Brown itchy spot on chest

My cat has been over grooming a spot on her side/hip ish area recently. She's been to the vet twice for it. Both times she was given antibiotics, the second time we took her she had started cutting into her skin with her tongue and she developed oozing sores and scabs. In addition to more antibiotics, she was given a 4 week steroid course (she's on the tail end of week 3 now) and we had her in a cone for a week. She's healed for the most part now, she's still licking the area but not as often and she's not tearing skin anymore- however now she has this odd brown spotting on her skin? I haven't been able to find similar photos of anything online. It's not raised and she doesn't react when we touch it so I'm guessing it's not painful.
The overgrooming issues started a little over a year ago with one other episode on one of her paws and the vet is leaning towards allergies as the cause- we switched litters on her around the same time the issues started so we've gone back to her previous stuff hoping that helps.

Ok, so this is a long story so bear with me. I’m not lying, I’m not exaggerating, I’m just sharing what I experienced. I’ve had a few possible paranormal encounters in my life, but nothing like this. Not even close.
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Moved in with old roomie “Cassidy”and her two dogs back in Aug 2021. We had an apt for a year prior to moving to the duplex. The new place was a on the south end of Columbus, not the best area, but I can deal with addicts and persistent homeless people no problem. I couldn’t deal with what ever was there.
Move in was normal chaos, boxes, sleeping on a mattress with your bed frame next to you, painting, etc; nothing out of the ordinary happening.
After a few weeks I was constantly misplacing things. This is far from unheard of for me, but it was out of control. Keys I put in the middle of an empty table wouldn’t be there 10 min later. I’d start looking for them and then eventually they’d be back where I left them. This wasn’t daily, but enough to mention.
Duplex was two stories, shitty creaky floors, thin walls, I could hear my neighbors farts. For a bit it sounded like someone was walking on the second floor, but no one was home or up there. Just assumed it was the neighbors.
That assumption was disproven when my neighbors were out on our shared porch and I was inside. Heard the footsteps and thought “oh ok we have a lil ghost” whatever, I can deal with that.
Footsteps were light and always in a quick patter, like a like kid who doesn’t know how to skip trying to skip. I’d get a tap on my shoulder here and there. All harmless stuff.
Soon I started hearing my roomate ask for me or say my name when she wasn’t home. I never said anything to her in fear of sounding bonkers.
Fast forward to like November 2021. Roomate comes to me in the morning and asked if I’ve had anything spooky happen in the house beyond the footsteps and such; I told her about hearing her ask for me when she wasn’t home.
She paused and did one of those “eyes slightly closed, goddamnit ok” soft nods.
Told me she’s been having the same thing happen, but me ask for her (obv). Never wanted to say anything for the same reason, but as she was falling asleep last night her mirror fell. One of those cheap Walmart floor mirrors.
Well it didn’t fall, technically. It started to tip over, paused for a second, cracked, then fell. She got freaked out, but didn’t know if she was just lucid dreaming or something.
After she mentioned this and we both acknowledged hearing shit, stuff picked up a smidge. The footsteps became more frequent, I had a few “taps” on my back, and would occasionally catch something juuuuuust in the corner of my eye; but never full on.
Blah blah blah, nothing crazy for a bit.
Late January Cassidy is out for the night and I’m passing out in my bed. I’m in that juicy spot, park comfort and cozy levels reached, and where you know you’re about to fall asleep. Then, I feel breath in my ear and hear.
“I’m downstairs, come on.”
I get covered in goosebumps, just like I am now retyping this insanity. My phone dings, there’s a notification from my security camera.
This is what it shows
I immediately text my roommate and surround myself with her dogs. We chat about it the next day agree upon “yeah spooky for sure, but like what can ya do.” And move on.
Everything stays the same for a while, until Cassidy moved out mid april 2022 and obviously took her dogs with her. Then shit got wild fast.
Within the first week of solo house life I’m in my room, laying in bed. The foot of my bed faces the door, TV is to the right of it. I’m not sleeping, just chilling watching TV.
From the top of the door frame is a
Smack smack smack. Like undeniably.
Like an open palm hitting it. Not like "ohhh what's that noise" more like “oh fuck that!”
I go sleep downstairs.
I move out of my bedroom and into Cassidy’s empty room the next day. No issues for a night or two.
Im on my bed, which is on the floor (not about to take my bed frame apart and reset it up.) I think I was either doing nonsense on my phone, or nonsense on my laptop. Either way, I was doing nothing important. The door to the hallway is across from me in the left corner of the room.
From the hallway an unfamiliar, wildly uncomfortable noise. The quick lil footsteps I became accustomed to, nah. They got heavier and slower. Pacing down the hallway. Not constant, but enough for me to hate everything.
I stand up and go to the door, poke my head into the hallway and have my chest like brushed. Not shoved or pushed, not caressed, just like "yeah I can touch you" thing.
Message received. Out loud I say something like “ok bud I'll fucking go, Jesus"
Go to the bed and start packing a bag. My back is at the corner of the room, like the fucking wall. I can feel something there with me, like right freaking there. My feelings are confirmed when over my shoulder is a growl. Not like a dog growling, but a distinguishable sound. Best way I can explain it is if you asked a tired overweight guy to impersonate an empty stomach.
I dip so fast. Stay at my art studio.
I go back during the day and try to push it to the back of my mind while I start packing my shit.
I’m moving, or attempting to (credit score and financial situation aren’t ideal). I’ve seen horror movies, I know staying helps nothing.
After staying at my art studio a few nights and spending the days there packing with no activity; I decide to stay another night. Afterall, my studio is not the most comfortable place to sleep.
First night back. Nothing. Just the overwhelming fear that it’s going to happen again.
Second night. Nothing.
Third night. Same.
Kk so maybe I had carbon monoxide poisoning or something the other night. I try to breathe easy but that stuff was terrifying, so easier said than done.
Once I somewhat settled back in while continuing to pack up, the footsteps started back up.
Things progressed like a heroin addict’s tolerance after a quick stint in a rehab.
Then I start catching little glimpses of it. where it will be like right at my shoulder, juiuuust enough in my peripheral for me to notice it's there
As soon as my eyes stop focusing on an area and my head turns, bam If it's in that corner.
A bunch of creepy ass shit started to happen. Here are some examples:
I was showering naked as most people do, recently removed shirt was on the floor leaning on the closed door. I rinse my face and then my shirt is halfway under the door.
My leg was grabbed, like legit pulled, while walking up my steps.
Lil closet door slammed shut (get more creative ghost, this is so over used)
The house got unbearable, especially upstairs.
The second I would go up there it would be right on my back. Not touching me, but like right right there. Juuuuuust out of sight. You could feel it. Every step I took it took with me.
This wasn’t just at night anymore, it was always.
Keep in mind I’m packing up to move, so I don’t have a choice but to be there sometimes. I never go at night anymore, and if I have to go upstairs, to pack; I’m supermarket sweep styling that shit.
My final fuck this was at the end of May, I was in my room finishing up packing. My room was hands down the worst spot in the house. It did not want me there, at all.
It’s presence in there was sooooo intense, this time I ended up sprinting out of my house and never went back.
Looking out the windows from my room while closing a box, in the reflection I see it. Like when you look down a well and it’s just pitch black, it’s like that. It’s at my wall, like 7 feet tall, just looming. I turn around; gone.
I’m a bit uneasy to say the least, it was like a magician coming up with new tricks to wow the audience. Just replace wow with terrify and audience with me.
Throughout this nightmare I would often set up my phone along with the security camera. I just wanted to get something to prove I wasn’t bonkers. This was the last time I would have to do that.
So like I had done in the past, my trembling hand sets up my shitty iPhone 6s and hits record. I go downstairs. Then when I come back up to check if there was anything, there was this…..
Just listen, ignore footsteps and floor creeks.
It told me to get out; so I did.

So I haven’t dealt with spotting in a few years, I first started spotting when I first went on birth control on the depo shot back in 2018 and I spotted for almost a whole year and then my period stopped
Now I am on nexplanon I’ve had it for about 2 years and I recently started getting my period again about a year ago but very irregular which is how it was before depo shots, but recently a few months ago my period got lighter and now it’s just brown small spotting (but like every single day), not even red
Is there any way for me to get it to stop other than probably getting off birth control? It’s just getting to the point it’s very very annoying and frustrating
Or do you guys think it will eventually stop like it did a few years ago? Thank you and for reference I’m 25 lol

I’m thinking this could be from too much sun! I put it in a full sun spot but it’s browning only on top and not from the bottom

ive noticed that my oxalis will get moldy spots that grow on the soil very often, and smaller stems will turn yellow and completely die off. but, a couple of the leaves have crunchy brown corners.
its in the sunniest part of my bathroom, which all i have is a skylight but its still fairly bright. you could say it gets at least some light for most of the day.
i try to water it every two-to-four weeks ish or when the soil seems exceptionally dry (which it never does, it always seems to be a little damp just below the top soil)
logically it sounds like i might be overwatering, but i water it much less than the suggested amount and usually use a spraybottle.
any suggestions?

Sprinting down the bustling streets of New York, my heart pounded in my chest. I was late for my meeting at the advertising agency. As my mind raced through all of the potential outcomes of being late, I took a deep breath and decided to focus on the present moment.
I shifted my mindset from worrying about the future to observing the present. The sound of passing cabs, the chilly wind against my face, the colorful billboards; a symphony of city life surrounded me. I let go of the endless possibilities of things going wrong and chose to steady my mind.
As I walked through the door of the conference room, instead of feeling rushed and unprepared, I felt a strange calmness. My mindfulness practice had cleared my mind, allowing inventive ideas to flow naturally. The pitch went way better than I anticipated, and our creative team landed one of our biggest clients that day.
Slowly, it dawned on me, the purpose my daily mindfulness practice was serving. It was not only reducing my stress but also enhancing my creativity. By being present and by calming my 'Monkey Mind', I was freeing up mental space that allowed for new ideas to form.
Ever since, I integrated mindfulness into my daily routine; it's like my secret superpower, enhancing my creativity and problem-solving skills. So, the next time you're in a tight spot, remember that focusing on the present can make a world of difference.
P.S. Hey folks, the above scene was entirely fictional, but I'm sure some New Yorkers can relate! It might sound like a plot for a sitcom episode, but it's all about illustrating a mental model called "Mindfulness". It's this fantastic tool that you can incorporate into your daily life to enhance your creativity and reduce stress. Now, imagine if that became your secret superpower!

My friends and I stayed in a hotel for a night. We drove 10 hours home and I felt fine (no itchiness or marks). One of my friends texted us that night saying he was itchy but he had been outside for 6 hours at home. He said we could have had bed bugs in the room but it made more sense it was bug bites from outside.
Ever since he told me, my body has been itchy in random spots (hair, arm, leg). I don’t have any visible bug bites or marks. I checked my clothes and duffle bag and didn’t see any anywhere. Any tips on what I should do or am I just itchy because of the anxiety of potentially having bed bugs? Thanks for the help.

spotted on Roan Mountain in TN, it was a big like bigger than a blue jay, brown with black and white in it, and a long long slightly curved beak. like 3 inch. was flapping low and kind of slow. anybody know what it is?

Hey y’all! I’m a 33M in NYC, specifically North Brooklyn, looking to find a genuine connection with a kind-hearted, like-minded lady. Ideally I'd like to find something that can turn into a relationship/partnership, but I'm very much open to taking it casually and seeing where things go.
I’ve been on dating apps for years to varying degrees of success, but it feels like the quality has gone significantly downhill lately, so here I am!
My elevator pitch is that I'm emotionally available, I’m a quality communicator and empathetic listener, and believe it or not, I really do know how to fold a fitted sheet!
I’m about 5’8 (aka 5'7), white, curly brown hair, glasses, and rocking a bit of a dad bod at the moment. I’ve never been much of a partier, but I'm usually up for grabbing a drink or two (literally) socially and I’m pretty fond of a little 420 to help wind down at night.
My biggest passion is music. Alternative/shoegaze/punk/metal is my sweet spot - if you're into that, we already have a lot to talk about! I go to lots of shows and have a pretty extensive record collection. I also write, record, and release my own music, but I promise I’ll never force you to endure me playing Wonderwall with an acoustic guitar.
I also love seeing stand-up, going to trivia nights, browsing museums, and I'm usually up for any of the many unique things that NYC has to offer. On more low-key nights, I enjoy watching movies or playing PS4 - I actually only just got into the gaming over the pandemic, but I caught up real quick!
So if you're an open hearted lady here in NYC who knows how to communicate and likes to show your silly side, I'd love to hear from you! Shoot me a DM or chat and tell me a bit about yourself! If you send photos, I'll respond in kind. Thanks for reading!

Sorry if this gets long, but I've never put all of this into words before. I've never even written it down or even really said it aloud, and when I've alluded to it to family members, I essentially get scolded and told I'm overreacting. But I have eyes, and I can see myself objectively, and I need to put all these thoughts somewhere.
I am 24 years old, and for almost entire life, I have hated the way I look. I remember being in kindergarten and telling my teacher that I thought I was ugly. That outlook hasn't really changed since.
It starts with my face. It's wide, and big, and my features are too small for it. (A common theme is that everything on my body seems to be out of proportion.) My smile is awful. It barely looks like a smile - more like I'm just sort of stretching my small mouth. It makes my cheeks balloon up and my eyes squint. My profile is also pretty bad; it looks long and squished. I have a double, asymmetrical chin, and I've had some hair loss (probably due to stress) that has created a couple of bald spots on either side of my forehead. It's all incredibly unpleasant to look at.
My hair is also a problem. Another theme is that for whatever myriad of reasons, I don't really have a great sense of how to do hair. It's always been a struggle for me. It's flat on top, which accentuates my big head, and often looks limp. It's some kind of curly, but it's hard to figure out how best to take care of it so it looks its best. Almost no hairstyles look good because - again - they all just make my head look even bigger, or make me look like a founding father or something. Even when I try my best, it looks limp and flat and ratty.
And I hate my body. I just do. I'm 5'1" and nothing looks to be in proportion. My thighs and hips are wide, and so are my shoulders, so I look like a funnel or a spinning top or whatever. And I just feel like I'm too heavy for my body. I try so hard to lose weight and stay fit and healthy, but I've been working out and eating healthy consistently and I have seen absolutely no change. It is so incredibly frustrating to put in this work and see no results. I have been self-conscious about my weight for a long time now, since high school, and I have even engaged in disordered eating habits. The first few months of 2020 and a few times since then, I have eaten only once a day in attempts to force myself into a deficit and get smaller. Of course, that didn't work.
I just feel so frumpy. I barely have a sense of style. When I was in middle school, I tried to get clothes that were popular in vain attempts to be cool, but I would mismatch them and just look as awkward as before. And now, while I struggle to find employment, I barely leave the house and have any reason to have nice clothes or dress in anything other than loungewear. I wear oversized clothes to hide my body, making me look even dumpier.
When I try to look nice on the rare occasion I have to, I do know how to put together a nice outfit and do makeup (the hair still alludes me for the most part), but when I see pictures of myself later, I feel like a pig with lipstick on. Pictures of myself literally repulse me. I got pictures taken my senior year of college, and when I got the proofs back, I sobbed. They were...awful. A similar thing happened to me when I went to prom. I only went as a junior (I could have gone my senior year, but I had no friends to go with), but I was so self-conscious about my body that I got a dress that covered me up completely and made me look like the mother of the bride. I don't have any pictures from that night because I hated how I looked so much.
I basically either freak out or cringe whenever I have to get my picture taken now.
I don't know. It's just hard. I know, I know - looks aren't everything, society creates impossible beauty standards, on and on and on. But is it so wrong that I want to look into the mirror or see a picture of myself and not cry? To not spend forever trying to get one nice picture of myself on the day of a special occasion and end up deleting all of them? I've been asked out as a joke. I've never had a romantic relationship or any sort of positive romantic attention from a guy. I've been avoided by people because I'm awkward and quiet and look it. I've tried the tricks with my hair and skin and makeup and the clothes that I have, but none of it is actually going to do anything. I tell myself that this shirt or this new step in my skincare routine or this new method with my hair will be the thing that makes me look better, but I know that's not true.
I'm at the point where I want there to be as little photographic evidence of my existence as possible. As long as I can stay clean, I guess that's enough at this point. I don't even know what the point in trying anymore is. I look bad. I'm not pretty. I never will be. I wish people around me, the people I care about, could at least admit it. For some reason, I feel like that would be a relief.
Sorry if this was a lot. But I needed to get it off my chest. Thanks for creating this space for me to do so.

First Previous
It would have taken four hours to reach the East Gate flying through the void, but the jumpdrive got them there in just over a minute. It took another minute to speak with the Enterprise and get docking clearance, and a third minute to land inside the Federation flagship. Three minutes. Yvian spent the time watching Federation ships pour into the sector.
The humans were pulling out all the stops. Cruisers and Destroyers swarmed into the sector, forming the core of strike wings ten thousand strong. Frigates acted as escorts, and carriers launched wave after wave of lethal Gladiator class fighters. Klusters were still appearing here and there, but the human ships left them for the Peacekeeper Queens to deal with, too focused on organizing their invasion to bother with stragglers. Three minutes, and over a thousand strike wings were already making their way towards Aldara. A similar number of human ships were spreading out from the other three Gates, eager to scour the Klaath from their home system.
The Random Encounter set down in one of the Enterprise's smaller docking bays. Yvian noticed it was the only bay that was empty. A trio of gladiators floated nearby, no doubt evicted to make room for Mims' ship. The moment the Encounter set down, Mims repressurized the ship. Then he stood and walked briskly off the bridge.
Yvian and the rest of the crew followed. She thought they'd go straight to the cargo bay, but the Captain had them stop at the armory first. He handed out BR24 Plasma Rifles and Nanoblade Katanas without a word. Then they all marched down to the bay.
Mims activated the door control. The cargo bay door raised. The ramp lowered. The Enterprise's docking bay came into view. A large door leading into the flagship had just finished opening, and a frightening number of armored humans were flooding into the docking bay, weapons drawn. Yvian put a hand on her rifle, but stopped short of drawing it. Captain Mims walked casually up to the ramp, looking down at the other humans with his hands clasped behind his back.
The humans took up positions all around the Encounter. Yvian tried to count them all, but gave up and estimated there were about a hundred of them. After nearly a minute of running around with their guns out, the soldiers formed up in neat lines, rifles held diagonally across their chests. They formed a corridor between the Encounter and the docking bay door.
Three more figures entered the bay. A tall man, a short man, and a woman of medium height. Like the other soldiers, these three wore white armor, and the visors of their helmets were gold. Like the other soldiers, these three were armed with plasma rifles, blaster pistols, and swords that looked an awful lot like the one Mims had given to Yvian. Unlike the other soldiers, these three kept their weapons in their sheaths.
The three came to the bottom of the Encounter's ramp. They stopped. The tall man in the middle spoke with a booming voice. "Permission to board, Mims?" It was the High Commander.
"You know you don't need an escort," Mims boomed back. "If we were planning to kill you we wouldn't have docked at all."
"They're not here for me," General Young explained. "They're here to keep any wayward personnel from getting wild ideas. Aldara remembers, Mims."
"Yeah. I guess it does." Yvian could hear the Captain's grimace. "Permission granted."
High Commander Young turned to the man on his left. The man's body went rigid as he snapped a salute. General Young stood straight and stiff as he returned it. The man stepped away. General Young and the woman on his right both took out their rifles, handing them over to a pair of soldiers. They did the same with their swords. General Young looked up at Mims. "Mind if we keep our sidearms?"
Mims called back, "Doesn't matter."
The General gave a gracious nod and climbed the ramp. The woman followed, staying to his right and half a step behind. Mims went back to the control panel as they boarded. The Encounter's ramp retracted. The cargo bay door sealed shut.
The High Commander removed his helmet. He looked much as Yvian remembered. His skin was a deep, dark brown. His head was shaved and smooth and shiny. He had the complexion of a young man, but his eyes were grim and his expression could have been carved from stone. Yvian was sure he was old. As old as the Captain, if not older. Most likely he'd undergone rejuvenation in an Oluken med-pod just like Mims.
The woman took her helmet off as well. Blonde hair and sharp cheekbones. Eyes that reminded Yvian of green grass on a summer day. Expressive lips set in a serious expression. And curves Yvian was trying hard not to notice. Yvian remembered this woman. "Hamilton?"
The woman blinked, then smiled. "I'm surprised you remember."
A grin forced its way past Yvian's desire to appear professional. "How could I forget?"
Mims ignored the exchange, turning to the High Commander. "Before anything else, I need to hear you say it again."
"Say what again?" The High Commander asked.
"That you had nothing to do with it."
General Young frowned, but nodded. "Neither I nor any of my people set off the device that called the Klaath. I didn't know we had such a thing at the time."
Mims kept his gaze focused on the man. "Kilroy?"
"The meatbag is not lying," said the machine.
The High Commander glanced at the Peacekeeper unit. His eyes widened, then narrowed.
"Fair enough. Second question." Mims kept his eyes on the General. "When did we get our hands on that tech? Was it at Aldara?" His tone was businesslike, but there was an intensity he couldn't keep off his face. "The first time?"
General Young held the Captain's gaze for a pregnant moment. Then he shook his head. "I don't know."
The Captain went deathly quiet. "You don't know."
"I don't know." The High Commander spoke firmly. "And if I can't find out, no one can." He folded his arms. "There's no record of when that technology was invented. I know it's ours. We found another device. But someone went through a lot of trouble to make sure we'd never find out where it came from."
Mims composed himself. "I see."
"No you don't," said the General. "I tried to find some people to ask about it. People that might know what kind of science was being done in Aldara when it all went down. Do you know what I found? A trail of bodies." A hint of fury flashed across his face. "Three research stations, all at Aldara, with no record of what they were studying. And every single person that was on those stations died. All of them. All within five years of the incident." His jaw clenched. "That tells me something all by itself, but there's no records and no proof. We'll never know for sure."
Mims stared at the man a moment longer, then nodded slowly. He turned to Kilroy. "Where are we at with Klaath?"
"The Vrrl Starfang Empire is defending Tendril Sector," said the Peacekeeper. "This unit calculates they will be sufficient. This unit calculates the meatbags will be sufficient in this sector, as well. Peacekeeper Unit Admiral Ender Zhukov states it is unable to calculate the outcome in New Pixa Sector. Peacekeeper Unit Admiral Ender Zhukov also states there is nothing this ship can do to affect that outcome at this time."
"New Pixa's under attack?" asked the General.
"We think they're after the Queens," Mims explained. He tilted his head slightly, coming to a decision. "You want a beer?"
General Young blinked. "You have beer?"
Everyone moved to the kitchen. Mims dug some beers out of the fridge. He handed one to Lissa and one to General Young, keeping the third for himself. Yvian followed his fine example, grabbing a bottle for herself and one for the General's Assistant. Hamilton opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, frowning at the beer in her hand.
"It's alright Hamilton," the High Commander told her. "Soldiers don't drink on duty, but we're not soldiers right now. We're diplomats, and diplomats drink." He twisted the cap off of his bottle. "You can consider it an order if it makes you feel better."
"Yes sir." Hamilton popped her beer open and took a sip. She gave the bottle a considering look, and then took a much longer swig.
"That's good beer," said the High Commander.
"The most popular drink in the Technocracy," Yvian said proudly.
"Haven't had one in a while," the General confided. "I got the entire human race crammed ass to elbow in every station we could move, and we're missing about two planets worth of food production. We can't afford to spend resources on luxuries like booze."
Yvian eyed the two of them. Had the High Commander lost weight? She couldn't tell. He'd been a mass of muscle when she met the man, and he still was. She started to size up Hamilton, but quickly changed her mind. She was dangerously close to ogling the woman as it was.
Still, if they couldn't get beer, it was likely the humans had been forced to eat whatever could be grown in bulk on the quick. Crunch, they might have been living on protein paste. Yvian's taste buds cried out in sympathy. The thought of that poor, beautiful woman suffering like that...
"Mims?" Yvian asked. "Is there any way we could make breakfast?"
The Captain's eyes flicked from Yvian to Hamilton and back. He looked down at his wrist console. "Might as well. It's technically morning, I guess." He stood, heading for the fridge.
"You want some help?" General Young offered.
"Sure," said Mims. "You can dice the potatoes."
"I suppose I'll eat as well," Scarrend rumbled. He went to the corner of the kitchen, where his personal larder had been set up. He pulled out a leg.
"Uh, Scarrend?" Lissa spoke up. "Maybe you should have fish for breakfast."
"Hmm?" The Vrrl rumbled. Then he caught her look. He put the leg back and pulled out a salmon.
"Was that a human leg?" Hamilton asked. She looked concerned.
"Yes," said Scarrend.
"Don't worry," Yvian reassured her. "It's Mims' leg. We cloned it."
"...Why?"
"It turns out the Vrrl don't eat people just for fun," Lissa explained. "If they go too long without eating sapient flesh they'll lose their minds. Go feral." She grimaced. "It's not pretty, and it's not reversible."
"What?" Hamilton's frown deepened. "How does that work? Some kind of enzyme deficiency?"
"It's psychosomatic," Lissa told her, "but it's hardwired into their DNA. Just like their worship of the Varma."
"That," the High Commander stopped cutting potatoes as he spoke, "is deeply fucked up."
"We are as the gods have made us," Scarrend said simply.
Lissa engaged Hamilton in small talk while the men cooked. Yvian joined in where she could, but she'd never been good at talking to new people. Especially pretty ones. Mims and the General worked in companionable silence, aside from a single exchange.
"I didn't know you cooked," the General had remarked.
"Someone has to," Mims had replied. "The girls baked me a cake once. I thought they were trying to kill me."
"That was one time," Lissa had protested.
Breakfast was simple but plentiful. Bacon and eggs. Pancakes and fried potatoes. Yvian and Lissa got more beer. The humans drank orange juice or milk. By unspoken agreement, conversation was abandoned as everyone ate. Yvian had thought the Captain cooked more than they needed, but after General Young and Hamilton each helped themselves to a third plateful she wondered if he'd made enough.
"Oh my god," Hamilton leaned back after swallowing one last bit of pancake. "I forgot how good it can be to eat real food."
"That was a real kindness," the High Commander agreed. He smiled at the pixens. "Good to see you girls haven't changed."
"It's good to see you, Bart," said Lissa. She smiled back.
Mims offered more beer. Hamilton declined, but the General accepted. Lissa took one, too. The Captain sat down, frowned, then got up to get another bottle for himself. "Alright. I guess we should get down to business."
"I guess we should," General Young agreed. "It's been a hell of a year, hasn't it?"
"I've had worse," said the Captain. "But not many."
"Tell me about it." The High Commander grimaced. "I thought last year was bad, what with the Vore and the Xill, but last year's got nothing on this. Most of the government got assassinated, half our stations got shot up, and then humanity's greatest enemies all formed a coalition and came after us." He swigged his beer. "Now my whole fucking species is hiding out with a bunch of pacifist squid people."
"Yeah, how are the Taa'Oor?" Lissa took a drink of her own. "I don't know much about them."
"They're sweethearts," said the General. "Weird, but sweet. Kinda hard to talk to, though. They communicate by changing the color of splotches on their bodies, and each one uses different patterns. It's like you have to learn a new language for each individual, and it's played hell with our translators."
"The Taa'Oor have been very helpful," Hamilton added. "They seem really happy to be dealing with us instead of the Oluken."
"I don't blame them," said Lissa.
"I should probably feel bad for dragging them into this," General Young admitted, "but we didn't have much of a choice. Between the Vrrl and those goddamned Klaath Queenships we can't win a straight up fight." He gestured with his bottle. "How the hell did you find a way to control those things, anyway? The Klaath fuse their ships to their nervous systems. I didn't think anyone else could use them."
"Xill technology," Lissa told him. "An artificial nervous system linked to a Peacekeeper unit."
The General grunted. "Anyway, moving to Wet Sector took us from certain defeat to a stalemate. We don't got the forces to take New Pixa, but you can't get to us, either. You try and we'll just cut the Gate. The Taa'Oor won't even mind." He shrugged a shoulder. "They'd rather live simple on their homeworld, anyway."
"Stalemate might be a bit optimistic," Mims told him. "You've lost both your planets, and you've got more people then you've got space for, let alone food. You can't keep hiding much longer."
"We can," the High Commander disagreed, "but I don't want to. This war's cost us too many people already. I don't want starvation to add to the toll."
"Surrender then," Mims suggested. "Take the ceasefire. We didn't want a war in the first place."
"This unit did," Kilroy objected.
"And the Empire as well," said Scarrend. "But we're willing to consider your surrender. If we kill you all now, there will be no humans to hunt later."
The General gave Scarrend a considering look. "Are you able to speak for the Vrrl?" he asked. "Negotiate on their behalf?"
"No," said Scarrend. "A negotiation will require all three Warmasters, and the proposal will have to be approved by the Emperor."
"Damn." The High Commander took another drink. "I was hoping we could get this done today."
"We can still lay the groundwork," said Lissa. "You've got our initial proposal."
"A proposal we can't accept," said the General. "We already lost Dorado to the Vore. I can't give up another planet."
"You've already given up your planets," Scarrend pointed out. "The ceasefire would let you get one of them back."
"Can't do it," General Young repeated.
"We know you don't really expect us to give up Aldara," Hamilton cut in. "You're starting high so we'll have to bargain you back down."
"No," said Scarrend. "We're telling you the price of survival."
"Uh... Scarrend?" Yvian interrupted. "Hamilton's right. We weren't going to take Aldara."
"Yvian!" Lissa snapped at her.
"What?" Yvian met her sister's outraged eyes. "That's what you said, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Lissa let out an exasperated breath. "But you're not supposed to tell them that."
"It doesn't matter," Mims decided. "We can't do peace talks until the Warmasters are available, anyway." He leaned forward. "We've got something more important to talk about."
The High Commander eyed the Captain, then set his beer down. He gave a single, grave nod. "Reba."
"A ceasefire won't mean shit," said Mims, "as long as she's running the Federation."
"There isn't a Federation," the General told him. "Not anymore. It died two months ago, when some asshole overthrew the government in a Military coup."
"There was no choice, sir," Hamilton reassured him. "The selection process was compromised."
"All the candidates were in Reba's pocket," the General explained.
"And you're not," Mims guessed.
"If you heard the orders President Boyd tried to give..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. It's done." He picked his beer back up. "The worst part wasn't the war, you know. Wasn't even that we're losing. The worst part was finding out humanity's been manipulated by a goddamned computer program for six hundred years. A program," he added, "that doesn't care about keeping us alive anymore."
"Does that mean you kicked her out?" Yvian asked.
"We did a lot more than that," said the High Commander. "Pulling everyone to Wet Sector wasn't just a way to keep you from conquering us sector by sector. Reba was in control of the Nexus. I had to get everyone in one place, where we could communicate without Nodes. And I needed to get my hands on every ship, station, and computer capable of holding a Synthetic Intelligence."
"The Connor Protocol," Mims breathed. "You actually did it?"
"What's the Connor Protocol?" asked Lissa.
"A failsafe invented after the Singularity War," General Young explained. "A plan. You already know we don't allow remote controlled anything. Even our beam towers are manned. But there's all kinds of shit an SI can do without direct control, and they can download themselves into anything with enough processing power. If an SI like Reba infiltrates the Nexus, there's only one thing we can do."
"Shut down the Nexus completely," Hamilton elaborated, "and scour every single computer one by one."
"Then we had to search our planets for hidden servers along with every asteroid we could get to," the General continued. "That's what my people were doing on Terra Nova when you showed up." He grimaced. "I thought we got her until she set off those Klaath beacons."
"You couldn't have got her anyway," Yvian told him. "She's in Xill space, trying to take them over."
The General stared at Yvian, then swore. "If she takes over the Xill we're all fucked."
"We know," said Mims. "Exodus is trying to stop her."
"Never thought I'd see the day I rooted for Exodus the Genocide." The High Commander shook his head. "Does he think he can do it?"
"No," Mims admitted. "I think he's just buying time."
The General swore again.
"Do you have a plan?" Hamilton asked. "In case she comes after you with the Xill?"
"We're working on it," said Mims.
"So no, then," the General's rigid posture slumped. For just a moment, he looked very, very tired. "I need a vacation."
"It will be alright, sir," said Hamilton. "We'll find a way."
"Of course we will." The General pulled himself back together. "I'm just a little tired is all." He drained the last of his beer. "I'm a Military man. I never signed up to run a country or..." He gestured with the empty bottle. "all of this."
"Welcome to my world," said Mims.
The High Commander grunted.
"So..." Yvian frowned. A thought that had been niggling her for most of the conversation finally climbed to the surface. "I guess this means you're not getting Blingy."
"Blingy?" The General raised an eyebrow.
"The Lucendian ship we gave to the Xill," Lissa explained. "After Myrsa defected, we assumed you'd use her to get it."
"We figured Reba would hand you the ship," Mims added. "We didn't know you started the Connor Protocol."
"I don't think Reba's gonna be handing us much of anything," said the General. His brows furrowed. "Why'd you want us to get our hands on a Lucendian ship?"
"So we could take it from you," said Kilroy.
General Young grunted. "Figures."
"Wait." Hamilton frowned. "If you thought... Why take her back?"
Mims glanced sharply at the General's Assistant. "What?"
"Why take her back?" Hamilton repeated. "Why recapture Myrsa if you thought she's doing what you wanted?"
"We didn't," said Mims.
"Someone did," the High Commander told him. "Someone who doesn't show up on sensors. Someone who slaughtered their way to Station Control in under a minute." He fixed a grim eye on Kilroy. "It was Peacekeeper work. I'm sure of it."
"Negative," said Kilroy. "All Peacekeeper units are accounted for. No Peacekeeper units have entered Wet Sector."
"No one else could have done it," the General insisted. "We were sure it was you."
"Negative," the Peacekeeper denied again.
"It wasn't us." Mims agreed.
"Then who?" The General asked. "Because it wasn't anybody human."
The Captain's eyes narrowed. Then they went wide. "When did this happen?"
"About an hour after the Klaath showed up," said the General.
"Kilroy." Mims stood, pulling out his helmet. "How long would it take to get us to Hub 14? "
"Six hours," said the Peacekeeper unit, "forty seven minutes."
"Sorry, General." Mims donned his helmet. "But we're gonna have to cut this short."
"It's a set up." The High Commander stood. "Isn't it?"
"Don't know yet," said the Captain. "But better safe than sorry."

Our story begins with a young child named Enro, who was 10 years old. He grew up in an orphanage. He was used to the smell of soup and the creaking of the floorboards. Ever since he was born, the workers at the Red Eye Orphanage had cared for him. They found him in a broken down carriage with his parents' bloody bodies beside him and took him in..
It was there when he met a young girl the same age as him. She had dark red hair that flowed in the wind, her brown eyes staring at Enro. Her name was Lin. Everything about her, including the bruises all over her pale skin,but even then, she smiled. Enro found it strange that someone with so many bruises could still smile. But she was the only friend that Enro had in the orphanage. They would always meet up on a secluded hill behind a pine tree. They played there, taking in the air. Enro turned to look at her and felt his heart throbbing. A warmth spreading in his chest
“Why are you smiling?” Lin asked.
He didn't realize that he was smiling. “Oh, nothing,” he replied.
He noticed things in Lin that he had never noticed before, like the mole scab on her ear. They continued to talk about what to make of their lives once they left the orphanage, and how they would become knights of the order, to protect those who can't protect themselves,a group of elite warriors.
“How's your day going, Enro?” she asked with a smile on her face.
“It's going well. How about yours?”
“It's been great,” Lin replied.
Before Enro could talk to her more, he heard a loud shout. "You two, get down here! It’s time." They had to take their daily injections. He never knew what the injections were for or why they had to take them; he only knew that not taking them meant a severe beating by the workers. They walked back into the orphanage to take their injections. After that, they had to take an aptitude test. Enro always got the same score of 50, but this time he got a 55. He was improving. Lin was able to get a 95, the highest score she'd ever gotten. They took her to a room. Enro waited and waited for Lin to come out, but she never did. The workers told Enro to go to his quarters.
Enro went to sleep that night, hoping to talk more to her. He went to their usual spot, but she was gone. He looked all over for her, but he couldn't find her. She couldn't be found in any of her usual spots. Enro was afraid, anxious, and nervous. He couldn't—wouldn't—accept the fact that she was gone. He kept searching to no avail; she was truly gone. He went to the staff and asked where she was.
"That brat Lin? We sold her."
"What? This can't be," he replied.
"What, you had a crush on her?" The man's breath stank of booze. He had to be lying, but it was true. Enro clenched his fist in anger, but he knew it was futile. Even so, he didn't stop until his unkept nail had cut him, but that was it. She had been sold by the owners of the orphanage.
Enro was reminded of the sick truth: they were truly alone in this orphanage. They were nonexistent to others. They could be gone just like that, and nobody would even cry. But he cried. He knew they existed. He knew they were important, but they were invisible to the world. They had dreams and aspirations. What did they do so wrong to be kept in this prison?
But now, Enro had found his purpose: to bring their dream to life and become a knight of the order.
As Enro went to bed that night, he was awoken by screams. He looked outside to see the masked men, who appeared to be one of the ignicel cultists the children at the orphanage had been taught about. As a result of their evil deeds, they were infamous all throughout the land and were taught about almost everywhere. They were killers who worshiped a virus called the ignicel in order to gain strength. He had to run; he had to survive. He couldn't let her dream die. The cultists were in the building. He heard the screams of children. He ran out into the hallway, seeing a cultist. "We found one here!" the cultist shouted.
He ran and ran, the cultist chasing after him. He didn't want to die. But he couldn't run forever. He grabbed a small iron rod and hid behind a wall. When the cultist approached, he struck him in the jaw, disorienting him. He struck him once more, knocking the cultist to the ground making a loud thud on the ground.Enro grabbed the cultist's dagger and hid behind a cabinet on the floor, hoping nobody would find him. Tears filled his eyes as he saw children being kidnapped.
He knew his spot wasn't too safe, so he ran to the closest room and put a cabinet at the door. He was in the nursery. There was one other child there, crying He heard banging at the door, his heart beating faster than ever and looked for a way out. He remembered what he wanted to do. He wanted to protect those you couldn't protect themselves so he ran to the child, a boy two years younger than him. He grabbed his hand and headed for the window, running as fast as he could to the wood ducking the branches as he ran making sure nobody saw them. He couldn't die—not yet. He had to stay alive.
Holding the dagger in hand, a cultist saw them and gave chase. They kept running and running. Hearing the sound of twigs snap in-between their feet The boy couldn't keep up and fell. Enro picked him up and hid behind a tree, his breath heavy. He could hear the cultist right around the tree. He grabbed the dagger and slashed at the cultist's arm. The cultist punched Enro to the ground. The child cried and cried.
The cultist was distracted. Enro got up, clutching his dagger, and went for a swing, but missed. Enro went in for another swing, this time grazing the cultist's shoulder.
“You brat,” the cultist snarled, grabbing Enro, slamming him to the ground, and holding a knife to his throat. The child threw a rock at the cultist, hoping to save Enro. Enro's heart beating even faster than before he pushed the man off, punching him.
The cultist got up and was preparing to throw his knife into enro Enro, but he had missed the pair ran further and further
Enro grabbed the child and ran for safety. They ran far away and set up camp at the bay of a river.
“Why did you help me?” the child asked.
“I don't know,” Enro replied.
“Thank you, mister.”
“My name is Enro. What's yours?”
“My name is Ken. “ He could see the kem shivering. “Let's set up a campfire.”
“Okay,” Ken agreed.
Enro held the boy’s hand and offered to hold Light as they walked. “Do you need help with him?”
““No, it's okay,” Ken said, holding on tight to his brother. They walked around, looking for sticks and logs, and placed them near the bay. Enro could hear Ken's belly rumbling. Once they got enough logs, they now had to worry about food. They looked all around, only finding snakes. Eventually, they found a kady, a small creature that relied on the trees to stay alive, a fast creature. Enro used the dagger to climb up the trees and grabbed the creature from behind. The creature escaped his hands. He gave chase, throwing his dagger into the kady, killing it. They went back to the river where they lit up their campfire. They huddled together for warmth. “ this tastes horrible,” Ken complained.
“It's the only thing we have, ken.”
They had both fallen asleep. Enro put his hands over them. Maybe they could be a family; they could experience the love they never had before. The night came and went. The next morning, they kept moving. They couldn't risk the cultists catching up to them. They walked by the river, hoping to find a bridge to cross, but it was then that they met a boy. He had brown skin, dark puffy hair, and looked to be the same age as Enro.
“Who are you?” Enro demanded to know, readying his dagger and preparing for a fight. Ken hid behind him.
“I’m one of the kids from the orphanage. I’m scared. I can’t take this anymore.” The boy waved his hands and jumped into the river. Enro rushed in to save him, but it was too late. They continued on their way.
As they walked by the river, they heard the sounds of swords clanging. Enro looked to his left and saw a cultist fighting a child the same age as him, wielding a sword. The cultist slammed the child into a tree, picking him up by his throat and pressing his axe into him. “I’m going to enjoy this,” the cultist said, ready to kill the child. Enro had to save he couldn't let me die
Enro dashed in, holding his dagger, ready to save the child. He cut the cultist across his face, forcing him to drop the child, who scrambled to pick up his sword, ready for an attack. The cultist threw his axe at Enro, causing him to dodge, only grazing him. The cultist dashed in, punching the child in the stomach and sending him back. Enro threw his dagger at the cultist he missed, the dagger embedding itself in a tree. The cultist picked up his axe and charged at Enro. He swung his axe, and Enro tried to dodge but ended up being cut on his arm.
Enro screamed in pain. "It hurts, it hurts," he thought to himself. He couldn't afford for something like that to happen. While the cultist was distracted, the child swung his sword, cutting the cultist's back. The cultist turned around, only for Enro to kick him in the back. The cultist fell to the ground, and the child stabbed him in the head before he could get up. But that wasn’t it. It seemed like the cultist was transforming into some kind of monster. He grew horn and fangs; his body turned purple, and he gained muscle all over his body.the smell of decay spread
"You brats shall witness the power of rot," he growled. He grabbed Enro and slammed him into the ground.
"ENRO!" Ken screamed.
Enro thought to himself, "I'm going to die here, aren't I?" The child's knees started to tremble. He grabbed his sword and tried to stab the cultist to no avail. The cultist punched the child, sending him into a tree. The cultist began to squeeze Enro. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the forest
"Ken, run far away with Light. Don't stop running."
"No, no, this can't be. This can't be. Stop it, stop it. I said STOP IT!” Ken cried out. He had no power, just like in the orphanage. He needed the help of Enro, and when Enro needed help the most, he couldn't do anything. Ken's mind echoed with the voice, "Do you choose power to save your friend, or shall you watch as he dies, suffering in pain and anguish?” "Yes, I choose power," Ken replied.
Suddenly, a black mist engulfed him and his brother. He was starting to transform; he grew taller, wrapped in mysterious black bandages. The cultist looked to Ken, only for both of his arms to be gone in a flash, releasing Enro. He began to gasp for air, looking to see Ken holding both of the cultist's hands. Ken went in for his next move, only to pass out in the midst of his attack. The cultist screamed in pain, “You bastard children! Do you think you can defeat me? I am a member of Ignicel. None shall stand against us! Now die as you lived, nameless children!”
Enro rushed to grab his dagger, still teeming with pain. The cultist, with his newly regenerated arm, swung at Enro. He backed up, thinking, "I can afford to lose this. He still only has one arm. I got this." As the cultist focused on Enro, the child picked up his sword and slashed across the cultist's chest. "You disgusting children," the cultist spat, enraged. "Now that he's here, we're sure to win," Enro thought. He rushed in, gaining speed that he thought like no other. He didn't think he was capable of going that fast before the cultist could react, climbing up the cultist's arm stabbing him in the eyes. Suddenly, he realized the cultist's weakness. "STAB HIM, DON'T SLASH!" He shouted. The cultist roared in rage; instead, He grabbed Enro and threw him against a tree.
"Argh," Enro gasped for air, only to be met with blood. The cultist searched for the child, only to have the child appear behind him, stabbing him in the chest. The cultist staggered, unable to believe he had lost. He fell to the ground. It was over. They had won.They were tired and exhausted. The boy tried to pick up Ken and Enro, but his legs were weak. He still had to move before more cultists came for them. Then a mysterious figure appeared from the shadows in front of the boy. He held his sword, still shaking from the battle with the cultist.
“Who are you?”
“Do not worry, child.” with a soft and soothing voice
Before the boy could respond, he passed out. When they awoke, they were inside a hospital. Enro heard the floor creaking as he searched for Ken, pulling back the curtain only to find him eating an apple. He rushed in, hugging Ken tightly. He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of the boy they had fought alongside.
"What's your name?" Enro asked.
"Reni," he responded, looking at his cast on his arm.
Enro remembered how Lin would always smile, so he responded by giving Reni a smile. “It wasn't your fault. Besides, you got hurt too, and we're still alive.”
An examiner walked in through the door holding a clipboard. “I didn't expect each one of you to be up. You came in here a wreck—”
“What do you mean we came in here a wreck?” Enro interrupted.
“A strange man in a cloak brought the three of you here.”
"It's true, I saw a man before I passed out," Reni added.
“You all should be healed by tomorrow,” the examiner said.
“Really, tomorrow?” Ken exclaimed.
“You've been given the best treatment. A member of the order paid for you.”
The order? Enro thought to himself. Who was that mysterious man? Enro went back to his bed, lying down. Suddenly, a mysterious man sat on the window.
“It's him, the mysterious man!” Reni shouted.

Ugh. I feel like I'm loosing my mind. I woke up this morning and had a dairy free yogurt and 2 oatmeal cookies with lactose free milk. Lunch I had a peanut butter and jelly on multi gran bread. I'm trying really hard to change my diet. I literally have not done anything today besides go grocery shopping and all of a sudden I'm having a terrible panic attack chest pain sweating arm pain feel like I'm gonna pass out. I cant figure out what I'm doing wrong on top of it Dr says it's not gerd but after reading all these posts everything is spot on with how I'm feeling. Does any of this get better. I've been dealing with this for so long.

Hey All,
This is my first post to Reddit, so I apologize if it is written a bit confusing or if there are any grammatical errors. Before I start, trigger warning due to mentions of pregnancy loss/ miscarriage.
Last Monday, 03 June 24, I (22F) decided to take a pregnancy test due to a missed period. Now, my periods have been abnormal previously and extremely painful to the point they are debilitating with heavy bleeding (soaking through a super plus tampon every hour to 2 hours, and a pad every 3 hours). My periods have always been a bit irregular as well, at some points in time I have gotten two periods in a month. At one point, while I was away for Army training, I did not have my period for around 8 months. I suspect I may have endometriosis, however, have yet to receive a formal medical diagnosis. As well, and I’m not sure if this is relevant, but I do have a familial medical history of endometriosis, ovarian cysts, ectopic pregnancy, and uterine cancer. Once I took the pregnancy test, the first line immediately began to darken. Within the first thirty seconds of taking the test, there were two lines indicating I am pregnant. I was not too surprised because, on top of my period being late, I was having intense lower abdominal bloating/pain, lower back pain (which has persisted and made it uncomfortable to even lay certain ways), fatigue, nausea, breast soreness, and generally felt off. My PCM believes I may be around 4-5 weeks pregnant as of 05 June 2024.
With this news, I immediately told my fiancé (28M) as we have an extensive history of pregnancy loss. Since we’ve been together, I have been pregnant on four occasions, this one is the fifth. However, none of my pregnancies have made it past the first trimester with the longest lasting around 8 weeks. Our most recent miscarriage was in March 2024 and we lost our baby at around 5 weeks. I had light pink spotting with some lower back pain, which then progressed into heavy bleeding and passing clots. I went to the ER where they measured my HCG levels at around 1,026. They also performed an ultrasound which was unable to locate an intrauterine pregnancy. The doctor informed me that he believed it was a threatened miscarriage and placed a referral for a follow up with the OBGYN clinic. From there, the OBGYN at my hospital monitored my HCG levels until they were under a certain threshold to ensure it was a complete miscarriage. I have been seeking medical attention for this, but have yet to receive an answer as to what is causing this.
As for this pregnancy, around three days ago, I realized something wasn’t right. Throughout that day, I was having more nausea and an intense, persistent cramping feeling in my lower back towards my right side, but didn’t think much of it. Whenever I used the restroom at work, I looked down into the toilet bowl and saw bright red and brown grainy blood. Immediately, I found my supervisor and we rushed to the ER. Once at the ER, they began to collect my labs and ordered an ultrasound. From my blood sample, my HCG levels are around 722. The ER doctor could not provide an answer as to what was going on as more testing is required, however, did mention the possibility of another miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy. As well, I read the ER doctor’s observational note which stated they were unable to locate an intrauterine pregnancy and did mention a “decidual reaction” and to follow up with OBGYN. My ultrasound report will not be released until this Tuesday, 11 June 24. I have follow up bloodwork placed for tomorrow, 10 June 2024.
After being released from the hospital, I have been having the same symptoms of lower back pain as before. I have been extra tired, but I am sure that’s partially due to the stress and anxiety I’m currently experiencing. I am still bleeding, but it’s now majority brown with some pink/red but still grainy. As well, I passed a nickel sized clot that was a dark red, almost black, color. I have also been taking photos of what I’ve been seeing the last couple of days since my hospital visit to document what’s been happening until I have my follow up appointments. The bleeding currently is not heavy, just extremely abnormal and unlike anything I’ve experienced.
Has anyone been through this before? If so, what did it end up being in your situation?
My family is over a thousand miles away from where I’m stationed and my fiancé (who has been my support system through a lot) is currently attending a course states away. Any and all responses, advice, guidance, or support would be greatly appreciated.

[Part 3]
The new knight approached the base of the wet ladder and began to climb. He reached halfway and stopped to listen above. The thunderstorm roared its fury, and the Blackfish was already speaking.
“What kind of knight threatens a pregnant woman?” Ser Tully voiced his rhetorical question.
“We did not know she was pregnant. She fooled us with her sister. But I am one that follows the orders of his liege lord.”
“You mean the Lannister one that killed his king once? Or the other Frey one that killed his other king too? Or the dead lord who killed Dornish babes? How do the princes of Dorne feel about you cheap-honor Lannisters?”
“You were the ones that rebel against the crown.”
“And it was the Kingslayer that threw Bran Stark out the window in a time of peace! At his own home! Do the Lannisters enjoy killing children and murdering unarmed people at dinner?”
“He is my liege lord.”
“Aye, and you seem like someone who knows his role and shuts his mouth. Do you want to be remembered for the rest of time as the knight that cleans up after his shit? ‘Here lies Ser Forley Prester, the legend that wipes the Goldenhand’s ass,’ will be written on your tomb in gold. Too bad your grave-mark will forget the part where everyday you take his golden-hand, shine it up real nice, turn that piece of metal sideways and shove it up your own candy arse for pleasure!”
The men above laughed as a shriek of thunder rumbled not too far from the Rock.
“You seem like a charming man Ser Brynden, but we are not here to discuss the rights or wrongs of men, knights, lords, kings and princes who are far far away from here.”
“Well here in my garrison I have Ser Olyvar Frey, son to Walder Frey, and a loyalist to his King, Robb Stark. Please ask Ser Olyvar Frey which is right and which is shit?”
Olyvar realized the Blackfish is chatting to buy time for Jeyne to escape.
“Is he a knight now?” A familiar voice that sounded like Edwyn Frey asked. “How did that come to pass?”
“Kill the right people I suppose. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to now? What is your name my lord?”
“My name is Ed–“
“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS!”
Giggles tickled the rainy circular drain above Olyvar.
“And aye, I knighted him myself. And his Queen in the North even made him a new coat of arms to differentiate himself from his disgraceful family,” the Blackfish announced to Edwyn Frey.
“And how would I know what cloak he wears now?” Ser Forley’s voice continued.
“Fastened by Queen Stark herself, it’s the bridge of the twin towers with a river flowing underneath, colored Stark grey and Tully red & blue. But every one of my friends here are all championed by our Queen. Are any of you beloved by a queen?”
Ser Forley tried to counter, “A new sigil of water flowing underneath a bridge? Did he make the water flow himself? Is he a plumber?”
“Aye, he may be a plumber knight, but you got shit for honors.”
“My honor is in tact.”
“Was it in tact when you abandoned your army at the Battle of the Camps? Claiming that you have honor is like claiming turtles can grow wings and fly. My plumber knight has more honor than your shit!”
Ser Forley paused … and then exulted, “Will this plumber be cleaning up my shit later?” Quiet chuckles whispered from the higher balconies.
The Blackfish retaliates, “As long as you acknowledge your honor as shit, he will.”
Loud laughter filled the air, but with Olyvar hiding in the hole of the floor, he could not tell if it was from his brothers, from his foes or both. Alive or facing death, one should know better not to trade japes with the Blackfish.
“Enough!” yelled Ser Forley. “You are clearly out manned down there at this courtyard! At least three of my men to one of yours! AND I have the high ground! So I won’t say it again, drop your weapons and I will let your men live!”
“Do you take me for a motley fool? You just don’t want us to loose back when you shoot your crossbows at us. You Lannisters cannot win in a fair fight against us if we are armed, but you men sure do a good job of killing defenseless people and children. And I will not give you that pleasure!”
“I do not know what you heard, but that is not entirely true.”
“Not entirely true? Do you Lannisters fondle the children first before you kill them? Do you give the children a good sniff before you cook them like Mad Danelle Lothson? Mother have mercy!” Ser Brynden teased.
“Enough! I will let your men live if you drop your weapons! I swear it on my hon-“
“We shit on your honor! Are there no true knights among you lot? You men following this shit knight’s shitty order, do you not have any honor yourselves? To chase after and kill a woman who is in labor? To kill a babe? Our king—”
“OUR CHOSEN KING!” Lord Galbart Glover’s voice thundered in before the Blackfish continued.
“—chose to execute his own kin and bannerman for butchering children … Lannister children! Frey children! But your knight here serves men without honor. Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer! Lord Walder Frey the Guestslayer! Lord Roose Bolton the Turncloak! COWARDS! Men who serves hospitality with bloodshed beneath their roofs and massacre innocents! Will you continue to serve these false knights and false men? Are you not fathers, nor aspire to be fathers some day? Well serve your CHOSEN lord’s bidding and be cursed! A predator of children is no lord of mine!” Ser Brynden Blackfish Tully spat and thunder boomed. “The gods will never forgive that, the slaughter at the Twins, the murder, the treason, the mutiny!”
Ser Forley began to scream louder, “You call it what you want! You’re down there, we’re up here! You came into the wrong damn castle Ser!”
“Stand fast brothers!” Ser Tully alerted.
“Gods damn this, I am telling you this one last time. Order your men to drop their weapons to the deck.”
“So you could parade us as prisoners before executing us? I cannot give that order,” defied the Blackfish.
“I am not going to repeat that order!”
“I WILL NOT GIVE THAT ORDER!” Thunder boomed again.
“WHAT IN SEVEN HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU? THIS IS USELESS!”
“STAND FAST!”
“ONE LAST TIME! ORDER YOUR MEN TO –“
“Ser Forley!” an unfamiliar voice called. “Queen Stark and her group are spotted. They are escaping on a rowboat at sea below. They appear to be heading west,” the watchman said.
Edwyn Frey’s voice commanded, “Archers, to the western edge! Kill them! Kill them all!!”
“BROTHERS! Kill the watcher first and anyone on that western edge!” the Blackfish thundered in the order.
A quick shoosh was heard above and a cry of pain immediately sounded from the west, as a body thumped and squished onto the lower muddy ground.
And suddenly the air was filled with it, as the thunderstorm raged on.
Shoosh shoosh shooosh shooosh shoosh ahhhhhh ahhhhh shoooosh ahhhh shooooshhh shoosh boom doom boom doom boom doom shooosh shooosh ahhhhhhh boom doom boom!
The heavens exploded from above, illuminating Olyvar’s drain instant after instant. Men were heard screaming and dying in agony. Whether or not it was his brothers or his foes, Olyvar couldn’t tell. He caught a glimpse of three bolts speeding above his small hole in different directions, and knew there were a hundred more he could not see. The enemy has the high-ground, Olyvar remembered, all my brothers are probably dying. He was unsure whether to descend down or ascend up the ladder into the chaos. He started to tear up, the cold rain still soaking his face as lightning continued to flashed and thundered through the pit above him.
“GOOSE!!!” Leo’s voice screamed. No!
“LEO TAKE COVER!”
“KEEP LOOSING BRO—AHHHHH!”
“FATHER!!”
“BROTHER, NO!!”
“TO THE WEST! LOOSE! LOOSE! LOOSE! PROTECT YOUR QUEEN!!!”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!”
Men were still crying up there, along with the bass of the approaching storm, blending with the streak of arrows and bolts hitting stone, mud and flesh. Still clung to his ladder, Olyvar looked down cowardly as a teardrop fell off his face. It landed on Alesander.
“You fool, what are you doing here? You left the rowboat?”
“I came back to fight.”
“You are no fighter, you are a singer. Leave here. Escape into the tunnels and save yourself my brother.”
He hesitated to answer, his own tears trickling down. “Aye, I will. And when I leave here, I’ll sing about what has happened today, what is still happening above us.” The screams were not stopping. Bolts, arrows and curses could still be heard flying above. Alesander moved towards a fissure in the cavern wall, spying to the west. “The Queen should be far out of harm’s way. The winds are kind, and the bolts are missing its mark away from the LionsJape.” He walked back to him. “Come with me Olyvar if you want to live.”
“Soon. But not yet. I need to hold this ladder. Leave my brother. Sing about this and immortalize our sacrifice.”
“Don’t go.” He grabbed Olyvar’s leg.
“Just let go of me!” Olyvar winched free.
“If you can escape, escape. I’ll fly away now. Farewell my honorable brother.”
“Wait!” Olyvar almost forgot. “Do you know what it is?”
His brother smiled a smile that Olyvar will never forget. “We have a Stark princess.” His footsteps faded into echoes as Alesander descended into the darkness of the tunnels.
But Olyvar began the climb in his. The hole above was gaping wider with each slow step up, ready to swallow him whole. Olyvar trembled. Besides the flashes of lightning, he could not see what was going on, but he could feel it in the air. He can taste the rain from above. He can hear the music of defiance to House Lannister, the sounds of arrows and loud screams drowning into silence. He can even smell it too. The smell of the Rock cooked with the salt of the sea, the iron of his brothers’ blood, the piss & stool of honorable dead men, staining & stinking the courtyard of Tywin Lannister’s home, leaving Casterly Rock an empire of shit.
He stood on the one rung that exposed his head just above the ground. Bodies. Brothers’ bodies and bolts everywhere. Rain and blood soak the mud, and fading cries of pain filled his ears. He saw the Queen’s uncle and master schemer of this plan, Ser Rolph Spicer, had a bolt in his eye as he died by the kitchen doors. The Seashell Knight was lifeless with his face first in the middle of the mud near Olyvar’s pit. Donal with bolts to his shoulder, stomach, and legs was on one knee shouting & cursing as he continued to loose arrows from three quivers as his brothers Raff & Mikkal laid dead beside him. Lord Glover had two bolts in him and took another in the chest. He paced backwards and fell over the parapet into the sea. A bolt was stuck on Goose’s neck, as he and Leo rested motionless together at the foot of a column, sharing a single bolt that shot through their hearts. The shield that Leo had held up was decorated with a dozen bolts, but it was too late for the other ones that got through.
Olyvar’s soul ached in agony, the clutch of his hand shaking as he clung onto the ladder. A small pile of feathered Lannister men had fallen from the western balcony and onto the courtyard. But he could not feel the victory in it … not now, nor not yet, perhaps never. The rest of his brothers Olyvar could not see from his ladder, but he spotted a few arrows still loosing up to the second floor behind cover, still fighting back. It is so few. Many more bolts were still shooting down from the top. Crossbowmen hid as they reloaded, popping up to release before ducking again.
He spotted Ser Brynden Tully the Blackfish crawling towards him, needled like a red porcupine blowfish. “Olyvar!” He hooted bluntly. “Why are you still here?” Olyvar’s heart quenched at the sight of the blood of Riverrun; his pink life flowing in a thin river and draining out towards his ladder. The water-downed blood reached Olyvar’s fingers. He wanted to help but did not know how, nor know the words. He offered his hand and Ser Tully held it. “Did she make it out to sea?”
“Yes Ser, she should be safe,” Olyvar prayed.
“So, do we have a prince or a princess? Or one of each? Heh!”
“Do not get greedy Ser,” Olyvar jested. “We have a she-wolf.”
The Blackfish smiled a hard smile with blood filling his mouth. “Good, they should be safer this way. And I hope she takes after her fierce grandmother.”
“Which one? Lady Catelyn Tully?”
“Of course heh. That would be a great granddaughter name for our storm-born she-pup … Catelyn,” the Blackfish joked.
Olyvar smiled while Ser Tully reciprocated a red one. “I like the name Adara.”
“Adara? That sounds like a wonderful name. Where did that come from?” Ser Tully asked, tearing and bleeding.
“It was Captain Samullu’s mother’s name.”
“Aye, that is a terrific name. Princess Adara Stark. Tell that to our Queen Jeyne that I concur to the name choice, pass that final message of mine. Now fly along Ser Olyvar, escape here, reunite with your Queen and protect your family. There is nothing left to do here but die, so fly! Let the divine swift winds of winter push Adara to safety. You have King Robb’s spirit within you. The babe does not have a father nor Grey Wind, so you must keep her safe.”
“We are all her fathers,” Olyvar declared.
The Blackfish grinned, knowing Olyvar probably out teased him in his final moments. “No … a band of fathers brothers? That would make us a band of uncles.” He chuckled bloodily.
Olyvar laughed and teared a drop. “That was a very clever. Just don’t tell Lady Mormont.”
“Don’t worry fellow Uncle, I won’t.”
“It has been an honor fighting by your side, Ser Uncle Brynden Tully, the great Blackfish.”
“It has been an honor living by yours, Ser Uncle Plumber Knight,” the legend replied.
He watched the knight’s life wash away, his last breath tasting the rains of Casterly Rock. The legendary Ser Brynden’s last words were for me. Wells flooded in Olyvar’s eyes, beginning to blind. He lets go of his hand.
He takes a few steps down the ladder, and then suddenly stops. What honor is this? Leaving my brothers and my commander like this? Am I a little cowardly rat of a ratty family, hiding in a tunnel? Or am I a brave knight?
The thunder and rain continued, but the arrows have stopped. Nothing but silence, only stares if Olyvar had to guess. His brothers were all dead. I need to get up. One step up and he suddenly stopped again. No, I need to escape and protect my Queen, does that make me a coward?
He checked his pocket and made sure his letter to his father sat below his heart. It was still there. Olyvar’s grip on the rung was firm and quivering.
To flee or not to flee? That is the riddle.
“Soldiers! To the lower floor! Grab their bows and quivers. Get down that ladder, find a boat, chase Queen Stark and kill them! Kill them all!” Edwyn Frey’s voice ordered.
Well, that made answering the riddle a lot easier.
Ser Olyvar Frey ascended from the pit of his ladder, his arms pulling, legs pushing, up and up into the chaos. The thunderstorm loomed above as his soul was escaping into the hole that was gaping wider with every step. He was ready.
At the ground level, he stood up. Cold rain and warm tears danced down his face, his cloak whipping in the air to the winds, his heart and fists began to fill with fiery rage. From up here, he can see the full horror of the slaughter. Brothers with bolts. Was this the same scene of my King’s death? Before he could ponder any further, he unsheathed Honor from his back, the sword was singing off its scabbard just as a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky … its twin mirrored off the steel’s reflection, the blade alive with blinding light for an instant.
Ser Olyvar counted the ill-fitted armored and shield-less men as they came pouring out from the kitchen doors at his level. Two, three, four, five, six … seven. Thin white stripes splits the sky. His heart was thumping and rumbling to the same beat of the thunderstorm that was mumbling in every distance.
I’m going to fight them all, no soldier in any Seven Kingdom army can hold me back!
The distance between the first unarmed man closed. His shocked face eyed Ser Olyvar’s new twin tower sigil on his cloak. Confused, he began to slow down, but Olyvar sped up. He greeted him with a deep slash, ripping him off as the skies flashed again. He darted forward to the next man, allowing the first one to take his time dying behind his back.
The second reached for his sword but was too slow to the draw. Honor found the front of the pink man’s chest and the rear of his back. For a heartbeat, the bloody front half of the exposed steel glowed damped red, while the clean side sparkled in purple. Olyvar pulled back his sword after a twist, and the soldier dropped to his knees to the boom of thunder.
The third drew his sword halfway before Olyvar swung at his head as his steel electrified, emitting blinding light to his eyes. He smelled Honor up close with his nose, as a gash ran from ear to ear while teeth and tongue exploded in the air. Olyvar paid him no more mind.
The fourth with panicked eyes was just a boy. He successfully drew his weapon from his belt and lifted above his head a short wooden stick. A flute? He stared up at his own wind pipe as his sword rested in his scabbard untouched. Between his legs, his breeches began to darken more with moisture, as the rest of his body was frozen like ice. A fLuke? It doesn’t matter. The Plumber Knight began to raise Honor high. The boy cried out, “Mother have mer—“.
“No,” Olyvar cuts him off, his voice was cold as stones. “I am not your mother.” Honor fell in a bright silvery-blue arc as the force of the blade severs the soldier’s right stick-bearing wrist, and splits the skull & brains underneath. Ser Olyvar Frey kicked off the mayhaps-fourth-corpse as its limp body slid from his red wet steel.
The fifth one was ready with his sword, as the sixth and seventh began pincering around Ser Olyvar with theirs. The rain began pouring heavily, cleansing the blood and brains off Honor, ready to shine again.
Olyvar’s wits returned from his blind rage, and began backing up calmly before they could surround him. The rear of his heel tapped a fallen shield that once belong to one of his brothers. Olyvar grabbed it instinctively and raised it up. “Come on you apes! Do you want to live forever? Come at me then!” No one came forward to answer the riddle, so Ser Olyvar went to them.
He charged at the one on his right as Honor slashed and flashed, but the soldier jolted backwards avoiding the swing. The shifty swordsman slipped on the surface with his hop and fell face-first into the mud. The other two took their chances when Olyvar swung and missed. He caught the cut of the left soldier on his shield, as the middle fighter aimed high. To the ground, the knight ducked under, saving his head. The middle slugger lost his balance at his empty decapitating slice, and a crouching Olyvar stroke savagely at his knees in a splash of red and bright purple. He fell face-first too, as the other soldier on his left began hacking at the wooden shield that Olly held up. Doonk! Doonk! Doonk! Before his challenger could swing a fifth time, Olyvar Frey on one knee whirled the apex of his shield viciously at the man’s wrist and sent the sword flying from his hand. Without hesitation, the Plumber Knight stabbed upwards from crotch to brains as the steel surprised the man with shock. Olyvar stares into the white of his eyes as they reflected a flash of lightning. The eyeballs then slowly rolled up into the back of his head. He unsheathed Honor downward from the dead man, as blood and shit fell like loose stool to the ground.
The other fighter with no knees rolled around to face up before he could drown in the mud. He was crying and screaming on the ground. “Nooooo!” But the Plumber Knight jumped on him without mercy. He tried to dart and evade, but forgot he had no knees to push from. Olyvar’s feet stomped the man’s stomach as he thunder-slammed the edge of his shield to kiss his opponent’s mouth, silencing him forever.
The first armed man that dodged his death finally got up from his struggles with the slippery ground, only to meet at it again. Soaking in mud, he began to bull-rush Olyvar, trying to stab or slash an opening with his sword. Olyvar dashed towards him in squishing strides, and took his charging strike at his Brother’s shield as he stepped aside. The former squire of Robb Stark, Olly, instantly planted his foot and twirled. His Queen’s wet cloak spun and smacked his opponent’s head. Suddenly the Plumber Knight had the enemy’s rear and naked. He lifted his King’s sword up, pointing down with both his hands on the grip. Ser Olyvar and thunder roared together as Honor brightly stabbed from above into the mudman’s back with the flash and fury of the gods. “AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
He lifted his sword back up as the seventh corpse fell to the ground, face-first again. Suddenly a mosquito buzzed from behind his ear and a short wooden stick skidded off the flat stone-path in front of him. He then felt a bite in his back, lost a breath and saw another wooden rod. But this one was lodged in his right breast. Red blood slowly began to seep from his black scaled boiled-leather armor as he grunted in pain. He reached for the stick trying to push it backwards from where it came from. Quickly he felt the pain again as he saw another bolt stab the front of his stomach while his Brother’s shield slid off from this left forearm. The third one struck the side of his left thigh, sending Ser Olyvar to the ground on one knee. He braced on his King’s sword to keep him from falling flat.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Ser Forley Prester ordered.
Cold rain danced on his face with the warm tears he tried to hide, his cape was flapping in the wind, and his heart was thumping quicker in unison to the beat & the flash of the storm. Ser Olyvar Frey, you honorable fool, why did you rush in? You can’t help yourself falling in love with bloody vengeance for your fallen brothers and King? For an instant, lightning popped again above the Rock and thunder rolled. You should have taken your time killing them as they descended down your pit, instead of you going up the ladder to their chaos. Frey blood, -no … blood of Roses By another name welled from the bolts that had punched him. He had known nothing half gallant and half stupid at the same time for what he just did. Or at least you could have flown away, such a fool! You should of just beat it. No one wanted to be defeated like this. Why did you have to show off how funky strong your fighting skills were? At this point, it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or who’s right … you should of just beat it!
Ser Forley Prester spoke from his balcony above. “You must be the Plumber Knight that the Blackfish talked about, judging by the sigil on your cape. A traitor to your own family. But for the honor of your lord grandfather, let us pass and I will let the maester do his job to save you. Or would it please you Ser, if you wanted some more bolts?”
More? Olyvar twisted his mouth in defying silence, his gruesome wounds spitting out blood. He had a job that he promised to do. He must rescue his pregnant Queen. Little did he know, he had to rescue a princess from this castle too. We all died for Robb’s little girl, there was no more to ask of them. Did these uncles succeed for her safety? He turned around to the west to see as far as his eyes could see into the sun setting sea. Her boat was far enough from any archers, and soon it would be too dark for a chase. The thought brought him joy. Thank the gods for this swift divine wind. We did our duty.
Impatient for a reply, the shit knight said, “I will not ask again. Knight to knight. Let us pass. We need to take back the Queen and her unborn son. I will bring them no harm, you have my word. Drop your sword, bend the knee like you mean it, let us pass … and I will tell Lord Walder Frey what an honorable warrior and a great grandson you are.”
That offer was a lie, a conjurer’s cheap trick. They would just humiliate and shame him before executing him for treason. That was not the song he wanted, not for his despicable old father. Olyvar would rather die sword in hand to the tune of another. He wanted Alesander’s song about the Motherfunker, Ser Brynden “Blackfish” Tully, his real brothers and the band of uncles. And he had one last shot, one last opportunity, to seize everything he ever wanted here. In this one moment, can I still capture it? Or will I let it slip? His palms were bloody, knees weak, arms were heavy … but the Queen and Princess are safe. Mother’s mercy. He was nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready to drop bombs. But he had forgotten what he wrote down in his father’s letter, as the crowds above goes so loud. He opens his mouth but the words won’t come out. He is choking. How? Everyone was joking now.
“Your luck has run out. The time’s up, it is over SER Olyvar. Bow.”
No. I refuse to BOW Ser. And I cannot die yet. There is something I still need to do. Both hands on hilt and pommel, he pushes himself up with Honor, surrounded by the doom above. He can feel his life leaving him. The skies blurred between light and dark, white and grey, with the black slowly creeping in.
“It’s a girl,” Uncle Olyvar said gently as he thought about his princess niece. The Plumber Knight then roared a roar that would put any craven into tears. “AND NO! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Honor rose and fell, the pointy end of his King’s sword squishing the blood soaked mud and crunching the rocks underneath.
KABOOOOOOOMMMM!!!
Instantly, lightning and thunder erupted above them at the loudest exploding caliber of the evenfall, blinding the sights of men and gods alike.
Uhoooooooooo! boom doom boom doom boom doom
Suddenly drums were beating, and trumpets were blasting from the east. Lord Gawen Westerling’s diversion! But they’ve come too late to rescue Olyvar and his brothers. The enemy did not divert to their last jape yet … their silent scared eyes still on the dying Plumber Knight. They began to reload their crossbows. This is my moment. The things I do for love, but I’m sorry Jeyne, I can’t do that. I can no longer keep my promise. Robb was waiting and I can finally rest again. We three will meet again together some day, but not today, he thought.
The band of drums, trumpets and thunderstorm blended into a sweet sad song that Olyvar wanted. This music is for me, and I will lose myself in it.
Charging up his final energy into his wounded lungs, he began to scream again.
“OUR QUEEN— ” A howl of blood cuts him off from finishing what he meant to say … our Family is safe.
“OUR KING—” A pool of iron filled and choked him before he could declare … we have done our Duty.
Still standing, he dips his chin low to empty his mouth, coughing out his mother’s Rosby blood. He needs to say his final words loud and clear. After the last spoon of blood poured down, he snapped his chin up towards the heavens and reality … ready for the gravity. With all the weight of his life, he pressed his King’s sword deeper into the Rock as the Plumber Knight thundered a roar, “OUR HONORRRRR!!!”
From below, Ser Olyvar of the disgraced House Frey faced off to the sad conflicted look of Ser Forley Prester with his garrison of archers beside him. The darkest gloom of the grey stormclouds had arrived and hovered above them, wet and heavy. The gods want their vengeance for the Red Wedding, he thought. The skies of Casterly Rock began to blacken with the rain of bolts and arrows. The only thing that could be seen is the single golden teardrop of the shit knight, reflected by the last light of the setting western sun.
BOOM!
Thank you everyone for reading! Thank you George for helping me with your clue!

[Part 2]
The twenty men, Lady Maege, and Ser Rolph continued up the paths in the lightless caves of Casterly Rock, huffing and puffing, but still silent as much as they could hold. One loud word at the wrong place at the wrong time may be their doom. In single file, the group followed Ser Spicer’s point with one lit torch. The stench was terrible and the dampness made it worse. Guarding the rear, Olyvar’s eyes were clouded in darkness at times where the torchlight was too far ahead to shine back. He relied on Ser Goose in front of him to lead the way, as Goose relied on Leo for the same.
Suddenly a whisper could be heard from the darkness at the front of the line. “Duck.” Then another slightly louder, “Duck” … and then another, and then another … each “Duck” a little louder than before. Is there a duck here in the sewers? Olyvar thought.
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
Finally Leo turned around and told Goose, “Hello … Duck.”
Goose replied with pride, “I am no Duck!” Instantly as the tall knight crept forward, he thumped his head on an unlit rusty beam that was lowered onto their path. He fell backwards into a puddle of wet cold stool, ass first, toes off the ground, and staining his breeches. “Awww shit!”
Ser Olyvar helped the soiled knight up as his squire, Leo, told everyone in front what happened. They all forgot their stealth, and began to laugh.
“Come on Goose, you are slowing us down!” someone said.
“Ducks can move faster than you, Goose! You have to catch up and chase after us now!” a voice that sounded like Scrooge, said.
“You have to be more nimble and more quick Goose!” another one japed.
“All over my life, I have travelled land and sea. From my experiences, I learned that I would rather be more lucky!” the unclean bandit knight replied with the truth. “Or get lucky! Heh!” the daffy Goose added cheerfully.
“But you are no duck, right Goose?” Ser Raynard’s voice called.
They continued to laugh and began moving forward again. Ser Barnabus the stinking Goose with his honor stained, stood up and pointed his chin high. “Aye my lords, this bird you cannot change!” He shook his tailfeather, took himself low, and was ready to go.
As the thunderstorm clouds outside shifted, a pale grey blade of light emerged from a crack in the walls and shone the brown spot where Goose had fallen. It illuminated a tiny golden speck. Looking back and curious, Goose placed both hands through the muck, underneath the lumpy object and pulled. He lifted up a slimy brown sphere, the size of an orange, and rubbed off the slush. Goose held the carved rock to the thin line of the dying light and widened his large eyes.
Gold, unmistakable. “Goose, did you just lay a golden egg?” Olyvar japing quietly.
“I guess I did!” Goose whispered in glee. Ser Barnabus began singing to it softly. “I know that you don’t know it, but you’re a find so fine! And I’m going to show you that now you’re a mined of mine! My treasure, that is what you are! My precious, you’re my golden star! Hehehe!” He hugged it. Goose looked back to Olyvar. “Don’t tell the Black Sparrow!” He continued to giggle, despite scarring his face at the forehead. “Leo, come over here! Say hello to my little friend!”
His young squire came back, ducked under and asked. “Say hello to who? The Black Sparrow? He isn’t very little in person.”
“No you stupid sweet boy, definitely avoid the Black Sparrow! That captain is not my friend, my friend. We have to fool that fool.” He showed an astonished Leo the little golden egg before he hid it again from sight. They continued up the path towards their objective with Ser Goose the tall hedge knight finally ducking under, his pants stained in brown.
Olyvar had lost count of how far they ascended as they reached one of Ser Rolph Spicer’s checkpoints. They rested there for a few moments where the paths forked into several other directions. He then instructed Ser Olyvar Frey, Lady Mormont and Leo to wait here until the rest returned. In the meanwhile, they were to familiarize themselves with the area in case they needed a detour.
Not long after the group left them, Olyvar heard another man speaking through the rocky walls. Maege followed the voice through one of the forks, and found a hole that appeared to spy into a cell of the castle’s dungeons. She peeked through and spoke in disgust “Gods! What the hell! No!” She left the area and began looking for an entrance into the dungeons from the hidden hallways. Olyvar peeped through the hole and saw what seems to be an old maester in robes, with many rings around his neck. Inside, he harbored a boy and a girl who appeared to be twins, no older than ten. The boy had his shirt off, while the maester sniffed the girl’s hair and had a hand cupped at her clothed chest.
What in Seven Hells? Olyvar thought.
The elderly maester spoke to them, as they trembled like leaves. “Thank you children for helping me. I am Maester Valarik, this is very very important research for, um, the Citadel. Now let’s begin.”
Suddenly out of nowhere, Lady Maege Mormont burst open the dungeon door. “Let’s not!”
The shocked maester jolted to his feet, confused. “Are you their mother?”
“A MOTHER!” the She-Bear claimed in her crony crackling voice as she walked up to Valarik. Here she stood as Lady Mormont kicked the maester in between the legs, his screams alive with pain. His eyes began to tear as he fell backwards to the ground. Lady Mormont dropped down to him and drew her dagger. “Shut your mouth or I’ll make an eunuch out of you!” The maester still in agony replied with a silent nod. She lied to the twins, saying she was a washerwoman employed to the castle. “What the maester did was wrong and I will have the castellan punish him.” She urged the siblings to go home, but not tell anyone what had happened until they were outside of Casterly Rock. After they left, Maege in her barbaric tone told the maester, “You dusty fuck! Get in there!” as she led him into the hidden hallways behind the dungeon.
Ser Olyvar greeted the hostage, “Not another word Maester Valarik. She may geld you but I will shove my dagger up your arse.”
They continued to wait at the checkpoint, anxious for the Blackfish’s return with Queen Jeyne and Lord Edmure. Leo brushed back a lock of his ash-blond hair that fell down across one eye. Lady Mormont continued to stare at Valarik’s crotch while holding her naked dagger, twirling it at the pointy end for boredom. The silent maester was well aware, and would not return his eyes to meet hers.
Suddenly they heard a woman’s moan echoing in the distance. Torchlight illuminated the foot of the pathway and brightening the walls with each passing moment. Escorted by Goose, a thin girl with a mop of chestnut hair emerged. She was pretty like the daisy sewn on her gown that was covering a flat chest. “Eleyna!” Olyvar was animated. They hugged as he asked, “So what happened to your breasts?”
“I ate them.” She said in her high cheery voice. She stuck her small chest out, chin in the air, fists at the end of her narrow hips and twerked it for two beats. “How you like them apples?”
Olyvar smiled at the inside joke.
The Useless Goose then grabbed Leo and tapped Eleyna’s shoulders from behind. “Hi, have you met Leo?” Barnabus vanished in an instant.
She turned around and introduced herself. “Hello Leo, I’m Eleyna, the Queen’s sister.”
Leo was star-struck. “Are you a princess?”
“I guess I am a princess,” she said sarcastically. “Are you here to rescue me?”
Leo nodded up and down, trying to contain his excitement.
“Leo O’ Leo … my hero!” She kissed him on the cheeks, and Leo’s face began to blush, red as apples.
His brothers Raff, Donal, and Mikkal had emerged from the rocky opening just in time to watch. They wrapped their arms around one another, and nodded proudly at their youngest brother.
The others soon followed, pouring out of the tunnel entrance. Olyvar greeted his brother-in-law Lord Edmure Tully. “My sister is waiting for you back at the ship, with my future nephew or niece. Be a good father to your child.”
“And you be a good uncle. It is a honor to have you at our side, Ser Olyvar,” Lord Edmure replied respectfully.
Lady Sybell Spicer came down with her brother Ser Rolph, clutching a moaning Queen Jeyne Stark on both sides. She was garbed in simple loose fitted robes, pretending to serve as Eleyna’s plumped handmaiden. Olyvar was ecstatic. Jeyne’s mother then announced, “She is in labor!”
“What?!” As Olyvar and Maege said in unison. “Now!?”
Olyvar ran to Jeyne, straight to his sister’s arms and she kissed him on the forehead. “I kept my promise,” Olyvar told her.
Jeyne was feverish, sweating and mumbling words. “You did, I knew you were somewhere beyond the sea. I was here waiting for all of you, to sneak onto golden sand and rock. I was watching all the ships sailing by, not knowing which one will be my daring escape.” She looked towards her other brother Raynald. “I just knew my Ray lied somewhere over the ocean, and my Olly lied somewhere over the sea … both my brothers fighting to come back to me. Up in this castle mountain where it meets the heavens above, out where lightning splits the sea, I could still feel you two watching me. Through the wind, the chilly sea, and the rain … and now the storm and the flood. I felt your approach like the fires in your blood! I need … I need …”
“We need to go!” Ser Olyvar finished for her.
As the others began going into the next tunnel, the Queen in the North shook all the right-hands of the strangers that came to rescue her, while each man placed a left-palm on her round belly for a soft instant. With Jory, Jess, Ser Spicer, Ser Brynden and her brother Ser Raynard, she gave a hug each. She then trailed all of them with Olyvar and Raynard holding her weight. They descended down the path they came from, back to the LionsJape, WinterStorm and BattleWolf. Queen Jeyne Stark continued to scream. Oh, bloody shit. This will be the death of us. The descent will be much faster, but it was still a long way to go. With the Queen moaning in labor, they decided to light two more torch lights. Being heard here is just as unfortunate as being seen. But the darkness in front of him still faded in and out, confusing Olyvar’s eyes in blur. For a moment, the knight fantasized about golden dragons down here in the empty gold mines and sewers of Casterly Rock, to illuminate the rest of the route with flames … expediting the rescue.
Where in the hell is Lord Gawen Westerling? His trumpets and drums? It would at least muffle out Jeyne’s cry. At any moment, they could be heard … and then they could be trapped.
Then the Blackfish noticed Maester Valarik was in their party. “Who in the Seven Hells are you?”
Lady Maege told Ser Brynden and allowed the quivering maester to speak. “I am the maester of Casterly Rock. I don’t know what is going on here. Pl- … please let me go, I won’t say a word. I … I am innocent, I was just treating the children for an illness.”
“You said it was for research,” Maege interrupted.
“Um … bb … both,” the maester lied.
“In a dungeon? No tools nor vials?” Maege questioned rhetorically.
The maester had no answer for that. He looked back to the Blackfish. “Ser, you must understand-“
The Blackfish cuts him off. “Must I? I heard enough of your sorcery, Maester. Shut your mouth or I’ll throw you out of a window.”
The group was nearing the sea’s level, until they encountered the original path that dipped up and down. It was filled with flooded water from the storm surges. Ser Brynden Tully cursed at the sea trap. Olyvar knows the Blackfish could swim under it like he did at the moat of Riverrun, but not the others. They began to retreat and regroup.
Ser Rolph approached Ser Brynden, not shaken nor stirred, and offered a detour. “Follow me, this way leads to the kitchen of that courtyard at the base of the cliffs. At that courtyard, there is a large sewer drain that would lead us back to the paths of the rowboats. It is risky, we may be spotted.”
“We may be sitting ducks,” Goose added to the complaint.
“We have no choice,” said the Blackfish.
They followed Ser Rolph, with his niece still moaning.
They reached the hidden entrance to the kitchen and began to secure the area with weapons & shields drawn. It was empty. No gatherings or weddings were to be held outdoor this evenfall, especially with the thunderstorm. Olyvar peeked outside. Overcast clouds threw down rain-water onto dirt and stone, as the setting sun was half bathe into the ocean’s clear golden horizon. The courtyard by the sea was no bigger than the feast hall at the Twins. Stone pathways met at the middle, leading into a circular floor-drain that was exposed at the center of the yard. Twenty feet high granite pillars the size of tree trunks supported the open rectangular balcony above the ground level, overlooking the ocean. The kitchen doors were connected to the bottom level, but Olyvar was unsure what would lurk above them on the second floor balconies, with its four feet high parapet and six feet of platform width. Lightning flashed the columns bright white as the wet grass turned into mud.
Ser Brynden paced around the kitchen for a moment, trying to hide his shaking hands. He assessed the situation and regrouped the band of brothers. “Bows and arrows,” he commanded … and they obeyed. “Each men take cover behind a pillar. Sprint to it and establish a defensive stance with an arrow nocked to the string of your bow. Keep your eyes open. Rico will run to the middle alone, pull out the drain cover and retreat back. Alesander! Ray! Run to the opened drain and descend down the ladder. Once it is clear, let us know. We’ll bring Jeyne down first, followed by her sister and mother, and then Edmure.”
“Brothers!” as they assemble behind the closed double doors in single line. “Nock!”
From a window, Maester Valarik spied over to the drain, and then tried to block the traffic at the kitchen exit. “This is absurd! I have friends in court and I can vouch for you! Give yourselves up! This is madness, this is ludicrous!”
The She-Bear grabbed him. “Move maester, get out of the way!” She threw him to the corner by the pantry. Lady Mormont drew her dagger, gleaming silvery-blue for an instant as a crack of thunder boomed through the window. She pressed the flat of her blade onto his crotch and the terrified maester began to piss himself. Lady Maege disgusted, leaned back and threatened, “We have not killed anyone yet. You stay here like a good quiet dog and oblige, or this bear lady will rock your head away with a club when she comes back!”
Ser Brynden opened the double doors as Ben and Benjen held it. The Blackfish ran out first, around the perimeter to the furthest side of the terrace, forty yards away with bow & arrow in hand. The other men followed and fell into their positions, squishing their footsteps on the mud and stone.
Rico, Phyl, and Sam the Shredder followed the Blackfish to the southern side and took cover behind a column each. Scrooge, Donal, Raff, Mikkal and Leo sprinted for the eastern pillars as June, Jory, Jess, Fess and Lord Galbart Glover took the west. Ben and Benjen left their kitchen doors to joined Ser Goose and Ser Rolph Spicer at the closest posts of the north.
Queen Jeyne, Lady Maege, Lady Eleyna, Lady Sybell, and Lord Edmure stayed inside the kitchen with Ser Olyvar … as Ser Raynard and Alesander were ready to their task.
Rico unarmed, darted from his column towards the center of the courtyard and tore open the drain cover with ease. He flung it over the mountainous wall and into the sea as he headed back to his pillar, re-arming himself with the bow.
Alesander Frey and Ser Raynald Westerling, dashed towards the open drain and attempted to descend. Their shields, quivers and bows were caught at the circular entrance, so they discarded them at the base before going below. After Ser Raynald gave the clearance, Olyvar and Maege discarded their weapons and escorted Jeyne slowly and gently towards their escape, their clothes soaking in the rain. Olyvar kept Honor slung center at his back. Raynald offered himself as Jeyne sat on her older brother’s shoulders as they descended down the twenty foot ladder. Olyvar was doing everything he could to keep Jeyne stable from above as rain-water trickled down the drain.
When they reached the bottom, Olyvar noticed a weirwood tree staring right at him. A godswood? Here? The cavern was surrounded by roots and several rocky openings as well. He paid it no more mind and walked Jeyne towards a sewer entrance where Alesander was waiting for them. “The rowboats are not far! I see them, just a few more paces from here. I’ll keep a lookout on that exit.” He scouted ahead again.
Jeyne could not advance any further and fell lightly to the ground. “I can’t move anymore.”
Lady Maege came down the ladder and positioned herself between Jeyne’s legs. “Push your Grace! Push! Push!”
The rumbling of the thunderstorm was getting much louder.
Leo surprisingly came down with Eleyna and told Olyvar, “I think I hear a few soldiers moving on the second floor balcony. The parapets won’t allow us to see what’s hidden behind it.”
No not now. “It could be just the thunderstorm,” Olyvar hoped.
Lady Sybell and Lord Edmure Tully soon followed down the ladder. “I believe there are Lannister soldiers getting into positions above us. They must be waiting for more of their reinforcement to arrive,” Edmure sounded sure.
Olyvar cursed.
The Blackfish came down next. “We need to leave now. The storm surges will steal our rowboats as well.”
Jeyne was still moaning. Maege was still instructing, “Push! Push! Push!”
Olyvar began panicking in this awful shit-storm of a mess. “We need to go now! The soldiers are coming! The thunderstorm is coming!”
“WINTER IS COMING BETWEEN HER GRACES LEGS!” Maege screamed back.
Olyvar could not help but to chuckled for a beat before being serious again. “Bloody shit. Winter needs to be going!”
“Look son, I’m not your mother. You go figure it out yourself,” Lady Maege protested.
Olyvar felt like a fool below the Rock, looking back at all the wrong paths that got him lost here. If I just lied to my father of my intentions, and informed his Grace not to come to the Twins, we would not be here now at some shit sewer in the Westerlands. Jeyne would be crying in childbirth at Winterfell after Robb had retaken it from the Ironborn. King, Queen and babe Stark would be safe and sound. And me … I would be their Kingsguard knight … Ser Olyvar Frey … the Kingsavior.
“Ray, go find Alesander and summon him to return here to help. He is not far.”
Olyvar looked toward his Queen as Maege Mormont continued working in between Jeyne’s thighs, awaiting for the wolf-pup that their world was here for. Let us pray it is only one babe. A pair of twins would surely mean the doom of them. There was nothing Olyvar realistically wanted more now than Lord Gawen’s trumpets, and his young son Rollam’s drum rolls. Where is our diversion to get the Lannister soldiers to march away from us?
Goose tried to come down the ladder next, but the big man was stuck on top even with his weapons and shield forfeited. His golden egg had bulged out from his pocket, stopping him from entering the small circular drain. He was trying to work it out of his clothes.
Olyvar kneeled down next to his Queen, trying to facilitate this shit storm anyway he could. He went to feel for the letter he wrote to his father, but instead found the colorful bright feather that Captain Samullu gave to him earlier. He offered it to Queen Stark for some comfort.
“A gift? It is so beautiful Olyvar,” she said in discomfort. “I have a gift for you as well.” She summoned her mother and removed a thin cloak from her purse. Queen Jeyne Stark took it and unveiled it to Olyvar. It was the castle of the Twins, colored in grey, seated on a field red hot as a chilled blue stream flowed under the bridge. Olyvar motioned to give her his back, and she attached the cloak onto him. “I knitted it myself.”
“It is gorgeous my Queen. What does it mean? The water under the bridge?”
“It means forgiveness here, so you can move on. Now promise me Olyvar, don’t leave us again. Protect us. Protect your King’s child. We must never separate again.”
Ser Olyvar Frey gave the Queen his word.
Goose had finally removed the golden rock from his hidden pocket, and held it with his hand. At the moment useless, the knight threw down the golden egg to Leo, as it flashed bright from the lightning above. The knight started down and down the ladder.
Suddenly a voice roared from above. “This is Ser Forley Prester! Drop your weapons! Drop them!”
Ser Barnabus started to curse as he stood on the ladder halfway. He took a deep breath in disappointment. “Come on Leo, we have work to do.” He ascended.
Leo gave the golden egg to a shocked Lady Mormont and took a step towards the ladder, but he then turned around to Eleyna. He kissed her on the lips. The princess fought back and held Leo’s blond head with both her hands, forcing more of herself onto him. Their tongues danced a secret hidden inside their mouths, taking each other’s breath away over and over again. Olyvar did not think they would ever let go, until Eleyna did, shedding a tear. Leo turned back to the ladder. Ice in his veins and without another word, he began to climb.
Ser Brynden shared a look with Ser Olyvar. “I’m not kissing you!” He began walking towards the ladder as well, with Lord Edmure Tully trailing. He shoved his nephew aside. “Your lady wife is waiting for you on that ship with your child! Protect them! Keep the Tully name alive! Fly away now! That is an order! Take Queen Jeyne Stark to the ship and protect her family too!” The Blackfish conjured a duty that Edmure could not decline. He gave his uncle a sad agreeing nod. While climbing up, the Blackfish then looked at Olyvar. “Ser Frey, guard this ladder!”
Though not giving any direct orders to the Seashell Knight, Ser Raynald Westerling kissed his sisters and mother. They begged him not to go, but Ray flew to the top as well.
Ser Olyvar got up and began to follow, but the crying Queen tugged his cloak. “Olyvar, you promised me.”
“Goodbye Jeyne. I have to do my duty.”
“Just hang on a minute. Listen and promise me Ser Frey. Don’t be a fool. If you are in trouble, don’t try to be brave, just fly, fly away. Find me.”
Olyvar Frey got to his knees again and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Jeyne, my Queen … I’ll be back. I promise.”
“We need to move her to the rowboats,” Alesander Frey suggested. Olyvar hugged his brother, and ordered him to carry Jeyne’s weight to the exit with Lord Edmure’s help. Sybell and Eleyna Westerling held up Jeyne’s thighs as Lady Mormont spearheaded the path with her torchlight in one hand and the golden egg curled on the other.
“You better be right behind us,” Maege commanded.
“I will,” Olyvar hoped.
The new knight approached the base of the wet ladder and began to climb. He reached halfway and stopped to listen above. The thunderstorm roared its fury, and the Blackfish was already speaking.
[Part 4]