for the good of a kingdom

"you’ve kept your heart hard and hidden, you unsuspecting, solemn thing, determined to keep the stone beating in your rotting chest a secret." Holden Vitello The King Hades

[holdenvitello-blog1]

the hated; the loved | holden & rafaela

[holdenvitello-blog1]

rheaxrafaela :

            And she’d stand with blood on her hands, crimson crusted underneath her nails and she’d smile white teeth bare like a wolf because she would have won.

            No monsters with snakes for hair, no sisters with secret smiles she could match and brothers with smiles as familiar as her own would stop the hell she’d unleash upon Cronus, should he meet her in this world. 

               Because her heart broke again and again when Hades called her Rhea, mother of gods reduced to four letters he didn’t even recognize, pasted together. She narrowed her eyes a little. That was the question, wasn’t it? How long would this precious moment last? When would her siblings change their minds? She didn’t want to find out. “Who did you speak to?” Persephone—she shook her head. Rhea hadn’t met her in this life, but she expected to, soon enough. The look in her eyes became determined. 

              “You have my sword, my shield, my ships. No harm shall come to you—nor to your wife, nor your kin.” She swore it, now. She’d die before letting that happen. Never again.

“A man of the free folk --- their leader.” There were no games to her words, no lies that he could sense. It was disconcerting that she wanted nothing from him. If her motivations remained so unclear, how could he navigate their conversation? ( In the presence of a pirate, he felt safe; what did this say of him? ) A touch of a smile --- bitter, yes, but a smile all the same --- appeared on his features. 

“Truly, I admire your determination. And certainly, I shall be in your debt.” How hesitant it made him, to owe someone he had just met. She wanted to protect him, but what did it mean? That spark of understanding between them continued to kindle, a terrifying promise he struggled to grasp. A voice, quiet but strong, continued to whisper to him: listen to her, listen, listen. “Do you... have a family of your own to protect?” 

[thejealoussister]

fire in the sky || Maeve & Holden

[holdenvitello-blog1]

thejealoussister :

κακόποτμος (kakopotmos) ill-fated, ill-starred | for inspiration, listen here A blazing light fills the nighttime sky — red in color, it appears among the stars for only a moment before fading. It is not a normal comet; it is like nothing ever seen before. An omen, perhaps? Pulled by something stronger than curiosity, Holden and Maeve walk in the direction it flew, only to run across each other.

@holdenvitello

She saw it through the window, a flash of red light that seemed to burn up and then vanish. Part of her knew that she should change into her nightgown and be ready for bed, but the apparition wouldn’t leave her mind, calling to the depths of her soul. All Maeve could see was red, of blood and fire, dancing behind her eyelids.

She was out of the house before she could bring herself to think twice, walking into the shadows with the sole purpose of finding that source of energy, mindless of the dangers of venturing alone into the night. Her breath caught upon hearing footsteps near her, defenseless as she was - but oh, she was so close to finding out what it was!

“Who’s there?” Maeve called out, focused on the direction where the spark had disappeared but finding only the silhouette of a man. “Did you… did you see the fiery glow above us?”

Holden did not believe in things of omen, of prophecy, of harbingers of fate --- but he had seen enough in the past year to be wary of strange things. In all of his readings, he had never read about something like what blazed in the sky. It was coincidence he saw it, no more, and yet he walked outside with a feeling as if he was meant to follow it. Red... What could such a brilliant color mean? 

He followed. It was a fool’s errand --- the light had disappeared on the horizon --- but he followed all the same. He realized he was not the only one when he saw a woman with eyes as fixed on the sky as him, and when he heard her speak, he paused to show he met no harm. 

“I saw it,” he returned, ignoring the question of his identity. ( No one, I’m no one. ) He could still see the glow in the sky, and he squinted in its direction. Surely, they were close... He felt alive! “Have you ever seen anything quite like it? Brilliant... Utterly brilliant. I thought I might catch another glimpse.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

panya-irvine :

Panya couldn’t help but laugh at that. Her? A lady? She could hear Cason doubling over in laughter already.   “And you mistake me for one of your old palace housemaids,”   she said simply, pausing in front of the man to speak. They were alone in the woods ––––– a deadly tension hanging in the air around them.   “You may not hold the title of King any longer but the people want blood. They ask why you were not killed along with your wife, the same way your nephew and his own were. They wonder what trickery you used to coax the rebel leaders to spare your lives.”   Panya shrugged, taking another step to the side and continuing her little walk around the older man.   “I personally don’t give a damn about what you did or did not do for this kingdom;  it is the money that drives my soul. It’s a shame that you don’t have any to make my footsteps wander.”

This was a field Holden understood --- the world of negotiation. His life hung in the balance; let them play their little game. He did not move as she circled him, playing the part of predator and prey. To flinch was to give away what little power he had. He adopted stone features and a stone voice. “Perhaps they want me dead; perhaps they don’t care --- does it matter? Say you bring me to them. Do you truly the people, those poor and dispossessed, will pay? They will outnumber you and give you their thanks, but they will give nothing else.” He had seen it play out a hundred times. Now, he only had to convince her of it. “It shall prove an enormous effort for very little coin in return.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

portia-vitello :

”Oh, is something the matter my –––”   she paused to correct herself. Old habits died hard. They were normal people now without any titles hanging over their heads.    “––– love? If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll ask the owner if I can leave early.”   Portia hadn’t seen Holden in awhile… or it seemed that way because he’s been keeping to himself more and more. The fact he came to her was a step forward; it overjoyed her to see him trying.

“Must something be wrong for me to see you?” He knew he had not been a good husband to her --- he had made so many promises once upon a time, and they threatened to fall away in light of all that had occurred. There was one truth he would never abandon, however: I would rather the world freeze than lose you. Even as the barest of a man, he held to it; even as he lost all else, it allowed him to keep a shred of his sanity. “Perhaps, we might go on a walk?”  

[fortisvenxtor]

starts and ends | holden & el

[holdenvitello-blog1]

fortisvenxtor :

@holdenvitello

“You look like shit.” 

El hadn’t seen the former-king since the siege of the Lion’s Keep, his eyes raking over the other man. What he was doing there of all places was beyond him; still, he wasn’t going to question it. His mind was working over other things, things more important than a one-time ruler with haunted eyes and sunken cheeks. 

… Still. He’d been told this was a good man, and he looked a little too pathetic to stomach. 

After an assessing look, El pulled a flask from a hidden pocket and held it out to the other man. “Helps.”

Holden had not expected to hear the words so bluntly --- to see one of the men who bore a small part of the responsibility of the Keep’s fall. Moreover, he did not expect the man to offer him a flask. To hate him was something he could understand; his family had never been friends of the wildlings. To fight him was something he could expect. To offer him something helpful, even as small as a flask? Holden could not begin to know what it meant, and although he so rarely drank, he accepted it. What else was there to do? 

“Forgive me if I don’t say thank you,” he muttered, taking a small sip. Disgusting. He hoped it helped nonetheless.  

[holdenvitello-blog1]

haydenbattaglia :

“I can take care of myself. Better than you, clearly.” Hayden shrugged, as if to encompass the entire bloody mess Holden had gotten himself into. There must be some painful irony in finally gaining the crown and losing it nearly immediately. Holden wasn’t too different from Hayden now, having to crawl around in the dirt like any common rat. “Shouldn’t you be with your wife and… and the kids?”

“I’ve never been particularly good with children. They’re much happier in the company of Portia alone.”  They were in the presence of warmth, of spring, of joy. Portia made them smile, even as their hearts ached with grief they could not fully comprehend. He was a cold thing, a thing carved in the space of darkness. No, he did not think it was a good idea to be with them ( his family, do you remember? ) now. “Are you taking care of yourself after... everything?” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

the hated; the loved | holden & rafaela

[holdenvitello-blog1]

rheaxrafaela :

            It was there ; Rafaela could see it in his eyes. It lingered, pending, and then… It disappeared. It was like something burst inside of her when he spoke and she tried forbreath, but found none. She turned her head away, for she knew there must be pain, written on her face as clear as words penned down on a piece of parchment. Hades ( her boy, part of her soul, gift of her womb ) was within her reach ( oh, fingertips ached to touch him, to see, to know that this was real ) and he couldn’t remember, refused to, perhaps. “No?” A mistake. Oh, in that moment, Rafaela Flowers felt so strongly, her hands made fists and her nails drove into her palms. Oh, she hated the man she’d once called husband. She’d twist his neck with her bare hands, should he ever decide to leave his coward spot and descend to earth ( and they will call me god killer, kin killer ). “You must have.”

            “They are wolves,” she muttered, after having acknowledged his gratitude with a nod ( she couldn’t explain how she didn’t need it ; how it was her job as a mother to care for her children, and how she had utterly failed ). “Wolves, starved and hungry for vengeance. They will keep on devouring, and I fear they will never be sated, until…” She trailed off, drew in a breath, resumed. “The deaths of your brothers, nephew and niece-in-law were not the end, I trust you are aware?”

There was heartbreak in her --- he could feel it as much as see it. Holden tried to keep himself apart from the feelings of others; they were dangerous, and if he followed that damnable heart of his, would it not lead him as it had led Zion? But no, no, no, this was...different, was it not? The heartbreak in her was something older than them both, and he thought it might swallow him whole. He was not ready for it. No, no. There were more pressing matters; business of the now enclosed them. He would never fully escape his time as king, would he? ( To think he might live in peace one day --- how it made him want to laugh. ) “I am aware,” he returned simply. “I have spoken to one... They spared me for a reason, but for how long that reason may last, I do not know. Have you met my wife, Rhea? I will not let her be harmed.” A deep breath. “Do you truly wish to help me? For if this is not the end, I will need your assistance.”

[holdenvitello-blog1]

portia-vitello :

“One moment, love… I’ll be right with you in a moment!”  she called over her shoulder.   Portia had barely managed to get herself a job at the local tavern and that was only because the owner had been fond of her prior to her short time on the throne.   After the rebellion, Holden had gone into a depression –––– forcing her to take on the role of providing for their family.  Two children to feed.  Her shoulders were heavy with the weight of responsibility, but at least she was good at serving.   It was like the old days when she used to be a handmaiden for Lady Alycia.   And now she was a barmaid.  When Portia finally turned to face the customer, she paused ––– surprised to see the other.

“Oh… hello.  What will you be having? An ale?”

“No, no, thank you.” It was rare he saw her these days --- that woman of hope and warmth. How he wanted to give her a crown so that the world might see her as he did; how he had only dragged her down, branding her with the threat of danger. ( He did not deserve to see her these days, if truth be told, but that did not stop him. It would never stop him. ) He folded his hand atop the counter, and his gaze followed the movement. “I came to see you.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

panya-irvine :

It had been by pure chance that Panya happened to see the man wander into the forest.  She’d decided to follow him despite the knowledge that the man had no money for her to steal.  Call it curiosity.  Even the snapping of the twig beneath her feet had been carefully done to make her presence known.   The girl stepped out into the open, a smirk adorning her lips.   “What is a Vitello doing so far from civilization?” she asked, circling him like a predator marking its prey. “Are you not aware that there are hundreds of people willing to pay a handsome fee for your bigoted head impaled onto a pointy stick?”

“I am not a Vitello any longer, my lady.” The name was meaningless --- could she not see that? A certain wariness permeated his steps, and he made sure not to leave his back to her for long. ( Thoughts of Portia, of leaving her alone, pounded in his head. No, he may not have been a Vitello, but he remained hers, and he could not abandon her to this place alone. ) “I would recommend another course of action to receive your payment.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

haydenbattaglia :

“Even if you did, I would want nothing from you.” Once, Hayden might have spat out those words, would have balled his fists in anger. But his voice was flat, his face an empty mask - and as he came closer to the man he used to be proud of calling uncle, his steps were uneven and hesitant. “The hell are you doing here, Holden? It isn’t safe.”

Hayden --- and he was glad to see the boy, despite everything. They had never quite been family, but the makings were there, and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... Gods, Holden felt old as he turned to look at the boy. “I could ask you the same, Hayden. These woods are not safe; you should be careful to wander.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

matwood :

Even though he had never met him before, Maddox easily recognized the other man with only a glance. Rafaela often spoke about her children, and a strong portrait of them had already been built up inside his own mind. But not wanting to get involved with what the quartermaster considered to be none of his business, he was content with seeing him from afar, and only watched him as he went into the wild. 

Maddox himself had stepped out the borders of safety as soon as he heard the rumours of monsters and strange things happening in the shadows, but it took only a few unrecognizable sounds to make him go back to his Captain. He was not going back there on his own. And he was definitely not going to follow Hades into those dangerous woods. But what would he say to Rafa if Hades disappeared? That he saw him exposing himself to a savage death and did nothing to stop it?. He sighed.       

“Shit.” 

Before he could answer his own questions, he was already moving, silently and reluctantly following Hades into the dangerous woods. Thankfully, the terrifying silence didn’t last long.

“I know,” he replied, his voice rusted for the lack of use at land and the constant shouting at sea. “But if you keep walking, the shadows of these forests will rob the only thing you still have.” 

“And what would that be --- my life?” The thought almost made him smile, but the words were filled with such irony, he did no more than glance towards the strange man. He did not recognize the other; the woods were filled with no spark of familiarity. Even still, there must have been some spark of self-preservation remaining within him, for he ensured there was ample space between him and the man. “Is it your duty to deliver warnings to wanderers?” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

neilsonrivers :

“Was I to think them good?” He knew the stories, what little could be heard over the months. The man before him always seemed to be left behind the boy. “You speak of their youth, but I only know the years they stole. Years they paid for.” He turned his head to the side, regarded the other calm as could be. Little to say? Nothing but a wish. “Is it their youth that makes them more important than my kin? If you think that, there’s a lot more you’re blind to.“

“They did not orchestrate the slaughter of your people --- that sin was my brother’s, and perhaps, mine for not stopping him. Antony was no more than a common soldier, a fool, a...” The words trailed off. Was it worse to be angry or to understand why the wildlings had killed his nephew? If he was their king, he would have done the same --- but he was not their king, and the weight of grief pressed heavily against his chest. ( Perhaps if Zion had remained alive, he could have stopped them. Was this Holden’s fault then? Who did he blame: the one who pushed the war into motion, those who responded in kind, or the one who pulled strings from the shadows? ) “Could we not have had peace? I opened my doors; I tried to mend the pain my family has caused. Surely, there was another way... And, if not, why could you not have killed me too?” Condemned to a half-life. The brother who wanted too much. The King who failed. The coward. Mina had tried to explain why, but still, he could understand. Why? Why? Why? 

[willgrahvm]

If there’s a problem, you need to tell me.

[holdenvitello-blog1]

the hated; the loved | holden & rafaela

[holdenvitello-blog1]

rheaxrafaela :

            Rafaela thought she detected a hint of shock; surely she saw the recognition lit up at the words she’d written down and sent to him, weeks ago. She answered his nod with one of her own, and then set a pace down the alley. Best not to linger around and possibly draw unwanted attention.

            “You might,” the pirate answered, though she remained silent for a long moment before truly replying. It was a question far too difficult to answer with ease. “Many know me as Rafaela Flowers—I’m assuming you might have heard that name before.” She hadn’t roamed these coasts before the last few weeks, but names and reputations carried far. “But few, few call me—” And she was scared; no, she was frightened. Frightened that if she said it, it wouldn’t matter. But wasn’t she courageous? Wasn’t she the pirate queen because she had dared? Because she defied? If there was a chance ( any chance, please, any chance at all ) that she could get some part of that life, back, could get at least one of her children back, then shouldn’t she take it? “—Rhea.”

               She gazed at him, then, and she shook her head. “I don’t require payment for that, Holden. It was in my own interest, you could say.”

Rafaela Flowers --- a name to carry power, a name to inspire the masses and terrify those on sea. He had only heard it in whispers; it had never effected him beyond that. ( Of course, king of nthing would make friends with pirates and thieves. ) He almost responded to it, writing it off as a recognition of an old dream and nothing more, but the name Rhea left her lips and he was forced to pause. Rhea, Rhea, Rhea. Ancient. Powerful. Before man. More than Queen. Rhea. Rhea. “No,” he finally managed to whisper in response to the unasked question. He glimpsed something that his human mind could not comprehend --- something divine and worthy, something he did not deserve to see. He glanced away from her, unable to follow where his thoughts were desperate to take him. “I...must have been mistaken.” 

Refocusing his thoughts on a tangible problem, he nodded slightly. As to what her possible interests could be, he did not want to think; there were little other options for him, and he did not feel as if she meant to threaten him. “Then I suppose you have my gratitude.” 

[holdenvitello-blog1]

He stood on the edges of civilization --- the edges of his civilization, at the very least. Word had gotten around, warning of monsters and ghouls alike, but he did not heed them. ( For what did a dead man walking have to fear? ) He could not say if he was challenging the fates or dooming himself, but his feet moved of their own accord. When he heard a snap of twigs, he merely slowed his pace. “If you yearn to rob me, I have no gold.” How ironic that the last son of the golden family would have to make such a claim.

[agent-tatia]

[ask-meme-addicts]

Obscure Feelings drabble prompt meme

[therealm-rpg-blog]

ask-meme-addicts :

Send in a word for a drabble of our muses based on it.

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

Vemödalen: The frustration of photographic something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist.

Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.

Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire.

Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.

Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.

Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.