For the record, you can pry my “Sarai used to be in the Crownguard before she married Harrow” headcanon from my cold, dead hands
Amaya trained the Standing Battalion and Sarai trained the Crownguard, and their ability to work together is why Katolis had the strongest fighting force in the Pentarchy
You can also pry “Sarai and Soren were insanely close before her death” from my cold, dead hands. Maybe not even then, because I’m gripping this idea tightly, even in death
Sarai helped Soren and his family manage his illness because of her experience with Damian. And Soren was just so excited that the Head Crownguard was hanging out with him! Even when he was at his worst, he’d always perk up if he could see Sarai train the soldiers from his bedroom window, or regale him with stories of legendary battles at his bedside
After Soren got better and Sarai left the Crownguard to become Princess of Katolis, she offered to show him the basics of swordplay and strategy to help Soren with all of his pent-up energy. Even though he wouldn’t be interested in poetry until years later, Soren was introduced to the concept through Sarai, who’d recite some of Damian’s old work for him during their time together. Sarai had essentially become one of Soren’s constants after his family fell apart with Lissa leaving, Viren growing cold, and Claudia throwing herself into magic
At least until she died, heroically saving his dad
I wrote Part I of a self-indulgent fic about Sarai and Soren based on my post detailing my headcanons. If you like the excerpt below, feel free to read and support the rest of it here on AO3!
Sarai lay in the bed, watching the royal physician closely as he examined the frail boy held in her arms. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Viren and Lady Lissa across the room with their hands interlocked, knuckles white with tension. No one said a word as the doctor placed a device against the child’s bare chest and brought it to his ear to listen. Not that he needed the instrument, in Sarai’s opinion. Every shaky breath that little Soren took was accompanied by a thick, crackling sound. The Head Crownguard gently ran a hand across the boy’s head to wipe away the feverish sweat that plastered the golden locks to his forehead. Soren was none the wiser of the movement around him, eyes screwed shut in a restless slumber.
Occasionally, one of Sarai’s recruits would ask her why she spent so much time cooped up in the bedroom of the High Mage’s son. She’d answer curtly that as a Crownguard, it was her duty to aid the people of Katolis in whatever way she could, including High Mage Viren and his family. Who was Sarai to deny a sick child company, especially when he asked so nicely?
It was no secret that Soren adored Sarai. She saw the way his face lit up when she walked through the door. On the good days, she’d play with him while his parents attended court or spent time with their daughter. Soren would grab his toy sword, and Sarai would grab his little dragon plushie, and they would take turns chasing each other around the room, playfighting.
During the bad days, she’d lay on the bed with Soren and tell him about the Crownguard. Sarai ensured that Soren knew he wasn’t expected to make conversation, or even keep his eyes open. She just spoke, and he listened or tried to sleep – and the only response to her stories would be the sound of soft wheezing. Sarai would stay with Soren long after he fell asleep, only getting up when his parents returned to take her place at his side.
Harrow, Lady Justice bless him, would check on her after every visit with Soren. He knew her history with the breathing sickness and how it affected her. She’d, of course, politely assure him that she was well and thank him for keeping an eye on Callum while she was unavailable. They’d stroll through the halls, and Harrow would tell her all about which area of the castle he had helped Callum explore that day.
this is a poem
Sol Regem having his wings healed by primal magic using a rare seed that brings light and life then going on to kill innocent civilians
Vs Soren having his lungs healed by dark magic using the blood and death of a rare magical creature then going on to become a protector of the innocent
Sometimes they are Evan and Jammer, and sometimes they are Brennan and Lou.
In this moment, they were both.
I love the first meeting of Dick and Commissioner Gordon in Batman and Robin: Year One
Jim is so done with Batman having a young sidekick, and for a good reason. Like, this boy is around his daughter's age, he should be on bed instead of chasing criminals.
And Dick, bless his soul, is so energetic and excited since it's his first patrol. Probably, his childish manners make him ever more ill suited for this job in Jim's eyes.
Everything about this scene is perfect.
Tim and Bruce getting into an argument bcs Tim demands to be independent and NOT get involved in the mess of being a legal part of the Wayne family, and Bruce being final on the fact that Tim is FIFTEEN and needs a legal guardian. out of spite Tim asks the person he thinks Bruce would approve of as a guardian the least to sign some guardian papers.
Tim: you don’t have to do anything parental i just REALLY wanna make Batman mad and i get the sense that our wishes align on that specific aspect so if you could just sign here for shits and giggles-
Red Hood:
Red Hood, rapidly changing his plans on how to deal with getting revenge on Bruce because his replacement is actually kinda hysterical: if we’re doing this we’re fucking doing it right, kid
Bruce shows up to Tim’s next parent teacher conference because hey just because he’s being given the silent treatment over this whole adoption thing doesn’t mean he’s going to slack off on his parental duties, only to freeze in the doorway because Tim Drake-Hood is stood there with his shiny new CRIME LORD LEGAL GUARDIAN giving him the most SHIT EATING GRIN POSSIBLE, and he almost has a panic attack on the spot.
Jason’s really getting into this whole caretaker thing. he’s doing school runs, delivering home cooked meals to Drake manor, helping with homework, this was his fucking CALLING. Tim is having the time of his life because him and Hood actually get along really well, but then he realises two weeks in that it turns out Hood is actually Jason fucking Todd, and he has to deal with the existential crisis of causing the very thing he was trying to stop because he is now technically a legal child of the Wayne family.
out of embarrassment for the fact that he failed and amazement at the fact that he’s bonding so well with Bruce’s dead kid and his own childhood hero (who is now a badass crime lord that lets him call for advice about english assignments while organising drug runs and picks up batburger on his way home from weapon shipments, seriously what more could Tim want in a parent), Tim somehow becomes even more invested in hiding Red Hood’s identity than Jason is.
Bruce has just been in a constant state of panic for the past three months and he doesn’t know what to fucking do. Dick was concerned for Tim up until he demanded to have dinner with him and his new ‘guardian’ to vet the guy and Jason, who stopped caring about his identity when he realised how much being a working dad agrees with his mental health and is only actively keeping his identity from Bruce for Tim’s pride’s sake, takes off his helmet to eat and Dick stares at him frozen for fifteen minutes across the table before finally pointing at the two and saying ‘you know what? he didn’t even tell me Jason was dead until after the funeral. whatever the fuck’s going on here? he has it coming. proceed.’
this is so rogue but does anyone have the poetry template that went semi-viral on twitter a while back? it was designed for kids but someone gave it to their mother who has dementia and she wrote a really moving poem about her experience.