The world came back to Arthur in fragments.
There was the rattle of a wooden stretcher being carried over cobblestones, voices kept fading in and out and rearranging themselves in ways that did not make sense, so he stopped trying to follow them and concentrated instead on the simpler problem of staying conscious between one bounce of the stretcher and the next.
He surfaced for a moment and found Duncan walking alongside him with one hand gripping the wooden rail of the stretcher hard enough to whiten his knuckles, the prince's face streaked with soot and what looked like dried blood at the corner of his mouth.
"Stay with me, Arthur," the prince said. "We are almost at the keep, my friend. We are almost there, you just have to keep your eyes open for me a little longer, do you hear me, just a little longer."
Arthur tried to answer but the words wouldn't escape his throat and he had to settle for closing his eyes again instead.
The next time he woke up Llewyn was on his other side, the Dornish prince half-running to keep pace with the bearers. Llewyn was talking too, but Arthur caught only fragments of what he was saying before the world dimmed again.
"...told the maester to prepare the chamber, he should be ready by the time we get..."
"...never seen anyone climb a creature like that, he just jumped, gods, Duncan, you should have..."
"...the cavalry came up the southern road just in time, the second wave broke before they could..."
A notification flickered across the inside of Arthur's vision though he struggled to focus on it.
────────────────────
[QUEST COMPLETED]
────────────────────
ATTACK ON KING'S LANDING
────────────────────
Objectives:
✓ Join the defenders
✓ Defeat the enemy force
Optional Objectives:
✗ Slay the enemy commander
────────────────────
Rewards:
• 2,500 XP
• Skill Upgrade Token
────────────────────
The optional objective had been failed but Arthur could not have made himself care less about any of that if he had tried. There was only one thing currently on his mind.
Cassie.
The thought jolted through him hard enough to drag him most of the way back to consciousness. Cassie was giving birth. Cassie had been in the holdfast when her water broke, and he promised her that he would come back.
He shouldn't be going to the damn maester. He was supposed to be with his wife.
Arthur tried to sit up.
The pain that exploded through his chest at the first attempt to bend his torso forward was so severe that the haze surged up over his vision very nearly took him under entirely. He heard himself make a broken noise that was not quite a word, and felt the stretcher jerk to a halt beneath him as the bearers compensated for his sudden movement, he felt Duncan's hand press down on his shoulder to push him back down.
"Arthur. Arthur, no. Lie down. Lie down, my friend, you cannot move yet, you have to let us get you to the maester first."
"Cassie," Arthur rasped.
The word came out so cracked and so quiet that he was not certain Duncan had heard it at all, but Llewyn must have caught it from the other side because the Dornish prince's face appeared above him with a frown of confusion that smoothed out into understanding a heartbeat later. "He is asking about his wife," Llewyn said. "The pregnant one. Was she not in the holdfast when you came down to the gatehouse?"
"She should be, all women and children in the keep were ordered to go there," Duncan confirmed. "Arthur, listen to me, your wives are both safe in Maegor's holdfast, I gave the order myself before I came to the wall, no one is going to get to them in there. You can go to them as soon as the maester has seen you."
"In labour."
The two princes exchanged a look across him.
"What did he say?"
"I do not know, I could not quite—"
"She was in labour," Arthur forced out, and the effort of producing those four words cost him so much that he had to close his eyes for a moment.
Duncan went very still beside the stretcher. "Cassandra is in labour. Right now?"
"Yes... I have to go to her."
Arthur put both hands against the wood of the stretcher and pushed. The pain was indescribable, a chord of pain that struck across half a dozen broken ribs, a torn shoulder, a thigh wound, a forearm wound and the deep rolling agony that pulsed behind his sternum every time he tried to draw a breath. He heard someone shout something, probably Duncan, and a hand pressed against his chest to push him back down, he caught the wrist of that hand with his own and held it, and somewhere under the pain and the cold creeping numbness in his fingers he found the very last reserve of strength his body still possessed and he poured it into his legs.
"Arthur, stop," Duncan was saying.
"My friend, please, you are going to do yourself more harm—"
"I have to go to her."
"Arthur—"
"I have to go to her!!!" His voice cracked on the last word, but he was upright now, he was sitting up on the stretcher. He then swung his legs over the edge of the wood and planted his feet on the floor and stood up
He swayed.
Duncan caught him under the right arm.
Llewyn caught him under the left.
Neither of the two princes said anything for a second. They simply looked at one another over Arthur's shoulders, and then they looked at Arthur.
Duncan let out a long breath. "Stubborn bloody fool," Duncan muttered. "Fine. Fine. We are taking you to her. But the moment we have laid eyes on her and confirmed she is well you are going to the maester even if I have to carry you there myself."
"Agreed," Arthur breathed.
"Llewyn, take his weight. Bearers, the stretcher comes with us in case he goes down again. You two, support me on the right side. We are going to the holdfast."
The little procession moved off down the corridor in an awkward shuffling formation, Arthur's arms draped across the shoulders of the two princes on either side of him and most of his weight bearing down on theirs. They did not complain about it and they did not slow their pace.
The drawbridge of Maegor's Holdfast came into view at the end of the long corridor.
The guards at the bridge took one look at the princes and the badly wounded knight slumped between them, they did not require any further explanation and immediately stepped aside.
Inside the holdfast the corridors were full of women.
Highborn ladies sat in small clusters along the benches that lined the walls, some of them weeping quietly into handkerchiefs, others holding the hands of frightened children, others simply staring at nothing with the blank glassy expressions of people who had not yet processed what they had spent the last several hours hearing through the stone. Servants moved among them with cups of wine and pieces of bread. Septas knelt in pairs in the alcoves and prayed.
A midwife emerged from a side corridor carrying a basin of red water, when she turned the corner and saw the three men limping toward her and very nearly dropped the basin entirely.
"Ser," she said, after a moment. Her eyes travelled up and down Arthur's shape, taking in the dented armour where it still hung loose around his torso and the dark spreading bloodstains beneath it and the alarming pallor of his face beneath the dirt. "Ser, you should not be here, I mean to say you cannot, that is—"
"My wife," Arthur said. "Cassie, where is she."
"She, ah, she is, she is in the chamber down the corridor on the left, the third door, but Ser, you should be with the maesters, you look as though—"
Arthur removed his arm from Duncan's shoulder, then from Llewyn's, though it took all of the focus he could still muster. The two princes did not argue this time. They simply released him gradually and stood close enough on either side that they could catch him again if he went down, and Arthur took two steps forward on his own feet to face the midwife properly.
"Tell me how she is."
The midwife seemed to recall her purpose and her shoulders straightened slightly. "Lady Cassandra is well, Ser. Tired and sore as is to be expected, but well, and the babe with her is healthy and breathing strong. They came through it together with no complications worth speaking of. Lady Mira is also well. Her labour took longer but she has come through it and she is resting now."
Arthur's mind, which had been operating on the thinnest possible margin for the last quarter of an hour, very nearly missed the second name entirely. He was already beginning to nod and to take a step toward the door before the words caught up with him.
"Mira."
"Yes, Ser."
"What about Mira."
The midwife blinked. "I just told you, Ser, she has come through it well, both mother and—"
"Through what."
"Her labour, Ser."
The corridor tilted sideways for a moment and Arthur reached out blindly and caught the edge of a small wooden table that had been set against the wall. Duncan's hand was at his elbow quickly with Llewyn on his other side, the two princes braced him while he tried to make sense of what the midwife had just told him.
"Mira. Was. Not. In labour," he said carefully, each word produced with enormous effort.
"She was, Ser, shortly after Lady Cassandra."
"The two of them were quite close in their pregnancies, and these things sometimes do happen together once one begins, particularly with women who are close to one another. Lady Mira's waters broke perhaps half an hour after Lady Cassandra's, and her labour came on quickly after that. We had two midwives in the chamber for most of the night because of it. There was, ah, no time to send word to anyone, given the circumstances of the city."
Arthur stared at her.
"And the children," he said.
"Healthy, Ser. All three of them."
"Three."
"Yes, Ser."
"There are three."
"Yes, Ser. Lady Mira delivered twins. A boy and a girl. Lady Cassandra delivered a boy. You are the father of three healthy children tonight, Ser, and both of your wives are alive and well, and that is about as much good fortune as a man could ask for from the Mother in a single evening, all things considered."
The corridor tilted again.
"Twins," Arthur said.
"Twins, Ser."
"Mira had twins."
"She did, Ser."
Duncan, beside him, let out a huff of breath that was almost a laugh and clapped him gently on the shoulder, careful of the broken ribs beneath. "Well, Arthur. It seems you have outdone yourself even by your own recent standards." The prince's voice had a warm note running through it that Arthur had not heard since well before the feast, a genuine pleased note, and when Arthur turned his head slightly Duncan was actually smiling. "Fighting a dragon just to come back to three children in one night. Even the gods will be talking about that one come morning. Come on, my friend, let us get you in there before you fall over."
Llewyn was grinning openly on the other side. "I do not even know what to say. I cannot imagine even having one child."
They guided him the last few paces along the corridor, and the door of the chamber opened ahead of them. Duncan and Llewyn slowed at the threshold and exchanged a quick look, and then both stepped back.
"We will wait here," the prince said quietly.
Arthur nodded and pushed himself off the supporting hands and walked the last few steps into the chamber on his own.
The room was warm and smelled faintly of blood as he looked ahead he could see two beds had been pushed close together in the centre of the room, near enough that the women lying in them could reach across the small gap between them and touch one another's hands if they wished to, and as Arthur stepped through the doorway both of those heads turned toward him in unison.
Mira was in the bed nearest the door.
Her hair was damp with sweat and clinging to her temple, her face was paler than he had ever seen it. A small bundle wrapped in soft white linen was held against her chest, and a second bundle, slightly larger, lay nestled in the crook of her other arm. Both of the bundles were perfectly still except for a slight shuffle.
Cassie was in the bed beside her.
She looked, if it was possible, even more exhausted than Mira. Her dark hair had been gathered at the nape of her neck in a loose braid that someone had tied for her, her cheeks were still flushed from the strain, and her eyes were red-rimmed from a great deal of cryingline. The bundle held against her own chest was smaller than either of Mira's, and Arthur could see a tuft of pale hair peeking out above the wrapping, Cassie's hand was cupped protectively over the back of the tiny head.
Both women saw him at the same moment.
Both of their faces went white.
"Arthur," Cassie breathed.
"Oh gods," Mira said, "Arthur, Arthur, no—"
Cassie was already trying to push herself upright in the bed, the colour draining from her face entirely as her eyes travelled over the numerous wounds over his body. Mira was making a panicked sound that she could not seem to stop, and the babies stirred against their mothers' chests at the disturbance and one of them began to whimper softly.
"No, no, no, shh." Arthur lifted his right hand and crossed the small distance to the bed. "Shh. Both of you. I am here. I am all right. I am all right, my loves, listen to me, I am here, do not get up, Cassie, please do not get up, I am all right."
He sank down to one knee in the small space between the two beds. Mira's free hand had come down from where it had been hovering uncertainly and was now resting on his face, and Cassie's was gripping his other cheek, both women were staring at him with tears running freely down their faces.
"I am here," he said again. "I came back. I told you I would come back."
"You are bleeding," Cassie whispered.
"I know, my love."
"Arthur, your chest, what did they do to your chest—"
"It looks much worse than it is. The maester is waiting for me. I just had to see you both first."
Mira was crying without quite seeming to realise she was doing it. She kept lifting her free hand to wipe at her cheeks and then setting it back down to brace the larger of her two bundles. "You promised me you wouldn't get hurt... look at you... you're—"
"I am here, Mira. I am here."
Arthur rubbed his hand to her cheek. Mira closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm and let out a long shuddering breath, her tears ran down across his fingers and into his sleeve.
"You did so well," he murmured to her. "Both of you."
He turned his head to Cassie next. Her eyes were enormous in the candlelight and her lower lip was trembling, and he reached across with his other hand and stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his knuckles, careful not to jar the bundle she was holding.
"Mira, Cassie. You are the bravest women I have ever known. Do you hear me? The bravest. I am so sorry I was not here. I am so sorry I left you. I will never leave you like that again, my love, never, not for any reason. I love you. I love both of you. More than I have ever known how to say."
Cassie's eyes spilled over and she nodded hard but couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Only then did Arthur let himself look at the children.
Cassie's son lay against her breast. He was small, smaller than Arthur had been expecting, his tiny face was pink and soft and slightly squashed. His eyes were closed, but the wisps of hair on the top of his head were a pale silvery-gold that caught the firelight. As Arthur leaned closer the boy stirred and his eyelids fluttered and opened just enough to reveal a flash of green beneath them, the same deep clear green that Cassie carried, before they slid closed again and the tiny face nuzzled back against its mother's warmth.
Silver hair. Cassie's green eyes. He was surprised by the silver hair but only for a moment. He had strengthened his Valyrian blood through the system, and Cassie carried Targaryen blood through her father, the combination had clearly come through more strongly than he expected. The boy looked, for all practical purposes, like a Targaryen babe.... Duncan was going to weep when he saw him.
Arthur turned slightly and looked down at Miras babies now, into the two small faces nestled against her. Both of the babies had a soft tuft of pale blonde hair on the top of their heads, lighter than Mira's wheat-gold and lighter than his own dark hair, almost flaxen in the candlelight. Arthur then saw them open their eyes and saw their eyes.
The eyes were violet.
A clear Targaryen violet, the same colour as Rhaella's and Duncan's, and his own ever since he strengthened his bloodline.
"I know," she whispered back, and her voice was full of awe. "I saw it the first time he opened his eyes. They both have them. Both of them, Arthur."
"They are perfect," Cassie said softly from the other bed. Her hand had come up to brush gently against Mira's, the two of them touching across the small gap. "Mira, they are perfect. Look at them. Look at how perfect they are."
"He has your nose, my love," Mira breathed, looking down at Cassie's son. "I think. I cannot tell yet, but I think she has your chin Arthur, look, look at her little chin, Arthur, can you see it—"
"She does," Cassie agreed at once. "She absolutely does. Oh, Mira. They are so beautiful. I cannot stop looking at them."
Mira was laughing softly through her tears. "And yours, Cass. Look at him. Look at all that hair, Arthur, have you ever seen a babe born with so much hair, he is going to be the most spoiled little prince in—"
She caught herself, and the word hung in the air for a moment, "I suppose that is not even just an expression any longer, is it."
Cassie let out a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob and reached across the gap to squeeze Mira's hand.
A soft chime sounded inside Arthur's head.
────────────────────
[BLOODLINE / TRAIT INHERITANCE]
────────────────────
You have fathered three biological children. As a holder of unique system-granted traits, you may now permanently transfer ONE non-magical trait to each child.
────────────────────
Restrictions:
• Magical traits cannot be passed (e.g. Blood of the Dragon, Dragon Dreams, The World, Creation, The Shining)
• One trait per child
• Choices are permanent
────────────────────
Arthur stared at the inside of his own eyelids for a long thoughtful moment.
He looked at his sons.
For both boys. Demon Back. The trait Arthur had relied on more than any other tonight, the one that had let him do impossible things when he was a lot weaker.
He selected it for both of them.
The girl was harder.
He looked at her small sleeping face for a long time. She wouldn't need comely, she was Mira's daughter she would be beautiful no matter what. He didn't want his daughter to be a warrior, but he wanted her to be able to contribute in her own way.
Inventive Genius, then.
He chose them.
The system chimed again.
────────────────────
[INHERITANCE CONFIRMED]
────────────────────
Son inherits: [Demon Back]
Daughter inherits: [Inventive Genius]
Son inherits: [Demon Back]
────────────────────
Bloodline Inheritance:
All three children additionally inherit the Pendragon bloodline traits and skills as descendants of a Pendragon. These will manifest as they grow.
• [Dragonheart] (latent)
• [Crown of Command] (latent)
• [Blood of Avalon] (latent)
• [Royal Swordsmanship] (latent)
• [Battlefield Leadership] (latent)
• [Master Horsemanship] (latent)
────────────────────
Arthur let the notification fade and opened his eyes.
"What should we call them?"
Mira's voice broke into his thoughts gently, and he blinked and focused on her face properly. She was looking down at her twins, stroking the cheek of the smaller of the two with the back of one finger.
"What should we call them, my love?"
Arthur reached up and traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb, slowly, while he looked down at the two small faces.
"I do not know," he said softly. "I have been thinking, but I do not... I do not want to use a name from my family. They belong to a different life."
"I agree, my love."
"Something else, then. Something that is just theirs." He looked down at the smaller twin, the little girl, and a strange thing happened. A name came into his head. It came into his head with the simple clarity of a stone dropping into still water, he did not know where it had come from, and he did not particularly care, because the moment it arrived he knew that it was the right one. "Morgana."
Mira's eyes lit up at once. "Morgana. Oh, Arthur. Yes."
"And the boy."
"Mordred."
She turned the name over silently in her mind, and then a soft smile spread across her face, she nodded firmly, and her free hand reached up to grip his wrist where it still rested against her cheek. "Mordred and Morgana. Yes. I love them. I love them both. They are perfect. They are just perfect."
Cassie shifted in the bed beside them and Arthur turned his head toward her. Arthur reached across the gap between the beds and laid his hand over hers where it cupped the back of the tiny silver head. "And this little one," he said.
Cassie smiled weakly. "I have been lying here thinking about it. I cannot decide. Every name I think of seems too big or too small for him."
"Percival."
She blinked. "Percival?"
"I do not know why," Arthur said honestly. "I don't know where the name came from. But I think it'll suit him well. Do you like it?"
Cassie considered it for a moment, looking down into the small sleeping face in her arms, and then she nodded.
"I love it," she whispered. "Percival. Yes. That is his name, Arthur. That is exactly his name."
A soft knock came at the door.
Arthur turned his head toward it slowly and saw Duncan standing on the threshold with his hand still raised from the knock. The prince's face was carefully composed, but there was something behind his eyes that Arthur recognised.
"Arthur," he said. "Might I have a word with Cassandra? If she is willing. I would not press, and I will leave at once if she would prefer."
Arthur did not answer for a moment. Then he turned back to Cassie. "I am not the one you need to ask about that, Your Grace."
Duncan inclined his head with genuine humility. "Of course." He turned his eyes to Cassie directly. "Cassandra, if you be willing would you allow me a few minutes."
Cassie was silent for a long stretch.
Arthur could see the war happening behind her face, the anger and the hurt and a bone-deep weariness. She looked at Mira. She looked at Arthur. And then, after a long moment she nodded. "You may. Your Grace."
Duncan let out a breath that he had clearly been holding since he had opened his mouth, and stepped further into the room. He stopped a respectful few feet away and lowered himself carefully to one knee on the stone floor beside her. "Cassandra. I am so sorry."
Cassie said nothing.
"I should not have done what I did at the feast. I should have come to you privately, the way Arthur asked me to, the way you deserved. I should have sat with you, just the two of us, and told you the truth. Instead I made you a spectacle in front of the entire court, and I did it without your permission, I did it without your husband's permission, there is no defence for that. I knew it was wrong while I was doing it. I told myself I had reasons, and I did, but the reasons did not entitle me to take the choice from you."
He paused.
"I do not want you to believe, that you are a pawn to me. That what I did tonight was about position, or politics, or some calculation regarding the realm. You are not a piece on a cyvasse board to me. You are my daughter. You are the only child I have ever been given by the gods, the only one I will ever have, and I did not know about you for almost twenty years. I should have been there. I should have been there for every one of those years, and I was not, and the only person I have to blame for that is myself."
Cassie's eyes had filled with tears that she did well in holding back.
"I loved your mother." Duncan's voice cracked properly on the word, and he had to stop and clear his throat before he could go on. "I loved her more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, and walking away from her was the worst decision I have ever made, and not a day has passed in twenty years that I have not wondered what would have happened if I had simply chosen differently. If I had been braver. If I had not let the Throne tell me what kind of life I was permitted to have. I wonder if she would still be alive. I wonder if I would have known you as a child, watched you grow, taught you to ride. I wonder a thousand things, every day, and I cannot answer any of them."
He took a slow shaky breath.
"I am not asking for forgiveness tonight, Cassandra. I do not deserve it tonight. I am asking only this. Please. Please. Will you allow me to be a part of your family. Not as your prince, but as your father."
The silence that followed was very long.
Cassie's lower lip was trembling and her eyes were spilling slowly, her hand had tightened protectively around the back of her son's tiny head. She did not speak for a long stretch as she didn't know what to say.
When Cassie finally did speak, her voice was very small. "Would you," she said, and stopped, and tried again. "Would you... would you like to see your grandson, Your Grace?"
Duncan closed his eyes.
The breath that came out of him was the most relieved Arthur had ever heard, "Yes," he whispered. "Cassandra. Yes. Please. I would. I would very much."
She lifted the little bundle slightly and turned the small silver head toward him, and Duncan moved closer and looked, after a moment he let out a laugh. "Oh," he breathed. "He has the look of a Targaryen."
"He does," Cassie said softly.
"He looks just like..." Duncan stopped and pressed his fingers to his mouth for a moment. "He looks just like my brother did, when he was a babe. The hair. The shape of the face. Gods."
Arthur looked across at Mira and met her eyes, Mira's mouth had curved into a smile, and Arthur leaned in and pressed his lips to the crown of her head and held them there for a moment before drawing back and breathing in the smell of her hair.
But at that exact moment his legs chose to give out.
It happened without warning. One moment he was kneeling between the two beds with his lips against Mira's head, and the next his thighs simply stopped supporting him, and he started to slide sideways down the side of the mattress with a grunt of surprise.
"Arthur!" Mira cried out.
"Arthur!" Cassie shouted.
Duncan was on his feet and across the small space in the span of a few seconds, and Llewyn appeared in the doorway with his sword half-drawn before he understood what had actually happened. Arthur ended up half-propped against the side of Mira's bed with both princes catching him under the arms and his head spinning so hard he could not focus on anything.
"Arthur!" Mira said sharply. "You are going to the maester. Now."
"I want to stay," Arthur protested weakly.
"I do not care what you want, my love," Cassie said, and her voice had the same edge in it, her tear-streaked face was suddenly twice as fierce as it had been a moment earlier. "You are going to the maester and you are going now. We are not losing you tonight after everything else. Go. Go, Arthur."
"I am all right—"
"You are not all right," Mira snapped. "Look at yourself. Look at the floor under you, Arthur, look how much blood you have left in this room already. Go and get fixed and come back to us. We will be here. We are not going anywhere. Go."
Duncan was already lifting Arthur up from the ground. "I will take him to the maester, my ladies. I give you my word he will be in the best hands in the kingdom within minutes."
Mira nodded jerkily and reached up to grip Arthur's hand with both of hers, she pressed his bloodied knuckles to her lips and held them there for a moment while her eyes closed, Cassie reached across and laid her hand on top of Mira's, and for a brief warm moment all three of them were touching. Arthur squeezed both of their hands as hard as his fading strength allowed, and then he let go.
Duncan slid an arm under his right shoulder. Llewyn took his left. The two princes lifted him. "Come on then, big guy," Duncan said. "Let us get you to the maester."
Llewyn grinned despite the exhaustion on his face. "After everything you have done tonight you better not die of a poked rib, Arthur. I will be furious."
Arthur managed a faint smile as the two of them began to walk him out of the chamber, his boots dragging across the stone floor, his head lolling slightly against Duncan's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut and snapping open. The last thing he saw of the chamber was Mira and Cassie watching him from the beds, both of them with tears on their faces and small bundles held tight to their chests.
"I am a father," Arthur murmured.
Arthur smiled as he said it.
"I am a father."
Duncan laughed softly and tapped him gently on the shoulder.
"Congratulations, Arthur."
────────────────────
STATUS MENU
────────────────────
Name: Arthur Pendragon
Class: Knight
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 17
Level: 8
Unallocated Stat Points: 3
Title(s): Fledgling Hero
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
────────────────────
Strength: 24
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 24 (+45%)
Intelligence: 8
Perception: 9
Luck: 8
Magic: 3
────────────────────
TRAITS
────────────────────
[Comely]
You've got the kind of face that gets you smiled at, flirted with, and forgiven for things you probably should not be.
[Sword Prodigy]
You wield a blade like it belongs in your hand—faster learning speed, tighter reflexes, and better execution with swords.
[Sharp Ears]
Your hearing is unnaturally acute. You can detect faint sounds, whispers, and movement even from across the room.
[Blood of the Dragon]
The blood of Old Valyria burns within you. Magic coils in your veins like flame beneath skin. Grants access to the Magic stat, increased dragon affinity, and heightened emotional intensity when protecting what is yours.
[Dragon Dreams]
Your dreams carry meaning. They may reveal warnings, truths, or omens. Whether they are blessings or curses remains uncertain.
[Dexterous]
Your hands and fingers are exceptionally nimble. Tasks requiring precision, balance, and control are performed with greater ease.
[Gift]
You may transfer one trait or skill to another individual. The recipient gains a weaker version. The trait or skill is permanently removed from you.
[Inventive Genius]
You instinctively imagine, design, and improve tools and mechanisms beyond your era's understanding.
[Demon Back]
When pushed beyond natural limits, your musculature synchronizes for explosive power. Strength temporarily exceeds normal human thresholds. Overuse strains the body and increases aggression.
[Linguist]
You instinctively understand any spoken language and learn magical or ancient ones with unusual ease.
[Arcane Script]
You can read any written language, rune, or magical script.
[The Shining]
You sense emotional and psychic impressions left on people, places, and objects. May induce out-of-body awareness in moments of extreme trauma or magical proximity.
[Ambidextrous]
No penalty for using either hand.
[Hyper Mobility]
Enhanced joint flexibility and range of motion.
[The World] (Stand not incl.)
You may momentarily freeze time.
Current Limit: 1.5 seconds.
Duration and frequency scale with Magic.
Frequent use causes extreme exhaustion.
[Creation]
You can create any non-living object from your body by converting stored energy into matter, so long as you fully understand its structure and composition. More complex creations demand greater energy and cause significant mental strain.
────────────────────
BLOODLINE TRAITS — HOUSE PENDRAGON
────────────────────
[Dragonheart]
Powerful inner will. Resistance to fear, torture, intimidation, mind control, and despair. Continues fighting long after others would collapse.
[Crown of Command]
Ancient kingly aura. Soldiers fight harder under your command, nobles defer more easily, smallfolk trust by instinct. People believe you were born to rule.
[Blood of Avalon]
Connection to old magic, sacred kingship, and the hidden power of the land. Resonates with enchanted weapons, ancient relics, and places of spiritual importance. Greater likelihood of awakening magic tied to light, healing, protection, fate, and prophecy.
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SKILLS
────────────────────
[Observe]
[Carpentry] (6/100) (Journeyman)
[Conditioning] (45/100)
└─ Recovery (Sub-skill)
└─ +45% Constitution
[Novocaine] (62/100)
[Cooking] (70/100) (Expert)
[Tracker] (20/100) (Legendary)
[Axe Mastery] (49/100) (Novice)
[Carnal Knowledge] (12/100) (Expert)
[Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu] (71/100) (Apprentice)
[Lumbering] (55/100) (Journeyman)
[Falling Star Style] (88/100) (Journeyman)
[Water Dancing Style] (80/100) (Apprentice)
[Massage] (8/100) (Master)
[Poison Resistance] (12/100) (Journeyman)
[Acrobatics] (90/100) (Journeyman)
[Mathematics] (56/100) (Adept)
[Hamon] (2/100) (Apprentice)
[Alchemy] (30/100) (Novice)
[Jousting] (82/100) (Novice)
[Horse Riding] (36/100) (Master)
[Haggling] (23/100) (Novice)
[Royal Swordsmanship] (NEW — 5/100) (Journeyman)
[Battlefield Leadership] (NEW — 8/100) (Master)
────────────────────
FAMILIAR
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[Horus] — Pet Shop (Rare)
────────────────────
UNUSED
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[Skill Upgrade Token] x1
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(AN: Arthur is a father now and he has passed down some of the abilities. I know some of you will argue that Demon back should be passed down anyway. No. He got demon back he didn't get the Hanma Bloodline which would've been passed down. Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
Support if ya want.
Patreon.com/captainalfie78works