AKA: What the fucking fuck is up with Valter, is he possessed or what WHAT IS CAUSING THIS--
This can be seen as the continuation to my first ever meta post about the Cursed Lance I did many moons ago. (And probably just as long lmao.) In that post I refrained from stating in plain terms whether or not Valter is indeed possessed or if the Lance just drove him crazy, and he’s now mostly acting on his own accord. Mostly this was just done because I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to go with.
But now, after a lot of thought, I’ve decided...
That, yes. He is, indeed, possessed. Now I want to stress that this type of possession is NOT as severe as the likes of Lyon, because the object of his possession is just a stupid Lance and NOT the Demon King. But the Lance in question is indeed alive, and very much in control of Valter’s actions.
So what is the Lance? Simply put, it’s a demon in lance shape. It can’t move and can’t do things that are beyond the limits of a normal lance. It can’t walk or shapeshift. It’s basically just a really sharp, pointy parasite. All it can do is sucker patsies into feeding its desire for chaos and destruction -- and yes, it most certainly CAN do this regardless of physical distance between it and its host.
The way the thing works is that, while it’s in its “dormant” state, it lures prospective hosts in using weak, subtle telepathic abilities. Lots of people give Duessel (the original, non-crazy owner of the lance) shit because of the obvious question of WHY WOULD HE BRING THE THING AROUND WITH HIM? He knew that it was only one dummy who grabbed it on accident away from being a huge pile of bullshit he’d have to clean up. Why not just leave it back at the crib until you needed it?
That will probably never get answered in canon, but my theory was that he couldn’t. The Lance is still alive whether it’s got an active host or not. It sends out a seductive lure out for people who might be good hosts almost constantly, and if Duessel simply left it at home, he’d have to deal with near constant break-ins of two-bit thieves trying to get inside and pilfer it without really knowing why they’re drawn to it (if asked, they’d either come up with a lame excuse of “I thought it would be worth a lot of money” or just frankly admit that they have no idea). Duessel, though, was used to its seductive siren song. He figured it was safer to keep it close by where he can keep an eye on it and prevent anyone from touching it. But even someone like him can occasionally have slip-ups.
That same luring action is what prompted Valter to grab it in the heat of battle. All it took was one thrust, and he was snared. The beast inside the Lance was awoken, and from then on, he was forever linked to it telepathically. The Lance was now in its active, feeding state.
While in the active state, the Lance acts as a parasite that feeds off of the rush of endorphins Valter gets when he either kills or hurts someone (including himself, to a degree). It released Valter from his inhibitions, and for most of the time they were linked, only used a very rudimentary punishment / reward based system. When it was “pleased” with his level of violence, it was quiet. When it thirsted for blood, it tormented him. For YEARS, that was the only thing it was required to do -- most of the deranged shit Valter did while he was possessed, he did because he had secretly always WANTED to do it. He was always a sick puppy, in other words. The Lance basically just took away his ability to feel shame about it.
That’s not to say that its hold on him isn’t extremely potent, though. In recent months, things have taken a bit of a turn. After his crushing defeat in the Spring Tournament, something happened that almost never does while the Lance is in direct control of a host. It very nearly lost control over him. Temporarily, of course, but even that was enough to leave the Lance feeling a bit shook.
While its control of Valter had been pretty hands-off until that point, it does have a secret weapon. I can and HAS in the past completely taken over someone’s mind. The problem is that it doesn’t WANT to. It’s a fucking Lance. It doesn’t know shit about how to achieve homeostasis. Bullshit like sleep? Eating??? Using the bathroom??????? It’s a fucking LANCE -- it doesn’t want to have to control all of that trifling “staying alive” hogwash humans have to go through. It just wants to get its chow on.
Not only that, but there are very physical harmful effects to it having to get its hands dirty like that. The Lance is basically an infection of the mind, and the more it gets involved controlling its host, the more the body tries to fight against it. Anyone in direct control would probably have high fevers, stiff, zombie-like movements, and would experience accelerated aging, dying of “natural causes” due to the stress put on their bodies within 10 years, max.
That’s why Valter was such a uniquely excellent host for it. It didn’t HAVE to take a huge sum of control to get him to do what it ultimately wanted. All he needed was the slightest of nudges, and he’d be racing off to accomplish it all on his own. But the realization that Valter was fast on the track to dying alone without anyone who cared about him or who could take over his vast estate threatened that stability. He wanted to be admired again.
To preserve its hold on him, the Lance directly spoke to Valter, promising that it could solve all his problems if he ceded control once more. Because not only did the match succeed in absolutely humiliating Valter, it also exposed a flaw in the Lance’s plans. Valter wasn’t going to live forever, and once he died, it would be back at square one. Perhaps they would even find out the truth about its true nature and have it destroyed! It was a scary concept.
So it sought to solve both of their problems by securing Valter an heir. Someone who would honor his memory, inherit and care for his estate once he was gone... And a fresh new host the Lance could reliably feed on, should Valter fall in battle. That’s why he’s been a bit... freakishly anxious for children lately.
I should once again iterate that this Lance is NOT Fomortiis #2 or something like that. It is not the Demon KING -- it’s just a regular (if not slightly lower tier) demon. It does not have the capability to destroy the world. It is at BEST a Euclid level SCP. It can’t even make Valter stronger without directly harming the dude. You do NOT need the Fire Emblem to defeat it -- though you can’t really take a random weapon out of the trash, and do it in, either. Any legendary weapon (even swords, including Falchion, though it would probably take longer to work) will do. “Killing” the Lance would completely break its hold on him.
And, interestingly enough, Valter can also be exorcised of it its influence, though it’s just a temporary solution -- destroying the Lance is the only way to get him to snap out of it for good. It’s basically like cutting down a weed verses getting rid of it at the root. Anything from Azura’s song to the Galdr of Rebirth would do the trick.
JUST MAKE SURE YOU HAVE HIM RESTRAINED WHILE ATTEMPTING IT -- he will likely thrash about and scream as if you’re killing him and try to attack whoever is doing it, because the Lance would REALLY not be pleased. (Also applicable if you’re trying to destroy the lance -- he’ll likely react the same way.) Afterwards, though, you’d have a sane, weary man for 7-10 days.
Have you ever wondered what Walter would be like if he actually had the opportunity to reach his full potential instead of constantly being shit on by his brother and life as a whole? That’s basically the basis of my Imperial Walter AU, so keep reading if you’d like to find out more!
Also, special thanks to @for-grado, who helped me hash out a lot of these ideas over Discord.
The beginning of Walter’s life during his Imperial timeline is pretty similar, if not exactly the same. The twins actually got along swimmingly during their early childhood, with Valter stepping up and becoming the bold and outgoing one, while still being quite sensitive to Walter's needs and almost serving as a mediator between him and other people when he got anxious. It wasn’t until the twins were in their early adolescents that Valter suddenly had a change of heart and began acting like a total dick to Walter for... reasons I won’t get into right now.
But before the twins drift apart, there’s a terrifying incident where Walter suffered a traumatic wolf attack that threatened to kill him if Valter hadn't stepped in -- something that he's eternally grateful for. In the “canon” timeline, they both lived, with only minor injuries (if any) due to Valter being able to take it by surprise from behind and clock it on the head with a large rock. In this AU, the poor boys aren’t so lucky. The attack misses its mark, and the wolf turns the brunt of its ire onto Valter instead. Walter’s arm was so badly mangled, he nearly lost it, and Valter died from the severity of his wounds and shock before anyone could really help him.
The death of his beloved twin took a severe toll on Walter. He was haunted by guilt, feeling that the entire situation was his fault. But the love and support of his parents helped him push past it, and he dedicated himself to growing as much as he could in his brother's honor, since he knew that if Valter were still alive, he'd want to see him doing well. (That’s what we in the business call irony.)
But anyway, through a lot of hard work and study, he became every bit as successful as Valter would have in his stead. Well educated, well liked, skilled in several recreational activities like cooking and art, and although he's still quite introverted and a bit... Awkward(tm), he knew how to get past that and still have people like him for who he was, and grew to be quite formidable in terms of magical prowess.
But it wasn't enough for him. Driven by his brother's selfless sacrifice he decided to enlist in the Grado military when he was a teen so that he could help protect others just like his brother had done for him. His parents were quite Nervous(tm) about that, as would anyone who had lost one of their kids in a tragic accident. They didn’t want to see their last remaining son sign up for a dangerous profession, but he was super insistent, so they eventually gave him their full support.
Basic training was hard on him, but over time, his leadership and prowess on the battlefield would earn him the title of an Imperial General -- something that he was quite proud of. He didn't just consider it an achievement he got on his own. He would be very quick to thank all the multitudes of people that helped him get so far with their undying support and loyalty. Under Emperor Vigarde, he would eventually come to be known as the Opal.
For a few years, life seemed perfect. But then, his parents got sick. Same disease that got them in the canon verse (whatever it is). Unlike Valter, who ignored their progressing sickness for months (if not years) as he chased his lofty dreams ascending the ranks, Walter immediately resigned from his position upon first hearing about it. He placed a vast importance on his family, especially after his brother's death, so the thought of losing them was unbearable. Selena was brought on board in his stead during that time.
He fought as hard as he could to keep them alive, but ultimately, none of it paid off. He lost them both, and fell into a deep depression that lasted years. He hit the bottle pretty hard and was barely seen venturing out of his mansion, preferring to have servants run errands for him instead. While he never did anything as sick and degenerate as Valter during that time, having a lonely 40 year old bachelor living by himself in a large spoopy mansion would certainly get the locals talking among themselves and coming up with all kinds of weird rumors and speculation as to what he’s up to in there.
Eventually, the in-game events happen, and Lyon needs generals to fill out his ranks again. I plan on elaborating on their relationship a little bit more in the future, but Lyon would know that the man is skilled mage and loyal soldier, so he’d ask him to join the cause again. Walter would be quite hesitant to join the force again, but after some pleading, he’d acquiesce. He originally joined to protect the people of Grado, and even though his parents wouldn’t be coming back, he could still protect the young soldiers under his care.
And so General Walter would be welcomed back with open arms, though he’d make a small change to his title, preferring the name “Opalite” over “Opal.” Opalite is basically fool’s Opal -- a name given either to a synthetic creation made from glass, or naturally occurring opal so rife with inclusions and flaws that it’s practically worthless. It would perfectly describe how he feels like an empty husk of a man, simply going through the motions so that he can die in peace with no regrets.
Not to say he’s cold or distant or unpleasant to be around in the slightest. It’s just that for all of his warm words of encouragement and highly supportive chats with his subordinates, there’s no getting rid of that constant, nagging cloud of sadness that seems to weigh him down, no matter what he does. He struggles to pretend that everything is normal with him, but everyone can tell that there’s something. Off about him. He drinks a bit too much, he has moments where he wordlessly stares out into the void, has crying spells -- all of it. He’s barely holding it together, and he knows that. But he’s still trying his best.
If I had to pin down his character, I’d say he’s somewhere between Duessel and Selena in terms of his goodness and loyalty to the empire. He’ll give everything he can to stop the Renais twins from advancing, but like hell he’s laying down his life for bullshit reasons when everyone is telling him they don’t want any more bloodshed. He’d probably be taken a prisoner, then would join forces with the twins after they find Knoll and it hits him just how deeply wrong things are.
Jesus fuck this got long. I’ll have to do a Part 2 sometime about his relationships with other characters, especially with Lyon, as that’s a highly important one. But for now, to wrap this up, here’s a few assorted details about Imperial Walter.
Canon Walter is a Sage, whereas Imperial Walter is a Druid. This is because Canon Walt promoted from the Priest line and had little to no practical knowledge of offensive magic. Imperial Walter was pretty much the opposite.
Imperial Walter still has a stutter, though he’s trained himself to make it a lot less noticeable for most people in casual conversation. If I had to compare his speaking style, it would be a lot like Rowan Atkinson.
When he’s having a bit of a breakdown, though, it can get quite bad.
Walter may still be a sweetheart unlike what his brother ultimately became, but he’s no pushover. He’s a goddamn general with nearly 20 years of military experience, and he carries himself like one. Don’t fuck with him.
Dadly advice dispenser.
Walter is listed as a Demiboy on my About page, and that’s still true for Imperial Walter. He’s a lot more confident in his gender identity, though, and can sometimes be seen making his rounds in “women’s clothing”.
Some people got freaked out by that and claims that he goes mad and puts on his dead mother’s clothing to grieve from time to time, but... No. He bought them himself, thanks.
Walter doesn’t walk with a limp or have a fucked up leg due to Valter’s bullshit, but he does have a banged up arm due to the wolf attack gone bad. He keeps it wrapped up in bandages almost constantly to spare people the horror of having to see it constantly, but doesn’t regard it with fear or shame. It’s a testament to his brother’s sacrifice and the fact that he lived.
I’ve talked about it in a few threads with people about how Walter’s leg looks, but I thought I’d make a meta post about it for quick reference. I’m going to throw out a quick warning for graphic, possibly disturbing imagery, but I promise that there’s going to be no gruesome pictures that pop up out of nowhere. Everything will be under a cut or linked, just so someone doesn’t get a nasty surprise.
So, back to Walter. Following his last major, bloody confrontation with Valter, Walter’s leg was irreparably broken. He suffered a transverse fracture of his tibia and fibula. So, basically, Valter did this: [graphic video warn] [here’s a pic for those on mobile] to his twin brother. On purpose.
Luckily the bone never pierced his skin, which is probably what saved his life. Since Valter denied him treatment, and forced him to go seek medical aid on his own (with the nearest village being miles away), having a wound like that exposed to the air would have proven fatal. It surely would have lead to an infection, and in the days that followed of him trying to reach civilization, it probably would have turned gangrenous and led to a deadly case of sepsis.
He didn’t die from his severe injury, but forcing him to go so long without treatment still had cataclysmic repercussions. In my meta for healing magic, all healing magic does is speed up the body’s natural healing processes. It can’t do anything unnatural, like regrowing limbs or lost body parts, else we wouldn’t have so many characters with missing eyes in the series. It’s also why you can’t raise people from the dead with it – that falls under dark magic shit.
By the time Walter could finally get the medical attention he needed, his body had already begun trying to heal itself, but everything was in the wrong place. If anyone tried to use a staff on him, it would have just healed lumpy and malformed. It’s strange to say, but even with their healing magic, the FE universe wasn’t nearly as well equipped to deal with an injury like that than our own modern world would be. They didn’t have any x ray machines to see where the little bits and pieces of bone were or how to fit them back together exactly right. And they definitely didn’t have the technology to replace some of his bone with steel plates or the like for added support.
So basically Walter’s long recovery process consisted of having to endure the repeated process of clerics painfully breaking his leg again, cutting it open, and manually searching and trying to move the bones back in place so they could heal it again. If it didn’t work, they’d need to start over again. This took several months – possibly as long as two years, and the end result, for all of their hard work, was anything but ideal.
The skeletal structure of his leg isn’t one solid, study mass. It’s more reminiscent of wobbling Jenga tower than a steel beam. There are still bits and pieces of bone missing, possibly lodged somewhere in the surrounding musculature, which is why it’s so intensely painful for him to put any sort of weight on it at all. Running is close to an impossibility for him. Jumping up and down is DEFINITELY impossible for him, and eventually, even walking will be out of the picture. He has to drink a shitload of vulneraries just to keep the constant pain at bay. It consistently makes his life miserable.
And, to add insult to injury, his leg is horrendously ugly and covered with all sorts of scar tissue due to the clerics repeatedly having to cut into him and discolored veins that makes him feel as if he’s a monster on top of all that. He keeps his leg wrapped in compression bandages, both to disguise his defect and because it genuinely makes it feel better and offers better circulation and even some support. If anyone were to see it against his wishes, it would send his already horrible self esteem into a nosedive, and he’d probably suffer a near mental breakdown.
If you want to see what it probably looks like these days, here’s a few reference pictures I’ve compiled that I feel are very similar to what he’s dealing with. Please note that these are all real life pictures, and the content might be disturbing for some of you.
So I’ve been toying around with the idea of making a mock-up of how Walter would function in Heroes, since that’s the verse most of his interactions happen in. For comparison’s sake, let’s take a look at Valter’s max stats.
Hp: 42
Atk: 32 (50 with Cursed Lance equipped)
Spd: 31 (33 with Cursed Lance equipped)
Def: 34
Res: 19
This adds up to the pretty average BST total of 158 with his weapon unequipped.
As for Walter, his stats would be...
Hp: 33
Atk: 17
Spd: 22
Def: 7
Res: 45
This would add up to the paltry BST of 124 -- the lowest, by far, in the entire game. He also has the lowest attack stat in the game, beating Azama who has 21 atk, and he has the lowest def in the game, beating Delthea and Lucius, who both have 13. However, he would have the highest Res stat by far in the game, handily beating Halloween Henry and Winter Tharja, who have 36.
Would that be enough to make him viable? Probably not.
His weapon would be a legendary, non inheritable tome called “Worn Fire Tome”. It would have 3 Mt (which is actually a point less than the regular fire spell you could go back and equip him with), and the weapon description would be “+1 cooldown charge. 33% chance 0 damage will be done to opponent”.
Like Halloween Henry and Winter Tharja, he will be an armored magic user, which might make him slightly more useful since he won’t be limited to special summons. If someone equipped the highest spell available to him -- Bolganone (which has 9 Mt), it would bump his attack up to 26. And with hone armor, he could get up to 32 Atk. Still not a lot, but enough to chip the paint off of some low res units, which might be handy for armor emblem.
The skills available to him right off the bat would be:
Support: Ardent Sacrifice
A: Close Def 3
B: Watersweep 3 (learnable at 4 stars)
Watersweep seems like a pretty good skill for him to have, but since you have to be faster than your target for it to kick in, it would probably only be useful against Winter Tharja, Sophia, and maybe -Spd variations of normal Henry, normal Leo, Reinhardt, and adult Tiki. That’s literally it.
And with Def as bad as his, Close Def 3 would only maybe be useful against dragons. Bumping 7 def up to 13 would be basically useless, not to mention most units also outspeed him. Chances are, he’d just get foddered for his skills, seeing as they’re both somewhat rare and he can learn Watersweep 3 at such a low rarity.
So I’m sure most of you are probably asking, “Munstone, WYD??? Why would you literally make a character that’s this useless, that’s basically only usable as a fodder unit?” Well, the answer is that it’s basically the point of his entire character. He’s frail, he’s slow, and he’s bad at basically everything, but he tries his hardest. For those who have the patience of a saint, they can actually help him achieve pretty impressive heights!
His Res is beastly -- so high, that even blue tome users and dragons would probably struggle against him unless they’re packing some significant heat (Odin would be practically worthless against him, despite the weapon triangle advantage, outspeeding him and having access to Moonbow). If you gave him Glacies, he’d do a whopping 36 damage with the bonus alone, which would give him incredible nuking potential. He could easily kill most frail mages with that special, and even some of the less chucky physical units like Kagero, Summer Tiki and Gaius, and Innes. Assuming he doesn’t die to them first.
And then you get to the weapon refinery. Amazingly, “Worn Fire Tome” isn’t just a joke weapon designed to just troll players. If there’s someone out there patient enough to send him through hundreds of battles, for 1,200 SP (three times the normal amount), 200 Divine Dew, and 500 Arena Medals, you can refine it into the weapon “Shining Bolganone”.
It would have 14 Mt, just like other legendary tomes, and its weapon description would be, “+1 cooldown charge. If user’s health is 100%, attack, speed, and defense are doubled. Does not include weapon might or buffs. Unit takes 4 damage after combat.”
So, just to reiterate, that means his stats would increase to
Hp: 33
Atk: 34
Speed: 44
Def: 14 (still pathetic)
Res: 45
This would put his BST at 170, which puts him just under Amelia, overall. Which is terrifying.
But wait! There’s more. Shining Bolganone prevents the weapon’s might or any field buffs from getting doubled, BUT THAT’S NOT THE CASE FOR SKILLS. Yes. You could slap Life or Death on this guy, which would bump his base attack to 44 and his speed to 54, at the cost of lowering his Def to 4 and Res 40 (which is still plenty).
If you gave him Bold Fighter along with it, he would raze entire countries. And that’s not even factoring in IVs. So a +Atk LoD Walter could get to 50 BASE atk. A +Spd LoD Walter could get to 60 BASE speed. Alternatively, you could give a +Def Walter Fortress Defense, which would lower his base attack to 28, but would raise his defense to a chunky 30 for one turn!
Also, yes, seals also get doubled.
(Decided to get rid of the “Skills get doubled as well” thing because I kind of forgot to take into account that merges will probably be easy to come by for a 3 star unit. There’s no way even I’m insane enough to put a unit with like 80 base possible speed in the game. Slight exaggeration, but you get me--)
(Merges will count towards the multiplication factor since they ARE technically a part of the BST. But skills and seals will NOT be. The doubled effect will be calculated before any of those get taken in effect.)
Yes, this makes Walter ridiculously broken, but only for one turn. The player would have to ensure he stays healthy and be sure to shuffle him out of danger zones since there would be no way for him to net a kill after the first phase of combat. And even then, it would be up to the player to get him to that point, anyway. They would have to endure the dull slog of leveling him up past a 3 or 4 star unit and have to endure relentless grinding to even get the weapon upgrade, and even more grinding to get him to the point where skills could come into play. So I think it’s fair.
I think the beauty of him would be the fact that he’s simultaneously the most broken and the most useless units in the game. That’s how I try to play him. He’s bad at everything not because he doesn’t have potential, but because his life has beaten him down to the point where he doesn’t think there’s anything worth saving. If he was around people that were encouraging and allowed him to grow on his own terms, he’d grow almost exponentially.
Comparing that to Valter, who’s definitely not a bad unit by any means, but who is more of a well rounded, jack-of-all-trades, Walter would be a heavily specialized unit that can only do one job, but who can do it exceptionally well. That’s because he’d be taking subjects that actually interest him. But that’s a story for another day.
(Strong warning for sibling abuse, ableism, and graphic descriptions of violence. ~5.5k words)
Trembling hands carefully adjusted the large portrait hanging in the grand hall. Perhaps one of the maids had unintentionally shifted it askew while dusting or carrying on with her daily chores. It was hard to be upset when he knew how dutifully the staff worked to keep things in order.
The almost life-sized oil painting was of a wealthy couple embracing joyously. They’d probably had it made in celebration of their marriage. They looked so young and happy and healthy there… That was the way he’d like like to remember them. Not as the dreadfully sickly, frail shells that haunted his dreams.
The large estate had been dreadfully silent for years now -- but even still, this was... different. Or maybe it wasn’t? Perception was a powerful lens after all. The quiet, foreboding halls, the hushed whispers filtering through closed doors… Perhaps it was all the same as it had been before. It was just… knowing that they were finally gone -- that nothing his many months of tireless service had been enough to prevent it...
Shamefully, he slumped against the wall, and broke down into muted sobs, his hand pressed against his mouth so he wouldn’t alert anyone else. A hand balled into a fist and quietly thumped against the marbled exterior. Saints above, he missed them. He missed them more than anything. They deserved more than a cruel, lengthy, painful death as their minds and bodies wasted away in front of him. His parents had deserved to live.
“W… Why couldn’t it h-had been me…?” he whimpered, pushing his glasses out of the way so he could rub fitfully at his eyes. Admittedly, his own life was useless, but not theirs. The world had been robbed of two very fine people, and he didn’t see how things could ever be the same without them.
“Master Walter…?” a voice called gently from the bottom of the stairway.
The young lord gasped quietly, and hurried to wipe away at his tears, hoping no one would notice his red, puffy face. He went to stairs to address the elderly butler. “Y… Yes, Richardson? Wh… What is i-it?” he stammered softly.
Richardson, a long time servant of the family, bowed deeply at the waist. “Master Valter has returned from his campaign oversees. He’s at the gate now.”
Walter’s jaw dropped. Some part of him honestly had believed that Valter wouldn’t make it to the wake, due to being such an all-important general. But now that he HAD shown up…
“O… Oh blessed s-saints! L...Let him in right a-away!” Walter cried, rushing to the head of the gallery once more.
“As you wish, sir.”
News that the famed general had returned spread through the staff like wildfire, and within minutes, everyone was standing along the walls of the grand hall to greet him. Walter nervously tugged at the lapels of his shirt and tried to smooth down his short tufts of blue hair. He wasn’t sure if he was fit to greet a general (even if that general WAS his twin brother).
Valter ascended the stairs with all the poise of a commander, and Walter had to subdue an audible gasp at the sight of him. Everything about him seemed so much… grander than he remembered, and Walter found himself feeling much smaller, even though he knew they were the same height.
Valter had filled out considerably due to his training, and was garbed in plates of armor Walter could only guess had seen a lot of action on the battlefield due to the multitude of dents and scratches on them. Despite that, they still looked to be in amazing condition, having been polished until they shined. He could see evidence of scars all over the general’s face and along his arms, as well.
Most shocking was the impressive length of his hair -- he’d been growing it out for years, but Walter had assumed for some reason that they’d make him cut it after ascending the ranks. It flowed all the way down his back in brilliant waves of blue -- the same color as their late father, and Walter could feel the prick of tears stinging his eyes once more.
Valter took a moment to calmly take in his surroundings -- it had been years since he’d been back, after all. For a moment, his eyes came to rest on Walter, and that was all the excuse the grieving twin needed. He burst into tears again, rushing up to give Valter a tight hug and sobbing openly into his chest. “B… Brother… You… Y-You came…”
Valter’s stance went rigid, and he stared down at the man clinging to his torso as if he were an alien creature. “You…” He glanced around at the servants surrounding them, obviously getting visibly agitated. “What are you doing?” he hissed at last.
“S… Sorry…” Walter sniffed, releasing him to wipe at his face once more. “I… I know it’s… not g-good to be s… seen crying, b-but it’s just been s… so hard, and--”
Valter pushed him away coldly. “That’s not what I meant, you blithering fool,” he snapped, eyes hard and cold as steel. “I meant what are you doing HERE?”
Walter blinked, staring at Valter with pure confusion. A small, creeping feeling of dread curled up his spine. “I… I d-don’t…”
“Don’t play stupid with me, simpleton,” Valter snarled. “I know you’ve seen the will. You’re not mentioned anywhere within its passages. I’m the sole owner. You don’t live here anymore. So leave.”
Walter was silent for several seconds as he tried to make sense of the harsh words his brother was speaking. A few of the maids started whispering as the butlers exchanged nervous glances. Tension hung in the air like a cloud.
Finally, Walter gave a small, nervous smile. His heart was racing now, words getting stuck in his throat. “V… Valter, you c-can’t really m… m… m--”
“Of course I mean it,” Valter interjected with a scoff. He turned his back to him, waving him away. “Did you really think I would make an exception for you simply because we’re related by birth?”
“Y… Yes!” Walter cried incredulously. “F… F… For crying out loud, Valter! Th-They were… w-were…”
“Insane?” Valter cut in, whirling around again with a dramatic sweep of his cape.
“... Y… Yes…” came the soft reply. Walter clutched loosely to his chest. It was painful to see them waste away and know there was no way he could end their suffering. To see them slowly forget words for basic items, and even their names.
There was a derisive snort. “I know all about that, fool. I know about a multitude of things. For instance, I also know of your attempted deception and other nefarious deeds!”
He marched up to Walter and jammed an accusative finger into his brother’s chest, pushing him back slightly with every stabbing gesture. “Tell me! Why were you traipsing about and impersonating me, hmm? Were you hoping to put in a good word for yourself? Sabotage my good name in an attempt to claim my inheritance?!”
Walter stumbled back, obviously starting to panic. “Th… Th… That’s not w-what I--”
Valter immediately began mocking him. “Th-th-that’s not w-w-w-what, Walter? Is it not the truth?”
His heart was racing in his ears. “Wh… B-But, I… It-It’s just that--”
“‘Whuuuh... buuuuh... muuuuuuh... !’ Pathetic! Just spit it out already!” That finger kept jabbing at him.
Walter shoved the intrusive hands away with a frustrated scream. “B-Because they LOVED YOU MORE, a-alright?! They ALWAYS HAVE! Th-That’s why I did it!”
He remembered vividly how the elderly pair had reacted the first and only time he’d corrected them about who he really was. The absolute anguish, and even fear on their faces as they shrieked and demanded for “Valter” to come back. Walter was a brainless screw-up, after all. They couldn’t entrust their lives to him. As much as it hurt to carry on the charade, nothing in the world was more important than their happiness. Not even his own.
He sniffled slightly, arms folded defensively across his chest. He had a feeling the spot Valter was poking him was going to bruise, come the morning. “A...All they ever w-wanted… Was a v… visit f-from you, Valter. W… Why didn’t you ever c… come see them?”
Valter regarded the question coldly. “Does it matter?” he grunted. “They were going to die either way.”
Walter was aghast. How could Valter be so flippant? Did he even care? “... W… W… You…”
Valter gave a disgusted huff. “Why are you still here? I told you to be gone, lest I have you removed! OUT!”
“V… Valter, p-please!” Walter begged, grasping onto his shirt sleeve. “Y… You can’t throw me out! I d… don’t got n-nowhere to go!”
Valter yanked his arm back with a snarl. “Remind me again why I should care! It’s your own damned fault, you ignorant piece of trash! While I was off serving my country, growing stronger, and learning how the world worked -- you know, MAKING something of my life -- you were perfectly content to sit on your aft end and have Mommy and Daddy look after you. Now there’s going to be no one left to clean up after your ineptitude, so I suggest you learn how to function in the real world rather quickly if you are to survive.”
“Valter I s… s... stayed home b-because I had to t… take care of our sick p-parents!”
“Yes, and you’ve done quite an impressive job with that, haven’t you,” Valter shot back wryly.
Walter flinched.
“You make it seem as if you were the only thing standing between them and their untimely demise, as if there WEREN’T legions of servants who could do your job but ultimately much better, you dithering nitwit. And what would be your excuse for the many years that our parents enjoyed good health and yet you still lurked amongst these halls like a brainless invalid?”
Walter couldn’t even respond. The words sank into him like daggers. He gave a tiny sniff.
Valter immediately rolled his eyes at that. “Saints... If that was your attempt to draw sympathy from me, you’ll find none. I have no patience for worthless losers, kin to me or not.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ve already had to ask you several times to leave my property, trespasser. The next time I won’t be so civil. This is your final warning: leave immediately.”
Walter slowly inhaled and then slowly let it out. He stared at the ground, feeling his heart pound wildly in his chest. Maybe… Valter was right. Maybe all this time, he’d just been making excuses for himself… had been hiding from the world while his courageous brother went out and conquered it.
“... Alright…” he whispered at last. “F… Fine. You w… win. I-I’ll leave for now and m… maybe s-stay at a tavern for a f… few nights. Then, a-after the f… funeral, y…” He sighed, trying to calm his racing heart. “Y-y-you’ll… n-never have to s...see m-me again.”
Valter smiled triumphantly, but said nothing. He turned his back to his twin, nervously heading to the staircase leading to the exit of the large palace. Conversation over. The murmuring from the crowd of servants watching with bated breath only grew.
As Walter started down the large staircase, there came a slow, deliberate, “Oh… And by the way…” When Walter glanced back, hopeful that Valter had finally seen reason, a wicked, predatory smirk was all that greeted him. “Don’t even bother showing up to the funeral. You’re not invited.”
Walter’s blood ran cold. That one hand slipped off the railing in numb shock. “W-Wh… What…?”
“I’m quite certain you heard me,” Valter replied, clearly taking delight in the way Walter’s shocked expression fell. “Only family and certain friends are allowed to attend. And according to the will that I now have securely on my person, I have no living relatives.”
Walter could feel his blood rising into a raging inferno inside of his cheeks, even as he urged himself to remain calm. Despite the rising pit of anxiety rising in his stomach, he marched back up to face his brother, clearly incensed. “S-S-So you’re telling m-me that I c-can’t come to s… see my own p-parents laid to rest? R...Really?!” he demanded.
“MY parents. And yes,” Valter replied easily.
“A-A-After I w… washed and fed a-a-and t… took care of them f-for month? YEARS, even?!”
“Yes. If you attempt to intrude on our sacred day of grieving, I’ll have you arrested on the spot.”
“VALTER!” the twin snapped angrily. “D… Didn’t you h-hear me before?! I don’t c… CARE about a-anything else -- you w… win! You can k… keep the house, the m-money -- EVERYTHING! I d-d-don’t care! But you h… have NO R-RIGHT to keep me f-from s… seeing them one last t-time!”
“I have every right,” came the smooth, and utterly self satisfied reply. “As the sole heir, I get the final say on who will be in attendance or not. And, mark my word, you will not be present on that day.” There was a triumphant smirk, for good measure.
Walter’s hands were curled up into tight fists at his sides, trembling as he tried to regain his composure. “You can’t d… DO this, Valter! I’m family too, d-damn it!”
Valter gave a chilling laugh. “My family is dead, Walter. YOU mean nothing to me, just like you mean nothing to the rest of the world. A simple, stammering fool, and nothing more.”
Walter felt the sharp, stinging pain in his hand before it even registered that he had punched Valter in the face. The servants all gasped in horror, a few even making a hasty retreat out of the room for fear of the conflict spiraling out of control. They were right to run.
Walter pressed his hands to his mouth in horror as Valter adjusted his jaw with a disturbing amount of calm. “V… V… Valter, I’m s-so--”
“You all witnessed that, did you not?” Valter called to the few uncomfortable-looking staff left remaining. He unclasped the weighted cape from his back and let it drop to the floor in an undignified heap. “This… trespasser assaulted me in my own home.”
Walter tried backing away, having become intimately familiar with that dangerously calm tone of voice and what would doubtlessly ensue. He would have dropped to his knees and begged for mercy right then if he thought it might spare him. “V-V-Valter, I’m… l-let’s talk about about th-this… I d-didn’t mean t--”
Without any further warning, Valter charged directly at his brother, death gleaming clearly in his eyes. Walter gave a strangled cry, and turned to flee, but wasn’t quick enough to escape the general’s wrath. He was caught by the neck and slammed to the ground so fast his glasses flew from his face and with enough brute force to leave him gasping for air.
Valter gave him no time to recover, though, rolling on top of the man, pinning him down, and punching him until blood was gushing out like a sickening fountain. Walter did his best to wrestle his brother off, but each punch was hitting like a charging wyvern, and it was a struggle trying to keep his limbs coordinated as he struggled in vain to stop the assault.
Panic gripped the halls then -- several of the women began screaming, some scrambled to get help from those that had left, and two butlers began approaching the pair in an apparent effort to split the pair up.
The second Valter felt the pair of hands around his shoulders trying to tug him away, the furious general sprang to his feet and whirled around to face them. “DON’T YOU TOUCH ME!” he snapped, as Walter was left gasping and rolling around the floor with agony.
“But Master Valter, don’t you think that this has gone much too--”
“Yes, that’s right. I’M your master now! And as your master, I’m telling you that if you try to interfere again, you’ll NEVER work another day in your life!”
The two butlers tentatively withdrew.
Valter turned back to Walter, who was now curled up in a defensive ball on the floor, cradling his broken face and sobbing. He could barely contain his disgust as he planted a bruising kick in the man’s side. “Get up, scum!”
“P… P… Please, no more, V-Valter, please… I can’t… I’m sorry… I’m s-so sorry--”
“I SAID GET UP!”
Valter dragged him back up to his feet, only to send him stumbling back again with a series of vicious punches. Walter swore each blow seemed to sap his body of the energy it needed to fight back, or even move -- he tried raising his arms to defend his face, but as soon as he did, Valter would aim those debilitating strikes at his torso and lower body. This was so much worse than anything he’d ever suffered in their teen years, and part of him felt legitimately afraid that Valter would end up killing him.
He slumped against the far wall, panting and exhausted, arms hanging limply at his sides as he waited helplessly for the next blows to come, too exhausted to even struggle anymore. Valter quickly rewarded him with knee in the stomach, that made him double over in pain once again. But Valter, grinning like a crazed man, took a fistful of his hair, and wrenched his head back up, so he could address him eye-to-eye.
“I’ve been dreaming of this day…” he sighed, digging his nails into the man’s scalp. His voice was hushed so that Walter would be the only one who could hear him. “The day where I’d finally be rid of you. Pathetic slime…”
Another punch to the face. Walter’s knees almost buckled, but Valter held him, still standing and pinned to the wall by the arm pressed against his chest.
“I just had no idea that you would make it so easy for me, brother…” he chuckled. “I’ve been working dutifully for as long as I can remember to see you erased from the annals of history completely, only for you to do all the heavy lifting for me... To think that your masquerading in my stead would be the very reason our parents wrote you out of their will…”
He leaned close to whisper softly into the terrified man’s ear, one hand closing around the other’s neck. “I hope you say hello to them once you join them in hell, brother.”
Walter gasped and fought against the intrusive hand around his neck, to no avail. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He kicked Valter in the crotch.
It wasn’t as hard as he probably would have wanted -- his strength was failing as his body struggled to stay conscious, or even alive -- but it got the job done. Valter recoiled with a shocked yelp, cupping himself with a hiss. Walter felt like dropping to the ground and drinking in those precious gulps of sweet oxygen, but he understood that time was short. He bolted for the staircase in as straight a path as he could manage whilst blinking past the blood stinging his eyes from a cut above his eyebrow (which he couldn’t even remember getting).
He didn’t get far. Valter pushed past his initial pain rather quickly thanks to the adrenaline and rage surging throughout his body. He dashed across the large room in under half the time, and tackled Walter to the ground, before he could even get to the winding staircase. Furious, he smashed his twin’s face into the ground, leaving behind a bloody imprint, and dazing Walter yet again.
“You craven little BITCH!” the general spat, clearly angry for the first time during the fight. “I can see now that any sort of honorable fight would be wasted on you.” A growl. “If that’s the way you want to do things, then FINE. The gloves come off.”
Grunting, he rose to his feet, dragging his near-unconscious brother so that he was flush against the staircase, with his legs firmly set against the railing. Walter slipped into darkness for a few peaceful moments, but then--
A sharp scream filled his ears, and it took Walter a few seconds to realize it was his own. Valter was glaring down at him dispassionately with a heavy wooden chair, usually the type one would find at a desk, except now it was smashed to pieces, and Walter’s leg…
Oh, saints… It was bending the wrong way! Just under his knee, where his legs were in contact with the railing, his tibia and fibula had apparently folded forward with the impact, and now the rest of his limb dangled uselessly like a sock filled with lumpy, misshapen rocks. Several shrieks met his own as the servants realized what they were seeing. Several of the women were in tears. One had fainted. Richardson was currently emptying his stomach on the rich, tiled floor.
Valter ignored them, kicking Walter so that he rolled down the stairs and snickering as the lame foot flailed about as he tumbled roughly down the entire way. Maybe, if he was lucky, the imbecile would crack his skull or snap his neck during his fall.
No such luck. Walter was alive by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, sobbing loudly as he was consumed with pain so mind numbingly brutal, he could swear he was screaming himself hoarse after just a few minutes.
Valter grabbed him by the ankle of his good leg, and began dragging the man towards the heavy oak doors leading outside. He was greeted by a fierce looking monster with piercing red eyes and fangs that looked like they could puncture through his entire torso. Fearing Valter planned on feeding him to the creature, Walter screamed. As if taking it as a challenge, the menacing wyvern roared back with twice the ferocity.
As Walter sobbed more and curled tightly in on himself, Valter smirked, amused, and gave his wyvern a fond pat, murmuring softly, “Good girl.” She huffed and stood up a little straighter, head spines pointed forward to indicate rapt attention.
He turned his attention back to his brother, writhing on the ground in agony. “Fear not, Walter. I won’t kill you… This time,” he added with a chuckle. “But take a good look at your surroundings. It shall be the last time you lay eyes on this place.”
He narrowed his eyes, contempt clearly legible in his expression. “But make no mistake, worm. This is the last shred of kindness I’ll grant you. If I ever catch sight of you again, I will kill you. I promise you that, and you should know more than most that I never break my promises.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Understood?”
Walter nodded tearfully.
“Good.” Valter made a quick, short whistle at his mount, and ascended her when she crouched down in a quick, easy motion. “Now get up, you blubbering fool. You have ten minutes to vacate the premises, else Chetak and I will make good on my threat.”
“I… I… W-What?!” Walter gasped. “B-but, Valter… The nearest town is--!”
“Then I suggest you walk -- I’m sorry, hop -- quickly,” Valter laughed, as he casually pulled out a pocket watch. “Or, by all means, take your time. It would be SUCH a blessing to finally end your wretched life.”
He wasn’t joking. Valter NEVER joked around with Walter -- if he was promising death if Walter didn’t comply, he doubtlessly would follow through. Panic seized Walter, and within seconds, he was trying to struggle to his feet, sobbing every time he accidentally jostled his horribly mangled leg. He pulled himself up using the oak door, and began making the slow, agonizing trek across the palace grounds. If he didn’t get to the gate before time ran out, Valter would surely have that beast feast upon his innards. Walter was sure of it.
He stumbled and fell a great number of times, with constant pain shooting up his malformed leg as well as his bloodied face, but he had to keep going. Every time he looked back, Valter was still perched atop his wyvern, glaring back at him with his watch still held up just under his field of vision. None of the staff dared to intervene, but Walter thought he could make out a few faces peeking out from between the curtains. It was hard to tell without his glasses… What he wouldn’t give to be back in his warm, safe bed again…
Finally, he made it to the gate, but just as he was trying to figure out how to open it on his own with his limited strength, a sharp, otherworldly shriek echoed across the courtyard. The wyvern… It was CHARGING. Head lowered aggressively, it powered itself across the ground with its long, powerful legs in a fraction of the time it took Walter to travel. Its wings were splayed out to either side, mouth opened up wide to release a terrible, soul-rending roar. Valter was hunkered down on top of her like a racing jockey, the glinting edge of a silver lance held out to his side.
Oh, gods!
Had it been ten minutes already?! Walter didn’t have any time to consider his options. The beast would be upon him within seconds! Struggling, he pulled back against one of the doors with the weight of his entire body. Then, as soon as the gap was slim enough for him to fit through, he quickly shuffled between the bars and continued scrambling away as fast as he could.
The massive wyvern slid to a complete halt at Valter’s stern command, and he glared after the retreating back of who he’d once called a brother. “Remember what I said, scum!” he called behind him. “IF I SEE YOU AGAIN, YOU’LL BE DEAD BY MY HANDS!”
Walter didn’t look back.
Years later…
The bell hanging above the door to the simple monastery, alerting all those within that a visitor was present. Walter stirred out of his sleep regretfully, giving a quiet yawn and a stretch as he pulled himself away from the desk he’d been working at before he drifted off.
He straightened the spectacles over his face drowsily, and reached for the cane propped up against the side of the tiny work desk. “I.. I’ll g-get it…” he murmured softly, attempting to rise to his feet. What could a visitor be doing coming so late? The bread line had closed hours ago...
One of the clerics hurried over to scold him as soon as she heard his grunts of exertion. Sister Martha -- a caring, but stern elderly woman that had a spring to her step that defied the grey aging her hair. “Brother Walter! I’ve told you a thousand times about being pushing yourself with that leg of yours! You should know better!”
Walter sheepishly withdrew his hand. “I… I know, b-but I was the c… closest one to the door, s-so I just thought I-I’d--”
“Hush, child, I’d rather walk a mile to save you just one step. Your leg still hasn’t stopped swelling from the dinner rush -- I’d advise you not push your luck.”
He sighed. “Y… Yes ma’am…” came the dour reply. He drummed his fingers impatiently as she rushed off to greet the visitor, looking back down at the text he’d hastily scrawled over the pages in front of him. It was just something else he was useless at. He should be used to the feeling by now. As if to add insult to injury, his leg suddenly began throbbing with a dull ache. He whined, rubbing at it as he hurried to take a quick swig of the vulnerary hanging loosely from his belt.
After a few moments of almost hushed whispers, she returned to the back of the monastery, looking puzzled. “Erm… Brother Walter? It’s… a man. He says he came for you…?”
Walter’s heart raced. “Wh… What does he l-look like? D… Did he look like m-me?”
“No, not at all. He’s… much older. Mostly bald? Has a nose that curves down like a claw? Fancy clothes…”
Walter blinked. Could it be…? Without waiting for any further explanation, Walter rose to his feet, careful to balance the weight of his body between the desk and his walking cane. “I… I’ll go see him. W-Wait h… here.”
He had his doubts at first, but as soon as he saw the man, there was no mistaking it. “R… Richardson!” he cried out in shock as soon as he saw the man.
He looked much older, of course. The last time Walter had seen him, he still had some hair, and perhaps not quite so many wrinkles. But it was definitely his old friend. As happy as he was to see him, he couldn’t imagine he’d track him down and come all this way just for a friendly chat.
The old butler gave a soft, sad smile. “Ah… Master Walter…” He gave a little bow, for old time’s sake. “It is such a relief to see you again after… all these years.” His eyes flashed to the cane, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with pain and sympathy, but also pride. Part of him had doubted the poor man would ever be able to walk again after such an injury. He was happy to be proven wrong.
“O… Oh… I-It’ so good to finally--”
A sigh. Richardson held his hand up to stop the younger man from finishing. “I am afraid I have little time for pleasantries, Milord.”
Walter felt his blood run cold. “I… I’m not sure I--”
“It’s your brother,” he quickly explained. “Something happened that stripped him of his title, and now he is living in your parents estate again. He’s gone absolutely mad.”
The younger man let out a pained cry, and grasped his chest. No… Not Valter, too! Biting his lip to stave off the tears, he quietly asked, “H… How long d-do the healers think h-he… has left to l...live?” he asked tearfully.
Richardson shook his head. “You misunderstand, sir. He isn’t plagued with the same illness that claimed your parents’ lives. His is… different. Much worse, certainly, but he himself is in no danger of dying from it.”
A deep breath as he forced himself to calm. “He is suddenly… obsessed with the idea of death and destruction. He hungers for it in a way I’ve never seen before. And, most troubling of all, he now has told us that he plans on finding YOU.”
The butler pressed his lips together sternly. “I’ve come to warn you, Milord. You’ve already suffered through so much… I shudder to think what could become of you if that… fiend were to lay his hands on you again.”
Walter was shaking now, terror setting in like a cold, invasive fog. He couldn’t even bear to think of Valter as inflicting even more pain on him than he already had. His leg twinged in discomfort just considering it.
“B… But… But I-I…” Tears were overflowing now. “R-Richardson, I… I don’t have… n… nothing else! No cash, n-nowhere to go -- nothing o… other than w-what these n… nice people have given m.. me!” He sobbed. “What do I d-do? W-Where do I go now?”
“There’s nothing else for it,” Richardson replied sternly. “You must leave the country. Grado is no longer safe for you. He has connections all throughout this land -- if I could find you, he surely will be able to.”
“But I don’t--”
“I’m sorry. It’s the only way.” Richardson shook his head. “I have… connections of my own. I can safely get you across the border into Renais, but from then on, you’ll be on your own. I’m truly sorry I can’t do more, but I must be concerned for my own safety as well, you see…”
“I… I understand.”
“Pack your things. Time is short, and we must leave immediately.”
The rest of the night went by in a blurred haze of tearful hugs, and heartfelt goodbyes, as Walter had to tell his new family he was leaving, and almost certainly forever. Sister Martha made sure he had some fresh scones to take with him on the long journey, and one of the children gave him a book about plant life native to Renais and her little plushie of a sunflower. Then, with a hastily packed suitcase, he was on his way to the next big chapter of his life.
Does this latest hiatus seem longer to get through than the five months we get over the summer? Especially after all the good stuff from the last three episodes. Is the Olicity drought finally coming to an end? Will there be resolution in the aftermath of the BMD and the chasm of separation it created?
It appears that Oliver and Felicity are going to come together in 520, that they are going to face their demons and let out their feelings for each other, feelings they’ve bottled up for over a year now. Will there be reconciliation, at least a willingness to look closer at their issues? Will it clear things up, for them and us? The last time we were told things will be clear, we got episode 505.
Since the “clarity” of that episode, Oliver and Felicity have gone through some intense individual turmoil. It feels to me as a viewer like piling on, like throwing salt into the wounds already bleeding. As their pain and suffering continued, I couldn’t help thinking that they were doing the limbo dance—how low can you go? I’m not going to bore everyone with examples; we all watched 5A. It just feels out of sort that everything they’ve gone through since season 1, all the history and growth as a couple, all the respect and caring and love that came out of those experiences---was all stripped away. Oliver and Felicity know each other so well. They clicked the moment Felicity turned around and found Oliver bleeding in the backseat of her Jeep. They understand what the other has gone through, the pain and losses, the uncertainties that brought about the bad decisions that are currently keeping them apart. But they also understand the good things in their lives; the connections they made with each other, the comfort in knowing they make each other happy; the love. When Felicity told Curtis that she and Oliver don’t have that kind of relationship anymore, I wanted to both laugh and cry.
All of this has built a foundation. It doesn’t matter if Oliver was a complete dumbshit for lying to Felicity about William. It doesn’t matter if Felicity left skid marks getting away from him and his lie. It’s the foundation they built the relationship on that matters. Being willing to give up their lives for the other is what matters. It’s the strength of trust and having each other’s backs that made the foundation strong. It was a commitment to one another, for the willingness to accept painful things in their lives, physically or mentally, and stand to face it together. This is hopefully what they will rediscover when they come together in 520.
I don’t think 520 is going to fix all the damage. Both Oliver and Felicity still have some individual miles to travel. But maybe it will be the turning point we’ve all been waiting for. Maybe when they look into each other’s eyes, it will show them, remind them, that what they feel for each other is more important, more meaningful than any mistake or lie or distance or uncertainty that could ever come between them.
In Marc’s 2 truths 1 lie thing, he said that the way Oliver and Felicity interact with each other will change after 520. I hope so. Holding back, not wanting or able to talk with the person you love more than life itself is more damaging than any loss or pain. Keeping those kinds of feelings buried also damages souls. It’s like denying yourself air to breathe.
MG also told us the “sex” we will see in 520 is going to be hot. Again, I hope so. I think we’ve all waited long enough for something epic, something that will make 320 seem like they were just holding hands. Watching Felicity with Billy and Oliver with Susan---I just did not feel any intimacy generated. If felt like a science experiment. It felt cold and clinical. It did not feel as if they put their backs into it.
Intimacy is not just about sharing your body with someone. It goes deeper than that. It is a daily interaction, a moment to moment reaching out, to ensure comfort and acceptance of wanting to do anything for your life partner.
I offer an example of this from my own life:
Just before my wife made the decision that she could not live the kind of life her disease gave her anymore, I had to watch her body dwindle away and how she lost control of it. I can think of one night in particular when her bowels gave way, soiling herself, our bed, the floor of the bedroom, the hallway leading to the bathroom. It was 1:00am and I was brought out of my sleep by her calling for me, needing me to help her. She was crying and feeling ashamed. I helped her into the shower, climbed in with her and helped clean her up. After, I cleaned the floors, the bed, gave her fresh clothes to put on---then we got back into the bed and I just held her. I told her not to be embarrassed, that she was beautiful; the kinds of things I knew she needed and wanted to hear. What I learned from this was how to be there for somebody in all the ways a person can.
That is intimacy.
**
So, 520 is going to be a pivotal episode in Oliver and Felicity’s journey. If it turns out to be anything else but a full reaffirmation of their feelings for one another---imagine how great my disappointment will be. It has always felt to me that their journeys are not separate trips. It is a destiny. If their final destination is to be apart, then I never really understood why they were together in the first place.
I guess we’ll find out in twelve days. See you all there.
Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane are two of the most vilified and misunderstood characters in A Song of Ice and Fire, so is it any wonder that their relationship is frequently met with the same level of disinterest/dislike?
Well, we’re here to talk about it. All of it. From the characters themselves to their dynamic as a duo, we’re going to attempt to dissect everything about SanSan that makes it such a popular (and unpopular) pairing.
In one corner, wearing the green dress and purple serpents in her hair, we have an innocent young maiden groomed to be a high lord’s (or King’s!) wife, who has been taught all the graces and courtesies expected of a highborn female in Westerosi society, who grew up loving songs and fairy tales and the prettier things in life, and who gets a harsh lesson in the ugly reality of the world at a very impressionable age. She makes mistakes, she has silly thoughts, she knows what she wants (and doesn’t want)... and she’s never been forgiven for any of these things by the fans. That’s our Sansa!
In the other corner, wearing the stained white cloak and perma-scowl, we have a traumatized kid in a grown man’s body who has never processed his childhood abuse and spent a majority of his life believing his thoughts, feelings, and needs don’t matter and has resigned himself to an unsatisfying life of violence and servitude. He says and does some nasty things, and fans will not soon let you (or him) forget it! Some might know him as Sandor Clegane, but far and wide he is referred to as THE HOUND. [*scary organ plays*]
OBVIOUSLY we just have to get these two crazy kids together!!!
No, but seriously, on (literal) paper, Sansa and Sandor could not seem more opposite; yet they have way more in common than you might think… but you do have to think, folks. And that’s where the SanSan Paradox comes in —volumes and volumes of ASOIAF meta are written on a daily basis about this theory or that, about one character or another, but many of these same writers and thinkers do not seem to deem this relationship equally worthy of exploration (or even acknowledgment) at all. And if they do… they are immediately dismissed as “shippers” and their opinions rendered meaningless. Or they are accused of “whitewashing” a problematic relationship.
Because of this permeating attitude within fandom, many book-readers (and perhaps a smattering of show-watchers as well) come away with a feeling of guilt and doubt when they do recognize the nuance of this incredibly complicated relationship and are hesitant to root for it or see it come to some resolution. But we have also seen our fair share of fans from both sides of the ring (Sansa fans and Sandor fans) either willfully disregard or outright condemn the other character and/or their relationship, for what we believe are rather erroneous and short-sighted reasons. And, most unfortunately, this usually comes at the expense of fundamentally misunderstanding both characters.
With all of that in mind, we (@kateofthecanals and @mcgani) have created this Mega-Meta series addressing (and refuting) the most common arguments against this relationship, as well as pointing out all the ways it is vital, not only to the larger themes of the story, but also to each character’s individual arcs. We invite pro-SanSans and naysayers alike to read, absorb, and reflect.
Since we cover a lot of ground in this series, we will be delivering it to you in bite-sized chunks (rather than one enormous post) every week in conjunction with the TV show when it comes back and ruins our lives all over again until June.
The topics to be covered will include:
Age Differences, and the Importance of Informed Consent
The First Link in the Chain: Sansa & Sandor’s (Shared) Original Sin
Exploring Chemistry & Compatibility
Violent Dog, Innocent Little Bird, and Other Outdated Perceptions
No, Virginia, Sandor Clegane is Not a Sexual Predator or a Pedophile
Power Imbalances: Investigating Who Really Wears the Pants Here
Sansa ≠ Sandor’s Sister
Truth & Honesty, the Sandor Clegane Way
Death Threats (And Why You Can Still Ship It Anyway)
Blackwater or Bust
Courtly Love & Canon: Sansa, Sandor, and George Ship It
Those In Glass Ships: Parallels and Other Pairings
A Dream of Spring: Thoughts on Future Implications
NOTE #1: We don’t have one dedicated section devoted to the UnKiss because it is discussed at length in several of these essays! Trust us, guys, we do talk about the UnKiss!
NOTE #2: Some sections are longer than others; one week might feature a post that’s several pages long whilst another might not even be long enough for a “Read More”; it just depends on how much ground we need to cover!
NOTE #3: We DO NOT intend to speak for ALL SanSan aficionados out there with this meta series. We (Amy and Kate) do happen to share a lot of the same views and interpretations of events and circumstances and do our damnedest to plead our shared case. We understand that others have varying opinions of certain topics and we invite friendly and respectful debate and discussion! Our intention with this series is to be a one-stop shop for all your SanSan needs to fight off the haters and non-believers, but we don’t claim to be the end-all, be-all final word on the matter!
We have such sights to show you - a teen wolf meta - the hellraiser meta pt 1
We have such sights to show you - a teen wolf meta
Or the Hellraiser one
In reaction to a meta by @itsalwayslydia I noticed a link between Teen Wolf and Hellraiser in regards to Peter’s death and resurrection and I mentioned it then, but I took out the box-set and the fascinating documentary I’ve been meaning to watch for years, which turned out to be nearly five hours long. It was good but it wasn’t THAT good.
The next time people say we don’t suffer for our meta I wanna point out a five hour documentary and Hellraiser 3. I couldn’t watch Hellraiser 4, 3 was so bad. I had blotted it out for a reason, people. And to make matters worse it cast absolutely no shadow over Beacon Hills. I had to split this into three parts because it’s so big.
Right back to Teen Wolf.
Teen Wolf has always tipped it’s hat to Clive Barker and I haven’t been quiet about that, but mostly the comparison has been to Cabal/Nightbreed. I LOVE Cabal/Nightbreed, it’s one of my all time favourite movies so I’m quite happy to wax lyrical about it at a moment’s notice so the parallel with the outsiders, fighting the religious right of middle america (Canada in the movie) and centuries of persecution and it being a thinly veiled analogy for othering. Derek is costumed to look like Boone, it’s really obvious.
There were even, with Jennifer, Weaveworld images, and flashes of other works but I didn’t make the Hellraiser analogy in which case we go bad Athena because once I made it it was really obvious. I adore Barker and I have the Hellbound Heart and the fancy box-set that looks like puzzle box. There really is no excuse, the only thing I can think of is that i repressed too much after Hellraiser 3. [There was a cenobite who shot out cds and used them to kill people]
First of let’s do some background. Barker was reasonably well respected in the genre by the time Hellraiser (first called S&M zombies from beyond the grave) for the Books of Blood, two of which were made into movies (Rawhead Rex and Underworld) horrified [and rightly so] by what they had done Barker went f*ck it I’m doing the next one myself but after pitching a movie they were stuck with a house for a set and he threw together the Hellbound Heart to fit it.
The Hellbound Heart and the Hellraiser movie were written at the same time but do feature some differences. The studio wanted it set in America (the house was in London) and so cast American actors, and overdubbed the english actors (with the exception of the amazing Clare Higgins who played Julia] and this film still went nuclear on it’s release.
It’s a haunted house story.
An unhappy couple move into what had been his mother’s house years after her death to discover his brother, Frank, had been using it as a flop house, but he’s been missing for at least a year. It is revealed Julia is not only desperately unhappy in her marriage to Larry, she had a brief and passionate affair with Frank that consumes her. Larry has a daughter by a previous marriage, Kirsty (in the novella she’s a close friend but the studio wanted an ingenue to torture, it is horror after all) who resents Julia. So far so normal.
Except the house is haunted. Frank isn’t missing he found an eldritch item called the Le Marchand Configuration or the Lament Configuration, a puzzle box that apparently can open the doorways between worlds, specifically to heaven or hell. A sybaritic manipulator Frank believes he’s tried everything the world has to offer [he’s barely 30, i doubt it] and finds the box, when he opens it it tears him apart, we are led to believe over a long period. The creatures of the box, the Cenobites, have long since lost the ability to tell pain from pleasure and consider torture to be the delights of the flesh. In their mutilation of Frank a part of him fell into the floorboards and when Larry and Julia move into the house Larry cuts himself and his blood starts the resurrection of Frank.
Frank first appears as a gooey skeleton and confronts Julia, desperate to escape the Cenobites, and charms her into drawing men back to the house for him to drain of blood so that they can be together forever. Frank is, of course, a liar.
Julia does, she lures men back to the attic and kills them with a claw hammer for Frank to consume. Kirsty, thinking that Julia is having an affair, follows her and finds Frank who is fascinated by her beauty. Kirsty escapes but takes the box with her. She collapses.
In the hospital Kirsty plays with the box and opens it to reveal a single endless corridor, and when she goes down it she is confronted with a really bad animatronic, and runs back to the hospital room and tries to close the box, opening the gate to the cenobites. She makes a deal with them offering them Frank in exchange for her escape, the cenobites tell her maybe but they want a confession.
Returning to the house Frank has murdered his brother and is now wearing his skin (literally) and tells Kirsty that they’ve sorted the Frank thing, that he, as Larry, has killed Frank. Frank however botches the illusion and tries to kill Kirsty, and in the ruckus stabs Julia. Gaining her confession the Cenobites appear and splatter Frank all over the attic again, killing Julia, but then go after Kirsty who barely escapes by closing the box.
Okay that’s the first synopsis.
The second film is just as important for this, but it was not written by Barker, so the subtle details of one are broad strokes and heavy handed in the sequel but unlike most of the sequels it actually fits.
Picking up just after the first movie Kirsty is in a mental institute being investigated by the police for the bodies Julia stashed in the box room. She talks about how the mattress where Julia died has to be destroyed completely or she’ll come back, although one doctor thinks this her delusion the other buys the mattress. It turns out that the head of the institute, Dr Channard, has been trying to find the box for years to the point he is obsessed with it, and has a hidden floor of patients associated with the supernatural, and he enjoys trepanation and brain surgery as a way to “cure” his patients.
Except one, a girl called Tiffany, who had a fascination with puzzles. It is implied that Channard murdered her mother to get control of her. Kirsty gets a vision from a skinless man she believes to be her father which urges her to open the box to rescue him.
Channard buys the mattress that Julia died on and takes one of his patients, one who believes himself covered in bugs, sits him on the mattress and gives him a razor. This causes a skinless Julia to manifest and consume him. Channard then starts bringing the violently insane to her to feed from, until she forms her own skin. She does this by slipping her fingers into the back of his skull.
She then lures him into getting Tiffany to open the box, and when the cenobites appear they refuse to touch Tiffany, although Kirsty confronts them and they alter the shape of the box, they leave closing one of the doors behind him but by that point Julia and Channard are deep within the endless labyrinth, Kirsty seeing the door is open goes into look for her father.
Julia lures Channard to the centre of the labyrinth where there is a giant manifestation of the puzzle box, turned into a diamond shape by the Cenobites when Kirsty finds what she believes is her father’s hell but it’s Frank, trying again to escape. Kirsty sets him on fire and Julia shows up, she has fed Channard to the box and he has been turned into a Cenobite, fixed to the dark god - Leviathan - by an umbilicus to his head. He goes into the asylum and slaughters all of the patients to which he has given copies of the box. The Cenobites face off against him for breaking the rules of the box but he kills them. He chases Tiffany and Kirsty to the centre of the labyrinth and is killed by a bizarre accident and Kirsty saves Tiffany by wearing Julia’s skin, Tiffany solves the box closing the portals, they escape and walk into the sunlight.
Of course the two important things about this is Frank, and Julia’s fascination with him, and Channard and his asylum.
But I had to explain the story or these things would make no sense.
There are obvious links for example when Pinhead (he’s technically called Priest but everyone knows him as Pinhead) appears he describes the Cenobites as “explorers in the furthest reaches of experience, demons to some, angels to others” which definitely fits with Teen Wolf’s Bardo imagery, but the same imagery was used in Jacob’s Ladder which was very clearly influenced by Hellraiser, and Teen Wolf and Jacob’s Ladder are like brothers they have so much in common.
There is the link between Frank/Julia’s feeding and the memory manipulation, also the pain drain/power leeching.
But the resurrection of Frank by familial blood matches that of Peter, the big difference is Peter was buried in the cellar, and Frank was splattered across the attic. The manipulation of a woman by flattering her beauty and using his own sexualised charisma and appearing as a version of him to manipulate her - that’s the same. It’s suggested in the first film that Julia started dreaming of Frank only when they appeared at the house, making it likely he was influencing her mentally.
