# πππππππππππ - independent, low-activity, extremely canon divergent portrayal of π½πΌπΏπΏ ππ΄π π πΌπΆπΎ, dominant of shiva, from ff16. inspirational is fairly whimsical with huge inspiration of winter and celtic mythologies. dearly cherished by ailli ( she / her / 25+ ). established on may 2023 / pre-release influence remains within this blog's interpretation. permanent mood : vibing.
icon template by : akaiyarph
dash icon made by : madrites
links : verse page ; main verse timeline
QUICK NOTES / GUIDELINES :
01. hello, hello, once again i will reiterate this is an extremely private and likely very slow activity blog. i work very strange and inconsistent hours, and thus availability has been rather scarce. discord is available to mutuals, where i eagerly await to plot / chat / geek out about our muse. also duplicate friendly.
02. honestly, if you're following this blog you are likely following my main blog over at @asterites. therefore, my rules are pretty much the same here as it is over there. just be respectful and we are good. no triggers, just a very chill blog.
03. shipping is not a priority in this blog and it shall remain reserved for close friends who are interested in plotting something beyond the ship. unless otherwise plotted / mentioned : pls do not assume jill's feelings for clive are romantic. their dynamic is incredibly complex and it is something i would much prefer to plot in detail and separate from canon's execution. needless to say, i am ship-exclusive, so i only ship with one version of said muse romantically. the rest would be considered platonic.
04. needless to say, i am someone who adores plotting. i love complex plots, plots that compliments canon, plots that derails from canon, i think plotting is great. my motivation for threads is honestly influenced by context, and if we have that i can definitely go ham. of course, i know not everyone carries my same preference, but i will do my best to accommodate.
05. this is a canon divergent blog. i made this blog probably a month before the game's release and due to that there are some personal headcanons and plots that i am not willing to part with despite the game's release. i want to focus more on jill's journey to healing after her 13 years of servitude. i want to see jill as a survivor first and foremost and find freedom in her choices. by default : this blog will follow 25 year old jill's journey, which is prior to the 5 year time skip.
06. keep in mind : i do not do exclusives. i do not have the energy to commit to anyone's portrayal nor do i want to make anyone expect / wait from me in general. as mentioned above i am really busy, so i cannot and will not do an exclusive writing with any character. i do practice having mains, but even then i am just a very chill and lazy blog lmao.
07. although i typically do not mind the ship content of my mutuals blog, i do cross the line at any roscest, in particular the relationship between the rosfield brothers. i am not here to debate, i just don't want to see it.
08. i ask that you tagged your nsfw content, particularly anything involving nsfw imagery. due to the nature of my job, i have free access to tumblr and would prefer not to see any nsfw visuals if it can be tagged and avoided. i am very attentive when it comes to adding tags in my filter list, and if the untagged offense happens repeatedly : then this will be one of the few reasons i will unfollow.
09. i do not acknowledge the ultimania's portrayal of xvi character's age range. not only does it not make sense, given how they were characterized, but it is just plain out stupid and inconsistent. i do not acknowledge canon, fanon, or ultimania portrayal of jill warrick needless to say,
silvermane loves his daughter so much, he ended centuries of war against rosaria, anger the other warlords, and bended the knee to the duchy, all so that his daughter remains safe. no one talk to me -----
His eyes do not stray an ilm from her, taking in every shift within her, every twitch of her body that would tell him what he needed to know in case she'd retain her silence. It seems he needn't do so, though. Alike an open book, her reactions are plain to see, and Sleipnir need only read them. The way her fury is replaced by confusion is enough of a sign to tell him that Shiva is, indeed, the sister he thought long-lost.
He wonders... Has she forgotten him, perhaps? Either that, or she learned of his death somehow. Of course she'd not recognize him as her brother, then.
And perhaps, that is for the best.
"Does your true name carry no value to yourself, then, Lady Niamh?" Oh, how infuriatingly disappointing such a thing would be. Disappointing, yet entirely possible. Two decades under the custody of Rosaria would certainly be enough to see to her no longer identifying with the country that she was born in. These people would have scrubbed away all that made her a the daughter of the north, that made her a mere savage in their eyes, and turned her into what they deemed a prim and proper lady. The thought has hot anger burn through Sleipnir's veins.
Sanbreque tried to do the same with him. They bound him to a family he didn't know, confined him to their house β until he'd finally learn manners, they said β and kept calling him by a name he refused to accept. Until the thread of patience which had been worn thin from the very beginning snapped, and they sent him to fight as a Branded on the battlefield.
Yet Sleipnir keeps his expression carefully neutral, even whilst his thoughts briefly stray what the Empire did to him, what the Duchy did to her. "I hail from the Northern Territories, just like you," the egi then provides, a small shrug tugging at his shoulders as he deigns to offer her a truth ere he rises to his feet again, hands beginning to fiddle with the door of Shiva's prison. When he speaks again, he allows lies to slip past his lips easily. "My family left the north shortly after you were taken away by the Duchy, and we fled to Waloed. And here we are now. Knowing your true identity may not serve my liege's plans, but it's a rather melancholic matter, wouldn't you say?" He hums softly before the lock pops and he pulls open the door that separated her from her freedom.
"Now... I may not be able to release you of your shackles, however, I'm willing to let you leave your cell. As long as you cause no trouble, Lady Niamh."
πππππππ ππππππ πππ ππππππππππππππ ππ π ππππ ππππ, she falls silent to his remark. words as empty and hallow as the blizzard consuming the landscape of her inner thoughts. she remembers snow falling in another life, the daisies in bloom, the imprint of dozens of footprints on ivory white sheet, and a final farewell. niamh : the name of her birth, it startled her. the foreign utterings of mother's tongue lulling at her as if it was a stranger. ( wrong, this is all wrong ) body retracts subtly in denial / in refusal. posture is held in and her gaze is torn towards the ground, feeling the rocking motion of wood clashing in the midst of the waves. she repressed it all ; memories of the past, memories of who she once was ββ it no longer existed. it was all scrubbed clean, consumed by deadlands, prayers, and summer's day. and yet ... and yet... a single name brought it all back within winter's tide. violently. painfully. it was all there.
the daughter of the north ββ nay, the daughter of a rebel. she remembers the scorning of early youth, the gossip and whispers of rosarian nobles gawking at her as if she was an exotic creature to ridicule. a young child, barely six years of age, torn away from cailleach's embrace and placed within a pedestal of fire's scrutiny. she had to assimilate, she was only just a child. locked behind doors with only a teacher who would starve her until she conformed : jill, jill, jill, that is her name. ( say it, show the world you are an attuned barbarian) forget everything else, do not remember that once upon a time she was silvermane's cherished child. the beloved daughter whose disappearance ended centuries of war between two nation.
iron bars creek open and the rustic screeching of metal fills her ears. she glances back at her captor once more, listening to his tale until it tugs the remnants of her broken heartstrings. she could have pitied him ; she could have been more understanding and sympathized with him to the fallen nature of their home. instead, she sees his face for what it was and wonders if he is lying. the way his eyebrows shifted and face silhouette complimented his complexion. she sees a single braid and quickly realizes it was placed similar to her own. gray meeting gray : was this perhaps a northern trait she had also forgotten ? she remains ever silent, almost frustrated that she was unable to prod anymore information. never she mind, whatever intent his lord carried : the fact she is still alive is telling enough. however, to go so far as to hear that name again ... it was unimaginable.
β ββ are you doing this because you feel some northern kinship with me then ? β she finally speaks out her uncertainty, no doubt a reflection of the skepticism within her irises. she always hated locked doors and iron gates. the handcuffs on her wrist was even worst when it digs against her flesh until it bled. she knew captivity far longer than she has ever known freedom. β otherwise i fail to understand why a servant of waloed felt the need to entertain an enemy prisoner. unfortunate and tragic as our past was, i doubt it is enough for any of us to change our sworn allegiance. β the northern territories is gone, consumed by the blight and abandoned by its raiders. there was nothing left for them to return too. no other home aside from what they found.
you ever think about how many people imreann took as hostage to control jill and get her to prime / assassinate his enemies ββ and then those hostage survival rateβ¦
yes, i know things have changed ... and i don't doubt you have too. however, you are still the benna that i still remember. even now, you are looking out for me... aren't you ?
the sky was dark the day jill arrived. she was only twelve, gangly, stretched in those awkward years between childhood and adolescence. the finery of her clothes had been ruined and matted, pressed against her with dirt and torn around her sleeves and knees. benedikta remembered thinking as they tugged that terrified girl along, that she should've clutched tight to wherever she had hailed fromββfor anything would be a kinder fate than the iron kingdom, the crystal and volcano like spires of a demented cathedral.
benedikta knew how to rub her knees raw from prayer or from keeping her head down, being mediocre enough to not draw attention one way or the other. attention was what you least wanted, either favored by decrepit, sacrilegious hands or placed bare-skinned to the altar, bled out for an impassive chunk of crystal.
she was seventeen. every year benedikta didn't know if she would make it to the next. her survival was her sole endeavorββit left no room for anyone else, especially a callus-less, smooth-skinned girl with wide open eyes full of horror, who'd probably be gone in a week or a month, another child falling through the grating of greedy, devout fingers.
that peach-sweet girl with milky skin and soft, quietly strung together smile, the one that benedikta could've easily resentedββ reached into her heart, gripped firmly to the rope stretched between them. backs against the warm stone, they'd share halves of bread and hide out in the kitchens, where the screams weren't quite so loud. benedikta would talk of what she remembered of her mother, before she got sick, before the house became a coffin of her wheezing, and try to impart all she had learned alone inside those walls.
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ we have to survive, ββΒ Β Β Β Β Β Β benedikta had said, Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ to someday make it off this island. to live our lives in spite of them. in spite of everyone who thought we couldn't make it. ββ
and jill would look up at her with those ice blue, saucer eyes, wet and near to crying. she was such a crier. she made benedikta's own eyes sting. but there was this girl, and this terrible fate reaching out right in front of them, and if benedikta could protect anything it would be all those tender sky blues; a cloudless open afternoon; silver braids done hurriedly and messily in her unpracticed hands; laughter when she least expected it, laying against the stone and making up stories about the night sky.
family was dead or dead to her or jill who never let her hand go. not even once.
but benedikta isn't that girl anymore. she's been garuda and spymaster and little violences for far too long, a dissonance in who she was and who she can remember. but memory is a funny thingββeven malformed, even though benedikta is a phantom limb she has to convince herself she can still feel, there's this girl soaked in blues and sorrows and benedikta would do anything to see her laugh.
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ yes, i know things have changed ... and i don't doubt you have too, ββ Β Β Β Β Β Β Β jill says, and she's always been the hopeful type. Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ however, you are still the benna that i still remember. even now, you are looking out for me... aren't you ? ββ
benedikta's jaw tightens and clenches and she says the very first thing that comes to mind which is:Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ you can protect yourself just fine now, princess, ββ Β Β Β Β Β Β Β but then there's also,Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ what is it to you? ββ Β Β Β Β Β Β Β and,Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ you don't know anything, ββ Β Β Β Β Β Β Β and,Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ it'd be easier to kill you, ββΒ Β Β Β Β Β Β but they are older now and they are jagged pieces and through all that grief that both of them carry benedikta even now can feel the way her heart surges to wrap its wings around that girl. to cradle her against the world.
so benedikta sighs. so, she admits, with no small reluctance, her voice tight:Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ββ if you need me i'll be there. ββ
will be moving blogs for sure this weekend ; i will carry over inbox + drafts and adjust my rules accordingly. over all tho, if we vibe we are still vibing together so its all good :D
Benedikta took a keener interest than usual when they found Shiva's dominant in chains, sequestered away in the jagged terrain of the battlefield. In the shadows, Garuda tore through men of the Iron Kingdom with something almost approaching manic glee, one after another after another. She was like a beast who could still smell the spilt blood of the girls in the priests' wake. But she was also a professional. She had little interest in Shiva's dominant as a person... This was simply venting fury, the same old fury as always. A little game.
With the Iron Kingdom's soldiers helpfully diminished in this fashion, the king of Waloed casually approached Shiva and her most immediate handlers. There were four men surrounding her, one still holding her chains. The arrogance of humanity never ceased... To believe they could so easily subjugate a tool of God.
He killed all four of them with only one stroke of Odin's blade, still standing a few paces away. Four bodies fell heavily, one rolling a short way down the ravine like a sack of vegetables.
He let Odin's sword dissipate smoothly in black smoke, and it was at this point that he finally saw reason for an introduction.
"Excuse the waste," he said. "You fought well, Shiva, though it was not to your true potential. I must admit, seeing such a powerful weapon used like a rapier for cutlery sours the mouth."
πππ ππ ππππππππ in a way that matched the chilling of glaciers. frozen cold : ice, the bitterness that burns the flesh like glass. hallow marked the lifelessness of her gaze, with fractured bruises camouflaging itself onto her skin. it sows against the frigidness of shiva's ice and with it comes an immovable vessel on the verge of collapse. abomination : they called her. whipped and abused, kicked and spat on, she shouldered the misery of the greatest sinners. even now, she is but a fashioned weapon force to bend to the will of her greatest tormentor. prime or the children dies, it was always the same threat. it was always the same vicious dance. whether it was the assassinations of iron blooded diplomats, the confrontation against the earth, it was always the same to her. skin marred with blood and dirt and starvation to match. the human vessel known as jill is already dying and without shiva's self-preservation, there was nothing stopping her from plummeting her sword against her chest.
nevertheless, it was precisely shiva's intervention that ice was able to detect the darkness approach. a man clad in black, with abilities that surpassed even the mightiest titan. the ironbloods screamed their savage tongue, and even the one who held onto her like a chained up dog was killed in a matter of seconds. no effort. no remorse. just death. ( could this be the end ? ) behold the sincerity of her death-embedded wish ; the battle between shiva's preservation and jill's desire once again at the threshold of her non-resisting limbs. your foreign words reaches her ear and it is there she truly understood : she can only be shiva, no one else. jill is dead and only shiva remains. β ββ then you may find yourself disappointed. β dry tongue can only retort against the soreness of her bruised tainted lips, β a weapon can only be truly utilize by a worthy wielder. mines as you can see, can hardly be considered as such.β
random jillisms : little jill was such a hopeless romantic as a young child ; she was an avid reader and fantasizes often of a dashing hero who will rescue her and take her away to new lands. she imitated the damsels, the princess, and maidens. she carried herself well within the confines of rosalith castle, and annoyed as anabella was to admit it : she truly was an ideal little princess who slowly won over the court that once looked down on her. needless to say, as an adult : jill's heart has completely harden to the concept of being rescued. she is sick and tired of waiting, tired and hurt for metia ignoring her desperate cries, angry at the little girl inside of her that continues to hope and believe. jill doesn't want a dashing hero, she doesn't want to be rescued ---- she no longer believes in romance. the only person she can count on is herself, and even then she carries her own self-loathing. jill as an adult is incredibly hurt and memories of her youth completely pains her. however, as much as she tries to deny it, that little girl inside of her still remains and perhaps a part of her will always dream about a hero to take her away to freedom.
at this point it should be well-known that this is the jill blog who stubbornly refuses to adhere to canon lore. not only do i plan to incorporate my pre-release headcanons, but i also want to reiterate the importance of jill's unexplored backstory and how it will later shape the person she will become.
year 790 : before her birth
northern territories is ruled and united by the mote bloodline that prominently bore the dominant of shiva.
the former dominant of shiva perishes at the hands of the previous dominant of phoenix.
northern territories falls into a warring like state where chieftains battle one another for control of the territories.
the duchy of rosaria takes advantage of the chaos and expands their borders.
the royal family is scattered and looses their legitimacy to rule.
year 848 : age 0
niamh was born as princess of the northern territories ; bloodline consist of the newly established order in which the warrick-warlord becomes the north's recognized ruler. mother comes from the fallen royal bloodline and unknowingly passes shiva's genetics to niamh.
niamh birth place is : sneachta neagh.
silver mane continues to unite the northerners against the grand duchy of rosaria ; silver mane remains undefeated in battle.
banagher, silver mane's sworn brother is named niamh's godfather.
year 853 : age 5
niamh is given a memento from her mother ; the necklace that will later be known as shiva's kiss was passed down from mother to daughter since the passing of the previous shiva.
niamh is glued to her mother side as she watches her mother command and rule in the place of silver mane, who remains focus on the war.
banagher is subdued and taken in by rosaria's elite soldiers as a war prisoner.
silver mane continues to remain victorious, causing uncertainty to those who resided in the duchy. tales of his savagery is spread as propaganda.
year 854 : age 6
rosaria forces manages to break silver mane's formation, elwin and silver mane's encounter was eminent.
secret rosarian operatives was sent to capture silver mane's family.
niamh's mother was wounded, niamh was taken from her mother.
war between rosaria and the northern territories ended when silver mane was force to bend the knee to ensure the safety of his daughter. this angered the remaining warlords of the north.
niamh is taken as a ward to ensure that silver mane would not raise a banner against the duchy again.
the northern territories is officially under the control of the grand duchy of rosaria ; silver mane and his wife ensures the survival of the northern tribe despite the growing blight.
niamh is christianized to rosarian faith and her name is converted to jill.
jill begins her pro-duchy lessons in literature and religion.
year 855 : age 7
jill meets joshua and clive for the first time.
jill is officially introduced to rosarian court / aristocracy.
jill is given more lessons : encouraging etiquette and noble expectations.
jill attempts to runaway from the duchy ; she is found and brought back.
jill is befriend by both clive and joshua.
year 856 : age 8
jill is introduced to subjects relating to politics and diplomacy.
anabella now oversees her lessons.
jill struggles with making friends with the children from the other great houses.
jill is looked down upon by most nobilities.
jill begins to read books relating to the north, despite it being a forbidden subject to her.
jill is encouraged to take on embroidery.
year 858 : age 10
alongside the rest of her lessons, jill is force to take dancing lessons as part of her etiqutte.
jill is reunited with her godfather banagher, who remains a northern prisoner.
banagher begins to teach jill how to defend and fight for herself.
jill begins to see banagher as a father figure.
banagher leaves to join in on rosaria's expedition to the north.
year 859 : age 11
jill meets torgal when elwin comes back from the northern expedition.
jill is reunited with bangher briefly ; banagher is sent to fight alongside rosarian forces against the iron kingdom.
jill leaves the rosalith castle for the first time, and is part of the grand duchy's entourage during the time of the Remembrance Ceremony.
upon jill's return to the castle, talks about marrying her off began to circulate throughout the royal court. anabella is given the role to decide which marriage candidate would benefit the duchy.
year 860 : age 12
jill continues her studies, while secretly devouring books relating to the north.
phoenix gate incident occurs ; anabella discreetly leaves the duchy.
iron kingdom invades rosalith castle ; kidnaps the women and children, including jill.
jill meets imreann ; shiva awakens.
year 861 : age 13
jill is reunited with banagher once more ; banagher now a slave to the iron kingdom.
jill is abused and isolated within the orthodoxy's stronghold.
jill is force to master her ability as a dominant, as well as begin her training as an assassin for the crystalline church.
jill attempts to take her own life, but was thwarted by shiva's self preservation.
jill is threatened by the lives of her fellow captives.
year 863 : age 15
jill begins her assassination against the orthodoxy's political enemies.
year 864 : age 16
jill successfully eliminates a member of the royal family.
the orthodoxy begins to overturn the monarchy system and become the true rulers of the iron kingdom.
jill's existence remains a secret, yet rumors of her ice started to spread and cause fear inside the iron kingdom.
the royal family becomes a puppet to imreann's control.
jill is handcuffed and locked away with the other captives.
year 873 : age 25
news of the iron kingdom harboring a dominant starts to spread.
shiva's fatal assassinations becoming a known fact among the iron kingdom's citizens.
jill is forced to participate in the battle of nysa defile and battle against the dominant titan. imreann uses children as hostage to get her to prime, despite enduring a prior beating from the ironbloods.
jill is saved, but those children hostage did not survive.
random jill building headcanons : i do not consider metia to be part of the northern territory faith. instead, i consider the story of metia to be a common knowledge similar to our real world concept of : wishing on a shooting star. after all, jill is a rosarian ward. she would have been converted at a young age to be faithful to the duchy's concept of religion. she was factually taken in by the duchy at the age of six, and therefore likely would not retain any memories of growing up in the north to start with. she worships no northern gods and it makes more sense if metia was either common knowledge or part of the rosarian religion.
