POINT DIVIDER / SEPTEMBER 18 - JANUARY 7.
𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢 / total 140. 30 points for this week.

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@tfwowen
POINT DIVIDER / SEPTEMBER 18 - JANUARY 7.
𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢 / total 140. 30 points for this week.
favorite character meme → two emotions [½]
↳ jealous
ooc | Rebecca & Owen
~that awkward moment when your ex wants to extract revenge on you and your entire family and you don’t know it~
Did you have any thoughts about their relationship, btw? I’m guessing that it was over before THAT time with papa turner haha? I can see them honestly ending things tbh because of Will (#whoops) or maybe that Becca thought that Owen might be a little too extreme since he’s out for revenge instead of justice or maybe just a combination of those things ++ maybe some other stuff idk???
owen: hi, sexy bex, miss me? *under his breath* burn baby burnnnn
alskdjflksdjkff jk jk i do think he feels lowkey baD about like dragging rebecca into this buT if alistair gonna take owen’s mom from owen, he’s gonna take alistair’s children from alistair ig alksdjfkldj bc he may or may not have been totally inspired by emily thorne/count of monte cristo but shhhh you didn’t hear that from me alkjdflkjsdf
annnnnyywayyyy, im totally up for whatever, re: their previous attachment, even a one-sided thing, if that works best for what you’d pictured for her! but yeah it defff would’ve happened before papa turner left owen and his fam to fight for themselves and owen’s mama diEddd and owen started blaming alistair for it alsdkfjksldf but i def love the ideas you mentioneddd!! but yeah sdlkjfklsdf omg that’d be such bad timing if she leaves him for will and then her dad leaves him in order to help her and his mom dies alskjdafkljdsfkj IM A TERRIBLE PERSON but im laughing so hard rn likE?????? omg??????
ANYWAYYYYY i also deffff feel like his increasing extremism was almost def a problem in their relationship and, if it wasn’t yet, it was ~going to be and that wrting was probs, at the v least, already on the wall bc he was always like *anakin skywalker voice* ‘that’s not good enough!’ at meetings and alkdsjfkljsd i mean, spoiler alert for upcoming characters, but after he left/his mom died, etc, he literally ended up teaming up w a person who strings up/burns at the stake/murders public-execution-style innocent mages just bc they’re mages which is literally what she as a fae is fighting against happening to fae so al;ksdjflkjsdf he’s got some issuesssss
also potentially in the ‘some other stuff’ category, the fact that he…just left likeeee they might’ve been on the outs and he just left tho tbh he’s more the type to burn his bridges (*wink, wink* im playing a pyromancer this is noT the last flame pun you’re gonna here) first bc he’s a messy bitch who lives for the drama lksjdflkjsdajkf
but basically!!!!! im down for whateverrrrr!!!!!!
rebecca: I think it’s time I stopped dating men from the rebellion
Okay, so I’ve thought about it a little more, and I do think that it was definitely a mutual thing. I also think that her feelings for Will would have been a reason that she left him, however I don’t think that she would have straight up left him for Will??? Like, I think she would realize that she cared for someone else more and that would have been a huge part of it, but she wouldn’t have exactly went from one to another, y’know? I definitely think she would have given herself time and honestly probably wasn’t even sure if Will returned the feelings either, but she diD know that she had fallen out of love with Owen and that was enough.
I also think that his more extreme ideals definitely played a part in it. I think she understood where he came from, but also thought that he would eventually come around and realize that his measures made him just as bad as them – and that they shouldn’t be out for revenge, but I feel like her trying to reason with him would only make things worse, not better, and while she would always try to resolve things, I do think that there was probably still some tension surrounding that subject.
I’m not sure if Will and Becca became a thing before or after Owen left, but I do think that he could also probably tell that there was at least ~something~ between them and I don’t think that it helped that Rebecca would probably also always side against him and with Will whenever those arguments arose about what to do.
As far as how they actually ended up breaking up, officially, I’m definitely open to him just kind of leaving or if it was more defined (whatever you think???)
I’m guessing Becca thought he died??? (IDK if they know he was/is a pirate now??) but either way I don’t think she will be very receptive to him trying to get back with her. I think part of her will always care for him, of course (they didn’t get together for nothin’!) but there were also lots of very good reasons why things ended … not mention her own personal and romantic life are already a little complicated right now aslkfjsalfj
kladjsfklajs dakjfs ddaf honestly tho hahaha she deservs better <3333
(i think i might’ve...misphrased some stuff bc i didn’t meant to imply that he would leave her in like a mutual thing, (i mean, im sure there’s defa circumstance in which he would do that don’t get me wrong...but) i meant that he would notice more and more her longing looks at will and irritated ones at himself and just like...stand her up a couple times, start to ignore her, and then maybe even show up at some event he knew she was gonna be at w ~someone else before ~she could break up w ~him bc lakjsdlfkjkdjsf that’s the way you do that ;DDD as terrible as this ~is tho i think in his way??? its weirdly meant as much to be compassionate as to be spiteful, so she doesn’t have to feel bad about ending things??? but also so he can feel he still has power in the relationship and didn’t just wait around to get rejected????? idk???? He’s weird aklsdjfkljdsfk idk what to tell you laksjdfkljdsf)
but!!!! that being said!!! im totally down for this! i think it makes a ton of sense that owen would actually be a stepping stone in realizing she had feels for will, but also her playing it cool and being patient and respectful of everyone’s feelings <3333333 angel <333333
i def think they would’ve been arguing more and more and more towards the end!!!! esp as he got more and more radical and she was objecting and aklsdjfkljdsf yeahhhhh it probs wasn’t ~great ngl but tbh it probs only got worse when they broke up bc i do think he was tryna hold on to some ~better self~ while he was w her and after that he was just sorta like ‘forget this i don’t need to hold myself back for some better angel what i need is changE’ etc
tbh???? i can also see, in the heat of argument esp if she was defending will to him or smth -- bc i know he was jelly af whenever he’d walk in and see will and rebecca chatting or whatever -- him accusing her of having feels for will or being w will secretly or whatever and tbh he probs didn’t mean it but once it was said it was said and yeah :/
tbh im not sure when will and rebecca got together, either, but i def think he was nursing a thing for her for a while and just like ‘she’s too good for me itll never happen but that won’t stop me from loving her from afar’ kinda thing so honestly any time she was game he was probs 1) star struck and 2) totally game hahaha
but anyway back to owen alkdjsfkjdsf i do think everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s probs not surprised to find that out esp since the fae finders would’ve returned like ‘yeah we sunk that ship’ and yeahhh!!
but yeah i think he knows he kinda imploded that relationship but!!!i think he’s coming back a ‘reformed’ man who isn’t here to get back w her but just here to try to reclaim his friendships after everything he’s lost and be a better man and start over fresh w a clean slate and do good etc etc etc ;DDD and he’s hoping he can from there maneuver things ;DDDDDD but yeah he’s coming back to ask for forgiveness ;DDDDD
OOC | Owen & Aloysius
ok so tbqh im not really coming up w any ideas except that maybe once or twice they crossed paths when aloysius was w isabella, or whatever?? and owen was always rude af bc it was obv that aloysius wasn’t exactly a rebel but he probs didn’t realize he was a literal prince…and/or if he ever did, he def tried his hardest to get the rebels to like kidnap him or whatever and ~that was probs a whole disaster tbqh alksdjfkljdskjf sooooo yeah laksjdfkljdsf
(au where they did kidnap him and threatened to behead him or smth if the gov didn’t comply w demands and cue septimus saying, ‘go ahead’ bc he wants the rivers!ardennes out of the way anyway sdlkajfkldjslfdsf even owen like ‘…ouch’ and changes his mind about aloysius right then and there tbqh)
kalsfjlasjfljdsf honestly, I love that idea!!! Throwback to when Owen & Aloysius were courting Turner girls at the same time though, and hated each other alkfjalfjalj
although I feel like Aloysius would actually weirdly respect Owen for being rude to him since most people just try to get on his good side and he’d be like “thanks for being real with me, it means a lot” aldfjaljf I feel like they would be these weird frenemies (owen: we are enemies!!! aloysius: we are friends because friends don’t lie!)
(ALSO, why do I love that AU so much!?!?!? it’s too bad half the rebellion is the turner fam lmao otherwise it might have worked)
lskdjflksdjfkljasdf IM LAUGHING SO HARD dslkjfaklsjdkjf
owen, just tryna pick a fight: you look like shit today, man
aloysius: thanks for being real with me, it means a lot
owen:
aloysius:
owen: wtf kinda mind game is this????
omg but them bickering while dating turner sistas <3 what a mess i love it sm that is precisely the kinda chaos that feels just right and that isabella would absolutely have a hand in cultivate w/o ever, ever meaning to #flawlessmydear
no but honestly idk if aloysius would ~literally thank owen for his honesty but i can absolutely promise it would throw him for a loop alskjdfkljsfk he would noT know what to do w that alkjsdfkjsdjfk WE ARE FRIENDS BC FRIENDS DON’T LIE LKSDAJFLKJSDKFJKJF owen later complaining to sia about it like ‘my day was TERRIBLE i think i accidentally adopted a prince today -- no, i did ~not invite it, i was just trying to insult him!’ ;DDD weirdly, though, like???? if it stayed that way long enough??? i feel like young!owen would v grudgingly and sighing a loT and rolling his eyes continuously be more and more ok w him and gradually more and more like [ this ] laksjdflkjdskjf (but only to a point bc obv he’s got some rather significant problems w aloysius’ family and is also, yknow, a rebel, a wanted man, an outlaw just for breathing etc so!!!!!) it’s complicated!!!! lkajsdfkljdsljf either way tho that journey woulda been sloooooow af and looooong and it’d be one of those where gradually the insults become terms of endearment shhhhh bc young!owen is as a big a mess as older!owen just in different ways alskdjfkljsdlfkj
also aloysius and owen trying to describe their relaitonship to someone else
alo: we’re friends bc friends don’t lie
owen: we’re not friends
alo: gods, he cracks me up w that line everytime
owen: *sighs*
jk jk but honestly what a meSS and i love it already alkdsfjkljdsf
lkajsdfkljasdkljfkjsdaf ngl me tooooo!! that au!!!!! we coulda had it allllll (rolling in the deeeeeeep etc) alksdjfkljsdf the rebellion aka: the turner fam singlehandedly change this nation w the help of a few close family friends if its the last thing they do ;DDD
OOC | Owen & Robert
if these two aren’t soulmates idk who ~is adslkajflkdsf no but honestly these two are total opposites and, as owen tries to ~court rebecca again (facepalm) i feel like they’ll inevitably run into e/o and if that isn’t chaotic enough on its own they’ll also POTENTIALLY be running into e/o as equally bad rival suitors for rebecca’s hand so adlskjfkldsjfkjdskjf owen won’t even nEEd to set a fire, this carwreck writes itself aldskjfkjsdf
aljskflajflafj omG these two as rival suitors I’m aslkjflajd asljfalsfjlasfdj I feel like Robert is generally ~less interested in Rebecca since she’s the oldest bUT I do think that he feels that he can have his pick of the Turner girls and his affections definitely switch up again whenever it looks like he has a rival who might sweep one of them away from him. So he will get weirdly competitive with Owen and alskdjfalsjdflj He will definitely try to make it seem like he and Rebecca are a done deal and it will be so obvious (especially to Owen who actually kNOWS bECCA that it’s not at all true)
Also, I’m just imagining Robert trying to get inTO it with Owen (and Rebecca is ok with it because then they both leave her alone alsdjfljf)
dslfkjskaldjflkjsdfj tbh owen’s original revenge plan was a lot more sinister a la emily thorne/the count of monte cristo, but lbr when it comes to upturning the peace of their daily lives, riling up robert might prove more effective ;DDDD no but robert getting competitive alksjdfkljdkjf ommmgggggg and owen is probs loving it bc 1) he legit finds it hilarious ngl and 2) owen is gonna look so amazing by comparison w/o even having to try thanks for that, buddy <333 ;DDD
ngl, owen will defffff encourage him esp if the turners are in earshot and he thinks it might give them some lol’s he’ll be like ‘ah yes pls tell me more about rebecca’s favorite pastimes i can’t believe she’s not fashionable enough to collect snakeskins. shameful. im sure when you’re married you’ll help her overcome this defect. do you have any strategy for...encouraging this shift?’ etc
KLDJFKALSDJLFKJDSKLJFKLJDSKAJFKSDF ROBERT PICKING FIGHTS AND REBECCA LIKE FINALLY SOME PEACE AND QUIET YALJSDFLKJSDKLJFF IM SCREAMING also, most of all:
tfwowen:
OOC | Owen & Eleanor
so, as i mentioned in lucy’s comment, these two probs know e/o!!!!! he’s breezing in, acting like he wants to pick up amicably where things left off…but revenge is his ulterior motive dun dun DUNNN ;DDDD
Eleanor: Do you enjoy cards?
Honestly at this point every man is just someone she is hoping she can perhaps cheat out of money at the tavern ;)
dskjfakljsdfkjdksj omg he would honestly love to play cards w her! he’s been a pirate over the past couple years and gambling is def one of the few pastimes he could probs carry over lsdkjfladskjfa so he’d be delighted to play esp w so talented an opponent heehee and double since it gets him an in w the house of turner whoot whoot heehee
Even here, in the midst of the beautiful tended gardens of the capital of Aclea, the scent of the sea called to her. The princess turned her face towards the breeze and took in a deep breath. Unbidden, her mind raced backwards. Jumping and dancing over the years to the memory of the gentle face she’d taken such care to carve from her aching heart. A flash of a teasing smile. Gentle eyes the color of crashing waves. Warm hands. Soft lips... “My dearest Arya, are you even listening? I am being quite charming, if I do say so myself, and you are simply missing all of it.” A voice cut through the trail of Arya’s thoughts. She shook her head gently and returned her attentions to the Prince strolling beside her. Of course. She was here for a reason, and a good one. An important one even. She must marry. She must make a proper alliance with a strong nation. The King of Aclea was certainly the best choice, but Aulus had become quite a good friend. A decent second choice if there ever was one. “Of course, Your Highness...” She teased back in return, squeezing the forearm she held gently with one hand and adjusting her parasol to cover them both. “You almost certainly were regaling me with a story of the latest courtier you managed to offend simply by speaking truths they did not wish to hear, am I incorrect?” It was a pleasure to watch the bristling of the Prince beside her. He reminded her so much of a preening peacock for how much he disliked being noted while so sharply noting the weaknesses of others. “Truly, my dear Aulus, you are going to get yourself in quite some trouble if you do not learn to temper that tongue of yours.” “Why should I? As you have said, I am simply speaking the truth. If it offends, that is of no fault of mine. Perhaps the listener should spend some more time thickening their skin. You certainly have.” A laugh bubbled up over Arya’s lips at what, for Aulus at least, constituted a compliment and rolled her eyes. The pair were beginning to reach the crest of Willow Hill, hidden within the garden maze, that constituted the goal of their journey. Aulus for all his faults, was a good friend who had been shrewd enough to note her longing for a glimpse of the sea. And even if he did not know exactly the true reason for it, he had been swift to suggest the jaunt. “That is only because I am immensely clever, you see, and I discovered right away...” Her sentence trailed off, for the young woman’s heart began pounding in her chest as soon as they reached their destination and she looked out over the harbor. Sails. Foreign sails the like of which she had not seen in ten long years. Achingly familiar and yet there they were, sitting upon a ship in the harbour. Is it him? Is he here? He is alive? Did he look for me? What am I to do? “P-Pardon me, I... I had not seen the sea for some time, and I...” A nervous laugh, a smile she hoped would mask her anxiousness. “In any case, I was saying that I was simply clever enough to realize that befriending you was much more preferable to fending off your barbs alone.” Arya turned away from the prince in the hopes that she could contain herself before Jahnara arrived with their picnic. She would know exactly what the sails meant and would note her princess’ mood in but a second, which meant that her father would certainly be contacted and all would be lost. Foolish of you to even think he would be here. How can you even be certain it’s his ship? It could be anyone’s! Besides, he never returned. Certainly that is proof enough of how steadfast his affections truly were. It was a silly dream. You knew it then and you know it now. Remember your duty. Remember your people. They count on you for their safety and happiness. You cannot abandon them for a folly. And yet, as the pair rounded the eponymous willow tree for which the garden had been centered upon, a sharp pain like a hot lance pierced through the woman’s heart. She’d know that face anywhere. “Owen...?”
Everything in him wished to take her in his arms. She stood so near to him, her eyes large and bright as burning beacons, and pleading, pleading, pleading for understanding in his. Yes, he wanted to pull her close, to gather her against him, feel the heat of her breath against his lips, brown eyes burning into his until the moment he brushed her soft, sweet lips with his own. He wanted to feel her whole body respond, her hands on his flesh pulling him closer, closer, her touch set alight by his. But he didn’t do it. He stood still, anchored to the spot by sheer force of will. His hands were fists at his side.
“If anyone can wring an ounce of good out of that sorry excuse for a man,” he bit out at last. “It’d be you. Arthur Ardenne has never lifted a finger to stop the annihilation of my people -- his own subjects. Maybe you can use him to save yours. I hope so. But I wouldn’t wish that fate on you. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” Owen swallowed, a hard thing and tight against his throat. “He and all those who cow tow to him are monsters. They deserve the burn for what they’ve done.”
He nodded, solemn, and strangely still. “That I can understand. You have to do what’s right by those who look to you. There’s no choice. Anything less would be...betrayal.” His fingers tightened. Yes, the captain in him knew it well. The brother in him, and the fae who had never been served as he ought by his country knew it still better. But the lover? The lover knew it not. His gaze found hers, lingered, drank her in, those beguiling eyes that had stolen long ago into his mind’s eye, met his gaze with poise, with purpose. She knew as well as he that this was a kind of sundering, a wretched turning point -- with neither party willing to turn and walk away.
“So, you marry the King. If all goes well, he plunges this nation into war with the greatest conqueror of our age. Fortunately, Kinazin will be surrounded on two sides, between Harmanil and Aclea, so let’s say this war is won. What then? Are you then beholden to a tyrant, your lord and husband, who will now consider himself quite entitled to your crown, when the time comes, and will see any children you two may have as his, entirely. You will have saved lives, yes, but you will have sacrificed them, too. What, precisely, do you think he will do to you if he ever learns your secret, Arya?” He shook his head. “I won’t try and stop you if this what you truly wish to do but, Arya, promise me one thing -- promise me that you will think this through very carefully. This man is not to be trusted.”
Yet, he heard her speak of the devestation of her people and he nodded. She was right, of course. What other choice did she have? The situation was impossible. If she did not act, thousands upon thousands would suffer and die. Was he really as selfish as that?
“Forgive me,” he said at last, pacing away from her a moment, pacing back again. Slowly, deliberately, he took her hand. “I simply...I have, I always shall, wish you happy. Whatever else may be and may have been, all the gods know its true.”
She spoke of the flag. His brows contorted. “What?” he whispered, shook his head. It was clear she was genuine. Besides, he did not believe she would lie to him, if it were not so. “What?” he repeated, this time somewhat indignant. “Of course it was the same cottage! I could forget that place if I forgot my own name and, anyway, what kind of sailor do you take me for? I know we met because I shipwrecked, but that really wasn’t our fault! We were attacked!”
He fell quiet, considering slowly, cruel revelation rolling over his mind. “Arya,” he began at last. “Who knew about us? My crew, who had been with us and seen us together, of course knew, but they all sailed away with me. Did...did anyone else, by chance, know? Anyone...in Harmanil?”
A breath. A breath. Another. He was staring at her, staring at her but he thought perhaps he did not see her at all. Perhaps he had strayed into some wonderful daydream of her, after all. Oh, yes, that must be it, he must have drifted to sleep, lulled by the sweet sweep of the waves. He must be dreaming, because herwords, her looks, they were fantasticals, figments he conjured up from a kaleidoscope of half-remembered hopes: impossibilities. Yes, yes, that was the only explanation for any of it -- all of it.
Yet, he swallowed, felt the strange thickness of his throat and, when his fist closed, he felt the crescents of his nails bite his callous flesh, at once he was decided. He closed the gap between them. Hand on her waist. Hand on her face. Her breathing was sharp; his sharper. His fingers fluttered the smooth sweep of her cheek. Her breath was warm. Her lips were soft as silk. Inviting. And, gods, this once, when he bent to kiss her, he prayed that she would not vanish in his arms.
Helen Oyeyemi, from “White Is for Witching”
POINT DIVIDER / SEPTEMBER 4 - SEPTEMBER 17.
𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢 / total 110. 10 points for this week.
tfwowen:
Clouds of Yesterday || Owen x Arya (feat. Aulus/Sekhad)
A long stare. Owen gazed long at her, his fingers digging, digging into the bench and imperceptibly, imperceptibly he inched forward to study her face, as if he could read there something that would banish the torrent in his mind. There was nothing there to see. Abruptly, Owen jumped up, paced back towards the hedge, then back again.
“What?!”
He stood where he was, his hair and greatcoat alike tousled by the gusts of ocean-wind that swept along the coast, but he did not notice, did not notice the thrashing of the shrubs around them, or the wheeling seabirds overhead crying to one another. Each revelation seemed more incredible at last till, finally the words Heir to the Sunburst Throne had escaped her lips. None of this jived with his own memories, an orphaned peasant girl – a mermaid – living alone in a tiny cottage by the sea, rescuing and saving shipwrecked sailors, smiling shyly at him as if she’d hardly ever seen a man before, swearing to wait for him, swearing to pitch a flag for him…How could any of this be?
He sank, half-eagerly, into the bench beside her. “Surely you…jest,” he said, finally, but glancing down, he noticed her feet peaking out from the hem of her dress, stared at them, taken aback. He looked back up to her again, brows contorting. Oh, he’d seen her standing on the shore – at first he’d reasoned it couldn’t be her (after all, it would not have been the first time his eager heart had imagined her standing before him only to find another face looking back instead), but the instant she’d turned…all doubt was erased – it was her without question. He’d assumed she’d learned some means of…appearing to stand on a fin…and then she’d walked…Perhaps…she somehow faked that, too, but those were feet, sure as day.
“I–” he shook his head, sat back from his half-imploring attitude, and shook his head. “I don’t understand. How…how is any of this possible?” His eyes widened, mind reeling back to fairy tales of his youth suddenly – she was apparently a princess, after all. “Were you cursed?” Instantly, the ridiculousness of that claim overcame him and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, cast his gaze out towards the see as he attempted to order his fevered mind.
When he turned back to her, his expression was calm again. He stood again, this time pacing before her as he ticked off notions on his fingers, glancing occasionally to her for confirmations.
“So, if I understand you correctly, you were born heiress presumptive to a throne and,” he shook his head. “One day the Princess of Harmanil,” he said in an emphasized way that showed he was trying to wrap his mind around it. “Decided to go for a swim, became a mermaid? And rescued a bunch of…shipwrecked sailors?” He stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. “You must make an odd princess, indeed,” he added, half-teasing, half-unsure. He shook his head, returning to the story. “You, princess that you are, decide to play mermaid nursemaid to us and stay there for…however long it takes for us to recover, though…You were gone for long stretches at a time, weren’t you? I confess, I thought you were just…” he shrugged. “Underwater.”
He paused, mulling this over, before continuing. “You begin a dalliance with one of them.”
Which, he realized. I can only assume, given the princess bit, was just a bit of harmless diversion.
“And when he offers to bring you with him aboard his pirate ship, you probably did your level best to suppress a riot of laughter, given that – rather than gaining anything – you’d be losing quite a bit,” he added, flushing slightly.
And then say that you’ll wait with flags and the whole bit, but that was just as meaningless as the rest, I suppose, he added, mentally. Hence, why neither mermaid nor flags were ever there.
“And, as soon as they’re gone, resume your…princess…activities…? Whatever those are. Is this truly what you’re telling me? Oh, and also, the fin was optional, the whole time, I suppose?” He turned to her, brow quizzical, astonished to learn all this…and fighting, fighting to suppress the quailing of his heart.
The only thing that had mattered…gods, it had all been just a bit of meaningless fun. He’d never mattered to her at all. He laughed, a mirthless sound, and turned to face the waters far below.
“Is this the truth, Arya?”
For a fleeting moment the young woman thought perhaps this revelation would be taken in stride. That perhaps the manner in which Owen stared at her was only his way of listening attentively. Or that he was leaning towards her to press a gentle kiss to her lips as he had done so long ago. What?! Of course not… A sigh instead dropped from Arya’s lips as she set her parasol aside and began to remove her gloves. Of course he would think her jesting. Janahara had thought much the same when Arya had told her after being assigned to her retinue. It, among many other things including her country’s security, was one reason she kept her true nature so close to her chest even among her closest circle. “I assure you I am quite serious.” She replied. “It was not a curse, it was not a mistake. I am both a mermaid and the daughter of the King of Harmanil by blood. Both things can be true at once, you know.” A deep breath coursed through her system and she folded her hands stiffly in her lap atop her discarded gloves. “I understand this is all quite a shock, but I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.”
Please do not let him hate me for this… Please, I could stand anything but that…
“Yes, you are correct, I was born the heir presumptive to Harmanil. And I cannot stress to you quite enough how much I am my country’s biggest kept secret.” Her fingers twisted between each other. “My moth–the queen, was not my true mother.” Arya took another deep breath and steeled herself to tell the tale she had sworn long ago never to speak of to another soul. But she could not keep this secret from Owen of all people. “She had been sickly even when they had married but had taken a turn for the worse and so had been kept away from the public for quite some time. My father… My father in that time had been so full of sorrow at losing the woman he loved that he had taken to long sea voyages. He came upon the cabin on the shore – the very one I brought you to, in fact– after a terrible storm had pushed him off course.” She looked to Owen, searching his face for the loathing she was certain she would find there. After all, even Arya had though the story preposterous when she had heard it the first time. It had been true that her legs often pained her when she was young but she had never begun to imagine it was due to a desire for them to be a fin instead. “There was a woman living there, a mermaid who had lost someone of her own to the waves and so had decided never to return to them again. Though it pained her greatly to remain in her human form Father said she swore it pained her even further to live each moment knowing any could be the moment she came upon the corpse of her love.” Arya turned her gaze from Owen back out to the sea. “They fell in love. He visited her every day for months. As the Queen grew weaker, the mermaid woman began to show she was with child. With me.” A glance back, a sad smile. “Both of them died the day I was born. A happy accident my father called it. An easy lie to then pass me off as the daughter that had been born to his deceased Queen. None would ever know of his dalliance and as he had yet to bear an heir, I was a perfect fit. Except for, as we both know… the fins…” She laughed a little and shook her head. “My father told me of the cottage when I turned sixteen and he told me of my true heritage. It became my little hideaway when I grew tired of being a princess. Odd or otherwise.” “I had been running from a particularly boring lesson on geography when I happened upon you and your crew. It was pure luck, honest.” Arya’s hands clenched tight around her gloves as her voice became reedy. “I had always been told to be so careful around strangers. Not to be seen when I was not in my human form lest anyone connect my face to that of the princess’ and discover my secret. But I also could not leave you all to die!“ The princess looked back to Owen, tears once again pooling in her eyes. “What I said, Owen. What I did. All of it was without ulterior motive, I assure you. I grew to care for all of you… And–” A lump in her throat. “And for you most of all. It was not a laughing matter to me to have to leave you!” It was her turn to stand now as Arya was overcome with emotions. Her blood crashing in her ears and her heart twisting itself into knots. “I wanted so badly to say yes. To throw away everything I had lived for in my eighteen years on land and go with you, but my people! I had–I have a duty, Owen!” She pivoted quickly, ebony curls whipping about her face in the wind, the picture of a Fury flying over the seafoam. “You scoff at me for not going with you. As if had our position been reversed – had I asked you to stay in Harmanil with me – asked you to be my prince, become my father’s heir, give up your quest for revenge… Would you have said yes? Would you have given up your duties as a son, as a brother, as a leader of your crew?” “I all but died the day I had to watch your ship leave my harbor, Owen. All I had left was the knowledge that I was doing what I had always been told was the most noble thing a ruler could do: sacrificing my heart for my people. That perhaps I could hope you would one day return as you promised and if I were lucky I could keep both.” Her smile was sharp, thin, painful – a razor across her perfectly poised face. “But you never did. You never returned to Harmanil’s shores again. And I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited and waited and waited. How could anyone blame me for growing weary? My father is growing old! He is frail and I need to become the light for my country… I had to give up childish dreams that would never come true.”
He sat still, rigid, his figure a stone statue beside her, digesting her words. He half believed that he’d strayed into a dream and this entire encounter were a figment of feverish imagination -- that seemed much more likely, after all. It seemed impossible, yet the puzzle pieces fit, and he stared and stared and stared, entirely unseeing, at a small point by her knee, running through all his old memories, slipping each piece into place.
At last he spoke, shifting slightly, raising his gaze at last to her face. “I--I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head, ran a hand across his mouth. It was strange and fantastical -- something out a fairytale. How could this be real? But she wasn’t a liar and he...But, no, best not to think of feelings. They were a layer of complication and currently what he needed was clarity.
“I’m sure you’re right, I just need...some time to wrap my head around this. For years I thought I knew who you were and what was happening and...what was between us, but now? I find I...know nothing at all.”
He stood, again, paced to the cliff’s age to gaze out over the sea. If this was all true, even if she loved him as fervently as he loved her, it could never be. Her duty would never allow her to wed a fae Aclean criminal refugee. Her country was at war, in danger of invasion: she needed a price or a king to help her protect her people. All he could provide was a little fire, making him about as effective as three or four soliders. She didn’t need that: she needed full armies and gold and, well, a crown. Even if the war resolved itself and peace took hold, he still wouldn’t be a suitable partner. She was a ruler: she needed a ruler beside her.
Owen bowed his head as she asked what he’d do in the reverse position. “No,” he owned, softly. “You’re right. I could never have abandoned my sister to slavers and murderers. Never. I had to get her back, whatever it took. And, even once that crisis was over, I--” he shook his head. “Even if I had gone with you, we both know it could come to nothing, what with your royal crown. That’s why you’re here, I suppose? To fetch back a husband with one to match?”
Turning back to face her as she spoke of him never returning, he stared at her with undisguised anger. “Never returned? What are you going on about?” He shook his head. “I returned. I returned constantly, as a matter of fact, I returned and returned and returned, hoping against hope that finally this time, this time I’d see your face. But each time I came back -- nothing. No flag, no note, no you. Do you know how that felt, Arya? Do you? Do you even care, or was I just some...” but he broke off, broke off and turned towards the coast again to watch the roiling sea far below.
“This was a mistake,” he breathed at last. “I never should have tried to speak to you. You’d made your true feelings plain enough, hadn’t you?”
POINT DIVIDER / AUGUST 28 - SEPTEMBER 3.
𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢 / total 100. 15 points for this week.
Timeline
1767 -- Birth of Owen to Randall Prior and his wife, Amelia Clarke Randall
1776 -- Owen is betrayed by his father to the fae finders, causing he and his mother to go on the run for the rest of their lives, Owen foreswears his father’s name and takes his mother’s (though he mostly uses assumed names, in public)
1778 -- Birth of Owen’s half-sister, Theodosia, called Sia
1791 -- Owen is rescued by and joins the rebellion
1794 -- Having been essentially raised amongst the rebels since her brother joined them, Sia also joins the rebellion
c. 1794-6?? -- Abandonment by Admiral Turner, shipwreck, meeting with Arya, death of Amelia, beginning of piracy, joins the fae fraternity
1797 -- present
note: to be edited!! <3
tfwowen:
Clouds of Yesterday || Owen x Arya (feat. Aulus/Sekhad)
His heart fluttered as she nearly addressed him by his given name. He swallowed hard. An old habit, or a premonition? He half held his breath, barely noting how the other man’s eyes narrowed with interest at the slip, as well.
Owen opened his mouth to retort to the dark-haired man when Arya, instead, spoke. His jaw snapped shut and, suddenly, he was all attentiveness, his mind bent upon her.
“It is true, Arya – the state of being royal is meant to be so innate that one of such distinction must never announce it – it can only be said by others…and must surely be noted instantly by all who gaze upon them.”
Instantly, the man sighed and rolled his eyes as if in reaction to his own words.
He smiled, glancing towards Arya. “That is what royalty is taught, is it not? It’s what Aulus was taught anyway.”
Owen frowned. “I thought you were Aulus.”
A wolfish grin. “Who else would I be?” Almost instantly, his expression shifted, he cleared his throat as if to interrupt himself. His tone was tired again as he spoke. “Perhaps we ought to let Her Highness resume the introductions.”
Her eyes found him, brands deep and dark, dipping to stamp his soul with their burning caress. Owen knew well the heat fire, knew its unquenchable thirst, but, gods, it was nothing to the gaze of his Arya. She spoke again, a joke. He cleared his throat, half-laughed in reaction, almost surprise, as if he’d just found once again he possessed the faculty of speech.
Arya apologized for the Prince’s behavior…and the reasons for her relationship with him.
“Only a fool,” said Owen, softly. “Would discount the effect of such charms.”
“Spoken,” said the Prince, with interest. “Like a lover, not an acquaintance.”
Owen turned sharply to face him.
“Forgive me,” said the tired tone. “I forget myself at times.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Owen. “A captain, though I have left my ship behind me for now. I thought it perhaps time I leave the sea behind.” After all, there had been no flag, and no woman…but now? He looked meaningfully at Arya. “But gods know, a sailor carries the ocean with him, wherever he goes.”
His eyes sharpened when she said she’d thought they’d not meet again. What had all that talk of flags and waiting been about? But…clearly things had changed since last he’d seen her – this…prince and princess business was proof of that much.
“Forgotten you?” he echoed, astonished. The stars would sooner forget the sky, he thought, almost said, but that detestable prince was staring at him with undisguised interest. He had never wished to punch someone in the face more.
“Oh, yes,” said the Prince. “He looks as if he has forgotten all about you, doesn’t he?” The prince laughed. He face shifted in that unaccountable way, again. “Yes, it’s time we–I go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clarke.”
Owen dipped a quick bow of recognition. “And you, Your Highness.”
His tone shifted again. “You need not worry about Lady Jahanara. I can prove wonderfully distracting when I’ve a mind to be.” Thus, the other man departed.
Owen felt off-balance, unsure how to feel, until his gaze moved from the retreating prince to Arya’s countenance once again. Tears stood out in her eyes, those irresistible orbs half pleading. Her gaze was deep as the ocean and, gods, how he should like to drown in them. He did not think. He closed the gap between them, touched her cheek.
“Arya,” he whispered. But he remembered himself, jumping back. He glanced away quickly, breathing in through his teeth, before turning back to her. Something in his core was melting again with the power of her look, some steel he’d built around himself was sloughing off in globs and he sighed, pressed his eyes shut. This would not do, but there was no remedy for it.
“I–I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
“Owen…” She breathed out in return, eyes fluttering closed as the joyous, unforgettable feeling of his fingers brushing so gently across her cheek returned to the young princess once again. Instantly she was transported back across the years, across the waves, home once more upon the seaside cliffs of Harmanil at the cottage her mother had left her. Moments that had seemed lost to her forever. She reached up to touch his hand with her own and leaning her face into the warmth of his touch. And yet as quickly as it came it ebbed away as with the tide. Arya opened her eyes slowly once more, brow furrowing in a momentary bout of confusion as the scent of fresh flowers hit her senses instead of salty sea air. A flush crossed those soft cheeks Owen had brushed so gently. She could almost hear her father reprimanding her now.
What are you doing, my little fish? You have your head in the clouds yet again? You are a princess. You have a duty. Remember who you are. Remember what you are here for. “Yes, of course. I–I am certain my being here is quite the surprise, based on our previous… encounters…” A strained smile crossed her lips and her voice dipped low to a whisper. “The legs are probably a bit of a shock, I am sure.” Arya glanced about the two of them to assure herself that Aulus had wandered far enough away and that no other visitors to the palace had also decided to take a stroll through the park this early in the morning. Finding herself satisfied, the princess found herself emboldened enough to reach out and grasp Owen’s hand in order to pull him along with her into the hedge maze. “Come, I shall explain further. Let us step into the maze. There is a small bench just inside that overlooks the cliffs. We will be quite alone there and can speak more freely.” Perhaps she could have gestured for him to join her beneath the willow, of course. Jahanara certainly would have suggested as much were she not being charmed effortlessly by their mutual friend. But Jahanara was not here. And Arya, well… She wished to feel once more the gentle caress of Owen’s touch. And princesses certainly always got whatever they wished for, did they not? Yet as they approached the hidden nook of the maze, the young woman released her hold upon Owen with some reluctance. She moved to sit upon the bench and stared with longing out across the waves. “Owen…. Owen, there is something I should have told you all those years ago about me. Something quite important.” Once again she fiddled with her folded parasol, using the tip to draw nonsense patterns in the sand. “You see, I–I did not wish for you to think differently of me. I wished only to help you and your friends. I–I wanted friends of my own! And I was… I was so afraid that if I told you… If you knew who I truly was, that perhaps…” A strangled laugh. “I suppose it does not matter what I was afraid of. I cannot change what I am.” A raised eyebrow at herself. “At least other than physically…” Brown eyes flickered up from her drawings to the blue of Owen’s. Those kind, beautiful, sad eyes that had haunted her dreams every night for the past ten years. What would he think of her now? “I am here, Owen, as a representative of the sovereign nation of Harmanil. As its princess. As I am and always have been since the day of my birth. Even during those lovely, glorious days we spent together.” She took a deep, shaking breath and held her head high as she had always been taught. “I am Her Royal Highness, Princess Arya Akilah Malika Abassi, Princess of Harmanil and heir to the Sunburst Throne.”
A long stare. Owen gazed long at her, his fingers digging, digging into the bench and imperceptibly, imperceptibly he inched forward to study her face, as if he could read there something that would banish the torrent in his mind. There was nothing there to see. Abruptly, Owen jumped up, paced back towards the hedge, then back again.
“What?!”
He stood where he was, his hair and greatcoat alike tossled by the gusts of ocean-wind that swept along the coast, but he did not notice, did not notice the thrashing of the shrubs around them, or the wheeling seabirds overhead crying to one another. Each revelation seemed more incredible at last till, finally the words Heir to the Sunburst Throne had escaped her lips. None of this jived with his own memories, an orphaned peasant girl -- a mermaid -- living alone in a tiny cottage by the sea, rescuing and saving shipwrecked sailors, smiling shyly at him as if she’d hardly ever seen a man before, swearing to wait for him, swearing to pitch a flag for him...How could any of this be?
He sank, half-eagerly, into the bench beside her. “Surely you...jest,” he said, finally, but glancing down, he noticed her feet peaking out from the hem of her dress, stared at them, taken aback. He looked back up to her again, brows contorting. Oh, he’d seen her standing on the shore -- at first he’d reasoned it couldn’t be her (after all, it would not have been the first time his eager heart had imagined her standing before him only to find another face looking back instead), but the instant she’d turned...all doubt was erased -- it was her without question. He’d assumed she’d learned some means of...appearing to stand on a fin...and then she’d walked...Perhaps...she somehow faked that, too, but those were feet, sure as day.
“I--” he shook his head, sat back from his half-imploring attitude, and shook his head. “I don’t understand. How...how is any of this possible?” His eyes widened, mind reeling back to fairy tales of his youth suddenly -- she was apparently a princess, after all. “Were you cursed?” Instantly, the ridiculousness of that claim overcame him and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, cast his gaze out towards the see as he attempted to order his fevered mind.
When he turned back to her, his expression was calm again. He stood again, this time pacing before her as he ticked off notions on his fingers, glancing occasionally to her for confirmations.
“So, if I understand you correctly, you were born heiress presumptive to a throne and,” he shook his head. “One day the Princess of Harmanil,” he said in an emphasized way that showed he was trying to wrap his mind around it. “Decided to go for a swim, became a mermaid? And rescued a bunch of...shipwrecked sailors?” He stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. “You must make an odd princess, indeed,” he added, half-teasing, half-unsure. He shook his head, returning to the story. “You, princess that you are, decide to play mermaid nursemaid to us and stay there for...however long it takes for us to recover, though...You were gone for long stretches at a time, weren’t you? I confess, I thought you were just...” he shrugged. “Underwater.”
He paused, mulling this over, before continuing. “You begin a dalliance with one of them.”
Which, he realized. I can only assume, given the princess bit, was just a bit of harmless diversion.
“And when he offers to bring you with him aboard his pirate ship, you probably did your level best to suppress a riot of laughter, given that -- rather than gaining anything -- you’d be losing quite a bit,” he added, flushing slightly.
And then say that you’ll wait with flags and the whole bit, but that was just as meaningless as the rest, I suppose, he added, mentally. Hence, why neither mermaid nor flags were ever there.
“And, as soon as they’re gone, resume your...princess...activities...? Whatever those are. Is this truly what you’re telling me? Oh, and also, the fin was optional, the whole time, I suppose?” He turned to her, brow quizzical, astonished to learn all this...and fighting, fighting to suppress the quailing of his heart.
The only thing that had mattered...gods, it had all been just a bit of meaningless fun. He’d never mattered to her at all. He laughed, a mirthless sound, and turned to face the waters far below.
“Is this the truth, Arya?”
POINT DIVIDER / AUGUST 21 - AUGUST 27.
𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢 / total 85. 35 points for this week.
OOC | Owen & Aloysius
ok so tbqh im not really coming up w any ideas except that maybe once or twice they crossed paths when aloysius was w isabella, or whatever?? and owen was always rude af bc it was obv that aloysius wasn’t exactly a rebel but he probs didn’t realize he was a literal prince...and/or if he ever did, he def tried his hardest to get the rebels to like kidnap him or whatever and ~that was probs a whole disaster tbqh alksdjfkljdskjf sooooo yeah laksjdfkljdsf
(au where they did kidnap him and threatened to behead him or smth if the gov didn’t comply w demands and cue septimus saying, ‘go ahead’ bc he wants the rivers!ardennes out of the way anyway sdlkajfkldjslfdsf even owen like ‘...ouch’ and changes his mind about aloysius right then and there tbqh)
OOC | Owen & Beatrice
so not coming up w a ~ton of options for these two except that maybe owen used to stop by astley house to hang/plot w xavier, or whatever, when they were rebels togehter, and thus occasionally ran into beatrice???? so maybe she knows him as ~xavier’s friend or smth??? idk...
OOC | Owen & Eleanor
so, as i mentioned in lucy’s comment, these two probs know e/o!!!!! he’s breezing in, acting like he wants to pick up amicably where things left off...but revenge is his ulterior motive dun dun DUNNN ;DDDD