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jackidy · 4 years

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If You Let Me: Chapter 3

Rating: T Pairings: Demyx/Zexion, Demyx/Ienzo (Eventual/Slowburn) Characters: Various, Zexion/Ienzo Centric Setting: BBS to KH3, Canon compliant mostly

Warnings: Canon Character Death (Temporary)

Summary: “It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.” Only he did. Spending the prelude to adulthood as a nobody, a supposed empty husk of a being was never an option any of them considered, least of all a newly named Zexion who would be living every last one of them.

Note: And we are back!! Moving was made a lot more stressful by unforeseen circumstances both personal and nationwide. Short chapter as writers block raised her head but hopefully things will be better by next chapter.

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Year 3

It’s hard to not become lost within the world of Crescentia, the sight of space igniting excitement in his bones as the heavy smell of industry, stale and fuel heavy, settled in his lungs like a welcome hug. His second visit to this world, to observe and record its people, its status and the spread of darkness but none of that mattered, his orders pushed to the back of his mind as black coats melded into those of the world: soft browns, comfortable and easy to move in, soft fabrics, loose clothes and tight boots.

Zexion adores it here.

“I do wish you’d stop running off as soon as we land.” Despite Vexen’s sour remark, the excitement Zexion feels is not quenched, only half listening to the scientist’s complaint as a ship flies overhead, sails seemingly made of shimmering gold, sailing straight for the abyss of space. “Are you listening to me, child?” He’s jerked out of his amazement, hand firmly on his shoulder as if to tether him to reality, finally looking up to Vexen who not annoyed but understanding.

“Not a word.” Perhaps its cheeky, a comment too far but he finds himself not caring, breathless with exhilaration and the closest he’s felt to human in near three years. To his credit, Vexen says nothing, simply sighing and shaking his head before letting go of Zexion’s shoulder, gesturing forward with his hands with the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“Don’t go too far.” The scientist sighs, allowing Zexion to run off, his gaze never straying to far from where the child was. Any other time he’d be annoyed, slip away with an illusion and then deal with wrathful consequences later but in this world, in this world the pressure of his expectations was merely a blip in the background, muffled by the wonder at every marvel he saw.

Radiant Garden and the advancements in technology, now laying dormant in the castle’s bowels, had never felt less important to him. What was the power of the heart in comparison to the lure of adventure? The appeal of flying galleons soaring through the night sky to endless discoveries a sirens call?

Vexen is, as always, easily distracted by oddities, the market littered with both curiosities the scientists could barely fathom to the more familiar and mundane. Baked goods sold alongside livestock, monsters of the deep space that almost resembled the shadow creatures that dwelled outside the marble walls in The World That Never Was, missing only the symbol to denote their true nature.

But then, the Shadow Heartless also never had them.

Perhaps that’s why Vexen is observing them so closely, listening fully enraptured as the salesman spills their pitch. From the abyss of space, found on some remote planet that was begging to be colonised, docile and somewhat clingy, would make an excellent pet for his young son. These worlds were fully of strange beings, Zexion knows this, Vexen knows this, but the hauntingly yellow eyes and jittering movements seem out of place even in this bazaar of galactic wonders.

“Do you have any other creatures like this?” It’s hard to miss the way the other’s eyes light up, fully trusting a sale was to be made, scaled and clawed hands rubbing together in either excitement or from the cold, both Nobodies assuming it to be the former. “Would there be anywhere my son could go whilst we discuss? Children can be rather talkative and the end outcome is, well, to be a surprise for my wife.”

Zexion refrains from snorting, his humour brought to life by the mere thought of who the mystery wife back at the castle was. Xaldin? No, Lexaeus? Perhaps. Xigbar and Xemnas were just laughable, Zexion acting ever the innocent and unsuspecting child as he was led to a nearby stall. Manned only by an elderly woman, strangely tortoise like in appearance, a stall full of an all manner of delicacies, baked, golden and still warm, as claws deftly wove wool together.

“Stay here and don’t cause any trouble for, Ms Bones.”

Is it Vexen or the seller who speaks? Zexion doesn’t know, nervous as he takes the seat next to the creature, her large yellow eyes watching him all the way. She had pupils, she’s not one of the heartless monsters, but, then again, she wouldn’t be the first heartless creature he had met with pupiled yellow eyes. Xehanort held firmly onto that title, even if Zexion was a greater monster than even he. It was his fault the lab had been built in the first place.

Without that lab, none of this would have ever happened.

“Do you like stories, young master?” Her voice creaks as she speaks, like old wood in a storm, pausing her knitting to offer him a pasty from the table before continuing. It’s still warm, the heat welcome in both his finger tips and mouth as he cautiously took a bite, nervous as to what he might taste only to find the warmth of a homemade meal wrapped in layers of flaky, buttery pastry.

He nods, both in enjoyment of the food and to encourage her on, the monster of an elder not so much scary now as she was inviting, sharing in the same curse Lexaeus had. Intimidating yet warm. Perhaps all the best people were, for Zexion himself was neither of these and, by no means, one of the better people.

“I have many stories, let’s see…” She frowns as she ponders, knitting paused as she stares at a spot in the market stall roof before something seems to sparkle in her eye, an excitement seeming to burn through her. “Have you heard of the great Captain Nathaniel Flint?” He shakes his head this time, mouth still filled with food, old lessons from both Dilan and Ansem on the rudeness of speaking with a full mouth as clear as ever. Ms Bones grins, or so Zexion supposes, crooked teeth exposed as she swoops in, a little too close for comfort, knitting abandoned on her lap before leaning away, becoming more expressive as she recalls the tale of her choosing. “There are nights when the Etherium is as calm and peaceful as a pond of the planet Pelasnor…”

As the months have passed since his initial request, Zexion has grown to dread the one on one meetings with Xemnas. By no means frequent but always end the same, with a look of disdain and contempt every single time he failed to achieve what Xemnas wanted him to, something easier said than done when the only thing the other had given him to work with was a girl with blue hair. None resided in his memories, none of any significance at least, the only memories of blue hair belonging to the old Saix, Isa.

Zexion has his doubts that the girl Xemnas wants to remember was Isa.

The whole process of helping his superior to remember would be easier if he allowed him to use his book to it’s full potential, Zexion tensing with annoyance as his elder once again admonished him. “Your lack of improvement with your abilities is disappointing, VI.” Never one to mince his words, was he? Zexion inhaling slowly to try and temper down the remark clawing at his throat. “Try again.”

“The result will be the same, sir, I need more information to work from.” Vexen would be proud of the civility, he thinks, unclenching his hands as he studied Xemnas’ face, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. It doesn’t even move. A blank canvas of a face just looking back at him, as if he hadn’t even registered what the child had even said. “If you make contact with my Lexicon, things will be easier.”

That garners a reaction, both a frown and glare marring Xemnas’ features and Zexion feels every bit the child he was, something akin to fear creeping down his spine. “Disappointing.” Xemnas repeats, the dismissal clear in his voice, Zexion not bothering for it to be vocal before standing to leave. A shake in his hands, he takes a breath, a shallow bid to calm the anger curling within him as he offered his superior both a mock bow and an ever so ingenuine apology.

“My apologies, sir. I’ll aim to be less disappointing to you next time.”

If Xemnas notices the contempt in his voice, the older nobody says nothing, a lazy wave of the hand the only indication Zexion gets that the other heard a word he said. Good, he thinks, opening a portal to his own quarters on the off chance Xigbar would bother him for secrets once more, he’d rather the superior think of him as beneath his expectations of the child.

Would make proving him wrong later all the more satisfying.

The lab is cold, freezing even, Zexion curious as always as to if Vexen made it that way or if he was simply unaware of the chill, a curious side glance to the redhead exuding heat near by causing Zexion to conclude that maybe, just maybe, it was intentional. His lack of respect and joy for Axel, both as a Somebody and a Nobody, would be humorous if Zexion wasn’t concerned he’d become an unforeseen casualty in the process.

Vexen’s experiments on the creatures from Crescentia seemed to have been going well then, newer creatures than the ones they initially brought back blinking back at the trio with curiosity, though some cowered whilst others prowled, clearly hostile. Was that why Axel was here? Make shift security in case something went wrong? He wasn’t usual present for this but he’d been ushered into the lab by an almost excited Vexen, energized ramblings of needing a witness to his hypothesis spilling from his lips.

And that’s how he finds himself sat here, clipboard in hand, looking between Vexen, still muttering to himself as he bent over a lab report, and Axel, finger poised and ready to tap on the glass of the nearest enclosure. “Confirming my earlier thoughts, the samples we collected from Crescentia have proven to be heartless. Whilst this world holds no known keyblade wielder, theorized to be the only thing to truly destroy a heartless and free the heart within, this world has show resilience in that they have not only managed to subdue the creatures but also cage and transport them without the means of darkness.”

“Would it be ridiculous to suggest that perhaps they were waiting for a place with more prey? Crescentia is a bustling port.” Zexion pipes up, the lab falling into silence bar the tap of a finger on glass, Vexen’s face seeming to go through the motions of denial and acceptance of Zexion’s concept, clapping his hands together before rubbing them together as yet another wave of giddy energy washed over his mentor.

“That would suggest a level of intelligence not exhibited in the others, something for further research and development. Would you be willing to- “He cuts himself off, both scientists turning to the red head as he continued to tap, the heartless inside growling as it once again lashed out against the glass. “Continue to tap that tank, VIII, and I will tap you with the spiked edge of my shield.”

Axel pauses midtap and Zexion bites back a laugh, the red head clearly not bothered by the withering glare sent in his direction, something that only added to the hilarity of the situation. “You’re the one ignoring me here, doc, you said there was a reason you forced me down here.” Axel straightens and shrugs, an illusion of cocksure grandeur upon him as he smirks at the blonde. “Gotta entertain myself somehow.”

“You’re here to assist in taking down a specimen should it escape and attack.” His voice is firm, Zexion recognising it as the one he frequently used upon Xigbar whenever the other lurked around the labs, his gaze now reserved for the file in his hand. As if the younger nobody wasn’t worth the effort of looking at. “Frankly, I’d have asked for anyone else but it seems the Superior deemed it required everyone else be mission bound.”

A splutter of indignation, Zexion taking a shaky breath in as the laughter threatened to overflow, Axel’s protests over Vexen’s remark seeming falling on deaf ears as the elder Nobody simply ignored him in favour for his research.

---

Its difficult to not look at Saix.

The wound is new, still fresh but it fails to look it, a faint swelling around the eyes and the red hue that came with it the only thing that gave away any hint to the recent wound. Cauterised, a giant cross to mar his face stretching from brow to cheek, Zexion can only wonder when looking at it won’t bring a cold feeling of unease to his stomach. ‘You know who did that to him.’ A voice whispers in the back of his head, a voice that suspiciously sounds like his whole self, cloaking himself on instinct as the smell of moonshine and cinders permeated the library.

“We should have been more careful.” Saix’s voice is hushed but all noises carry in an otherwise silent library, Zexion’s grip on the book tightening as the teenaged pair walk past, two pairs of eyes scanning the alleyways between shelves for any sign of life in an almost paranoid fashion. Illusions only work if you’re silent, Xaldin had lectured as much months ago and he’d committed it to memory ever since, regulating his breathing to something more silent and shallow as he listened in.

“We were careful.” His voice is soft, Zexion peering through the bookcase to find Axel reaching for Saix’s face, hand quivering before a cheek before the preteen moves away, grimacing both over the act and the sight of the scar. It was bad enough he was eavesdropping in on the clearly private conversation, why add further discomfort by bearing visual witness to it. “He hurt you, Isa.”

The silence returns, Zexion ready to make his escape, planning to summon a clone outside the door to open it only to hesitate as he hears a drawn-out sigh. “We should stop this, Axel, at least until we know his suspicions have been dropped.”

“Do you not care about finding her anymore? I thought the whole reason we joined was for her!”

“We got careless and now her name, his brand, is across my face.”

Calm and collect verses a heat and fury, a contrast in tones but both spoken with underlining meanings that Zexion was not privy to knowing. The stench of acrid smoke is almost suffocating, steadily building as the exchange continues, the illusionist taking a deeper breath to launch his escape when the argument comes to a head. Acrid smoke simmers away into almost nothing, the hostility in the air evaporating, leaving the young nobody curious as to what Saix did to both calm and soothe Axels temper.

“He hurt her. He hurt me. I won’t let him hurt you.”

It’s been a while since his last lesson with Lexaeus, the gentle giant almost always off world recently due to missions now assigned by Saix, leaving much of Zexion’s explorations within the science of food in his own hands. He’d missed it, though he hesitates to admit it, a sense of normality in their otherwise abnormal non-lives, the sound of a knife against a chopping board more soothing than it had any real reason to be.

“Where were you sent this time?” Zexion enquires, hair meticulously pinned out of his eyes as he worked his way through the potatoes for today’s lesson. There’s no response at first, the child wondering if the other had even heard him, opening his mouth with every intention of repeating the question when he finally gets his response.

“Atlantica.”

“How was it?”

The knife pauses, accompanied by a thoughtful hum.

“Wet.”

A choked laugh, the mixture of a dry delivery and little to no change in expression, if Lexaeus hadn’t intended the comment as a joke then he had failed in delivery. Taking the next potato, he grimaces, placing it to the side before reaching to the next, the duality of his sense of smell, both a blessing and a curse, never more apparent.

“Spoilt?” Zexion nods, setting about his work again, counting each of prepared tubers before continuing. One per person. It’s what the recipe called for but it was doubtful everyone would eat the food they provided, they hadn’t before now and Zexion has difficulty believing that would change now. “You’re getting better at recognising the differences.”

“I’ve had time to practise, I wasn’t trusting Vexen to cook for me.” Vexen was many things. A brilliant, if not slightly mad, scientist who strove the test the limits of what was thought possible. His most prominent father figure. Somewhat paranoid in most matters involving the Superior, though, Zexion can only surmise this was in response to the events that lead to this hollow existence in the first place. But he was, in any shape or form, a cook, his reservoir of culinary knowledge extending little beyond the simplest of dishes and, whilst delicious, the pallet can only withstand scrambled eggs and toast for so long.

This gains him a chuckle, Zexion wiping peelings and the rejected vegetable into the bin, turning back to his work station only to be presented with a small knife and the instruction to cut into one-inch cubes. “What if I cut myself?” He feels ridiculous asking, he’s more than old enough to use a knife to prepare food and had done whilst Lexaeus was gone, his gloves hiding the evidence of misadventure with knife skills whilst alone in the kitchen.

“Then you’ll learn not to do it again.”

He wants to take off his gloves, to exhibit the plethora of small nicks in his fingers and prove the giant wrong, staring at his hands a little too intently before taking the knife from Lexaeus and sighing. There was no point in worrying him, he thinks, the momentary satisfaction of proving him wrong wouldn’t be worth the aftermath like it was with the rest of his peers, tongue poking out from lips as Zexion set about completing his task.

They’ve recorded details of the heartless brought from Crescentia, from size to attack style, the only thing lacking in their basic research of the creatures to be if they would release a heart upon perishing. Nobody within the world was a keyblade wielder, at least to their knowledge, and it seemed unlikely they would find one to complete this aspect of their notes anytime soon.

Researching the intelligence of the heartless had proved fruitless beyond proving that, despite the evidence to the contrary in Crescentia, they didn’t hold a higher semblance of intelligence. Slouching over the desk, a task easier said than done when it was built for Vexen, Zexion pinches his pen in the middle, sending the heartless tank opposite him an intense stare as he rapidly tapped the ends of the pen in tandem.

Something was bothering him, something he couldn’t yet put his finger on, counting down the five minutes Vexen said he’d be absent for in mumbles as his thoughts ran wild with potential theories and hypotheses. Most encountered held a lower level of intelligence, some attacked in pack formation like feral wolves, they all had bright yet hollow yellow eyes and some had symbols on them whilst others had none.

There was something here they were overlooking, something obvious and it infuriated him, no doubt it bothered Vexen too. One hundred and sixty-four seconds. Two minutes and fourteen seconds. That’s how long he had to come up with even a slither of an idea of what this all meant in the grand scheme of things, pen flying from his fingers after his grip slackens and a tap too hard.

A lesser nobody brings it back, a Scholar, one of Vexen’s own personal type, all points and stiff lines. They were more pleasant to look at than the lowest of them, the dusks, boneless creatures that would drag themselves hip forward when Zexion imagines it would be better to slither on the floor like a snake. The opposite of heartless, the small shadows at least, who juddered and quaked with every movement, seemingly as stiff as rusted iron whilst the dusks were as fluid as water at times.

He’s still looking at the Nobody when Vexen returns, tea in hand and countdown forgotten, a clearing of the throat snapping Zexion from his thoughts as he jolts up, clearly startled as his eyes settle on his mentor and fellow researcher. “Surely I wasn’t gone so long, child, that you felt the need to daydream.”

“Not daydream, but observe and think.” Zexion corrects, accepting the cup of deep red tea as it was handed to him, refraining from slouching as he nursed the hot porcelain in his hands. Anything to warm his hands in this lab without vocally asking Vexen to do something about the cold, knowing full well the elder would either ignore him or admonish him for something that was apparently the cause of his poor circulation. The past three months as assistant on Vexen’s mission to catalogue and code the different heartless had confirmed that Vexen was not only immune to the chill of his lab but likely also the cause.

“Did your observations lead you to any conclusions of interest?” A loaded question, by all means, their goals the same but what qualified as a point of interest between the two did not always coincide. Zexion takes a large swig of his tea, still too hot to count as fully drinkable but would aid in the next few moments should Vexen dismiss his idea as something not worth thinking about, his throat burning as warmth spread through his system.

“We’re two sides of the same coin, the result of what happens when a human or being loses its heart. If they follow a similar ranking and classification as we do in terms of power then…”

“Then it would not be out of the question if the higher ranks have the power to control the lesser heartless.” Vexen finishes, no cold dismissal in the air as it appeared the blonde was not only taken with the concept but on board with it. Within the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t overly important, not really, thoughts of the heartless only stretching as far as an annoyance and a tool to be used to gain access to Kingdom Hearts within the Organisation. Xemnas might know more but, as with most things, he was too tight lipped to spill any secret knowledge he may have.

“You know this all serves no purpose, right, Child?”

“Yes.” Zexion nods, thought for a moment before the faintest of smiles tugs at his lips. He wonders if Vexen can still recall the small, nonsensical experiments they would do as somebodies, when he’d walk up with the confidence only a small child could muster and slide a crude drawing over a wooden desk of what he wanted to do and the results he wanted.

They were always simple. How to make flames burn in different colours, how different things contort and change under extreme temperatures, or if they even did, and, more often than not, how to cause the most amount of damage in the smallest amount of time. Childish in nature and, yet, Even still approached them with all the seriousness of a man on the brink of a new scientific discovery. It’s what initially inspired him to delves into the sciences, the desire to be just like Even.

“You’ve left a feeling of nostalgia in me, young one, a fleeting joy.” His voice is oddly soft, Vexen not looking at him but Zexion knows him to be smiling, no matter how faint it may be. How long has it been since they shared a moment like this, without a hint of resentment addled disappointment towards each other? As what they were regardless of form, a father and son both overly invested in a shared topic. “You’re swaying me onto a dangerous trajectory, the day is not ours to waste."

The silence stretches on, cobalt meets acid green and a grin brimming with unrestrained mischief stretches the child’s lips. “And yet I see your body turning towards the cabinets filled with the potential for mischief, old man.” A manic smile returns his and Zexion can barely contain the excitement coursing through his veins.

#zexion #vexen #xemnas #lexaeus #saix #axel kh #kingdom hearts #akusai #im not even subtle in this chapter with it lmao #organization 13 #fic: if you let me #me: the akusai is background also me: LOL LETS NOT BE SUBTLE #dad vexen makes an appearance #i blame the zemyx server whole heardtedly for that little tidbit

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Game of Thrones - ‘The Last of the Starks’ Review

"We may have defeated them, but there's still us to contend with."

Previously, I'd written reviews for a couple of different episodes centered around epic battles. In this case, I felt fortunate to be reviewing an episode that's all about the aftermath of an epic battle, as well as a prelude for the next one.

Because I really couldn't decide how I felt about the sudden end to the White Walkers, the Long Night and the Great War until I saw how they planned to go forward. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I do know that -- as rushed as The Last of the Starks was -- there is a lot here that I quite enjoyed. At the very least, taking the zombies and ice demons out at the midway point leaves plenty of room to further explore the joys and pains of these awesome characters as they face an uncertain future.

Celebration of Life

The episode's opening is very bittersweet. We start with the somber mass funeral of those who died defending Winterfell from the Army of the Dead, and neatly segue into a joyous victory feast in the castle's great hall. These people just overcame death incarnate, and quickly realize there is much to celebrate. This leads to some beautiful moments.

Dany surprises everyone by singling out Gendry, son of her lifelong nemesis, and legitimizing him as a full-fledged Baratheon. I especially loved that Davos began the cheers for him, it's a nice vindication of his undying loyalty to the family.

Tormund once again attempts to woo Brienne of Tarth, but this time gets soundly cock-blocked by Jaime Lannister. Watching Tormund tearfully relate this tragedy to the uncaring Hound before shacking up with some horny northern girl was hilarious. Which gives us the scene between Sansa and Sandor Clegane, a reunion I had been waiting for.

Although not quite as intimate as it is in the books, theirs is still a significant connection; he helped inspire her strength, and she helped inspire his chivalry. It was nice to see Sansa gain the Hound's respect, and it's always nice to see this hard man's softer, more vulnerable side.

And we finally see Jaime and Brienne become a thing. That love scene was so cleverly adorable in its execution, these two misfits struggling to approach the act of consummating their feelings toward each other. Brienne's awkward stiffness as she finds herself in a mutually romantic situation for the first time in her life, and Jaime's even more awkward attempt at flirting after a lifetime of ignoring all other women in favor of his twin sister. Very well handled.

Of course, there are still a couple of episodes left and they can't be full of nothing but our favorite characters happily prospering. As Littlefinger previously addressed, and as Tyrion reaffirms here, defeating the mythical White Walkers and saving the world means everyone must now deal with that world and each other.

Moments of Truth

Daenerys is quick to recognize this as well. The celebration only reminds her that she is still a stranger in her own homeland, that Jon Snow is the heroic leader people revere, and that his claim to the throne is stronger than hers regardless of whatever her destiny truly is. Emilia Clarke's performance shines here in a way I haven't seen for a couple of seasons now. This is because for the most part we only see her wearing Dany's queenly mask of superiority, mostly cool but occasionally smoldering. Whereas now we are seeing Dany in a state of palpable desperation.

The scene between her and Jon really brings their circumstances down to earth quite dramatically. They are in love and want to be together, but the truth of Jon's origin threatens to tear them apart and the realm along with them. Dany begs Jon not to reveal his secret identity to anyone else, but he feels compelled to tell Sansa and Arya because they are his family.

I'm disappointed that we don't see Sansa and Arya's immediate reactions to the truth, but their choices later on are just as telling.

Sansa chooses to betray Jon's trust by spilling the beans to Tyrion, hoping to erode Dany's power in favor of Jon. This would almost certainly guarantee an Iron Throne controlled by the Starks.

Arya chooses to join the Hound on a suicide mission to King's Landing, which is a bit more ambiguous. Is she questioning her own existence after learning Jon's secret and refusing Gendry's proposal, finally accepting that she wasn't born to be a subservient sister or wife but an instrument of death? Or is she risking her life in order to protect Jon, who she will always love as her brother, no matter where he came from?

Either way, it seems like a lot of carnage could have been avoided if Arya had just offered to go south and single-handedly assassinate Cersei for Jon and Dany.

The R+L=J revelation also leads to a few great scenes between Tyrion and Varys. Tyrion is clearly distressed, but Varys (rather hypocritically) begins suggesting that they should kick Dany to the curb and put Jon on the Iron Throne. It's been so long since we've seen the serious side to this duo. Now it seems Varys is poised to betray the queen he marked as a savior, in the name of the people. Meaning he's probably got dragonfire in his future. Or maybe not. The way their last conversation ends, you get the feeling that Tyrion's plea for Varys not to threaten Dany is more of a warning. Tyrion did start off his relationship with Varys by threatening to kill him for potentially endangering a woman he cared about.

For once, Tyrion is the character who's really hard to read. He seems to know Jon is a more ideal choice, but he can't bring himself to consider betraying Dany. He fears Dany's potential for madness and destruction, but he also genuinely believes in her potential for greatness.

I still think Tyrion's loyalty to Dany goes beyond just finding a ruler worth sticking with. Part of me thinks he's got some repressed romantic feelings toward her, and another part of me thinks he views her as the sister Cersei never was. Which likely makes the fact that they are at war with Cersei all the more complicated, since Tyrion just can't bring himself to give up on her.

Despite the whacky Stark kids, the legendary warriors and the various schemers and pretenders to the throne, the story really does seem to center around our three main outsiders, Jon, Daenerys and Tyrion. And I think Tyrion is drinking so much because he understands that he is caught in the middle and has the burden of deciding all of their fates and doesn't know the right choice. He is finally beginning to see the long shadow he is casting.

And despite Jon's stubborn optimism that everyone can get along, even he seems indecisive and adrift. He claims to not want the throne or the crown or even his "true" identity, but his departure from Winterfell shows us that he's still leaving behind everything that's been a core part of who he is: the North, the Free Folk, his friends and family, he even asks Tormund to bring his direwolf Ghost beyond the Wall. Whether he knows it or not, he is being drawn toward the Iron Throne, his supposed destiny. But his scenes in this episode drive the point home that he will always be Jon Snow at heart, not Aegon Targaryen VI. His connection to the Starks, the North, the First Men (hell, maybe even the Old Gods) is clearly much stronger than the blood of the dragon running through his veins.

Death of Dragons

And to drive this point home, immediately after Jon leaves Ghost behind, his dragon Rhaegal winds up dead.

Yes, "The Last War" quickly goes wrong for Dany as Euron Greyjoy lays an ambush at Dragonstone, destroying the rest of the Targaryen fleet and capturing Missandei in addition to killing one of her dragons with new souped up scorpions.

It's both frustrating and amazing that Cersei has been allowed to turn the tables like this, though forgivable in that it's largely a result of other people. Euron's unpredictable nature and talent for raising hell is key to her strength, Jaime's theft of the Tyrell wealth is the only reason she could afford the Golden Company, and she likely wouldn't have gotten this far if a crazy resourceful bastard like Qyburn hadn't been backing her up. Gold, cruelty and fool's luck have subsequently left her in a position where she is more dominant than a woman who had previously dominated almost half a continent.

Dealing with an enemy as maddeningly chaotic and power hungry as Cersei is doing the opposite of what Tyrion wants by provoking Dany to be just as bad or worse in her quest for victory. That Tyrion continues to delude himself into thinking Cersei is "not a monster" because she "loved her children" still annoys me. You could argue that he's trying to reason with her simply to avoid any more bloodshed, but Tyrion should be smart enough to know by now that appealing to Cersei's humanity and rationality is hopeless. Which Cersei proves by having the Mountain decapitate Missandei, spitting on Dany's last bit of mercy. Our dragon queen has never been closer to giving the order to "burn them all" than she is now.

Missandei's resolute final words -- "Dracarys", which calls back to the moment she went from enslaved translator to royal herald when Dany began her revolution in Slaver's Bay -- might give us some hope for sweet revenge and catharsis, but I imagine the end result will be more difficult to reconcile. King's Landing is a powderkeg just waiting to go off. I mean, we've got the combined Stark and Targaryen forces about to do battle with the combined Lannisters, Ironborn and Golden Company sellswords, Dany unleashing her wrath on dragonback while Cersei uses the populace of King's Landing as a shield, the Hound facing off against the Mountain, Arya coming to kill Cersei and Jaime possibly on his way to do the same (more on that below), there's a good chance Cersei will use wildfire again to give her more of an edge, all on top of Tyrion and Varys butting heads as they toy with Jon and Dany's lives in the game of thrones.

If The Long Night was any indication, we'll likely see most of this resolved in the next episode after much senseless violence. However, unless everyone ends up killing each other, that still leaves a bunch of other unanswered questions. Will our heroes Jon and Dany come to terms with who they are? How does Tyrion go on after the downfall of his dysfunctional family? Can the Stark children ever come back from the tragedies and horrors that have defined their lives? Is what's left of Westeros going to survive the long winter? How long will this winter be? Why are the seasons so long anyway? If the realm does survive, will it and its people learn from this devastation and evolve, or forget and doom themselves to repeat history over and over? What exactly is the Prince That Was Promised, or the Lord of Light? Where does any of this magic come from? Does Bronn get his fancy castle? Was the Three-Eyed Bran the bad guy all along? Will the gallant cat Ser Pounce ever return?

I guess I'll find out, one way or another. Hard to believe this show's almost over.

Schemes & Plots:

* The funeral scene got to me. Guess I just wasn't ready to see characters like Jorah, Theon or Dolorous Edd get laid to rest.

* I love how Podrick casually sets up a threesome in the background as Sansa talks to Sandor.

* Bronn gets a scene with Jaime and Tyrion that, while fun, is basically a retread of most other scenes between these characters. Which pretty much boils down to this: "You fuckers owe me a castle!" I know it's a cute way of illustrating that Bronn would rather not kill the Lannister bros, but realistically he should have cut his losses a long time ago.

* Varys mentions that the "new Prince of Dorne" has declared for Daenerys. Whoever this is, I doubt we'll ever see him. Guess the show chose to forget that Oberyn Martell had eight daughters, which would leave five still alive after the demise of the loathsome Sand Snakes.

* Gilly is pregnant with Sam's baby. Big surprise, they're gonna name it Jon if it's a boy.

* Not long after the Jaime/Brienne ship sets sail, it capsizes when Jaime learns that Cersei is gaining the advantage over Dany. He then apparently abandons his chance at honor, love and peace to go back to Cersei, breaking Brienne's heart. Or so it would seem. I think Jaime is really going back to put an end to Cersei himself, and simply played the villain to keep Brienne from following him to almost certain death. Jaime states the unforgivable things he's done for Cersei as if to affirm that he is just like her, but I think this is him owning up to the fact that loving Cersei made him into a monster, something he doesn't want to be. In this light, Jaime killing Cersei would be as poetic as Tyrion killing Tywin; their struggle to please these hateful tyrants enslaved them both, forcing them to compromise their principles and accept lives of humiliation and scorn. A missing sword hand isn't Jaime's greatest handicap no more than dwarfism was Tyrion's. It's Cersei. She's a chain he needs to break free from.

* Watching Jaime struggle to unbutton his tunic or ready his horse makes me think of all the other one-handed difficulties he must have dealt with during his solo journey north.

* I still really hate that there's no snow in King's Landing. After all the talk about how "Winter is Coming", winter has had far less representation than I imagined.

* Tyrion's parlay with Qyburn reminded me of the deleted scene from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King where the heroes meet the Mouth of Sauron.

* We see the way this world's history repeats itself through Gendry. House Baratheon was originally founded by a man said to have been Aegon the Conqueror's bastard brother, and they are once again made rulers of the Stormlands by another Targaryen conqueror. It's taken even further when an overjoyed Gendry asks Arya to be his wife and gets rejected, just like his father Robert was rejected by Lyanna Stark. The Baratheons are typically very gifted individuals, but they are woefully unlucky when it comes to love and family.

* Speaking of history repeating, it turns out Cersei really is manipulating Euron the same way she manipulated King Robert, tricking him into believing that her Lannister incest baby is his Greyjoy heir to the throne.

* Rhaegal died at Dragonstone after being unceremoniously impaled by three javelins and sinking into the waters. This was similar to his namesake, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone who was unceremoniously defeated and died in the waters of the Trident.

* Still not enough Ghost.

Quotes:

Sandor Clegane: Used to be you couldn't look at me. Sansa Stark: That was a long time ago. I've seen much worse than you since then. Sandor: Yes, I've heard. Heard you were broken in. Heard you were broken in rough. Sansa: And he got what he deserved. I gave it to him. Sandor: How? Sansa: Hounds. Sandor: (chuckles) ... You've changed, little bird.

Jaime Lannister: You know the first thing I learned about the North? I hate the fucking North. Brienne of Tarth: It grows on you. Jaime: I don't want things growing on me.

Daenerys Targaryen: (to Jon) I saw the way they looked at you. I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way, but never here. Never on this side of the sea.

Jon Snow: If you only trust the people you grow up with, you won't make many allies. Arya Stark: That's alright. I don't need many allies.

Tormund Giantsbane: (to Jon) You've got the north in you. The real north.

Sandor Clegane: (to Arya) Must've felt good, sticking your knife in that horned fucker.

Varys: How many others know? Tyrion: Including us? Eight. Varys: Then it's not a secret anymore. It's information.

Varys: You know our queen better than I do. Do you think she wants to share the throne? She doesn't like to have her authority questioned-- Tyrion: Something she has in common with every monarch who ever lived. Varys: I worry about her state of mind. Tyrion: We're advisors to the queen. Worrying about her state of mind is our job... We still have to take King's Landing. Maybe Cersei will win and kill us all. That would solve all our problems.

Euron Greyjoy: She's coming for you. Cersei Lannister: Of course, she is. Keep the gates open. If she wants to take the castle she'll have to murder thousands of innocent people first. So much for the Breaker of Chains.

Daenerys: They should know who to blame when the sky falls down upon them. Damn.

Varys: I have served tyrants most of my life. They all talk about destiny. Tyrion: She's a girl who walked into a fire with three stones and walked out with three dragons. How could she not believe in destiny?

Though I'm not crazy about the direction these last few seasons have gone in, it was an absolute pleasure to be able to write reviews for this show. Game of Thrones is truly phenomenal. It'll be a shame not to have it to look forward to anymore. Three and a half out of five Starbucks coffee cups.

Logan Cox

#Game of Thrones #Jon Snow #Daenerys Targaryen #Arya Stark #Sansa Stark #Tyrion Lannister #Cersei Lannister #GoT #A Song of Ice and Fire #Game of Thrones Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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