans...
Narrator: I was silent, thinking about how to answer.
Issa: Those fools are correct about one thing: elves and humans are equally ignorant and selfish.
Narrator: Issa turned his gaze on me.
Narrator: On that day, I noticed Issa’s scent. It was the faint scent of an elf.
Narrator: And I believed he might have noticed my scent, too.
Narrator: I was a half-elf whose lineage wasn’t that of the noble Light Elves’. An ordinary Wood Elf and a human were my parents.
Narrator: I had no wings. My ears were no different than the ones of a human.The only thing noticeable was a faint smell of elven blood.
Narrator: But I was an orphan who never saw my parents. I learned my story from the old woman at the orphanage.
Narrator: She showed me a picture of my mother, a beautiful and gentle lady, as if she were emitting a holy light.
Narrator: Granny told me that half-elves are taboo and cannot be recognized.
Narrator: There was once a half-elf prince born to a Light Elf King and a human woman. Even with such prominent status, he was expelled from the capital.
Narrator: Ever since that prince’s disappearance, the Pigeon Capital became increasingly hostile to half-elves.
Narrator: Still, I was proud of my half-elven heritage during my time in the orphanage.
Narrator: I listened to the story of Ludwig the Light Elf building the Pigeon Capital and many elven tales...
Narrator: All the while imagining my mother’s face.
Narrator: But I couldn’t tell anyone or be recognized by anyone. Even I didn’t know whether I was an elf or a human.
Narrator: Until that day when Duke Darrell found me.
Narrator: He said he recognized me as a half-elf among the kids at a glance, that I was different from them.
Narrator: He told me he could make my existence recognized by all elves, as long as I follow his orders and complete his tasks.
Narrator: Even though I looked nothing like an elf.
Narrator: Despite the man in front of me was hiding his scent, I felt he could be the same as I.
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
#mercury#shining nikki#chapter 2#safe distance#transcript#frost stone#ninir#ninir kingdom#elf#human#half-elf#snow elf#lake bovaly#pigeon forest#scent#identity
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Sonic Frontiers dlc 3 gameplay spoilers:
I did it.
I beat the master king koco trial (on easy of course).
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I'm so happy right now. I literally teared up when I defeated the knight titan. I spent all day fighting these 3 bosses. T_T
Some tips that helped me:
the stomp attack, quick cyloop and cross slash are your friends. charge the quick cyloop meter by spamming stomp attacks, then do a quick cyloop and then use cross slashes to have the titans quickly go into their second phase and save rings. I didn't use quick cyloop for giganto and wyvern on their second phases but I did use it for knight.
you can avoid giganto's laser attack by spamming the parry buttons and moving one of the control sticks left or right.
after parrying knight's sword attack, you can avoid the whole sequence thing where you ride the shield by attacking the shield once and then side stepping. you'll go behind knight and can continue stomp attacking.
take your time getting to wyvern's head before going super sonic to avoid losing rings. for knight, i just kept running and jumping around and got lucky that i didn't lose any rings before being able to climb their body.
the perfect parry. the bane of my existence today. sadly i don't have any tips for it other than to keep practicing until you get the hang of it. you're really gonna hate fighting wyvern because of this.
Now I can fight the last boss and see the ending!!!!! I'm very excited!!!!!!! ^_^
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Doom WADs’ Roulette (2003): Introduction
Ladies. Gentlemen and Others, welcome, to the Doom WADs’ Roulette, where I review the best WADs according to Doomworld’s Top 100 WADs of All Times and (eventually) Cacowards. Today, we are starting to check out top WADs of 2003. Here are the rules:
#1 We are playing on GZDoom (ver. 4.8.2).
#2 We are playing on Hurt Me Plenty.
#3 Vertical aiming is on.
#4 No infinitely tall monsters.
#5 The WAD will be downloaded from the archives. Otherwise, it will be downloaded from the author(s)’s website if possible.
#6 We are playing WADs shown on a Doomworld roster from top to bottom in that order.
#7 Lighting is set on Legacy.
#8 Deathmatch maps do not count.
Welcome to 2003 folks. The last year of Doomworld’s Top 100 WADs of All Time. We have come a long way, and now the time has come to look at the last ten WADs from the list before finally saying goodbye to it.
But before we will start checking the first WAD from the 2003 roster, let’s check out what happened that year first:
2003 was a year where a horse was cloned for the first time (in Italy), NASA sent the Spirit probe to Mars, and Bill Gates was still the richest man on Earth. Also – Return of the King was released by the end of that year.
As for video games: One of the greatest games of all time was released exactly six years (that day or day later) before that one comic that became the bane of my existence: Postal 2.
Loud noises simulating an applause
Asides from that, Prince of Persia got rebooted with the first installment of the new trilogy titled Sands of Time. Call of Duty was released, times before it turned into probably the most infamous Cash-Cows in the gaming industry. Max Payne got a sequel, and so did Silent Hill (the third game to be exact) among other games that were released in 2003.
And what about the Doom franchise itself?
Starting with info about Doom 3, it was supposed to be released on Krima 2003 but the development was taking longer than expected so the premiere was moved.
As for the other Doom news, the book Masters of Doom was published that year, alongside Collector’s Edition coming back for the Doom 3 promotion. Also, the source code of the first Doom game for the Jaguar was released, but who cares anymore for that disaster of a console.
As for the 2003 roster of WADs, I’m having mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, five of these WADs require ZDoom to be played, and judging by my experience with these kinds of WADs, I feel like I will be having a nightmare with these (not counting Void ‘cause I played this in the past and it was far from bad). On the other hand, two of these WADs that I’ve played before (the previously mentioned Void and Scythe) were very good so maybe I’m worried too much and they will actually be better than I think.
No worries for now, thankfully, since the first WAD requires Boom or MBF to be played properly.
In a moment we will take a look at it.
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Dark Souls 1 shows the undead as exiles. Thrown into the Asylum to go hollow, they seek their fates only upon escape. Reviled and mistreated by the living, at least one finds it a relief to continue his existence in Lordran.
It's actually quite nice here, you know? The Hollows don't care for a skinny old twig like me. I've got Yulia... And nobody pelts me with stones anymore. You're Undead, you know how it is. I was treated worse back at home.
It’s not that the living humans in the equation are acting without reason. Undead go hollow, sometimes without warning. Hollows attack anything and anyone more lively than they are. The repeated tragedy of losing a friend to hollowing is central to the game.
Dark Souls 2 takes it further, with a pattern of punishing the undead. Some of the cruelty is laid at the feet of the Iron King, whose domain seems to stretch at least from the eponymous Iron Keep through the Earthen Peak and Harvest Valley, at least as far as the Huntsman’s Copse. Some too belongs to the Baneful Queen.
In the Copse, the Iron King appointed both the Skeleton Lords to capture undead, and the Executioner's Chariot to punish them. The Chariot’s boss soul has a tidbit:
The chariot was created only to torment undead, and it took the form of a horrendous mad steed, a window into the soul of its master.
The ambiguous reference to a ‘master’ could point to the Chariot’s driver, or - more likely in my opinion - it could refer to the Iron King himself.
It’s easy to imagine that the origin of these cruel policies may have been a futile reaction to an outbreak of undead that wouldn’t stop. Exile has been used as punishment for centuries, and it’d be easy to read the exile of undead as punitive even if it didn’t start that way. While it’s not helpful to escalate the punishment in hopes of deterring further transformations - after all, very few of them chose the condition - it’s also very human to see something going badly, try to change it, and then try harder by the wrong means when the first attempts fail.
Huntsman’s Copse
In any case, the Copse is full of hollow prisoners and their equally hollow tormentors - the whip-wielding executioners, the fearsome sickle-carrying huntsmen, and the guards who keep them all from escape.
It leads me to think they have to be fleeing from somewhere, and the game doesn’t disappoint.
Moving closer to the Keep, we find out more about the Iron King’s hatred of the undead.
Harvest Valley and Earthen Peak
The player character opens a door that may have been closed for centuries, and descends into poison-filled mines thronging with hollow miners. Here too, the sickle-wielding huntsmen* arrive to inflict punishment. It seems the miners may have been trapped in their toxic labyrinth - was the Baneful Queen who ruled this region from the equally poisonous Earthen Peak using them for forced labor in the mines? For certain, if an undead is poisoned, they will eventually die - and eventually hollow, and eventually be unable to return even in that state. But what does the living queen care, if the undead still work the mines?
Iron Keep
The Bearer of the Curse finds the Iron Keep transformed. That beautiful castle is awash in lava and filled with hollowed guards, who still keep their posts despite the wrath of their king.
The Old Iron King is horribly transformed into a massive demon. It would certainly fit DS2′s pattern of people becoming monstrosities out of their own desires, visible with the Covetous Demon and Baneful Queen. Why should a king be different? It isn’t longing or jealousy that motivated him, but perhaps his punitive wrath.
I’ll refrain from speculating more until I have his soul.
It’s easy enough to imagine the journey in the other direction - a servant of the Iron King turned undead, enslaved under the Earthen Peak or forced into the mines of Harvest Valley. Escaping, the unfortunate may only flee into the Copse where they are pursued by hunters, who will at best return them whence they came. At worst, they’ll be hunted for sport or given to the vengeful Chariot, sent to Undead Purgatory to face destruction.
Perhaps an escapee or two may make it to Majula, which seems safe enough from the wrath of the Iron King. After the harrowing flight, what a relief it must be to find only an exile, a mirror of the original fate of the undead.
-
* Curiously enough, the huntsmen of Earthen Peak are described as being artificial undead; twice as curiously, they seem to be able to hex without a catalyst. I’m not sure what to make of that.
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The Only Reason
main masterlist
REQUESTED: "Hiii! I absolutely love your writing, it's really really good! I was hoping you could write a Nikolai Lantsov x reader where they both like each other but have to keep their relationship a secret for some reason but then someone discovers their relationship? Obviously you don't have to if you're overworked, I don't want to add any stress :)"
SUMMARY: nikolai and reader discuss their relationship and its future.
WARNINGS: lovely banter because i'm a sucker for it
WORD COUNT: 1165
A/N: thank you so much for your kind words, lovely anon!! so, this is slightly different from what you wanted but i hope it satisfies you nevertheless :)
"I told you we have to stop, if they find out, they-"
"They'll what? Strip me of my royal title? Unlikely."
"This is no joke, Nikolai, we'll-"
"Wait. We are not on first name basis. It's either handsome or sweetheart." he said looking thoroughly offended, "You only call me Nikolai when you are mad or way-too serious."
"Because i am serious, Nikolai." you spoke, accentuating his name with a mocking grin.
"No, you can't be serious or else it would mean you don't want to see me anymore and we both know you can't resist me." he snaked his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him, something that would have certainly raised suspicions if someone were to pass in that exact moment.
"That much is true," you said genuinely, gazing into those perfect blue eyes you fell in love with so much time ago, "But we can't keep doing this."
As you said those final words, you stepped away from his comfortable embrace, leaving him looking completely dejected.
"Why not? We can, we are masters of elusion." he said grinning and you internally cursed yourself for your next words.
"We are, aren't we?" his smile only widened as he took you back in his arms, pressing his soft lips to yours, thus sealing the implicit vow you had made to remain together despite the impossibility of your relationship.
He was a prince, after all. And as a prince he had to marry someone of his rank, not a common grisha, although you were everything but common in his eyes.
He had called you plenty of names and 'common' was never amongst them: "the most formidable soldier in the Second Army", "the girl whose smile could easily brighten the whole room", "my one and only, my everything".
"A living Saint."
Still, the king could not see with Nikolai's eyes and when he looked at you you he saw nothing but another grisha. Nothing special, nothing formidable, nothing divine.
"Tonight. Our place. Same time. What do you say?"
"I don't know, we shouldn't do this... we're risking too much, you are risking too much..."
"You are being really difficult, are you really going to deny yourself a night with this?" he inquired, motioning with his hands to his whole body.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but couldn't find it in you to say no. How could you when he was so handsomely foolish, so irritatingly childish and yet charming, so incorrigibly himself?
"You have yourself a deal, prince." you said tugging at the lapels of his uniform, bringing his face closer to yours. He obviously didn't mind it.
"What did i say about the name? I can also accept 'light of my life' or 'the only reason i wake up in the morning', if you'd like."
"What about 'royal bane of my existence' and 'the blondest nuisance of all Ravka'"? you asked raising your eyebrow in question.
His face drew even nearer to yours, noses touching, "Ah, all good choices, but a little wordy, don't you think?"
"So you're saying that 'the only reason i wake up in the morning' isn't wordy?" you continued, grimacing in amusement.
"I think it sounds just right. You should use it more often, it sounds even better coming from your lips." with that he took your chin in his hand to close the gap between you; another passionate kiss stolen under the gazes of the possible passersby.
You begrudgingly pushed away from him, the smile adorning your lips never faltering, and bid him goodbye.
"Don't be late, i couldn't bear a minute longer without you, beloved bane of my existence." he proclaimed.
You snorted and took off, but not before stealing another glance at your lovely prince.
//
"Nikolai?" nothing.
"Nikolai!" you tried to keep your voice low, making sure not to attract unwanted visitors, but still no response.
"Nik-" you abruptly stopped when you felt a pair of strong arms encircle your middle from behind.
"Did you miss me, lovely?" you felt his head lay down on your shoulder, speaking softly against your neck and sending pleasant shivers down your spine.
"Not as much as i think you missed me." you retorted jokingly.
"Oh, it was hard. The hardest endeavour i ever had to undergo. Hours without you feel like years, be honest with me," he lifted his face from its previous cozy spot to stare at you with wide, panicked eyes, "Do i look older?"
You tried to restrain your laughter as you looked at that lovable idiot; your idiot.
"Alarmingly so, it's almost unbearable to even look at you."
He laughed, a pure good-hearted laugh, one that never failed to make you all giddy inside. Then, he released you, only to take your hand and guide you further into the gardens, the place you usually met together at night, away from prying eyes.
He sat on a bench, signaling for you to do the same, and all of a sudden the initial playfulness was gone, replaced by a stony look that bore tremendous seriousness.
"Hey, what happened?" you immediately asked, your hand meeting his cheek in the hopes of deleting whatever was troubling him.
"Y/n, you know i love you." you only nodded, you weren't used to Nikolai being this grave and it was deeply upsetting you.
He took a deep breath.
"And since i love you, i can't go on like this any longer." he removed the hand that was on his face to grasp it in his own, "Y/n, would you like to do me the favor of going public with me? Putting up with me no matter what anyone could think?"
You quickly slapped him across the face, softly but enough to make him regret his actions.
"What? I thought you wanted this?" he said, feigning hurt.
"Never scare me like that again, you idiot. I thought you were breaking up with me."
He took your hands once more in his, "You didn't look so sad at the idea this morning."
You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Why the sudden change? What will your father think? And the people?" concern laced in your words.
"Apparently we haven't been as subtle as we thought and apparently people could not care less for who i decide to passionately kiss in not-so-deserted hallways." your face went immediately hot after that, thinking back of all the times you thought you were alone when in fact you were probably being watched by giggling grisha and soldiers.
"And your father?"
"He'll have to deal with it." he said, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up again, bringing you with him.
"Such a rebel, my love." you said, looping your arms around his neck, body flush against his, soaking up the warmth he was providing on that chilly night, "Are you sure, my only reason why i wake up in the morning?"
He chuckled lightly, "More than anything."
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#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov x you#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov x y/n#nikolai x reader#nikolai x you#nikolai x y/n#grishaverse#grisha#nikolai duology#shadow and bone#fanfiction#fic#fluff
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°Wayward°
This piece is for the @officialtolkiensecretsanta entry. I hope you'll enjoy it! ♥
Thank you @middleearthpixie for reading and giving me feedback on this and @laurfilijames for your invaluable insights!
Fandom: The Hobbit
Characters: Éomer x OC
Rating: G
Words: 2k
A/N: Wanderings, encounters, and a new dawn on the horizon!
Read this fic on Ao3
If you liked this, please feel free to comment or reblog! <3
Pippa dismounted from her best – really, her only friend – Aaliyah with a long sigh.
The dappled mare had cast a shoe which – in itself – was not necessarily a reason to not ride her, but Pippa preferred not to risk anything. If Aaliyah was to get injured in this rough terrain, Pippa would find herself stranded for good and that was a thing she could definitely not risk.
It was vital for her family’s survival that she be able to get from town to town to offer her services, potions, and poultices.
“It’s okay, my love, we’ll make it home in time for dinner,” she promised the horse in a soothing voice.
Thankfully, it was a fine day in the forest and the sun was yet warm and radiant in the sky, if they made good time through the densest part of the wood, they would reach the rolling hills leading to her village before night fell like a silken blanket adorned with glittering diamonds and obscured the path by stifling the whole world into reverent silence.
Pippa was aware that she was – once again – dancing along a precipice and she could feel the siren’s call of that dangerous, reckless behaviour that had been the bane of her parents’ existence since the day she had started to walk.
‘Wild’, ‘headstrong’, and ‘frivolous’ were some of the least offensive epithets used for her joyous nature and her taste for unbridled adventures in the most literal sense; she trusted her horse more than she trusted other people as a rule.
That warm, soft, silken nose was blowing hot air into her hair now as the mare reminded her that standing in the middle of the path and daydreaming would not bring them home any sooner.
“You’re right, my girl,” Pippa sighed and simply started walking, knowing that Aaliyah would follow her.
The sudden sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats made her look up in alarm, especially as Aaliyah’s ears turned in interest more than distress; she had ever had an eye for a handsome male and that grey stallion bursting through the trees was a sight for sore eyes and weary feet for sure.
“Milady, are you injured?” A warm voice called down from the lofty heights of his perch and Pippa’s gaze traveled up the elegant cast of the stallion’s legs until it grazed the very human legs of a man.
His garb and armour were unfamiliar to her, but the many horse-insignia let her know that he was part of an elite troupe of a neighbouring region: the Rohirrim, and that gave her pause.
They were professional soldiers in service to a real king unlike the small ‘masters’ and ‘chieftains’ that regulated her life; they were paid killers and Pippa had heard enough stories about the havoc they were wont to wreak when encountering helpless maidens.
“I am quite alright,” she said calmly, enunciating every word and swallowing the explanation that hovered on her lips.
A tingle of apprehension intermingled with electric excitement rushed along her spine like a heavenly spark; his voice was as warm and solid as the flesh of the animal between his thighs, and his glorious appearance made her think of forgotten kingdoms in faraway lands she would never gaze upon. Especially not if her only horse was to go lame due to her negligence.
“Why are you not astride that beautiful mount of yours then?” The man took off his helmet and revealed a surprisingly pleasant face with deep eyes that reminded her of the fertile pastures of the high hills.
“She hasn’t gone lame, has she?” he asked, extending one hand, the leather of his glove looking wonderfully worn and soft, to the mare who – usually so skittish – nudged it tenderly as if to reassure him that her owner was merely being overprotective.
It may well be, Pippa thought, that the silly creature just really enjoyed being called ‘beautiful’ by a handsome stranger who was now rubbing her head tenderly.
“No, she’s cast a shoe and I’d rather prevent her going lame at this moment,” Pippa declared; truth be told, she could never easily bear the loss – no matter how temporary – of her horse, but she bristled at the slight pity rising like an afternoon sun in the man’s eyes. She did not know him and she had no need or use for his haughty commiseration that felt like alms.
Oh, Pippa knew how she must have looked to this man in his regalia; she was aware that – after a long day at the market – she must have been dishevelled and dirty, but she was a proud woman and she refused to be treated like a lost orphan by some random stranger.
Lifting her chin defiantly, Pippa waited for him to just move along as there was no reason to linger here, trying to seem impervious to his gentle but slightly mocking regard.
“You can ride your horse,” he chuckled, a tad arrogantly in Pippa’s eyes.
“I have tended to this mare from the day of her birth, I know that I can ride her, but it’s rough terrain and I’d rather not risk it. I know my own forest, thank you very much. As you can clearly see, neither Aaliyah nor I are in need of assistance at the moment, so I wish you safe travels,” she muttered, her bad mood shining through despite her best efforts not to let him see how much his words had annoyed her.
The man had the gall to dismount instead of just being on his way again and Pippa had to bite back a groan while she readied the small knife that she kept in her belt for exactly these circumstances.
“My name is Éomer and I merely seek to help you, you stubborn woman,” he introduced himself with a radiant smile, lifting the mare’s leg and inspecting the bare hoof for a second.
“Hmmm, alright, I can take you to the next village to get her re-shoed,” he offered, which made Pippa snort.
“Yes, sure, I’ll just jump on your horse and…”
“Why not? I do not mean you any harm, believe me,” he said, and Pippa found – to her surprise – that she did want to believe him; his eyes were even warmer now that she could look at them from only inches away and his long hair reminded her of her father’s favourite stallion’s mane, so silky and soft did it look.
Éomer, the handsome stranger astride one of the most beautiful steeds Pippa had ever seen, looked at her patiently.
“I have a sister you’d much like if you ever met; she’s a feisty one as well,” he laughed and a single cloud of sadness passed through his eyes like a ghost, “I have not seen her, myself, in much too long a time.”
“Feisty? You’d call a maiden you’ve sprung upon in the woods ‘feisty’ as if it was her fault that she does distrust a random stranger?” Pippa asked sharply, cocking one eyebrow, and crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.
“Oh my,” Éomer sighed, “how my sister would mock me for making such a mess of this first meeting. I commend you for your bravery and your obvious readiness to defend yourself; I also applaud the good care you take of your horse, but Milady, night is falling fast, and the weather is about to turn.”
Bowing deeply, he went on: “Allow me to escort you to the next village and make sure that two honourable and hardy ladies such as you do not come to harm.”
“This is Hasufel,” he introduced his stallion who snorted affectionately as she approached him, “and he’s a proper hero.” The stallion seemed to catch his master’s meaning immediately and nudged her as if prompting her for accolades.
Pippa obliged only too willingly, letting her hand slide along the smooth, fragrant neck of the glorious animal in – seemingly very welcome – tenderness.
He loves his horse, this much was clear, and a man who loved his horse and treated it like a friend rather than a commodity could not be that bad, could he?
Allowing him to give her a boost, she found herself wedged between his solid form and the neck of the grey stallion within a heartbeat, Aaliyah’s reins attached to his saddle and the mare trotting calmly behind them.
“May I enquire as to your name, Milady?” a warm voice resounded just behind her right ear.
He smelled like horse, leather, and man; it was a well-known scent to Pippa and yet, there was something warm and earthy interwoven in the notes that would forever be engraved into her memory as his.
“Pippa, that is, Philippa,” Pippa replied without daring to so much as turn her head.
“Horse-lover, hmmm?” Éomer asked, a hint of tender mockery colouring his words that drove the heat into her cheeks.
“Yes,” she sighed; it was not a secret in these parts that Pippa, the weird girl who could set bones and break fevers, ever only confided in that dappled mare standing – unbound – by her side wherever she went.
“Where I come from, a woman like you would be queen,” he spoke – more to himself than to her – and Pippa let go of a peal of laughter that rang like church bells through the cathedral of nature that was the forest with its dark canopy of leaves.
“Don’t laugh,” he chided, but also chuckled under his breath while his hands tightened on her hip unnecessarily.
In the distance, the village, her village, came into view and Pippa realised how long she had sat – cradled between his thighs – enjoying the companionable silence as much as the occasional spurts of banter.
She was astonished to find herself dismayed by the idea of having him ride away into the darkness; it had been much too long since last she had felt this comfortable in the presence of another human, and she was loath to let it go.
Should she invite him? Would that be indecent? Maybe he was poor and would be ashamed to accept her generosity?
A thousand thoughts and doubts crossed her mind, but as they entered the main square, the urgence of her desire to keep his company for a little while longer drove her to speak before she had even thought of the right words to say.
“Milord, allow me to invite you to a hearty dinner as a token of my gratitude,” she said hurriedly, “it’s late and you’ve left your original path to assist me. It’s really the least I can do.”
Don’t go!
He seemed to ponder her offer for a time before dismounting again and looking up at her with eyes that seemed positively black in the failing light now.
“It would be my honour, Milady,” he smiled graciously, “where do you want to take your friend?”
Leaping off the back of the stallion, Pippa untied the reins of her mare and gave her a gentle pat. “Aaliyah knows the way home. I’ll take her to the smith tomorrow – first thing in the morning – just follow her and I’ll bring you a basin of fresh water to wash off the dust of the road,” she grinned back and went into a low house just off the square to get the promised clean water and turn on the fire for dinner.
Haste drove all her movements now; she was eager to get back to him and invite him in to have a pleasant evening together.
Maybe, he’d tell her more about that sister of his and that place where women who loved their horses were queens, she thought.
Yes, she would like that, Pippa decided and resigned herself to sacrificing the plump rabbit she had been holding back for the week’s end. A dinner, some good company, and stories of marvellous places she’d probably never see; these were the highlights of her dreary life, and she would not let this one pass her by.
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12. All About Bilbo from the POV of...Thorin
And FINALLY I’m done. Thank you guys so much for all the notes/comments/reblogs/etc. I appreciate each and every one of you. If you haven’t been keeping up and want to see all 12 POVs, you can click on the masterlist here or I may just go ahead and post them to AO3. Please enjoy the long awaited Bagginshield conclusion. 😉
***
Thorin knew after the battle, after laying in that healing camp, after finally being free to have thoughts not consumed by his treasury, there was only one edict he could make as his first one as king: the hobbit had to stay in Erebor. An advisor, a cook, a gardener, he did not care what occupation he took. He would invent a position if he needed to! He just needed Bilbo by his side if he were to be of any use to the mountain. Of course, convincing the hobbit of this was easier said than done.
In all fairness, Thorin could have gone about it a lot better than all but demanding he stay. The hobbit ranted and raved, he seemed on the verge of lashing out physically (which Thorin would reluctantly admit he would have deserved), and he spent several long agonizing nights in Dale. Finally, Bilbo came back to inform Thorin that he would be returning to the Shire, he would be allowed six months to make his choice, and Thorin would respect it. Balin had to remind Thorin it would be within his best interest to accept. Thorin couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he needed Bilbo to know just how much he appreciated him before he left.
It was their first real conversation since the Battle. Thorin made his apologies and explained just how much the hobbit’s unconventional wisdom was needed both in his kingdom and to the king personally. In return, Bilbo expressed his fears during Thorin’s goldsickness and why exactly he turned over the Arkenstone. It was far from fixed, but it did go a long way towards regaining their former friendship. The hobbit would cite it as what finally convinced him to come back just under two years later. It should have been the happy ending Thorin had been waiting for. He never would have guessed just how wrong he was.
“I’m going to kill him.” Thorin growled.
“You’ve said that before.” Balin reminded patiently.
“This time, I’m really going to kill him. Whose idea was it to make him ambassador to the elves anyways?”
“I believe that would be...yours, Your Majesty.”
Thorin had no energy to deal with Balin’s misplaced amusement as he marched towards the hobbit’s room. He pounded on the door making sure this time that the sneaky burglar couldn’t claim not to hear him.
“I’m not answering if you’re going to be in a mood, Thorin Oakenshield.” Came the muffled response.
“You approved further negotiations after I told you I would not go to that despairing Mirkwood if my life depended on it!”
“Yes, I remember the conversation vividly.” Bilbo sighed.
“Then why…!”
“Your Majesty, if I may?” Balin interrupted. “Perhaps the hall is not the appropriate setting for this discussion.”
Thorin glared at his friend and advisor before turning that look onto the door before him.
“Let me in.” He ordered.
“Only on your word that you will quit raising your voice to me.” The hobbit conditioned.
“I will raise my voice if I please! I AM KING!”
“And with that winning attitude, who could forget?!”
“By Mahal.” Balin swore softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
Thorin silently fumed as he glared at the stone before him. Any that claimed dwarves were the most stubborn creatures on Arda clearly have not met Bilbo Baggins. Thorin took a deep breath to center himself before trying again.
“Master Baggins, will you please let me in so we can discuss this in private?” He all but hissed.
It was silent for a moment before the door swung open to reveal the curly haired hobbit who was currently sitting as the bane of Thorin’s very existence.
“There, was that so hard?” Bilbo answered snidely.
Thorin’s fists clenched at his side, and Balin rolled his eyes before turning to go the other way.
“I’m done with the two of you. Fetch me when you’ve figured it out or someone’s dead.”
Thorin gladly slammed the door on the traitor, leaving him and Bilbo alone. However, now that he had the hobbit before him, he found himself unfortunately speechless. He loathed that. As if his mere presence could steal all Thorin’s words away. His rather impromptu first words upon their meeting came to mind. Clearly, he was wrong about this burglar of senses.
“I’m not apologizing.” Bilbo began, crossing his arms. “They asked for a show of good faith from Erebor, and frankly I couldn’t see a reason to fault them.”
“You couldn’t?” Thorin raised a mocking eyebrow. “Clearly you remember our last stay in their wooded halls differently from me.”
Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed with a scowl. “See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you want this alliance to work, you’re going to have to bury past slights. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what the Shire would be if we held onto grudges the way dwarves do.”
“And I can’t imagine the state of my kingdom if I allow flippant hobbits to not hold people accountable for their actions!”
Bilbo pointed a finger at him. “You’re shouting.”
“A'lâju Mahal (Shame of Mahal)! You are...irritating!” Thorin bit back.
“So you’re saying people shouldn’t be forgiven?”
Just like that, the fire that had been steadily building in his breast was snuffed out. Still, Thorin Oakenshield did not bend completely.
“I believe there is a difference when that forgiveness is desired.”
“And I think Thranduil fits the bill...in his own way.” Bilbo shrugged under Thorin’s disbelieving look. “He’s let his son go, he’s lost Tauriel to Dale due to his actions, he’s gotten back the gems he’s been denied. I think he’s ready to make amends. I’m not saying we have to pretend he’s not hurt us. I’m just saying, it would be a good show of...neighborly airs to meet with him and see what he has to offer.”
There was logic in the hobbit’s words, even if Thorin did not want to hear them. And that simple thought probably was the single summary of all their hard feelings as of late. He turned to leave before he had to accept any more difficult truths.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat.
The long disappointed sigh that followed him cut quicker than any blade.
***
The journey to Esgaroth where they would spend the night before continuing into the dreaded woods the next day was...tense to say the least. Even Dwalin was uncomfortable, and that was saying something. The inn was a welcome sight if only to get an ale and free Thorin of the abrasive atmosphere surrounding the hobbit. The man who owned the inn was tripping over himself to welcome the King of Erebor, and when Thorin was finally allowed peace in his own room, he was reluctant to leave. However, that ale was calling his name, and he waited long enough that surely the hobbit’s final meal was complete to avoid any awkwardness.
That was too little credit to the brilliant burglar. He waited until Thorin was sat down at the bar halfway through his ale before he appeared at Thorin’s elbow as if out of thin air.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Bilbo demanded. “In fact, what possible excuse could you have to be angry at me if you are in fact angry?”
Thorin was choking on the amber liquid that had rushed down the wrong pipe.
“Well, you see…” He edged around his persistent cough.
“Need I remind you, I’m only doing the job you gave me. Going back further than that, I’m only here in Erebor because you insisted I be.”
“If you would just let me…” Thorin growled only to be interrupted again.
“Is this some sort of punishment for taking the Arkenstone? You lure me back with words of forgiveness and then argue with every single decision I make when I’m only trying to help…”
“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! You confounded creature!”
Thorin nearly sighed in relief to finally see the hobbit’s mouth had stopped moving. It was as he took in the widened eyes and nervous stance that his words were able to catch up to him. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the significantly quieter room.
“You love me?” Bilbo whispered.
Thorin didn’t want to have to deal with this in front of all these men and dwarves, especially Dwalin’s irritating smirk. Grabbing the hobbit’s hand, he led him into the hallway where it was a little more private.
“You love me?” Bilbo repeated once they were alone.
Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one secret he had hoped to hold onto for a little while longer. Not that he was never going to act on his feelings, just he was waiting for a little more time to pass. For the chasm between them to be bridged stably once more. But they hadn’t been able to stop arguing! He certainly didn’t expect Bilbo to accept him right now, but he also would not lie to him.
“Yes.” He answered, holding steady for the ire that was sure to erupt.
Instead, the hobbit all but flung himself at the dwarf king, his mouth immediately meeting Thorin’s. It was abrupt, it was warm, it was wet, and it was wonderful. When Bilbo pulled away it was to utter a phrase he never even allowed himself to hope to hear.
“Thorin, take me to bed. Now.”
The dwarf’s jaw dropped at the invitation and the open lust dilating the hobbit’s pupils.
“Wait. Now?” Thorin repeated, his mind whirling but not connecting.
“Now.” Bilbo asserted as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him again.
“Shouldn’t we...discuss...this?” Thorin persisted through their kissing, rather stupidly in his opinion.
One that seemed to be shared by the hobbit if his sigh and impatient glare were anything to go off.
“Discuss what?” Bilbo demanded. “I love you. You love me. I’ve bloody been waiting for you to do something about it for months. Now are we going upstairs...or would you rather we postpone until after our meeting with the elves?”
Thorin all but slung the hobbit in his arms making his way as quickly as he could to his bedroom. The sly, conniving, extremely frustrating hobbit. And finally, finally he would be his.
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Wait are you the creator of the Dr Stone His Dark Materials AU? Cool! If so can you tell me what's your inspiration for each characters Daemons?
yes that’s me!! Thank you so much for asking!!! Word Dump ahead
male lion -> Tsuakasa: Inagaki did the work for me, lol. Actually, I like the idea of lions symbolizing a sort of wildness and authority (very "king of the jungle") which fits early manga Tsukasa, but like real lion behavior being pretty chill (like most big carnivores) and just wanting to like hang out with their pride which fits later manga Tsukasa.
albino female king cobra -> Senku: Kinda of three hold reasoning here. In Western mythology, snakes are seen as being teachers of wisdom, specifically mortal wisdom (like obvs Adam and Eve, but also the snakes on the rod of Asclepius). King cobra meanwhile are associated with rulers in certain parts of India. Finally, albino snakes is about the myth of Bai Suzhen from China which is about a snake that gained power/cultivation then used it to repay a human she fell in love with; interestingly the snake in that story has been interpreted as both evil (for going against natural order of the world) and good (for her devotion to the human she loved), which is a fun metaphor for Senku upsetting the status quo (be both Tsukasa's 'live with nature', and the Whyman's 'keep humans mostly statues/stone age'). Finally, I picked a name in mandarin for her bc I like the idea of one of Senku's birth parents being chinese, soley bc there is a VERY stupid pun you can make with 月 (moon, month) radical and the⺼(flesh, body) radical often being written identically (so moon [a space rock] = flesh, just like petri beam).
female dog -> Taiju: his himbo engery is of the charts. (also is a nice helpful good boy who reminds me of a golden retriever)
male orbweaver bird -> Yuzu: I was going to do a spider for her actually, bc of all the cool mythology world-wide connecting spiders and weavers but it turns out mostly female spiders make webs, so I switched to a type of bird that makes really cool nest.
female lion -> Kohaku: Inagaki did all the work on this for me pt.2. She's powerful, very dedicated to her family, and also someone who's not afraid of putting in an enormous amount of effort (since female lions are the ones the hunt).
male Racoon-dog -> Chrome: Intelligent but also a little prone to mischief. Chrome likes collecting things, he's not afraid to totally go and do his own thing or accomplish his goals in his own way! Also (and this is more related to regular raccoons), they are very smart and good at opening trash cans which fits chrome somehow.
Male calico cat -> Gen: This is 50% bc gen exists in my head as the meme "butternut is a master of psychological manipulation", and 50% bc male calico's (despite looking normal) are incredibly rare bc the mechanism of calico coloring typically depends on having 2 X chromosomes. This is fun bc Gen's def the type to play around with gender a bit. Also Gen has always has a lot of color variation (black/white hair, purple in outfit even in b4 cloth got reinvented), so he deserves a colorful daemon.
Female hyena -> Hyouga: The natural enemy of lions, lol. Also they both have a very fun aesthetic and a reputation for being scary but funny.
Male lunar moth -> Ruri: famous for only living long enough to find a mate and pass away. But also a creature that is good at being both beautiful but also very low-key and subtle.
bonus: Not mentioned in story but exist in my heart
Ryuusui: Female Peregrine falcon (only the fastest bird alive for the world's greedest man)
Byakuya: female crow (smart and wise, but prone to pranks)
Lillian: male mockingbird (she's from SE US, so it's a given)
Amaryllis: male betta fish (beautiful and ready to fight!)
Dr. Xeno: female Arizona bark scoprion (did you know scorpions are actually fairly good mentors parents and will carry their young on their backs?)
Stanley: female cotton-mouth (aka the venomous snake that is the bane of SE US waterways)
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By My Dark Sword [Fume Knight]
"Accursed creature of the Abyss! Begone!"
"You're the bane of humanity's existence, [Name]! A font of misery!"
The scars the stones left on your skin linger even in the heat of this tower. People chased you here and there until you'd found sanctuary where they could never even dare try to reach you. For you, your only options were to run about Drangleic until you found a proper place to hide, and risk being found again and executed by the angry humans that blame you even now for the Undead Curse.
Why for, though? The answer is simple.
Born in the Abyss from the scattered pieces of Manus, you found a form to go by and tried to live amongst humans. After all, you like them were born of Dark, which Lord Gwyn had previously feared, and in turn feared Humanity.
You once had asked, why would humanity revere and love what hat tried to destroy them. Maybe that's why they felt you no longer belonged with them, for in minutes they prosecuted you for slandering the Great Lord's name, or some other crime they felt was overdue for punishment.
Your existence, then. The flesh and blood you had been born with: that is your crime.
Leaving formalities out of the way, your time has run out and you're here, in what is known as the accursed Brume Tower. A peerless giant, an endless torch in a night of hatred, accepting of what dares walk inside and survive. And from how the monsters within cower at seeing you, as if knowing what you truly are, this place is your new home, and your tomb, in one fell swoop.
Better than the piercing chill that awaits outside, and possibly the ever-omnipresent hatred of Humanity towards what should've been embraced rather than the Flame.
... Very well. If you cannot escape your nature, then you shall embrace it.
And with the authority of a child of the Abyss, you plant your seed of Dark, where you can bother no one, but those who come for your head will be punished. For no longer will you live in the shadows of those who embrace Gwyn's quivering Ash; only those who can embrace the Dark, their past, will ever be fit. That, or the Chosen One, willing to slay all of you to link the fire.
So it is written, so it shall be.
__
You are (quite rudely) roused from slumber, unsure of how long it lasted, from the distinct sound of the tower being opened.
A challenger? A brute who hath braved the creatures outside and has now come for you? You're not adept with a blade like your dear sister Nashandra, and Alsanna no longer embraces your shared nature. All that's left here is you, the monsters here only a barrier to whoever dares disturb you.
Swallowing, you melt into the shadows - a skill you'd learned simply from your fear changing slowly to boredom - and from the lens of the darkness you can see what dares challenge the tower.
It's a knight, brave and true. His armor's scorched black or painted in cinders, not as though you can tell, and his stance implies great power. Your insides quake; he's here for you. He must be.
Before you can stop yourself, you command through the shadows, "Halt!"
He does, body and head turning to find you.
"This is the Brume Tower, sanctuary to the Children of Dark. There is nothing for you here, Sir Knight!" You quiver. "If you wish to press on, I will not stop you, but it will not be me or the flames within that will snuff out your Ash."
His arms lower a bit, but just as you expect him to turn and leave like a wise man would, he nods. "So be it."
Dammit... So this knight is either brave or foolish...
Where is your blade? If he's here, it has to be to slay you, free the people of his homeland from fear of you and your sisters, just as humans and Lords alike will do.
Shuffling through the ashes - a natural consequence to fire being almost everywhere - you find your longsword, prepared for if this knight can brave the trials Brume Tower has for him. You will say he looks powerful, but... Will his sword bathe in your black blood?
You're lucky to be alive this long, you suppose.
Father... If only I could know if this knight should fall here.
As if on cue, there's a horrendous sound, one you'd only heard once, that shakes through the ground and reaches you. The tremors send your heart down into your stomach, and as if like a reflex you throw your arm toward the entrance to your little room. But, with the effort of trying to erect a fog wall or cast some kind of protection, your arm shakes in fatigue.
Swallowing, you grip your blade tightly, ascending the stairs. Not that you have a chance against a knight of any sort, but...
But...
If I die, what'll happen?
Hearing the resounding clanks of metal footsteps, you hold your sword with both hands, keeping your feet together and rolling your shoulders back. You swallow as a great shadow is cast on the far wall.
And in time, there he is, the knight himself.
At first he's brandished his greatsword, expecting a terrible monster to be guarding whatever could be here. However, he appears to notice you, visibly lowering his guard.
"Who are you?" You ask. "You, who has braved the Brume Tower and the monsters and scourge within... Pray, which king sent you for my head?"
"No king," He replies. "Legends spoke of a Creature of Dark. I came here to see if the legend is true. Lo, what I find is not a creature, but a fair lady."
"Nay."
His head tilts. "Nay?"
You shift a bit on your feet, examining him a bit without taking another step. "You stand before [Name], child of Manus of the Abyss. The creature of Dark you seek is right here." You remove one hand from your blade, spreading your arms out as a show of peace. "If you seek to kill me, I invite you to try. For that is your history, is it not? Any great king's knights would expunge the Dark."
With a sigh at realizing this was going slowly, you plant your blade in the ground beside you. "I will ask you again: Who are you?"
He puts a hand to his chest. "I am Raime, once a knight of Drangleic under King Vendrick."
"Exiled," You nod. "What a pity. And you came here, be it to slay me to redeem yourself or, carve a piece of the world yourself."
It's inside him, you can feel it. One touch from him, or a swing of that mighty sword, and the darkness itself will cease to be. If his sharp gaze beneath his helmet doesn't kill you, that will, if he approaches with murderous intent.
"But tell me then, Sir Raime-" You're more buttering his ego than anything, as is your nature "- what good is a dog, with no master to guide it?"
His blade lowers, and you reach out your hand.
"If you seek a new master, then come here," You beckon. "Embrace your banished fate, and kneel before me."
Much to your surprise - more that you're still alive than him listening to you - he does approach, kneeling and putting his head down.
"O, lordless knight, bereft of hearth and home, hear me," You sing. "If you shall swear by your strength to become a Champion of Dark and guardian of the Child; a blade that shall hunt our enemies..." For a moment your hand lowers in your own hesitation, but your resolution in living raises it again. "Then I shall protect you, safeguarding your body and soul with the power of the Abyss within me."
His hand effortlessly raises his greatsword by the hilt. "I will be of service to you, my fair lady."
Smiling, you put your hands over his, and soft streams of vantablack emerge from your heart and into his armor, seeming to taint it inside out. Now a fragment of your soul rests within Raime, and he is bound to you until you both die.
You then kneel down yourself, lifting your blade from the ground and tapping him on the shoulders.
"I hereby dub thee Sir Raime, the Fume Knight of Brume Tower," You pronounce. "With your protection of my wicked life, I in turn shall provide succor, however it may be asked for."
His head raises, and from his knees he stares up at you as you kneel to his level, softly placing a hand on his arm.
As is your nature, you can feel yourself corrupting him, the sharp eyes beneath the helmet glazing over with infatuation, admiration, redamancy, carnal desires from killing for you to ensuring you're guarded and loved in each way possible. Your Dark seeps into him and wraps his soul up, until his very mind is set in his almost religious dedication to you.
"My wondrous knight," You coo. "May you be one with the Dark forevermore."
His own hand raises and cups your cheek. You lean in and he pulls you closer.
"And by my Dark sword, may I be forever at your side."
Yes... Yes...!
With such a power within him, you can very much tolerate this. All the souls in this ruined world can go wherever they're beckoned - all you will want or need is here.
Sir Raime, once a knight of King Vendrick of Drangleic, now a feared Fume Knight at your stead.
You, a Child of Dark, born a splinter of Manus, made simply to carry the spread of the Abyss in his stead.
And there's nothing and nowhere you'd rather be.
#fume knight#ds2#dark souls 2#dark souls 2 raime#fume knight raime#my writing#you'd think if you killed him before Velstadt that Velstadt wouldn't have an issue with you#nope still got a bone to pick#joy#dark souls
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Teaching Mr. Simon
Part 1 - 2
Is it weird that I am at my most hated place in the world my high school for a high school reunion.
I am now at a point I have to face a time in my life where in no shape or form different from now.
One of the banes in my existence approach me from the back end of the hall casting his shadow over me.
I can feel the full weight of it all washing over me as my back hit the wall heavily.
He is all smiles this asshole teacher has the nerve to treat me like trash and be nice to me now.
“Hello, Mr. Alex? How are you?” He says to me.
“Just shut it you asshole, watch this and then fuck off.” I demand.
I face my cellphone to his eyes forcing him to look at It and the lights went out.
His eyes went dull fading back as he fell in to the wall.
“Sorry Mr. Chase”
Part 3 - 4
“Do you remember the classroom I had you as teacher in?”
“Yes I do”
“Let’s go, follow me and you will feel the full weight of your actions.”
“Yes I must be punished, I must obey”
“Sit on your desk, focus on me, and you will feel so much better.”
“Yes Master”
“Poor pathetic losers ruled this roost for far too long.”
“I fucking hate you wimps, you all are about to feel the pain.”
“In my eyes are the absolute truth of it all that I am all that matters.”
“I hate this school, I hate you and I am about to claim you.”
“Sir, what have done? What will I do? Sir”
“I am your lord, master, king and god.“
Part 5 - 6
A year later the asshole appears in my area waiting at my condo gate to please me.
I am both confused and horrified at the many thoughts floating through my head.
He shakes his head for me not to worry as I pin him to the gate.
He smiles as we kiss maybe the change in him will do it well.
He kisses me slowly yet again grabbing me closer our bodies connect.
Deeper our bodies mesh on display in the world, and I am your life.
“Say cheese my love, pose”
“Yes I hate taking pictures myself”
“You are my slave Mr. Jace”
“I love you, I am your king “
“Yes you are my king”
“Sir I love you Sir”
The end
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WIP Challenge
Tell your blog the titles of all the WIPs you are currently working on right now and a little about them and then tag five other writers.
I was tagged by @simply-clockwork
I have so many Wips it’s ludicrous.
Actively Updating
No Clean Slate (Sherlock) - 17 chapters posted
Not even Mary's death is enough to wipe her slate clean. Especially when she never died at all. John Watson must face up to his wife's past and keep his daughter safe. He doesn't ask for help, not from anyone.
Except Sherlock Holmes.
Sorcerer’s Bane (Merlin) - 2 chapters posted
Arthur gave Merlin his cloak thinking only of the warmth it would offer in a snowstorm. He never thought his manservant may be mistaken for him and snatched by bandits. Nor did he expect his dashing rescue of Merlin to turn his world so utterly on his head.
Because the bandits hadn't kidnapped a prince. They'd snatched a sorcerer, and now captivity is the least of anyone's problems.
Working On Intermittently/When Patrons Vote I Do So!
Monachopsis (Sherlock)
" Monachopsis n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place. It takes John Watson decades to discover where he really belongs." Magical realism (sorta) and dream sharing. Eventual Johnlock.
Guard Of Diocletian (Sherlock)
'What's his Shift?' John asked, frowning to himself. Sherlock had not mentioned anything about another form. That in itself was not unusual. A lot of people were rather private about their alternative shapes. It was frowned upon to ask someone outright what creature they were when changed, but Mike was like him, baseline, and if he was going to live with this man then he needed to know what he could wake up to find one morning. Shedding on the furniture was one thing, but he had no real desire to find a strange, threatening animal in the living room one day.
'He isn't one, is he?' Mike's eyebrows were up, his honest face truly puzzled. 'I've never seen him change, and he's been coming here for years. I mean, I suppose he could be, but...' Mike trailed off with a shrug. 'I think he's like us.'
John pursed his lips, tapping his cane on the floor as he shook his head. 'No, Mike, he is nothing like us.' Animal/Fantasy shapeshifter AU. Casefic.
Catlock 10
Sherlock and John uncover a Felisian trafficking ring. Sherlock uses himself as bait.
Merlock
Injured and sent home to England, John finds himself guarding a mysterious tank at Baskerville. Will he do his duty, or will he risk it all to help rescue the man imprisoned within the watery depths?
Original
"Sometimes the murders were simple: a knife in the dark and bloody secrets that soon found their way into the light. Those were the good days, but in a city where magic is both revered and maligned, death is rarely so straightforward.
Lucy Davis is an officer of the Blackguard, and it’s up to her to solve those crimes rooted in the extraordinary."
Where The Heart Is (Hobbit)
'There was an attack. Raiders. There was no warning of their coming.' Gandalf sighs, and it is a broken sound of someone who has failed in their duty of care. The raiders took everything they could carry, and burned everything they could not. Many of the fallen were impossible to recognise.' Gandalf leans on his staff, and the wizard looks more tired than the King has ever seen him. He swallows, and Thorin wants to put his hands over his ears, because he knows, sick and certain now, why Bilbo's letters had stopped.
'Bilbo is not among those who live.'
(Bilbo's presumed dead, but has actually been taken by raiders. Thorin must rebuild his kingdom with a broken heart, while Bilbo fights his way across the wild north, broken and bleeding, to make his way back to the mountain that has become his home. With bonus hobbits re-homing in Erebor. A fair bit written. Not yet posted)
Erebor Never Fell AU
Bilbo Baggins and his mother leave the Shire after his father's death, as Belladonna has little left to live for but adventure. Unfortunately, she falls afoul of a cruel prince, a man who is used to taking what he wants. In the ensuing struggle, both she and the prince lose their lives, and it is Bilbo who wielded the blade which avenged his mother.
Taking prisoner and accused of murder, his sentence is to be the king’s food-taster. His eyes are bound, as he is unfit to look upon the Men who imprison him, and every day he is dosed with poison and every evening given enough antidote to keep him alive.
Such is his existence, until the day his Master takes him to Erebor as part of his retinue, and he discovers the promise of a future among the dwarves who live there. Especially the eldest dwarven prince, Thorin Oakenshield.
(Erebor never fell AU with political intrigue, and Bilbo Baggins finding friends when he thought there was no one left in the world who cared for him at all.)
Quarantine Hobbit Fic
Inspired by the prompt of quarantine. Erebor is saved from the dragon and beginning to rebuild, but Thorin, newly healed from the injuries of the battle, suddenly takes ill.
The sickness is a dwarf's worst fear: highly contagious and always fatal. Thorin locks himself away to die a slow death, alone. Of he would, if not for the persistence of a certain hobbit.
Bilbo breaks into the royal chambers, effectively locking himself away with Thorin. Except as the disease progresses, he begins to think it looks rather familiar. In fact, it's a common childhood illness, one hobbits have been able to cure for years.
Plenty of Bilbo and Thorin hurt/comfort and a happy ending. (Of course)
Untitled Merlin Fic
Friends make all the difference. What if the knights of the round table found their way to Camelot before Arthur became king? What difference would that make to Arthur, to Merlin, and to their destiny? (25k written, unpublished. In my head this is basically entitled *~shenanigans, love and a golden age~*
I’m late replying to this, so consider yourself tagged if you’ve not yet done it <3
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Love is the bane of honor
I think Aegon's role narratively is "don't put all your faith in perfect kings", especially not a kid. It's all about the pressure of being a hereditary ruler, the pressure of duty, of others' expectations being placed on a child solely due to his birthright, and of a life sacrificed to duty.
"He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."
What Varys has said is all about Aegon ruling for others. That implies serious self-sacrifice. But is Aegon truly fit for this? Note how Varys never speaks of love, it's all about Aegon being raised to fulfill his duty, and one that has been placed on him based on his supposed birthright by others, which to us readers is uncertain to begin with and could even become uncertain to Aegon himself at some point.
"Jon, did you ever wonder why the men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children?" Maester Aemon asked.
Jon shrugged. "No." He scattered more meat. The fingers of his left hand were slimy with blood, and his right throbbed from the weight of the bucket.
"So they will not love," the old man answered, "for love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."
We have here the literal kryptonite to Varys' expectations.
Aegon is still young and we have no indication he has any experience with women other than being raised by a septa, which considering the faith's tenants has served the opposite interest.
Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature
Arianne, a very intimidating woman, is coming to push herself onto Aegon, yet Aegon's entourage believed the support of Dorne was expected due to their existing blood ties to Aegon, not thanks to a new union between Aegon and a Dornish princess, a union which would also alter Doran's current plans which did not factor in Aegon at all.
A union to Aegon, from Doran's perspective, might also cast uncertainty into the master-strategist's mind; what will Dorne do when the real dragons come? And what if Dany's entourage sends a letter to Dorne along with Quentyn's body, telling them the prince was burned by the dragons he tried to steal? Would Arianne and the Sand Snakes believe it at all, especially if Arianne is trying to put herself between Aegon and Daenerys?
Daenerys on the other hand is preferred by Connington, who says the prince must hold off on any marriage as she may yet come, and he holds no found memories of Elia Martell, which might tarnish his view of Arianne no matter how "healthy" she might appear:
A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward.
"Daenerys Targaryen may yet come home one day," Connington told the Halfmaester. "Aegon must be free to marry her."
"My lord knows best," said Haldon. "In that case, we might consider offering potential friends a lesser prize."
Pushing lesser prizes onto Dorne is unlikely to be well received, chiefly by Arianne herself.
Connington is trying to shield the prince from doubt:
"I like the sound of that. My army." A smile flashed across his face, then vanished. "Are they, though? They're sellswords. Yollo warned me to trust no one."
"There is wisdom in that," Griff admitted. It might have been different if Blackheart still commanded, but Myles Toyne was four years dead, and Homeless Harry Strickland was a different sort of man. He would not say that to the boy, however. That dwarf had already planted enough doubts in his young head. "Not every man is what he seems, and a prince especially has good cause to be wary … but go too far down that road, and the mistrust can poison you, make you sour and fearful."
Yet Connington is joined by Tyrion's proposal, even if unknowingly, to wait for Daenerys:
"You do not need to win," Tyrion told him. "All you need to do is raise your banners, rally your supporters, and hold, until Daenerys arrives to join her strength to yours."
Tyrion sold the idea to Aegon as follows:
"I told you, I know our little queen. Let her hear that her brother Rhaegar's murdered son is still alive, that this brave boy has raised the dragon standard of her forebears in Westeros once more, that he is fighting a desperate war to avenge his father and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen, hard-pressed on every side … and she will fly to your side as fast as wind and water can carry her. You are the last of her line, and this Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer. The girl who drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains can scarcely abandon her own brother's son in his hour of peril. And when she reaches Westeros, and meets you for the first time, you will meet as equals, man and woman, not queen and supplicant. How can she help but love you then, I ask you?"
The temptation is that of a mother figure and a rescuer who would fly to him like the wind, her brother's son, a boy becoming a man. Similarly, agreeing to this would place trust in his father-figure's plan. There is reassurance in taking this road, the one of parents he never had.
One way or another, Aegon must chose, at a time when war rages. But there is much room for doubt to keep him undecided, and if word reaches them that Daenerys has hurriedly flown away on her Dragon, could it be that Tyrion and Connington were right? Is the Mother of Dragons flying to the prince as fast as wind can carry her?
Aegon might hear the echo of Tyrion's words:
"Your father knew the dangers of being overbold."
The prince stared at the playing board. "My dragon—"
"—is too far away to save you. You should have moved her to the center of the battle."
Wait, and wait, and wait, but the war does not.
The death of duty
As the pressure mounts on Aegon to either keep on waiting for Daenerys or secure an alliance with Dorne, will Aegon break? And more importantly, if he does, how?
What if this is exactly what happened with Rhaegar? What if Rhaegar buckled under all the pressure that was on him? From prophecies to the duty of kingship.
"Lingering here will never bring it any closer. The sooner we take our leave of this place—"
"I know. I do." Dany did not know how to make him see. She wanted Westeros as much as he did, but first she must heal Meereen. "Ninety days is a long time. Hizdahr may fail. And if he does, the trying buys me time. Time to make alliances, to strengthen my defenses, to—"
"And if he does not fail? What will Your Grace do then?"
"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"
The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."
That answer from Jorah is fairly clear; Rhaegar married Elia out of duty, and maybe a hint of prophecy for all we know. He did not do so out of love.
Remember, Rhaegar thought he was expected to become a warrior. So we have another self-sacrifice for duty's sake:
"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"
And there is another hint that Rhaegar may have wanted to move away from the pressure of ruling, although a subtle one that remains to be cleared up:
Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour."
Jaime's anger had risen up in his throat. "I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard."
"Then guard the king," Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. "When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey."
Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."
But love is the bane of honor, the death of duty:
"Swords win battles," Ser Jorah said bluntly. "And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one."
"He did, ser, but . . . I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight may be, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory." He glanced at Ser Jorah. "Or a lady's favor knotted round an arm."
So I posit that the fear of it all frightened Rhaegar into the arms of Lyanna, who similarly ran from a duty imposed on her in marrying Robert, and as the war began to rage on both escaped away from it all to the Tower of Joy.
Kill the boy and let the man be born
Many wonder what Arys Oakheart's narrative point was. He is a good example of a man who struggled between love and duty.
You know I have no other woman. Only... duty.
Which led him to his death:
Arys, my sweet knight, why did you do it? You should have yielded. I tried to tell you, but the words caught in my mouth. You gallant fool, I never meant for you to die, or for Myrcella...
I believe that as history seems to so often repeat itself in the world of Ice and Fire, Aegon will flee into the arms of love. But whose' love?
Come break of day, they were off again. Elia Sand led the way, her black braid flying behind her as she raced across the dry, cracked plains and up into the hills. The girl was mad for horses, which might be why she often smelled like one, to the despair of her mother. Sometimes Arianne felt sorry for Ellaria. Four girls, and every one of them her father's daughter.
Elia Sand, who bears the name of Aegon's mother, is similar in more ways than one to Lyanna Stark.
"We will see about that." Valena wheeled her big red around and put her heels into him, and the race was on, through the dusty lanes of the village at the bottom of the hill, as chickens and villagers alike scrambled out of their path. Arianne was three horse lengths behind by the time she got her mare up to a gallop, but had closed to one halfway up the slope. The two of them were side-by-side as they thundered towards the gatehouse, but five yards from the gates Elia Sand came flying from the cloud of dust behind them to rush past both of them on her black filly.
"Are you half horse, child?" Valena asked, laughing, in the yard. "Princess, did you bring a stable girl?"
"I'm Elia," the girl announced. "Lady Lance."
Lyanna was also a horse-rider:
Arya was breathing hard herself then. She knew the fight was done. "You ride like a northman, milady," Harwin said when he'd drawn them to a halt. "Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna."
And she was literally said to be "half a horse"
Horses … the boy was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.
And similarly to Elia, Lyanna could fight:
"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it.
And we have this in Bran's vision:
Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout.
Elia can joust, and we all know that the Knight of the Laughing Tree is believed by many to have been Lyanna:
"I am almost a woman grown, ser," she responded haughtily. "I'll let you spank me, though... but first you'll need to tilt with me, and knock me off my horse."
"We are on a ship, and without horses," Joss replied.
"And ladies do not joust," insisted Ser Garibald Shells, a far more serious and proper young man than his companion.
"I do. I'm Lady Lance."
Arianne had heard enough. "You may be a lance, but you are no lady. Go below and stay there till we reach land."
Note the point earlier where Elia surprises Arianne by racing ahead of her? It is a very tempting hint that Elia will steal Arianne's place and become Aegon's love interest, one no one is pushing on him. Her playful and courageous nature might attract him, comfort him at a time of incredible pressure, just as Lyanna may have with Rhaegar before.
But Rhaegar in the end found his courage, and went into battle. He killed the boy to let the man be born. And died.
"Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"
"That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him.
But the question, what bravery will Aegon be pushed into?
"Your father knew the dangers of being overbold."
I won't theorize on what Aegon might throw his courage at here, as the above might bring enough down-votes on its own. I'll just say that Elia, the lance-wielder, has a strong connection to Aegon already:
"Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia."
"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne"
"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."
TLDR: Aegon's and Elia Sands' story parallels Rhaegar and Lyanna's, and will end tragically. “
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