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chromiumagellanic06 · 2 months

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The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen/Original Fem [Targaryen] Character

Chapter 6: Wisestone

MASTERLIST

Summary: Naera visits the dragonpits with Daemon, Rhaenyra and Laenor, and settles on a conclusion. The day does not end sweetly, however.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: nothing, really

Princess Naera Targaryen had had a dragon egg chosen for her before her birth, as is Valyrian custom. Her father, King Viserys I, had chosen for his second child, one from the very last clutch laid by Visenya’s Vhagar. By the accounts of the court and verbal anecdotes, the egg had been the most ordinary of Vhagar’s last clutch, which was surprising when considering that, of the five eggs of Vhagar’s final clutch, two had never hatched, one had birthed a creature which burst into flames and died immediately after, and the last had been terribly diseased.

The egg given to the young princess was as ivory pale as her Valyrian descended hair, circled and tinged with silver and gold, and had hatched when the Princess was a nameday old. She had taken the young beastling to Dorne following her betrothal to Prince Raiden Martell and had escaped Dorne, after Prince Raiden’s death, on dragonback also.

She had named the silver-white wyrmling Wisestone, acknowledging his wisdom and his stone-like scaling. She described the dragon’s behaviour and habits at length in her journals, pointing out how it adored jewels and gold and anything that shone and glimmered at all, and his preference for human flesh over animal meat. She also noted of the dragon’s personality, stating how Wisestone was aloof, and that he reminded her of a pale-furred wandering Cheshire cat in the Water Gardens named Godred. Wisestone never yearned incessantly for the Princess’ attention, and while both ride and rider held great love for the other, neither needed the other at every passing moment, unlike some others, such as Princess Rhaenyra and her mount, Syrax, both of whom had had a very strong attachment to the other.

Wisestone had been her constant companion throughout her journeys in Essos, for better, or for worse. Following her journals left at the Citadel post demise, the Princess had suffered in the Dothraki Grass Sea because of her dragon, as the horse riders had been intent on naming her a witch to be burnt or hung, and her dragon a horse-eating beast to be slain. Their attempts at burning the Targaryen princess had not concluded well for the Dothraki, however, and she had left the seas unscathed once her business had concluded.

In pure opposition to the troubles she faced in the Grass Sea, the Princess had never been more glad of having Wisestone by her side as she had while she explored the reaches of the Shadowlands. As a land of death and dragons itself, Asshai was a region Wisestone had immediately, in Princess Naera’s words, “almost declared home”, and had formed itself a lair by the sea also, adorned with carcasses of sailors and wanderers as well as the stolen fineries and gold of merchants.

A few moons past her arrival on Dragonback to the capital city of King’s Landing, Wisestone had made himself a home in the Dragonpits, adorned with the usual bones and gold, but with a surprising number of jewels also. The keepers of the Pit are on record as having made it a rule to remove all gems and gold from themselves before making their way to feed Wisesetone, for the twinkle of rubies could break the dragon’s control within seconds.

Just days before the wedding of Princess Naera and Prince Daemon, the keepers record the silver dragon as having gone missing, as his lair had been discovered empty during the evening meals. This record is conflicting because although the proceedings of the Small Council on that date record a discussion of the missing silver dragon as having taken place, there were no comments by Princess Naera in any of her journals. Thus, the most reliable and important source of information in this matter is absent, and the details of the situation are up for speculation.

The dragonkeepers are said to have blamed the princess herself for her neglect of her companion, as she had failed to make hours for visitations.

Every dragon of Valyrian heritage knows some inkling of its unlived past. Balerion the Black Dread had been borne in Valyria but brought to Dragonstone soon after, and in 54 AC, had fled back to the cursed lands with its then rider, Princess Aerea Targaryen. The keepers had probably recounted the tale to Princess Naera, who, by all evidence, would have staunchly refused her dragon as having ties to Valyria past blood at all.

- An excerpt from ‘The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife’

by Maester Creyolin of the Citadel

The Dragonpits were shrouded in darkness, the stench of rotting flesh, and iron, and blood, and flame thick and matted in the humid air. There were chains on the floor, Naera could see their dark shadows, but she did not wish to learn who suffered its misfortune. She walked half a step behind the old dragonkeeper who spoke only her mother tongue, as he led her, and Daemon, and Laenor, and Rhaenyra down to the lair of Wisestone.

The stone floor was damp and sticky, perhaps with urine, or blood, or both, and it was all so terribly dark. There was only ash, coal, pitch black, and Naera saw little swirls of blue and violet dance in the darkness. Perhaps it was the reflection of the fire held by the man to lead their way on a matted pane of darkness, perhaps she had simply fallen past the brink of insanity. Or, perhaps, those changing shapes that resembled whips and kneeling men were another vision of her making. The darkness made her chest feel heavy, pushed a weight down on her and made her gasp to catch another lungful of the wet air.

Naera could hear hissing, and breathing, from every direction, and she could feel warm air brushing down her neck. Sweat pooled at her forehead, little crystal-like droplets that glimmered in the flames of the torch the man held. She stared at the fire, at the cackling swirls of yellow and gold, and its very core that glowed blue, and she could have sworn that she saw a glimpse of silver scales. Wisestone.

The keeper stopped on dry ground, lighting a second wooden torch and handing it to Naera, who held onto it with uncertainty. She could see something sparkle in the near distance, a changing glitter which called to her. The fire burned warm against her skin, and she took two, three, four steps, until her feet hit something solid, and the sound of dropping metal alarmed the group.

“Tyne dārilaros,” the dragonkeeper was an aged man with wrinkles gracing every last inch of his face, but Daemon was more confused by what he called Naera. Second princess, in the brashest of translations, and the disdain in the old man’s voice did not go unheard by any. “Sylvie dōrenka…”

“Wisestone,” Naera corrected absently, eyes glossing at the sight of jewels and gems and gold scattered by her feet, “ñuhyz zaldrizes Valyrīhy issa daor,” my dragon is not Valyrian. Her dragon had never seen Valyria, never breathed its air, never laid talons on its ashen, cursed soil. Her dragon was not Valyrian, not to her, who believed that heritage is chosen and not assigned at birth.

Wisestone’s lair in the Dragonpits was new, barely lived in, but already adorned with bones of sheep and men licked clean and jewels snatched carefully from their decaying bodies. Naera stared down at the place he had made home—at the emptiness of it, besides the jewels—diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and more rubies. There were so many rubies, and carcasses, and took slow, careful steps despite the absence of a warm, deadly beast sleeping by dusk.

Naera stared at the cavelet adorned with gold and tinged with blood, at the little crack on the ceiling that let the light of the setting sun pour in, making every silver chain and coin twinkle in the darkness.

“Aōha zaldrīzes sōvegon naejot Valyria kostos,” the dragonkeeper refused to speak the name chosen by Naera, instead saying, your dragon may have flown to Valyria.

Naera shook her head. Wisestone—her Wisestone would not travel to a land unknown, not without her. He would not call that place his home, which he had never seen. “Daor,” she refused, “Ēza daor.” No, he has not.

“Naera when did you last visit him?” Rhaenyra knelt by the gentle scratches against the stony ground where Wisestone would have slept, running her hand along the longest of dents. Naera could not recall.

“Ēza issare bōza,” she admitted, it has been long, “but he wouldn’t…no,” her companion would not have abandoned her this way, she knew. Wisestone did not require frequent visits and loving embraces. Wisestone did not require her constant mind and thought.

“Pār konir sagon se drīve, dārilaros,” the keeper answered, clinking his staff against the floor. Then that is the reason, princess.

Naera closed her eyes, shaking her head, relentless, “Emagon ao eptan pōnta qilōni gaomagon ry Zaldrīzesdōron?” Have you asked the keepers at Dragonstone? Naera picked up a ruby dripping with blood, circular, encased in gold, and clear as glass, with a broken tooth stuck to its back. Next to it was another ruby, a sharp shade of carmine or pepper that shone orange in the firelight, as large as her hand, and matted with browning claret. How?

“Issa, konīr iksis daorun arlie konīr,” Yes, there is nothing new there. “Valyria iksis se mērī udligon. Ziry zȳho iksis lenton.” Valyria is the answer. It is his home. No. Valyria is not his home, Naera knew. A place one has barely seen can never be one’s home. King’s Landing was not his home, neither was Dragonstone, or Valyria.

No. No.

Sunspear?

Wisestone had grown up in the fields adjoining the Dornish capital. He had flown through its desert grass and fed on its wildlife. He had grown there to his towering height, taken flight there, he had lived there. He had also lived in Essos. He had lived with her, in the Grass Seas and in the lands adjoining the Slaver’s Bay when she had fought alone for her life. He had flown her to Naath, to Lys, and Qarth—he had lived in Essos for as long as she had.

Suddenly, the rubies made sense. The flaming, blood-soaked rubies made complete reason and sense, as clear as the crystal waters of a Northern stream when summer broke their ways.

She hadn’t been the only one to yearn.

“Sȳndorion.” The land of shadows, “Ēdas iā lenton isse se Sȳndorion.” He had a home in the Shadowlands, by the stony ports where he preyed on rich merchants and fleeing maidens alike, where he was worshipped for his fire by the priests and priestesses of R’hllor, and she had left him to his art, whilst she learned another for herself.

“Ahsī?” The dragonkeeper sounded unsure.

Naera stood, dropping the rubies on the gold with a clatter, hand now stained with red, “Asshai. There is no place else.” Was this the answer? Was she to journey to Asshai now that she knew Melisandre was no longer there? It was absolutely the kind of cruel joke the Lord of Light would play, she knew.

There was only one way to get some answers.

She raised the torch to level with her eyes, staring at the lapping flames and charred wood at its core. She could feel Laenor’s confusion, Rhaenyra’s curiosity, Daemon’s irritation and the dragonkeeper’s annoyance. She brought the flame down. Later.

“Naera,” Daemon took her free hand, the bloody one, despite the darkness, and asked, “Do you—will you go to Asshai?” Concern, certainly, for if her uncle cared for anything, it was his dragon, Caraxes, and he expected her to worry the same. She couldn’t travel to Asshai. It would take weeks to reach by sea and if she failed to find him, several other weeks to return. She couldn’t.

Naera shook her head. “I shall write to a friend in Asshai,” Eraine, or Velaena, or Aertha, or any of the other Red Priestesses she had known who still resided in the lands of death.

“To Melisandre?” Naera flinched at hearing her name from Daemon’s mouth, and the memory of that afternoon in the Godswood, when he had looked o’er her portrait and asked her about the language of Asshai descended on her. She smiled, broken, and shook her head.

“Someone else,” but did not tell him why she couldn’t write to that Red Woman. She followed the keeper out of the pits, her heart a little lighter as her mind grew heavier with the possibility of Wisestone being safe and glorious in Asshai—yes, that was enough. The thought of her companion safe and revelling was sweetness.

Laenor and Rhaenyra left them there, claiming to take to the Small Council to inform the king of Naera’s theories, and she was left alone with the disdainful dragonkeeper who grumbled something along the lines of 'never leave a dragon alone,' before departing for his works.

Daemon stared at her, at her lilac eyes that had reddened and dried, and she stared back at him also, at the way he bit the fine skin on the inside of his mouth, right under his lips and to the left, how his nose flared every fifth breath as he searched for words, how he ran his tongue over his teeth, lips still closed, as he found no words. Waiting, waiting, tarrying, and no thoughts came until he settled for a sentence.

“Naera, nyke…” and her uncle embraced her, warmly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and resting his chin against her forehead. “Ziry kessa mire sagon syz,” It shall all be fine, and yes, he was worried, and fearful, and sweet, almost, but Naera did not care. She knew her dragon, knew his attitude. If he had left her side, it was not her fault. If her had left her side, it was to do someone’s bidding, perhaps even his own.

Naera told him so, “Gaomagon zūzagon daor, kepus,” Do not worry, uncle, “Kostōba nēdenka issa.” He is strong and brave. She held onto Daemon’s waist, feeling warmer, and warmer, and a dizzying spell of sleep washed over her. She let her eyes flicker close, but in the darkness, she saw, clear as a glowing moon on a black night sky, gold. She saw gold, liquid, boiling gold, and she felt its heat, the warm air being blown off a pot of melting gold over a fire she couldn’t see.

Then, it moved, it was picked up by strong, scarred arms, which held its weight with ease and dragged it through the air and tilted it over. Like honey that pours with a glossy temper out of a jar made of quartz, slow, shiny and delightful, the gold poured out of the blackened vessel, and as it fell down, and down, she saw hair—white, silver, but golden under the light—Targaryen hair, she saw, and the head that bore it, as molten gold poured over him, and down it went his eyes, and into his ears, and caked his head of white hair as it charred his skin red. A Prince, perhaps, but no more, for as his silent screams were sung, the gold had hardened thus, and he fell to the floor, dead.

Naera backed away in a step, eyes clenched close to hold onto the sight. A crown for a King, were the words that echoed in her mind. A crown men shall tremble to behold, and she knew, by the depth of the voice that resonated, by the silent screams of the dead prince she never knew, she knew, that if she turned, just a step and another, she would see the Conqueror again, watching.

An ache, sharp, yet dull at the same instance tore through her head, her vision blurring until she only saw the gold again, but its heat had all disappeared. There was pain, hot, blinding, white pain, more urgent than any wound she had suffered, and Naera clawed helplessly at her eyes which burned and ached even more, and tears ran down her face as she tugged at her hair. No, she wanted to beg, as all her sight melted into blinding light.

The last thing she felt was Daemon’s arms holding her up again, as her knees collided with the ground at the Dragonpits, clutching her head in cries. Something warm trickled down her neck, her chin, and her face, but she couldn’t dare open her eyes.

No.

Melisandre sat alone, in a cabin given to her by a Pentoshi merchant. She ran her hand absently over the ruby at her neck and shrugged off her red cloak. It was long past dusk outside her cabin, and she had lit every torch, and every lantern she could find to brighten her room. She wanted no darkness, not even as she undressed, for the night is dark and full of terrors, and any who chooses the darkness is a fool.

She pulled off her boots and layers, and sat again, on the rocking, polished, creaking, wooden chair, caught in just a thin, silken chemise, the very colour of her ruby, and she let her copper locks fall to her shoulders.

She had seen something in her flames three days ere—more flames, lapping up, and down, and sideways along a silken blue fabric, reflective glass and flames there too, and then she had seen his face. A burning home, and after her warning, the merchant had saved half his estate. In whatever remained, he had allotted her a chamber with a promise of any facility he could provide, and she had accepted.

She lit candles, one, two and another two by the windows, three by the bed, another by the mantle above the fireplace, and she had the home servant prepare a blazing hearth for her also. She sat on the floor, sighing at the drag of silk and satin against her knees, as she knelt in front of the fire. Placing her hands on the stone mantle above, she harmonized her balance, with grace, and calm, and began a song to her God.

“R’hllor, I have done your bidding,” she gazed into the fire, unblinking, “Show me once more—show me what I must do, for the night is dark and full of terrors, but your light burns it all away.” She looked into the flames, at the swirling gold and carmine and red, and she saw. She saw faces, one, that split into two, and two, that split into four, then eight, then more, and more, and more, until every face, distinctly different from the last, opened its eyes, and crumbled away.

Melisandre looked closer, eyes narrowing slightly, and she watched as the crumbles morphed into creatures with hammering legs and furious trails—stallions, and they ran, and ran, hundreds at a time, and they ran, until the drumming of their feet against grassy lands faded into chants around a house of hay. Chanting, chanting women, whispers, men, women, children with no faces, just bronzed skin and braided hair. They circled another, standing above them all, a woman with silver hair, gagging, bleeding from the face, no eyes, no nose, just blood, and grime and flesh, and her form rippled and crushed away.

She saw the waves of the fire that burned too blue to be flame—the sea. She must sail, perhaps? She saw those waves collide against each other, and as they met, the twinkling, shimmering, sunlit tops morphed into jewels, intricate and delicate all the same, but the gold turned to silver, and the silver glowed brighter, and brighter until she saw luxury, embroidered silver and iron on ivory skin, silver hair, silver blades, and blades clashed, pouring blood.

She blinked, tears flooding her eyes to keep them from dying out. On, and on, red, hot, thick, delicious, decadent blood poured down, and down acres of ivory, before it all crumbled away with the flicker of the flames.

There, she saw, in the very core where the flames were pale blue, she saw two violet orbs dotted with black, streaked in radius with brown, and blinking eyes that consumed them both, and those clashing steel blades again, and steaming food, and red wine, laughing people in gorgeous dresses, and luxury, and bodies moving in rhythm, syncing, writhing in pleasure, and then red, red, red—red silks, red gems, red blood, red skies, and it all darkened to brown, then black.

Yet, that darkness burned away, the light took its place, and she saw the sea waves, morphing, clashing, colliding, flowing against stone, and rock, and sand, and salt, and a golden orb descended down into the pale, pale waters. She must find Naera.

“I praise you, my Lord, my God,” Melisandre sang, “I shall do as you show me.”

I shall find my Princess.

MASTERLIST

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goldlightwriting · 9 months

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Changes I’d Make To Ochette’s Story

The following contains massive spoilers for Octopath Traveler 2. Proceed at your own risk.

Long ago, a mighty beast rose from the blackest depths of the ocean: the Darkblood Beast. The creature, fueled by malice and hate, set its furious gaze upon the island of Toto’Haha. From its tainted flesh, monsters descended upon the isle, threatening to snuff out all life that dwelt there.

Destruction seemed certain, until three legendary creatures from the distance corners of Solistia emerged. Glacis, Guardian of the Skies... Tera, Guardian of the Land... Cateracta, Guardian of the Seas...

The three guardians quelled the tide of monsters and repelled the Darkblood Beast, before returning from whence they came. Thus, the island was saved, and calamity averted...

We’re getting rid of the Night of the Scarlet Moon. The calamity will instead be replaced by the Darkblood Beast.

The Darkblood Beast was a creature twisted by Vide’s influence, whose hatred could manifest as monsters.

The Three Guardians were created by the gods(?)

The Darkblood Weapons were created from the remains of the Darkblood Beast(?)

Petrichor, the Dark Hunter, wants to create another Darkblood Beast from the captured Malamaowl/Lajackal.

Roi was actually the first attempt; Petrichor wanted to use his broken faith in the church as a basis, but his morals proved too strong and so he was an imperfect Darkblood Beast.

Cateracta’s chapter can remain more-or-less the same, but rather than fighting Alpione, Ochette befriends her with meat. Also we can remove the preachy bit of Alpione rambling about the greed of men, since it was the Dark Hunter who felled Cateracta.

In Tera’s chapter, I think the humans actually should be a little more openly hostile towards Ochette. Crackridge is home to a number of Moonshade cutlists, as shown in Temenos’s story.

Pom can be a guard whose entire purpose is guarding the entrance to Tera’s layer. However, after being provoked by Ochette, he easily concedes due to not being a fan of fighting. Upon learning that Ochette plans to take Tera away, he resigns his post with the goal of becoming a farmer instead.

No one is really guarding Glacis’s peak anymore, since the blizzards would make it perilous to traverse anyway.

Heig was not a part of the original hunt for Glacis, though his nephew was.

Heig still wants revenge for the death of his nephew, though he didn’t know about the broken eggs.

Once Ochette saves Heig and calms Glacis, the two makes amends. The old hunter and the sacred beast come to a mutual understanding over the fact that they’ve both lost kin, and choose to set their grudges aside.

Ochette befriends Heig with jerky in the shack, after which he tells her about his nephew being recruited by the Dar Hunter.

Ochette returns to the island with the three sacred beasts in tow. At first, the people of Cohazeh’s village are wary of the monsters, as well as the fact that the Beastlings seem to be preparing for battle. Just as tensions begin to escalate between Beastlings and humans, however, new abominations appear, attacking both sides.

Humans and Beastlings are forced to fight together as monsters swarm the island. Juvah deduces that this must be the work of the Darkblood Beast.

Ochette, Juvah and the Guardian Beasts fight their way through the swarm. Along the way, Alpione, Heig, and even Pom arrive to lend a helping hand. They ventured to the island to help fight the coming calamity that Ochette told them about.

Ochette finds the Darkblood Beast deep within the jungle, and is horrified to find that it resembles the Lajackal/Malamaowl that she didn’t choose so many years ago.

Glacis and Tera note that this creature is different from the Darkblood Beast they fought long ago, but are repelled by arrows fired from the shadows.

The Dark Hunter appears, revealing her name to be Petrichor. She explains that this is indeed a new Darkblood Beast, born from nurturing the hatred and contempt in a rare beast she found long ago.

Ochette questions Petrichor’s motives, but the Dark Hunter only states that violence and cruelty is the natural state of all living creatures. Ochette provokes Petrichor into a battle to prove her wrong, and the two set all their beastly companions upon each other.

Petrichor is defeated, but the Darkblood Beast is not. Urged on by its maker, the Darkblood Beast devours Petrichor, consuming her strength and acquiring a new, more ferocious form before knocking Ochette into the ocean.

From there the finale more-or-less plays out the same.

#Ochette #Octopath Traveler 2 #Octopath 2 #Gold Light Writing

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these-detestable-hands · 10 months

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Pie I remembered you mentioning Selkies for the Octopath on Sea au and while I remembered that Beastlings would probably be Selkies, I also like the idea of Pala being one for the whole purpose of her giving her coat to pretty ladies so that they can marry her

Cool idea but I'd like to remind you that Pala is 14!! Maybe someone else?

#Yes I know about the Pala/Mikka side quest but I choose to ignore it bc 14 year olds should not be talking that way to 17 year olds

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taoofshigeru · 1 year

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Octoarm Wrestler (Octopath Traveler II fic)

I wrote a silly fic where the 8path2 gang has an armwrestling tournament.

The Grand Terry made port in Conning Creek after a long day on the ocean. The ship's paint job and mast had seen better days. To say nothing of the crew.

"I can't believe Ochette went'n made friends with the Scourge of the Sea at the end of that fight." Partitio mumbled as Castti sterilized one of his wounds from the fight. "I would've thought it'd be too mad to settle down. Shows what I know."

"They're a big softie, really." The beastling reached out over the deck to pat the giant, amorphous sea monster on what might've been its head. "Just needed a splinter pulled out. Didn't you~, Scurvy~?"

The monster responded with INCOMPREHENSIBLE GROANING?? that might've been happy.

"Could we please hurry?" Osvald interrupted. "I promised Elena we'd take her out to eat before her bedtime, and we've barely got two hours left."

"One moment, please." Castti finished wrapping the last bandage around Parititio's left arm. "That should do it. Let's go get some food."

The Grand Terry's crew numbered eleven today, including the eight travelers, Castti's wife Malaya, Temenos' bodyguard Crick, and Ori, the scrivener who had taken to following Partitio around everywhere until he finally just gave let her share his cabin on the ship. They saw Elena and Clarissa waiting near port. When she saw them, she yelled, "Papa!" and sprinted over to Osvald. "It's great to see you again. I wanted to ask you about some of my math homework."

"It's good to see you too, little pumpkin." He smiled, embracing her in a soft hug. "And we'll have plenty of time to talk about math, but you and me and all my friends need to eat tonight, so let's go to the restaurant first, okay?"

"Yay! I'm super hungry." She took Osvald's hand and swung her arms as they all walked to the tavern.

The Conning Creek tavern was decorated with a banner out front.

Now serving: Our Super Deluxe Octopuff Bowl with All the Fixin's

The banner was adorned with a picture of an octopuff and several yummy-looking veggies.

"Hmm, that sounds interesting." Throné commented. "I'm not normally one for the hefty meals, but I'm pretty worn out after all that sailing."

Ochette nodded. "Scurvy did pack a punch."

As if in response, everyone else's stomachs growled in unison.

"That's it then." Partitio waved to the waiter. "We'll take twelve of the Super Deluxe Octopuff Bowl with All the Fixin's, thank ya very much."

The waiter looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, it's a popular item. Right now, we only have the ingredients for one more bowl."

A silence fell over the table. Temenos was the first to speak. "As a man of the faith-"

Throné cut in. "-Stuff it, detective. I noticed it first."

Ori, sitting in Partitio's lap, was the next to interrupt. "I really ought to have a sampling. So I can write an article. New Delsta Times is pretty short handed so I'm also their food critic, y'see. I don't know if I could eat it all, though, so I could portion up the one with you, Partitio..."

"If anyone knows food here, it's me!" Ochette bared her fangs.

"Now wait just one minute..." Castti held her hands up, trying to restore order. But the bickering continued.

"I'll just... Come back when you've all decided, shall I?" The waiter beat a hasty retreat.

(Continued...)

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath traveler 2 fic #fic

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thebirdmanhewatches · 2 years

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[ ID: a digital drawing of a greenish grey skinned person from the waist up in a art style with coloured lines and no shadows it is holding its hand up to its cheek and smiling it is wearing a yellow shirt with black text reading according to all known laws of aviation the text is cut off at the sides by a sleeveless denim jacket that it is wearing on top its hair is light pink and in low pigtails it is wearing a pin with the gender queer pride flag overlaid with the text it / its and another pin of a stereotypical green alien its ears are pointed and coated in gold at the tips and pierced end ID ]

Formaldehyde the character I accidentally made it’s the siren that swapped the crystal sirens have instead of hearts* for Louie’s human heart

Love it, it’s an odd thing mostly because the siren society it’s from is really queer phobic so it’s kinda baffled by the idea that you can identify as something that’s not widely considered a slur

Formaldehydes nicknames are iodine and various other chemicals it’s favourite movie (and the only movie it’s watched) is the bee movie it likes conspiracies

It uses the legal name Imogen I doesn’t hate the name it just thinks it’s bland

*or this specific faction of sirens because there’s a lot of siren and sirenesc mythology and modern media so therefore there are many different types of siren it’s the same with fae and all other beastlings based on real life myths(which is most of them even the jitirit are loosely based on the idea humans originally came from holes in the ground)

lore shit below the cut (maybe not the cuts not working on laptop)

The whole siren heart swapping plot originally was low-key accidentally a metaphor for regaining a disability that was unconsensually removed* (Louie’s sister ripped the fragment of his fathers chest crystal from him- Louie was not okay with that - to kill his father but killing the father was a noble goal and they did achieve it thou)

But now it’s like got some bits very much like transition in it but also if you think about it it’s literally formaldehyde immigrating from the sea because it’s wanted by the law for various gay crimes

The more muddled it is the better I don’t want it to be a metaphor it’s just lol fish person is human now

*how is this a disability allegory? ehhhh something something it interacts with his chronic pain im figuring out what the fuck louies got going on chronic pain wise i know he has something but i havent fully done my research im thinking fibromyalgia but more research needs doing

#art #oc art #rooks many ocs #oc artwork #artwork #oc lore #infodumping is therapy actually #<*| formaldehyde

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nightmaresliving · 1 month

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You know you're old when you're an ancient custodian of the goddess of the sea and you get your arse kicked by a 20 year old beastling hunter.

#Poor alpione #octopath ochette #ochette #octopath traveller 2

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theinkbunny · 2 months

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Ochette

Fun Facts:

Is a Hunter

No last name

Likes jerky

had a pet jackal or owl depending on choice at the start of her story

the animal she didn't choose is kidnapped by moonshade order and turned into a mutant

is 20 years old

despite being 20 she is a child

this is because she's not a human but a beastling

had to find 3 legendary beasts to save island from destruction

big sea snake but it died so she got it's baby instead

groudon but grumpy because woke up from long nap

articuno but it's babies were murdered by hunters

She’s mad cute

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stars-and-loops · 3 months

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Some of the ot2 conflicts don't even happen.

In order:

Eir's apothecaries never manage to find Lostseed. They're too busy taking care of people half killed by hellish monsters to search for a city that only exists in legend.

Osvald and Harvey are working together to turn Montwise into a magical impenetrable fortress, safe from monsters. Researching the one true magic is a distant dream that they know they'll never have time for.

Roque couldn't bring himself to abandon the Yellowils when Oresrush was overrun by monsters. Him, Papp and Partitio all fled to the walled city of Clockbank where they're safe from monsters.

Agnea still dreams of singing and dancing, and she does! But only in Cropdale. It's unsafe for her to leave town alone, who knows what things she may encounter.

Temenos goes from church to church, fortifying their defences and making sure their magic shields are properly made. Roi went missing doing the same job some years ago and Temenos can only hope that he won't die to whatever claimed his brother.

Being a great military power, Hinoeuma can fight off monsters, but not much more than that. They haven't been at war in decades and all the royal family cares about is protecting their people. Still, a shadow looms over them.

But what of Ochette and Throné? They were never mentioned. Their stories are... Different, to say the least.

Ochette is a hardened warrior with countless battle scars. Monsters have been attacking Toto'Haha long before they began their assault on mainland Solistia. Both the beastling and human population on Toto'Haha have become so low that they set their differences aside and decided to work together. They consider leaving their homes behind and fleeing to the mainland in hopes that it would be safer, but even the seas are dangerous. Toto'Haha has never been in a more desperate situation and they're at a breaking point. A scarlet moon would surely kill whatever life remained on that miserable little island.

Poor little Throné was left alone after Mother and Father both disappeared within months of each other. She wandered around the silent, empty streets of New Delsta until she found a door. Beyond it was a beautiful land that she could only describe as paradise. Endless fields of thriving green grass and a gorgeous palace beyond the horizon. She met a man named Claude, who turned out to be her father. How she loved him, smiling everyday now that she knew of her family. She promised to never leave this paradise her father had created.

I should add, the peace in Ku didn't last. The thing that haunted the royal family attacked one day, taking Hikari's body and killing his father. "Hikari" fled and hasn't been seen in half a decade. Mugen, on the other hand, took the throne. He's done an admirable job of keeping up with the help and kindness his father showed their citizens, but an anxiety hides behind his smile. He's worried for his dear little brother.

pie im gonna explode

#mav answers #no thoughts just this

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addamvelaryon · 2 years

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Okay, so I need to distract myself from Moon Knight for a bit so I’ll pivot over to ASOIAF instead. Specifically thinking about Jon Snow, I wonder if he may become a fully fledged skinchanger in TWOW?

It’s established in the books that all the Stark children are wargs with their connection to their direwolves, to varying degrees of ability. But being a warg doesn’t necessarily make one able to skinchange into other animals. [For the purpose of this post, I will refer to warging as solely having control over wolves (/and dogs) and skinchanging as having control over any and all kinds of animals; that is how the author describes it so I shall too.]

Of the siblings, Bran is clearly the most powerful: a warg, skinchanger, and greenseer too. His fall leaves him in a coma, which results in Bran experiencing his first meeting with the Three-Eyed Crow. But it’s not until the second book that Bran feels he can truly reach beyond himself, and beyond his direwolf, Summer:

He remembered who he was all too well; Bran the boy, Bran the broken. Better Bran the beastling. Was it any wonder he would sooner dream his Summer dreams, his wolf dreams? Here in the chill damp darkness of the tomb his third eye had finally opened. He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon.

— A Clash of Kings, Bran VII

It’s not the first time Bran has warged into Summer, so clearly something has changed this time. In ASOS and ADWD, we can see Bran further his abilities by skinchanging into different animals and even a human.

Arya is also a very powerful warg like her brother. She can reach out to Nymeria despite considerable time apart and over a large land distance. Though Pre-ADWD, she is only able to connect with her direwolf, not any other animals. It is specifically after she loses her eyesight that Arya starts being able to skinchange into cats.

So that loss of sight (Bran being engulfed in the darkness of the crypts and Arya actually loosing her eyesight) is what seems to awaken the latent skinchanging ability. TWOIAF does make mention of something regarding this:

These new Lorathi were worshippers of Boash, the Blind God. Rejecting all other deities, the followers of Boash ate no flesh, drank no wine, and walked barefoot through the world, clad only in hair shirts and hides. Their eunuch priests wore eyeless hoods in honor of their god; only in darkness, they believed, would their third eye open, allowing them to see the "higher truths" of creation that lay concealed behind the world's illusions. The worshippers of Boash believed that all life was sacred and eternal; that men and women were equal; that lords and peasants, rich and poor, slave and master, man and beast were all alike, all equally worthy, all creatures of god.

— The World of Ice and Fire, The Free Cities: Lorath

Jojen also provides some insight on the opening of the third eye:

"How would I break the chains, Jojen?" Bran asked.

"Open your eye."

"They are open. Can't you see?"

"Two are open." Jojen pointed. "One, two."

"I only have two."

"You have three. The crow gave you the third, but you will not open it." He had a slow soft way of speaking. "With two eyes you see my face. With three you could see my heart. With two you can see that oak tree there. With three you could see the acorn the oak grew from and the stump that it will one day become. With two you see no farther than your walls. With three you would gaze south to the Summer Sea and north beyond the Wall."

— A Clash of Kings, Bran IV

Additional note by Bloodraven:

"Never fear the darkness, Bran." The lord's words were accompanied by a faint rustling of wood and leaf, a slight twisting of his head. "The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong."

— A Dance with Dragons, Bran III

The darkness, or shall I say sensory deprivation, is key here. Jojen (greendreams) and Varamyr (skinchanging) are two other characters with such supernatural abilities, and since both of them are described as being sickly in their childhood, it’s possible some kind of sensory deprivation state came about as a result of their childhood sickness.

Regarding the abilities of the other siblings, Rickon was also present in the crypts alongside Bran, but since he is a non-pov, it’s not really possible to say how exactly he is affected. Though I will say this, considering his young age, Rickon does seem to be incorporating large aspects of Shaggydog’s nature the same way Shaggydog is incorporating Rickon’s nature. In terms of describing their personalities, it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Moving on to Sansa, she is an interesting case because Lady died near the start of the story. Sansa still has warging potential but the skinchanging seems rather unlikely since I don’t see a situation in Sansa’s future where some kind of sensory deprivation could take place (who knows, it might happen, it might not).

Robb & Jon are in a similar situation where they both are somewhat aware of the connection they have with their direwolves. But both of them, over the course of their stories, start to deny this part of themselves (eg. locking up their direwolf).

The Varamyr prologue chapter introduces us to skinchanging 101, and one of the things we’re told is that Jon has great potential:

He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. He could have done it, he did not doubt. The gift was strong in Snow, but the youth was untaught, still fighting his nature when he should have gloried in it.

— A Dance with Dragons, Prologue

Varamyr acknowledges Jon’s latent skinchanging ability. Should a situation arise where Jon also experiences sensory deprivation, he could tap into that latent skinchanging ability he has. Though it’s not enough to simply have the ability, you need to be able to acknowledge that part of yourself. Jon does sometimes try to deny it. Robb, from what we saw of him, had a similar tendency; fluctuating between keeping Grey Wind always by his side and trying to limit their connection.

Part of the reason Bran and Arya are such powerful wargs, is that they fully embrace the nature of a human’s connection with their direwolf, and so they’re able to further that into their latent skinchanging ability easier than their siblings:

She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth.

— A Clash of Kings, Arya X

Yes, Arya thought. Yes, it's you who ought to run, you and Lord Tywin and the Mountain and Ser Addam and Ser Amory and stupid Ser Lyonel whoever he is, all of you better run or my brother will kill you, he's a Stark, he's more wolf than man, and so am I.

— A Clash of Kings, Arya VIII

I won't be afraid. He was the Prince of Winterfell, Eddard Stark's son, almost a man grown and a warg too, not some little baby boy like Rickon. Summer would not be afraid.

— A Storm of Swords, Bran III

"I'd sooner be a wolf. Then I could live in the wood and sleep when I wanted, and I could find Arya and Sansa. I'd smell where they were and go save them, and when Robb went to battle I'd fight beside him like Grey Wind. I'd tear out the Kingslayer's throat with my teeth, rip, and then the war would be over and everyone would come back to Winterfell. If I was a wolf . . ." He howled. "Ooo-ooo-oooooooooooo."

— A Clash of Kings, Bran I

Both of them even react in the same appreciative way to hearing about Robb's warging/connection with wolves. This is something we don’t really see with their siblings.

Jon most likely warged into Ghost upon his “death”. So that will certainly build a closer bond between the two. Depending on Jon’s internal psyche (if he has dreams in the crypts) and what state his body is kept in, he could very well be resurrected with his latent skinchanging ability awakened.

TLDR; I would like to see Jon skinchange Mormont’s raven.

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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Bran V (Chapter 35)

"we have had a message from His Grace, with both good news and ill. He has won a great victory in the west, shattering a Lannister army at a place named Oxcross, and has taken several castles as well. He writes us from Ashemark, formerly the stronghold of House Marbrand."

(...)

"Tell Robb I want him to come home," said Rickon. "He can bring his wolf home too, and Mother and Father." Though he knew Lord Eddard was dead, sometimes Rickon forgot . . . willfully, Bran suspected. His little brother was stubborn as only a boy of four can be.

+.+

"Sadly, no victory is without cost." Maester Luwin turned to the Walders. "My lords, your uncle Ser Stevron Frey was among those who lost their lives at Oxcross. He took a wound in the battle, Robb writes. It was not thought to be serious, but three days later he died in his tent, asleep."

(...)

"Ryman is old too," said Little Walder. "Past forty, I bet. And he has a bad belly. Do you think he'll be lord?"

"I'll be lord. I don't care if he is."

Maester Luwin cut in sharply. "You ought to be ashamed of such talk, my lords. Where is your grief? Your uncle is dead."

"Yes," said Little Walder. "We're very sad."

They weren't, though. Bran got a sick feeling in his belly. They like the taste of this dish better than I do. He asked Maester Luwin to be excused.

Reed entered unbidden, with his sister Meera behind him. "You heard about the bird?" Bran asked. The other boy nodded. "It wasn't a supper like you said. It was a letter from Robb, and we didn't eat it, but—"

"The green dreams take strange shapes sometimes," Jojen admitted. "The truth of them is not always easy to understand."

She paid that no heed. "You were sitting at supper, but instead of a servant, Maester Luwin brought you your food. He served you the king's cut off the roast, the meat rare and bloody, but with a savory smell that made everyone's mouth water. The meat he served the Freys was old and grey and dead. Yet they liked their supper better than you liked yours." - Bran IV, ACOK

No, no, no. This isn’t it. Jojen’s brain is all jumbled, Bran. The Freys will be served another meal.

Damn it Jojen, listen to your own wisdom.

+.+

"Did you ever see a three-eyed crow?"

"No." She laughed. "And I can't say I'd want to." Osha kicked open the door to his bedchamber and set him in his window seat, where he could watch the yard below.

If Osha said it, it’s probably worth listening to.

+.+

"Tell me the bad thing you dreamed," Bran said. "The bad thing that is coming to Winterfell."

"Does my lord prince believe me now? Will he trust my words, no matter how queer they sound in his ears?"

Bran nodded.

Argh! No Bran! Jojen is as dizzy as Melisandre!

+.+

"I dreamed that the sea was lapping all around Winterfell. I saw black waves crashing against the gates and towers, and then the salt water came flowing over the walls and filled the castle. Drowned men were floating in the yard. When I first dreamed the dream, back at Greywater, I didn't know their faces, but now I do. That Alebelly is one, the guard who called our names at the feast. Your septon's another. Your smith as well."

(...)

"In the dark of night the salt sea will flow over these walls," said Jojen. "I saw the dead, bloated and drowned."

✨ foreshadowing ✨

+.+

He was scared, even then, but he had sworn to trust them, and a Stark of Winterfell keeps his sworn word. "There's different kinds," he said slowly. "There's the wolf dreams, those aren't so bad as the others. I run and hunt and kill squirrels. And there's dreams where the crow comes and tells me to fly. Sometimes the tree is in those dreams too, calling my name. That frightens me. But the worst dreams are when I fall."

Colour me confused. The tree and the crow are presented as two separate entities.

+.+

"Warg. Shapechanger. Beastling. That is what they will call you, if they should ever hear of your wolf dreams."

The names made him afraid again. "Who will call me?"

"Your own folk. In fear. Some will hate you if they know what you are. Some will even try to kill you."

Old Nan told scary stories of beastlings and shapechangers sometimes. In the stories they were always evil. "I'm not like that," Bran said. "I'm not. It's only dreams."

I mean, I don’t want to hate on an entire subgroup of people, but maybe Old Nan’s stories weren’t that far off? Like Osha, in my experience so far, Old Nan is usually close to the truth.

Bran, if your first instinct is to fight it, then fight it.

+.+

"A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can't change that, Bran, you can't deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly." Jojen got up and walked to the window. "Unless you open your eye."

NO. He is Bran Stark of Winterfell, son of Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard Stark.

+.+

It was a few days after Alebelly's bath that Ser Rodrik returned to Winterfell with his prisoner, a fleshy young man with fat moist lips and long hair who smelled like a privy, even worse than Alebelly had. "Reek, he's called," Hayhead said when Bran asked who it was. "I never heard his true name. He served the Bastard of Bolton and helped him murder Lady Hornwood, they say."

Welcome to the story, you worm.

+.+

They came too late for poor Lady Hornwood, though. After their wedding, the Bastard had locked her in a tower and neglected to feed her. Bran had heard men saying that when Ser Rodrik had smashed down the door he found her with her mouth all bloody and her fingers chewed off.

I wish we would all stop saying this. She didn’t chew her fingers off.

There's blood on your mouth," Ramsay observed. "Have you been chewing on your fingers again, Reek?"

"No. No, my lord, I swear." Reek had tried to bite his own ring finger off once, to stop if hurting after they had stripped the skin from it. Lord Ramsay would never simply cut off a man's finger. He preferred to flay it and let the exposed flesh dry and crack and fester. - Reek I, ADWD

You might have noticed Bran exclusively uses ‘the Bastard’ when referring to Ramsay. Inexcusable. I bet Sansa taught him that.

+.+

"The monster has tied us a thorny knot," the old knight told Maester Luwin. "Like it or no, Lady Hornwood was his wife. He made her say the vows before both septon and heart tree, and bedded her that very night before witnesses. She signed a will naming him as heir and fixed her seal to it."

"Vows made at sword point are not valid," the maester argued.

Oh look, a bunch of northerners are debating the legitimacy of Lady Hornwood’s forced marriage.

This definitely doesn’t remind us of anything, and we definitely won’t be doing it again in the future.

+.+

Maester Luwin tugged at his chain collar. "The Reed boy believes he sees the future in his dreams, Ser Rodrik. I've spoken to Bran about the uncertainty of such prophecies, but if truth be told, there is trouble along the Stony Shore. Raiders in longships, plundering fishing villages. Raping and burning. Leobald Tallhart has sent his nephew Benfred to deal with them, but I expect they'll take to their ships and flee at the first sight of armed men."

Tugged at his chain collar.

Maester Luwin, who is famously dismissive of magic and prophecy, is the only person to interpret the vision correctly and heed the warning. Lol

+.+

Ser Rodrik frowned. "Well, should it happen that I need to ride against these raiders myself, I shan't take Alebelly, then. He didn't see me drowned, did he? No? Good."

No, you don’t drown. :(

+.+

Meera thought so too, later that night when she and Jojen met Bran in his room to play a three-sided game of tiles, but her brother shook his head. "The things I see in green dreams can't be changed."

That made his sister angry. "Why would the gods send a warning if we can't heed it and change what's to come?"

Good question, Meera. Put him in his place.

+.+

"Me?" Bran felt suddenly afraid. "What should I fight? Am I going to drown too?"

Apparently you already have?

"Under the sea, you fall up," he declared. "I know, I know, oh, oh, oh." - Prologue, ACOK

I don’t know, I’m going to need a year before I wrap my head around all of this.

+.+

"Not drowned." Jojen spoke as if every word pained him. "I dreamed of the man who came today, the one they call Reek. You and your brother lay dead at his feet, and he was skinning off your faces with a long red blade."

(...)

Jojen's mossy eyes were full of pity. "They won't be able to stop him, Bran. I couldn't see why, but I saw the end of it. I saw you and Rickon in your crypts, down in the dark with all the dead kings and their stone wolves."

No, Bran thought. No. "If I went away . . . to Greywater, or to the crow, someplace far where they couldn't find me . . ."

"It will not matter. The dream was green, Bran, and the green dreams do not lie."

But look! They do lie! Your fate is not predetermined! You have a choice!

Final thoughts:

Jojen sees Reek (Ramsay Snow), skinning off the faces of Bran and Rickon (the miller’s sons). Got to love prophesies.

I wonder if Daenerys is going to incorrectly label every single person in Quaithe’s warning. Lol

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #acok #bran v

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weirwoodking · 3 years

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who do you think will be on the throne at the end? is there a chance it will be a woman? do you agree with the theory that bran will be king in the north bc he symbolizes winterfell? idk if i see dany on the throne bc i don't feel like she belongs in westeros, i think she would be better off with a throne on the other side of the narrow sea but i really don't know what i'm saying

It’s very hard to make predictions for ADOS, because we don’t have TWOW yet. So much can change about the story and the characters in one book, thematically and narratively. Think of how much the plot was influenced by just that final Bran chapter in ADWD.

But, here I go anyway.

My short answer is: no one. (And no, I don’t mean Arya)

Let’s get into it.

Part 1: How the Show Tainted Everyone’s Brains

Obviously, a lot of people care about the Iron Throne plot. Sometimes too much. I do believe that this is mostly because of how much the HBO show changed everything about the story to make the Iron Throne seem like it was more important than anything else. Like promotional posters of all the actors each sitting on the throne, the name of the series itself being changed to “Game of Thrones”, actors getting asked in every interview “who do you think should get the Iron Throne?” as if it’s the last cupcake at a birthday party that everyone’s fighting over, the final episode was titled “The Iron Throne”. The marketing for everything was “it’s the fight for the Throne!” up through the eighth season. It made the object itself become a huge pop culture symbol.

It almost felt like the show was trying to make it seem like the goal of the Night King (a character not in the books) was to sit on the Iron Throne! The show portrayed it as if the Others were just a little distraction that needed to be dealt with so the characters could get back to arguing over the Porcupine Chair. However, in ASOIAF, it’s the exact opposite. The Porcupine Chair is what’s distracting the characters from the real conflict, the Others.

It’s almost comical how that has somewhat transferred over into the fandom, the “game of thrones” is what’s keeping everyone from focusing on what really matters, the “song of ice and fire”.

Part 2: GRRM’s Quote

It wasn't easy for me. I didn't want to give away my books. Every character has a different end. I told them who would be on the Iron Throne, and I told them some big twists like Hodor and "hold the door", and Stannis' decision to burn his daughter. We didn't get to everybody by any means.

-George R.R. Martin

So, he “told them who would be on the Iron Throne”. Something important about this quote is that he doesn’t say who. And, of course, the Iron Throne gets destroyed at the end of the show anyway. Show!Bran doesn’t really “end up on the Iron Throne”. Show!Dany does. George never said that who “ends up” on it in the books is who ends up on it in the show. He’s said that the Shireen thing and the Hodor thing will “happen very differently” in the books anyway. And, of course, another major part of that quote is “every character has a different end”.

I don’t think that who sits the Iron Throne last is necessarily going to be the ruler of Westeros at the end. For example, Cersei (or Aegon) may be the last person to sit the Iron Throne. Or even Euron (however, even though his goal is to rule post-apocalyptic Westeros as a god from the Iron Throne, I don’t think he’ll actually get there). If wildfire is hot enough to melt iron, I could see the throne being destroyed during whatever fiery shenanigans go down with Cersei and JonCon in TWOW. I think it would be fitting for the fight over the throne to end in the next book. ‘Cause the winds of winter are coming, baby, and it’s gonna be time to start dreaming of spring.

Part 3: The Weirwood King

The idea/theory of Bran becoming King has been around for a long time, long before the HBO show even started airing. This is because of the Celtic myth of King Brân the Blessed, whose name means “Blessed Crow” or “Blessed Raven” in Welsh. Other than the obvious connection with the name, Brân the Blessed’s story involves a magic cauldron that can bring the dead back to life.

In the myth, Brân’s head is cut off and continues talking (think of how Bran’s most powerful aspect is the magical powers of his mind), because in Celtic mythology the head is believed to be where the soul is.

Celts had a reputation as head hunters. According to Paul Jacobsthal, "Amongst the Celts the human head was venerated above all else, since the head was to the Celt the soul, centre of the emotions as well as of life itself, a symbol of divinity and of the powers of the otherworld." (source)

Catch that? “Otherworld”. There is another myth (Irish, specifically) called the Voyage of Bran, in which the title character goes on a quest to the Otherworld. The Otherworld is a supernatural realm in Celtic mythology. It is also where the sidhe (a.k.a. aos sí) live. Remember, the sidhe are what George has said the Others are inspired by. In Irish mythology, the Otherworld is called Tír na nÓg, Mag Mell and Emain Ablach, in Welsh mythology it’s called Annwn, and in Arthurian legend it’s called Avalon. Fun fact, “Avalon” was the title of the novel George was writing when he had suddenly had the idea of a scene in which a young boy and his brothers see a beheading and then find a litter of direwolf pups in the snow. And so ASOIAF happened.

I’ll leave that there, and try not to go down the great big rabbit-hole of Celtic (and other cultures) mythology connections in ASOIAF. The takeaway is: ASOIAF has been influenced by these myths.

I do believe that Bran is going to be King. Not just because of his ties to this mythology, but also because of symbolism in his own story. The most notable one being…

Under the hill, the broken boy sat upon a weirwood throne, listening to whispers in the dark as ravens walked up and down his arms.

[...]

The singers made Bran a throne of his own, like the one Lord Brynden sat, white weirwood flecked with red, dead branches woven through living roots.

[...]

His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child.

- Bran III, A Dance with Dragons

Bran is also the only one of the Stark kids who still thinks of himself as royalty:

What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins.

- Bran III, A Dance with Dragons

Bran is the heir to Winterfell. It doesn’t matter if Robb named Jon his heir in his will, the will was written under the pretense that Bran and Rickon were dead.

However, Bran doesn’t have any connection to the Iron Throne. It’s far more likely that he would sit on a weirwood throne, because of, y’know, everything about his story. So, if Bran was King of the Seven Kingdoms, I don’t think it would be on the Pincushion Stool.

If Bran is king of the realm, I do think there would still be a separate Lord/Lady of Winterfell, but I do think that there’s a possibility of a Pevensie siblings ending, where all the Stark kids would rule together as the Lords and Ladies and Winterfell.

Something that I’ve never really seen talked about regarding the idea of Bran becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms is the religious differences between the North and the southern regions of Westeros. Of course, the show didn’t deal with this at all. For fuck’s sake, they had Cersei blow up the Westerosi verison of the Vatican and face no backlash. It was so laughably absurd how Show!Cersei’s destructive reign was shown to have like… zero impact on the Seven Kingdoms.

In short, I’m not too sure that the Kingdom who is majority Faith of the Seven worshippers would react too well to a weirwood-tree-Old-Gods-warg-wizard-king. I mean, when Janos Slynt finds out Jon is a warg he calls him a “thing”, a “creature”, and a “beastling that is not fit to live”, and wanted to execute him not just for being a turncloak but for being a warg as well. And Jojen warns Bran of these things, saying that his own folk may want to kill him if they know what he is.

But… all of that anti-magic attitude might not matter after night falls.

Part 4: Winter is Coming

I believe that the Long Night is going to be very devastating for the Seven Kingdoms.

Martin is a big believer in making things have meaningful, permanent consequences in his stories. I don’t think that an apocalyptic event like the Long Night is something that’s just gonna get dealt with in a quick snap and have no lasting effect.

A lot of people are going to die. I don’t mean main characters, I mean people that would not survive a normal winter and sure as hell won’t be prepared for this one. Westeros’s food stores have been severely depleted by the War of the Five Kings, and we’ve been told multiple times in the text (particularly AFFC and ADWD) that feeding people during this winter is going to be extremely hard.

Besides that… the whole, uh, invasion of the eldritch ice beings thing might have a bit of an impact on the realm.

I won’t go into depth about how the Seven Kingdoms will be affected by the Long Night, ‘cause we really have no idea. But, however it all goes down, I do think it will have lasting changes for the people of Westeros. The impact that it leaves may make the concept of Bran being a wizard-king more acceptable. “Oh, well we’ve just seen zombies and winter elves, so what’s too surprising about a magical greenseer warg king?” I think that Westerosi culture becoming more aware and accepting of the existence of magic is the only way that Bran could become the king of the whole realm. The Westeros at the end of the series is not going to be the place that it was at the beginning.

Part 5: Dany: A Home, Not a Throne

To sum up my thoughts on our dragon girl, I don’t think Dany will end up on the Spiky Toilet. I don’t want Dany to be on the Spiky Toilet.

Now, my personal speculation (which a lot of people disagree with, which is fine) is that Dany will never see King’s Landing before the Long Night. I personally don’t think that Dany will ever meet Aegon or Cersei. I don’t see there being enough time in the story for that. Yes, GRRM said that there will be a second Dance of the Dragons, but he also said that the second Dance does not have to involve Dany. He may have originally planned for it to be Aegon and Dany, but probably not once the Meereenese Knot happened.

The Meereenese Knot is what Dany’s ADWD plot is referred to as. GRRM did not intend for Dany to stay in Meereen as long as she has, but because of his “gardener” style of writing, that’s where the story led him. GRRM has said that one of the hardest parts of writing the Meereen plotline (which involves Dany, Barristan, Quentyn, Tyrion, and Victarion) is trying to find a way to cut the plot knot he accidentally got himself stuck in. He has said that Tyrion and Dany will meet towards the end of TWOW, which means that Dany will most likely be spending a large portion of her story with the Dothraki. That part is a completely blank page, but I believe that Dany will meet Tyrion possibly ¾ of the way into the book, and sail for Westeros at the end.

I won’t write a full meta about this here (because that’s not what this post is about), but to summarize my prediction: Aegon VS Cersei is going to be the battle in King’s Landing, a battle which will destroy the city. Dany (who has already rejected sailing for the Throne multiple times) will still be stuck in Essos, dealing with everything she’s still got going on, and will sail for Westeros at the end. Not for the Throne, but to go North for the real fight (remember that Marwyn is also on his way to Meereen to tell Dany that they need her).

Because Dany's purpose is not to fight for the Iron Throne, it’s to fight the Others. Dany (fire, light, and life) VS the Others (ice, darkness, and death) is the main thing the title refers to:

“Well of course the two outlying ones, the things that are going on north of the Wall and Daenerys Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons are of course the Ice and Fire of the title, the Song of Ice and Fire.”

- George R.R. Martin, 2016

One of the most important excerpts that shows us where Dany’s story is headed is this:

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

- Daenerys III, A Storm a Swords

Dany has a short prophetic “this is what I was meant to do” dream. Dany could possibly have more dreams about the Others in TWOW, visions that will make what Marwyn has to tell her more believable. It’s not like that dream was the only one Dany has had that alludes to the winter threat, Dany has had visions about this since book one:

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.

- Dany IX, A Game of Thrones

Anyway, there’s just a lot more foreshadowing in the plot that this is what Dany is meant to do. I think adding in another conflict into her story once she leaves Meereen would make the story feel bloated and would severely fuck up the pacing.

I don’t think Dany will ever see the Iron Throne. The themes of her story have never been about her wanting the Iron Throne for what it is, but for what it represents to her. It represents the possibility of a home and of feeling safe for the first time in her life, what Dany truly wants. I think that it’s absolutely fine if Dany never sees the Throne or sits on it, and that it makes more sense for her narrative arc if she discovers that she can find a home somewhere else, not necessarily where she thought it would be.

Part 6: Final Thoughts

So, in conclusion, I don’t really give a shit who ends up placing their ass on the Forbidden Laz-E-Boy, I care about the War for the Dawn. I care about seeing the characters I’ve followed for the past five books coming together to fight the real conflict of A Song of Ice and Fire. Also, even if we do get a Scouring of the Shire-type post-climax for ASOIAF, it doesn’t matter. People don’t see the Scouring of the Shire as the climax of Lord of the Rings, they see the climax as Aragorn leading the forces of good against the forces of evil and Frodo and Sam throwing the One Ring into Mount Doom. Whatever ending resolution comes after the climax of ASOIAF, it doesn’t change what the climax is.

"Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?" the old man barked.

Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. "War, war, war, war," it sang.

"It's not," Mormont told him. "Gods save us, boy, you're not blind and you're not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?"

"No." Jon had not thought of it that way.

- Jon IX, A Game of Thrones

TL;DR:

My prediction: Cersei will be the last person to sit the Iron Throne, which will be destroyed in the Wildfire of King’s Landing. After the Long Night devastates the Seven Kingdoms, Bran will become the King of this new Westeros that has been majorly affected by the return of magic. Also, it would be real nice if Dany found her red door.

God I hope my rambling made sense

#sorry that this took me over a week to answer #ask #anon #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #long post

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sassheliosazuras · 6 years

Text

The Sea’s Children

A fun RP between myself and @pawsimses, I recently visited the ocean for the first time and was inspired to write mer!baby sass and mermaid selena, and thankfully @pawsimses was nice enough to go with my crazy and contribute to it! ;P Adorable kid! Lin is @pawsimses as is Lin’s mama Cenina and brother Coxio, while Selena and Sass are mine.

Also with wonderful artwork of baby mer!Sass and a young adorable Lin playing by the amazing @moonlitalien! I can’t thank you enough for this piece. It’s perfectly amazing!!! Enjoy! ;D

All was calm, the skies were clear, and the seas peaceful. Sunny rays bathed a small hidden beach cove while gentle waves came upon shore.

Only the distant sounds of music from the nearby village could be heard. As a elegant snowy heron flew towards the shore, it cast a gracefully elongated neck out, surveying the cove with a critical eye.

After several moments of flight the egret satisfied, landed on the beach looking out towards the sea waiting. Which she needn't wait long, for soon a dark figure could be seen beneath the clear waters moving closer.

The snowy white egret stood motionless, as the figure of a lovely women with flowing dark lilac hair approached her out of the waves. Letting out a happy caw, Yuon hopped closer. Til a soft cry was heard, as Selena exposed what lay in her arms. The old Heron merely gave a look of confusion at the squirming bundle in Selena’s arms.

Unsteadily the woman made her way to the puzzled bird, her azure feet wobbly and steps uncertain, while the grip she had on the bundle in her arms was far more secure and certain.

“Thank you, my old friend. I must ask one more favor of you this day.”

She knelt next to the curious Yuon, who watched as she slowly unwrapped the bundle in her arms.

Only to revel a lively baby with deep ruby eyes the same as hers, yet where lower limbs would normally be at was instead a scaly tail colored of the cerulean waters that surrounded them. Letting out a soft curious honk she hovered over the pair wing’s flapping slightly.

“Yes master Yuon, this is my hatchling.” Selena replied to the cranes cries in a soft tone.

As she flicked the fussy babes nose, causing the baby to burst out into laughter. Hopping back in shock Yuon flapped her wings a few times. Before calming down and coming closer again.

“Do me one more favor and protect my son while I am gone, my friend?” Selena asked lavender lips pouting.

Which turned into a grateful smile as her avian friend gave a long suffering honk.

“Thank you, now lets get out of the sun shall we?” Selena asked getting up, already feeling her azure skin beginning to burn beneath the midday sun. Getting up the trio made their way into a nearby secluded cave, where the tide ebbed in.

As they made their way deeper inside they rounded a bend where hidden behind was small pool in which laid a small basket laded with soft silks and cloths underwater on the sandy floor.

“Let’s get you to bed my love, huh?” She cooed to her son carefully stepping down into the pool and placing the babe inside the basket.

As soon as he was underwater the baby started blowing bubbles and flexing his tiny tail.After a moment or so he settled down in the basket and fell asleep, with tiny bubbles escaping his mouth.

Caressing her child’s soft curls, Selena pressed a small kiss to his forehead whispering the oceans songs. Covering her sleeping babe with a blanket, before wading out of the pool. With a wave of her hands the rock walls littered with crystals began to illuminate the small cavern giving off a array of soft colorful glows.

With only a longing glance behind her at the napping babe, Selena made her way back out of the cave with surer legs and a friend at her side. As soon as they made it to the entrance the egret took flight before circling around to perch on a nearby outcrop.

With a wave of the hand at her companions leavings, she made her way into the water. She let out a gasp upon feeling the mother-seas lifeblood flow back through her. Wadding out far enough she dove under, to come back up only once as she glanced back one last time towards the cave entrance, before diving under disappearing into the depths..

As she dove under the waters, a lovey lavender tail could be seen with the barest tinge of pink along her fin.

Before it too disappeared beneath the waves.

LIN POV

Lin knew he shouldn't have wandered off. Mama said to stay; there were people about, strange magic-less creatures unbound by the supernatural forces of the world.

Mama said they were "ordinary".

That they had little to no use of magic save the few who sought out sources like Mama for their own needs. Mama never liked them, but business was business she said.

Lin couldn't understand - they were odd, yes, and without power but they appeared nice!

And they always left Mama with shiny pretties that got him nice, rare foods or a new toy. Lin didn't see how they were dangerous; but still, Mama was Mama and she said to beware.

That's why, biting his lip as he slowly pulled his tiny form up and over the algae covered rocks, he was met internally with conflict.

He shouldn't have wandered off; Mama said not to. Mama knew best - she was bigger, wiser and knew everything. She knew the truth; Lin, tiny and young, knew little. But that's why he had to go; he had to know. Had to see the strange people setting up on the shores of the island near their little inlet.

Had to know if they were as Mama said... or if they were as Lin saw; nice and kind.

Only one way to find out.

As he clambered over yet another boulder set in the middle of the tide pools, a splash caught his attention. He looked up, pale blue eyes wide, alert. At first, nothing but the rolls of the ocean and occasional gull dipping in and out of the waves.

Then, he spotted it; out in the distance waters, far past the swallows, a creature of sorts dove beneath the waves.

It was too far to see, but he swore he caught a glimpse of a bright, glittering tail - color of the waters around - disappear beneath the surface.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes with little fists. Nothing but the swell of the waves to greet him. He frowned, pondering.

Had he perhaps imagined it? Was it a myth of his mind come to toy with him? He had missed his afternoon nap; it was entirely possible.

Alongside the possibility of Mama finding him before he got to the people. Lin swallowed, gripping the folds of his damp yukata. Mama would not be happy. Not at all. And so, resolve set, he ventured on across the barnacled inlet shore.

YUON POV

As the suns warm rays warmed her yuon could feel a gentle nap coming on, letting out a short honk the sleepy crane tucked her long neck underneath a snowy wing.

Still she keep one eye open on the cave entrance, however the warmth of the sun and the call of the ocean soon lulled her into a light slumber.

For one moment the beach was empty and when she gazed over again there now appeared to be a small child!

An unusual one to be sure, if the child’s verdant skin was any indication. The small boy seemed to linger on the beach scanning out into the sea in search of something before resting a moment in the mouth of the cave.

Yuon was wondering where such a curious child had come from, when a soft cry could be heard coming from the cave. The little boy looked up curious as he took a closer look inside the cave, where soft cries could be heard along with the faint glow of colors glimmering inside.

As the child began to make his way inside the colorful cave, the watchful heronquietly took off towards the seas.

LIN POV

Lin paid no need to the heron overhead, eyes set upon the cave a few meters away.The opening yawned wide, a great maw threatening to swallow any who dare step inside.

In the throat, air garbled against the carved rocks, water dripping down from the stalactites in slow, heavy plops. A sandy tongue stretching out from opening to depths unknown paved the path, a long traverse into the belly of the geologic beast. Still, Lin slipped past sharp limestone teeth and entered.It was dark, light soon fading as his journey took him deep and down into the cavern.

He shivered, drawing his clothes around him; Mama would be angry if she saw. She always warned her youngest - her smallest - against the cold of the ocean. This cave, set on the shore, was no different, and the little boy feared quick he should freeze if he stayed long. But quick as he made to turn, a splash caught his ear.

He froze, eyes wide in the darkness; in the cold clutches of the cave, he was not alone.

BABY POV

The world was new and shiny to a small merbabe alone for the first time. Having woken up to mama not insight, he had fussed a bit in the warm tidepool before noticing a flashy shiny in front of him.

Fussing he wiggled out of the bed and landed on the sandy floor gently. Free now the azure babe then spent the next while trying to catch it, till he found if he wiggled a bit the shiny wiggled too!

Excited he chased the wiggly around and around, before falling over into a summersault, where the babe felt a cool air touch him before falling back into the pool with a ‘pop! as his tail hit the water.

A bit dazed while lying on the floor, when he noticed soft glowy things above his head rolling over on his belly he climbed his way up a sandy slope determined to touch the pretty lights.

Only for when his curly head popped above the surface to see wide blue eyes staring back at him from the waters edge. At seeing this new creature the little merling let out a series of eager coos, all the while wiggling his tail excitedly splashing the water behind him.

LIN POV

Lin squeaked, falling back on his rear in alarm at the sudden appearance of the little beastling. He looked up over his chest, heart pounding.

It was an infant by all appearances, bright blue skin and soft pupil-less red eyes. A thick curly mess of navy hair sat wet atop their head, bangs splattered against their face as they peered out from the shallow pool at the small boy.

Lin blinked; alarm faded to interest. The baby - it had to be - finally broke out into a grin, squealing excitedly. The sound was broken by a splash. Lin gasped; behind the baby, something moved in the ominous waters.

Young he may have been. Inexperienced and unlike Mama. But still he was driven to do his best. To help those on need.

He scrambled to his feet, tiny hands flexing instinctively against the familiar, still wild magic flowing into his system. He'd just about prepared to let it loose when the sun came up through a hole in the rocky walls, spilling light into the cavern and sweeping the darkness away.

The pool, once cold and eerie, purified into a shimmering turquoise shallow.

And then Lin saw it again, shifting beneath the water. Not a fish nor monster. A tail; shiny and brilliant blue, like the baby boy it belonged to. Lin's magic faltered as a gasp left his mouth and awe struck him.

Baby POV

Seeing the other one backing away, the babe let out a small whine tail wiggling back and forth eagerly. However what caught the merchild’s attention was a familiar spark in the air as when his mama would make pretty lights for him.

“Maaama?” excited the eager babe looked around all the while trying to climb future out of the pool.

Eyes focused on the green boy in front of him who had drawn nearer to him eyes wide. With small chubby hands he pulled himself future up. Completely out of the water now he started to tire feeling the drag starting to weigh him down.

And started to feel hungry also, sniffing the air his nose detected a tasty scent coming from the cloth the green boy wore. Reaching towards the scent, which in reality was flailing his chubby hands around while he stayed in place on his belly cooing.

LIN POV

Lin backed up slightly, uncertain about the strange half fish being. But as he watched the tiny creature haul itself onto land, tail flapping against the sand, the fear faded to curiosity.

Hearing the little thing cry out for Mama (which was strange because Lin had never seen him around Mama before), he felt a pang of sympathy. Fishing around his pockets, the little boy felt around before pulling out a small packet of crackers he'd snuck from the kitchen that morning.

Selena’s POV

Swiftly a slender shadow passed beneath the waves, gathering the offerings the villagers had cast into the sea earlier. From lovely glass figurines and even lovelier gem encrusted bracelets and necklaces, though her personal favorites were the juicy garlic bulbs and various other vegetables.

Still she found enough room in her purse to include the softest furs. Placing the last offering into the ruby encrusted purse, Selena finally paused for a moment to catch her breath. Laying against the sandy sea floor she let the rippling waves wash over her.

As she lay resting a shadow fly overhead.

Alert now the mermaid pushed herself off the sea floor and with one powerful thrust of the tail she rose to the surface.

As soon as her head rose above the waves Selena was meet with indigent honks from a very worried familiar crane flying in circles over head. Concerned she swiftly took out a golden necklace from her purse.

On the end was a polished jasper, bringing it to her lips Selena gave the stone a gentle kiss.

It hummed in response before giving off a gentle glow, peering into the emerald gem. Selena saw her own merbabe with a curious little boy next to him, feeding her son with what appeared to be crackers.

Seeing the chartreuse child feeding her son gave her pause, the child seemed uncertain, yet kind in his gestures towards the baby next to him.

Looking back up she singled to Yuon who still flew overhead worried. With a soft honk she flew off. Selena turned to follow her ruby eyes intent on the vision in front of her.

Seeing both of them start to shiver, she blew into a spell into the gem. The enchantment seemed to have worked as the sun cast a warm glow about the cave through a small opening and a gentle warm breeze circled the two small beings. Soon her babe was giggling and smiling again at older boy who was reaching out tentatively in awe towards her son.

Sensing no danger she felt the panic leave her slightly. Still she swam fast against the waves making her way back with a friend watching out overhead.

LIN POV

Back at the cave, Lin had long since traded wariness for wonder, sitting eager at the edge of the tide pool, tossing cracker upon cracker to the aquatic baby below the water. He giggled at every flick of a tail, pale blue eyes sharp and attentive, never releasing the younger being from view.

He paused as his hand hit cardboard and frowned; tilting the box, he made a soft noise of dismay to see it empty. He'd drained the entire thing to the sea creature and had not one crumb left to spare. A pout formed, lip stuck out.

Mama was NOT going to be happy.

Baby POV

Playing in the small tide pool the baby was delighted at the tasty treats the older boy tossed his way. When one would hit the surface the baby boy would quickly snatch it up and eat it eagerly.

This went on for several minutes, with the merbabe eager for the delicious oyster crackers. Til he heard the older boy give a whine of dismay, popping his head above water he peered out curiously with bright solid ruby eyes as the older boy searched in the folds of his yukata. Only to come up with empty hands.

He looked back at the baby with a slight pout on his lips,that turned into a gentle smile at seeing the little one’s own giggling smile. Impatient the baby reached out with chubby hands towards Lin, all the while squealing out the same word repentantly.

“UP! UP!” The baby keep exclaiming, excitedly and with a bit of a pout.

“You want up?” Lin asked amused, to which the baby merely kept babbling, shiny tail wiggling behind him. Pleading eyes looking up at him, Lin lower his own green hands into the water under the excited babe’s arms. Carefully he lifted the little one up out of the water. The baby gave a series of happy coos tail wiggling slightly back and forth, Lin gave the little beastling a reassuring smile, as the baby held chubby azure hands out giggling in delight. The older boy gave in to the plea, and brought the youngling to his chest, making sure to cradle the baby securely.

“Better?” He asked as the babe started to play with the folds of his yukata. Around them a gathering of small firefly’s began to dance as the two children began a impromptu a game of peekaboo.

Unaware of a tall woman watching them just a few yards away clothed in silks with skin the color of the ocean and a amused smile on her lips pulling at the faint scars on one side.

General

Selena watched her son and this young newcomer for a few moments both of the little one’s taking delight, as the firefly’s danced around them as they played their little game.

Quietly she made her way closer, past the rock wall. “Hello, little one.” She murmured a few feet away from the boys. At the sound of her voice, her sweet Sass cried out,“Maaama!!!” Little tail slapping back and forth excitedly.

Meanwhile the small green child that held her babe stared up at her in surprised, grip tight on the excited merbabe he held. Selena gave them both a reassuring smile before bending down on one knee a few feet away from the pair.

“What’s your name sweetling?” She asked tone encouraging and soft. After a few moments the little boy cast light eyes downward and muttered out a single word.

"What a lovely name! Mine is Selena, and the little one that you’ve been taken such wonderful care is my baby Sass.” At the mention of his own name, the baby in Lin’s arms started babbling, chubby fists reaching out towards the lady. Still Selena made sure not to startle the young boy, instead she lifted a blue hand palm up into the air. Lin watched in amazement as fireflys floating around before landing carefully on each digit.

As bright eager eyes watched her, she hummed in a soothing tone to which the colorful little bugs began to dance. Taking flight once more, they danced and at the lady’s humming, the bright insects began to take various shapes.

Of a dog, of a crab, and to Sass’s delight a fish. Enraptured at the show, Lin shyly asked for a crow. Smiling the azure woman with a flick of the wrist had them line up to form a crow mid-air with even one firefly acting as a eye.

Lin began to clap in excitement, with little Sass giving the older boy a confused look, before joining in a moment later excitedly mimicking his new friend.

“I sense you have a bit of magic as well, would you like to show me?” Selena asked in a gentle tone. Lin baiting his lip for a moment, eventually nodded his head up and down and gave into to the Lady’s request. He laid the squealing babe down carefully on the rocky bank between the them. Looking up at the tall lady eagerly, Lin with a snap of his fingers summed a small will-o-wisp flame. It floating gently above the palm of his hand. As both the Selena and her babe gazed at it in wonder, solid ruby eyes shining brightly in the flames glow.

“It's absolutely lovely!” Selena exclaimed, while her small son merely squealed in delight at magical display.

Embolden Lin tried to summon another light and manged for a brief second to conjure both lights casting a warm glow about the cave as the firefly's danced about the flames. Still after a moment Lin felt them grow weaker and gradually dissipated. He looked up expecting to see disappoint in the faces of the two blue lady and baby.

So it was a relief to see the wonder and delight on the lady’s face, while the babe between them was preoccupied with trying to catch a pretty purse hanging off his mother’s shoulder.

“That was wonderful little one! Thank you.” After saying that she turned back to the eager blue baby trying to grab a pretty ruby off her purse. “Are you hungry my little piglet? And you Lin? I have some lovely fish and veggies, and would love it for you to join us.” At seeing her take out large garlic bulbs and slices of parrot fish wrapped in seaweed, Lin scooted closer stomach growling. Smiling assuredly Selena handed him a slice of fish wrapped up with garlic and seaweed. To which Lin bite into eagerly and was delighted by the fresh salty taste. Within a few moments it was all gone.

“Thank you kind Lady.” Lin said head bowed. She looked at him from where she was feeding Sass with thin strips of fish.

“Your welcome Lin, now would you like to help me organize the gifts I received from the villagers?” At this the little boy perked up and watched with bright eyes as she began to pull out various gifts and treasure. As Lin watched his eyes got bigger and bigger as out of the tiny purse Selena pulled out countless treasures from pretty glass animal figurines, and jewels to mirrors and necklaces.

Lin was enchanted by the dazzling objects, while the baby paid no heed to the wonderful display and merely concentrated on trying to catch his silver tail. One treasure in particular caught the young boy’s attention.

That of a small golden mouse with tiny webbed feet posed curled up fast asleep. Selena took notice, amused she asked.

“Would you like to hold this for me Lin?” At hearing the child’s excited “Yes please!” And with how quickly the boy shuffled forward, she let out a light-hearted chuckle. Scooping the tiny treasure up she passed it into Lin’s eager hands.

He sat on his hunches admiring the glass figurine. Selena bent her head slightly downward over the small green hands that held the glass mouse reverently.

“It’s so very life like isn’t it?” Selena asked the little boy, her voice soft.

He nodded, eyes bright and full of wonder as he touched the small glass mouse.

“Let’s wake this one up from his slumber, what do you say sweetie?” Lin looked up confused at the women’s words. She merely smiled in return, with a wave of her hand a single firefly flew down to land on top the figure.

And with a brief bright glow the lightening insect disappeared inside the mouse. Who a mere moment later opened it’s eyes and let out a pleased squeak at the startled boy who held it.

“Is it real?” Lin asked excited looking up at the tall lady.

“Feel him, and you’ll find he’s quite alive” At her words Lin carefully ran a finger atop the mouse’s head, to which the glass rodent purred in appreciation.

“He seems to like you Lin, he may stay with you, of course only if you want a companion.” Selena mused as she watched the mouse run up and across the young boy before settling in the crook of a viridescent neck.

Lin petting the glass mouse now snuggled against him looked up with a grin before replying. “Thank you Lady!” At this the woman smiled before turning back to her cooing son and feeding him more fish strips.

The rest of the evening past in this way, with the sea goddess dazzling her son and Lin with fantastic displays of magic while they munched on tasty sushi. Still soon the sun began to fall and the rays that lit the cave entrance. And Selena felt the call of the sea beckoning her home.

Still, she felt a duty to the child who was now rubbing his eyes, who she was amused to see her baby mimicking the older boy rubbing his own eyes also. “

The sun is getting low now, it’s soon be time for us to go home, and you must have a mama worried at home Lin.” At this the green child bite his lip nervously hands fiddling with his yakata brushing small grains of sand off.

“It’s okay Lin, I’ll help you home.” Standing up as she said this, cradling her now sleepy baby tightly against her chest Selena held her hand out to Lin And after the briefest of moment Lin quickly put the newly named Aqua into a pocket, before shyly taking the tall lady’s hand.

Giving her a cheeky grin the eager witch-child, a cerulean sea goddess and her sleepy merbabe made their way out of the cave, guided by the suns pink fading rays as they walked along the beach. With a white Heron gliding lazily over head making sure the path was clear ahead.

CENINA POV

Cenina stood amongst the rocks along the shore, lips pursed. Pale violet eyes stared out into the sea, scanning the waves for any signs of life. Despite her otherwise quiet state, her heart pounding in her chest as worry nibbled everlasting at her nerves. The normally dull chartreuse of her skin had since become a pale yellow from confined fraught. Six hours early, she’d set her youngest son out in the yard to play, out of her hair in a safely concealed pen extending from the side of the house to the brambles sitting just before the shoreline. She’d left him there under the eye of his older brother. Who, evidently, was just as lax as he was troublesome.

“For a few hours,” she’d told the grumbling Coxio, “I need to finish a spell and I can’t with your little brother running amok underfoot. You know how he is. Just keep him in sight and don’t let him wander.” “Yes, Mama” he’d growled, scuffing the ground with his sandal. Even she knew her eldest would do little to heed her words and so put her trust more into the fencing to keep her littlest in. A mistake she now recognized; Lin’s magic was more delayed than his brother’s and she admitted to having put little faith in its development other than a few wisps and sparks. Fate, it seemed, drew her a rude gesture.

Somehow - she still wasn’t quite certain - Lin had managed to breach the barrier keeping him confined to the yard and had wandered off to God knows where. Cenina herself had no idea, not a faint clue her youngest had vanished until she’d walked out hours later only to find a hole in the barrier and Coxio fast asleep on a nearby rock, completely oblivious. Once the shouting had ceased, she’d flown into a harried search, scouring up and down the beach for her wayward son. At most, all she got were footprints left in the sand, reaching up to a point where the waters washed them away. Her heart had dropped at the sight. He couldn’t have gone into the ocean - she would have sensed at the very least if he’d perished or was hurt. That small notion, however feeble, was all that kept her from panicking and losing control. She swallowed thickly, feeling the beast inside stir. No, she had to remain calm; for her children’s sake, and her own. Releasing the monster would only make things worse, no matter how much better it would feel. Or how much faster it’d help her find him. The risks were too high. And she’d rather find her son and bring him home as one, rather than in pieces.

A run with the wolf was never a run she’d want for him. Thus she instead bottled her fear, her angry and worry up and stood amongst the shoreline, dark hair wiping in the wind, searching through naked eyes and ears, hoping to spot-

She froze, senses alert. There, off to the east - a figure. Small, drenched and tired, but running with a big smile on his face. Familiar pale blue eyes shone with joy, the green of his skin golden in the setting sunlight and sand flying from his hair. “Lin-!” she gasped out, breaking off into a run before thought could take hold. He met her halfway with a laugh, captured in her arms in a tight hold. She lifted him from the sand, paying no mind to the water soaking her robes, and buried her face into his hair. Lin’s soft coo of contentment eased the rapid pulse of her heart, her joy too much to conceal a bright, fanged smile. Even so- “What were you thinking?! Do you know how much of scare you gave me?” she scolded her child, pulling him back far enough to look him over; aside from being wet and slightly shivering in the cold air, he appeared uninjured and alright. Hearing her lecture, Lin’s face fell.

“‘M sorry…” he mumbled, hands fisting the fabric of his mother's outer cloak. “I didn't mean to run away.”

Cenina's eyes softened a touch even if her tone did not.

“Don't even scare me again, pup” was all she said, stroking the toddler's damp hair. Lin nodded in response, burrowing deep into the crook of his mother's neck.

She frowned as something wriggled against her skin.

“Lin…”

Her child's guilty look was all she needed. Sighing in exasperation, she pulled him back, expectancy in her eyes. Swallowing, he hesitantly stuck his hand into the folds of his yukata.

Upon seeing the tiny creature pulled from its depths, Cenina made a noise of alarm. Her son pouted, eyes hopeful and expression fully played.

“Please, Mama? I'll take good care of him!”

“Lin, you know why you can't-”

“I'll keep him away from you, promise!”

Feeling a headache grow, Cenina groaned, rubbing her temple. “Where did you get him?” she managed after a moment of processing.

“The nice fish lady gave him to me!”

All movements stopped. Cenina's eyes snapped open.

“The what?”

“Pretty fish lady!” Lin's smile was everlasting, bright as a sun, unaware of the growling cold storm swelling within his mother.

“Lin…” she grasped her son tight, staring him dead in the eyes. Her voice was hard and cold with concern. “What lady?”

Unperturbed by his mother's worry, he beamed still and pointed out to sea. Cenina's gaze follow him until they both stopped. She stared, all thoughts vanishing in place of astonishment. There, floating off in the dark blue waves, was a creature of myth.

Her cerulean skin matched with the ocean, providing camouflage so perfect had Cenina been any less than she were she'd have missed it completely. Solid red eyes gleamed out from the blue, meeting pale violet set.

A silent but expressive connection passed, the understanding between two beings not as women but mothers.

Cenina held her gaze, not a smidge intimidated.

Then, as the moment passed, the mermaid gave a smile and dove back under the waves, disappearing from the sight of the Witch and her kin back into legend. Cenina continued to stare out into the ocean a moment longer before turning away. She glanced down at Lin, her pup.

“Come” she murmured, cradling him close. “Let's go find your brother.”

Above the waves, a heron sang.

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gendrie · 7 years

Text

i wrote a little Fix-It Fic(TM) for arya and bran because they deserve so much more than what they get. this is just a one shot about the two of them spending some time in the godswood where they have a simple conversation that isn’t complete trash.

*i used a mixture of show and book material

Arya had never watched someone leave their body. She had done it often enough herself. But being on the other end was different. She stared at her brother. His eyes were milky white and open but they did not see her. He's really is skin changing into the weirwood, Arya thought in amazement. He can feel what it feels and see what it sees. Everything that it has ever seen going back a thousand years. He can see everything. When he had told Arya this she had accepted it easily. But it was still a thing to behold.

Arya was no stranger to wearing skins. She dreamt of Nymeria every night. If she reached out now she could feel her running through the trees with Summer and Shaggydog at her side. In Braavos she had seen through the eyes of cats and even wore the faces of those claimed by the Faceless Men. They were the same, she and her little brother. Beastlings. Skinchangers. Wargs. None of the others would ever understand.

But even Arya could not truly understand the weight the old gods had on Bran’s shoulders. It was the weight of the entire world. Nobody should have to bear that. Least of all her little brother. Sitting in his chair he looked so small and fragile. The years beyond the wall had eaten away at him.

Arya turned from where she sat and reached up her hand. She pressed her palm to the heart tree. The bark was rough under her skin. She closed her eyes tight and tried to clear her mind as if she was going to slip into Nymeria’s skin.

“Show me how to help him, you gods,” She whispered. The wind rustled through the trees as snow softly fell but Arya felt nothing. I'm not as strong as him, she thought despairingly.

Arya bit her lip, hard. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or punch the weirwood in its sappy face. It wasn’t fair to do this to him and not let anyone help. Arya took several deep breathes.

Behind her, she heard a noise that she instantly knew was Bran stirring. He’s waking up! She had brought him to the godswood that morning. She had volunteered even though she knew any number of people could have done it. Arya didn’t think it felt right to give a servant this task. Nor did she want to leave him out here alone. She had kept vigil over his vulnerable body all day. The sun was setting. Arya whirled to find him clutching his head.

Arya remembered how she sometimes felt coming out of a wolf dream. It was easy to forget yourself. She approached the chair and knelt beside him. She gave him a long moment of silence. But when he didn’t acknowledge her presence she began to worry.

“Welcome back.” Nothing. She let it go for several long minutes before pushing again. “Do you remember who you are?” Arya asked

Bran stared past her. His eyes were focused on the heart tree. Arya took his face between her hands and made him look at her.

“Do you know who you are?” She repeated.

“Yes,” he answered finally.

“Say it,” she demanded. She almost winced at her own harshness but he needed to come back.

“Bran,” he said his voice hoarse. “I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell.”

Arya nodded and brushed a lock of auburn hair back from his forehead. Bran was still far away. He was looking at her but not seeing her. Arya could tell.

“They’re coming,” he said eventually.

“Who?” Arya asked.

“The others.”

Arya shivered. The Others. It was like one of Old Nan’s stories. Just like the dragons she had seen flying in the sky as she sailed across the narrow sea. But it wasn’t a story anymore. It was real. Winter is coming, she thought reverently.

“When they come we’ll kill them all,” Arya said fiercely. She clutched Dark Sister’s hilt. It was a beautiful sword, made for a queen and priceless. She still kept Needle safely tucked away in her room but she needed to train with the Valyrian steel her brother had given her if she ever wanted to be able to use it against the walkers. It was one of the few things that could slay them according to Samwell Tarly, the brother of the night’s watch she had met for the second time behind Winterfell’s walls with surprise, and she intended to put it to good use.

“I don’t know. I can’t see-“ Bran shook his head.

“We will.” Arya’s voice was firm. “And once they’re gone you’ll be okay again,” she added.

Bran didn’t respond for several heartbeats. When he did his voice was small and uncertain.

“I’m afraid.” Whether he meant of the White Walkers or of never truly being okay again Arya couldn’t be sure.

“Me too,” Arya confessed.

Bran looked at her directly. He had the same Tully blue eyes as mother. That made Arya’s heart hurt. She no longer felt a hole there. Not at Winterfell. Not surrounded by her brothers and sister. But it still hurt. She didn’t think there would ever come a time when she thought of mother or father or Robb without it hurting. She wondered if Bran saw father’s when he looked into her eyes. Then Bran’s expression became thoughtful and Arya thought maybe he could read thoughts too. “A long time ago, Father told me that the only time a man can be brave is when he’s afraid.”

Arya clung to that. Father hadn’t ever said those words to her. Maybe he hadn’t thought he needed to. She had been such a wild, fearless girl when safe behind Winterfell’s walls. Father had done his best to protect her and see that she was never scared. But she was scared now. Even behind these walls death could find her. It could find all of them. The thought of it taking her brothers or Sansa made her more frightened than it did for her own life.

Fear cuts deeper than swords, she reminded herself. She chewed her lip.

“Once he told me that when the snows falls and the white winds blow lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” Arya told him. “I thought for so long that I was the lone wolf but I was wrong. We’re together again.” Bran blinked and then he almost smiled. Arya took his hand. “And we’ll protect each other. We’re direwolves of House Stark. It’s winter. This is our time.”

“A time for wolves,” Bran answered his voice echoing wisdom far beyond his years.

Arya thought of Nymeria and her wolves prowling through the trees with their eyes gleaming to see in the dark and pelts of thick fur to keep them warm in the snow. Of Summer and Shaggy and Ghost far away south with Jon. If they were made for winter than so are we.

“Yes.” Arya felt chills again but she felt strong too. “A time for wolves.”

#i rage wrote most of this on my ipod the night ep 4 aired #but i didnt really feel like it was good enough to post #i got another burst of inspo tho and polished it up a bit so here ya go lol #gendrie fic

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