#[ 𝑫̲ ] ‚ written.

[amorne]

" You’re the only person I’ve ever met who seems to have the faintest conception of what I mean when I say a thing. " - Virginia Woolf

Under the heat of the sun, in a field covered with wildflowers and where the breeze delights in song, two bodies lay interwoven on ivory blankets. Legs tangled up in one another, fingers delicately trailing over each limb. They themselves are blossoming flowers, ever so radiant under the basking sun. In this garden, well tucked away from the prying eyes of others, well protected from judgment, laughter echoes with the dancing of the trees. 

Daphne believed there could be nothing more that could make her happy; none at all but this. It is a rare thing, for sure, to be adored, but it is the rarest of all, to be seen and understood. Margaery sees her, for all that she is. All her hopes, her dreams, her flaws, things that bring her happiness, sorrowful woes. Even upon her debut into the seven kingdoms with the amass of suitors on her beck and call, there was no one else. There was only them. There was only her rose.

She leans forward. The other’s fiery red tresses ensnared in the tips of her fingers. Her scent itself rivaling that of the wildflowers around them. She trails a lingering finger from the other’s arm down to her waist, a curve she could memorize over and over. A gentle sigh escapes her blush coloured lips. "   So what did you think of Lord Kent? He is quite dashing. Though if I do say so myself, he is incredibly daft.  " A wisp of laughter stopped abruptly by her own thoughts. She is daring her own fate, uttering words to gauge the other’s affections. She has an answer she wants to hear. ‘You do not think of him, though. Because you only think of me. Right?’ Nonetheless, her manicured smile returns; curated to perfection. An armour she wears relentlessly. "  If you are to marry I would atleast demand he take history lessons. He is no match for a queen.  "

A Song of Ice and Fire verse, with @wedthrice.

[amorne]

#This is your daily reminder that Miss Daphne Bridgerton can and [WILL] play. #She knows. #She knows she has this entire city wrapped around her finger. #She is a performer and she has perfected her craft. #I’m telling you she falls under the Obsessed Artist Trope in this essay I will- #She has spent her entire life curating her image and when it was finally her time to shine she DAZZLED #Look even the Queen is amused #Daphne dropping the fan so the Prince’s gaze falls with the fan [I.E. He sees her figure from her bosom to her feet WHILE #she is fully dressed and dignified] #Her eyes immediately looking back up from the fallen fan back to the Prince’s to evoke devotion and submission? A FEIGNED INNOCENCE? #Her small albeit noticeable opening of her mouth to evoke a sense of surprise urgency BUT ALSO seduction from her lips and EXPRESSION? #It takes a certain kind of talent to be Always sparkling and dazzling BUT #To bring a man [a Prince] to his knees all the while feigning doe dyes ingenuity and KINDNESS BEYOND COMPARE? #Oh she is THE femme fatale. #Daphne did all this in a white dress FULLY CLOTHED AND UNCOMPROMISED she is a MASTERMIND. #She said /I laid the groundwork - And then just like clockwork - The dominos cascaded in a line - #What if I told you I’m a Mastermind? - AND NOW YOU’RE MINE - It was all my design. #Me to Miss Daphne Bridgerton: 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Taylor Alison Swift wrote this for [one] Miss Daphne Bridgerton. You know what's surreal to me that I figured out from this? Daphne has curated perfection for herself ever since she was a child. She demanded it for herself, crafted and molded herself into the idealized version of what a Lady should be. And she has been this way since she was a child. Do you understand how much pressure that is? To strive for something [unattainable]? That's fucking insane. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? This is partly why Simon expressed hesitation in having children with Daphne [Of course he has his own trauma and that's an entirely separate post], but subjective to Daphne [from Simon's point of view], her self-induced perfection is obvious, and for someone who has been labeled imperfect as a child, to try to even be a part of that must've brought up so much trauma. Simon felt like he could not live up to Daphne's curated perfection, and what if their child couldn't as well? This is pivotal for Daphne's character because through learning of Simon's story, hearing his side of it, and finally understanding him, she comes to the realization that perfection is unattainable. It's not real. The impossible burden she has placed on herself is not a burden anyone else can [or should] carry. "Just because something is not perfect, does not make it any less worthy of love." Daphne herself realizes that she does not need to be perfect in order to be loved or respected or cherished. It is precisely her loud snorty laugh, her cheeky opinions, her teasing nature, her competitive streak, her puns and love of love that makes her enough. She, her true self, is enough.

[amorne]

The anarchic events as of late brought a sudden shudder into the Bridgerton household. There with the abrupt announcement of an engagement between their own Colin with the beloved Penelope Featherington, the astonishing friendship that has blossomed between Eloise and, ever so surprisingly, Cressida Cowper, over the summer that has settled into the social season, and the friendship's eventual fracture, to which Eloise utters no words towards Daphne about either Penelope or Cressida. And of course, perhaps the most shocking of all, the unveiling of the Lady Whistledown, after the ton's arduous attempt at coercing the writer to reveal themself. Peneleope Featherington. Who would have thought.

In all the chaos, all the unsung notes in between, the Duchess turned her deliberation to one miss Cressida Cowper. Over the summer in Aubrey Hall in which Eloise had welcomed Cressida with open arms, much to the confusion of the entire chesnut-haired clan, Cressida had not only shown an entirely new side to herself that, Daphne would argue, no one in the ton had ever seen. But as well, was entirely apologetic over the events of eighteen thirteen social season. In simpler words, the one where Daphne's honour was almost questioned, had it not been for a rapid wedding to avoid Cressida's gossip. Daphne received the apology with all the graciousness she has drilled into her bones, the very picture of a lady, though in integrity, in her own conscience, it was a relief. She, herself, had wronged the Cowper girl in more ways than one. Completely nicked a future that Cressida could have had with a prince, only to throw it away at the last possible minute. It was Simon that she had wanted, yet at the uncertainty of her own future, she took another woman's prize. And so the Duchess extends her welcome, a genuine invitation for companionship, perhaps even an eventual friendship. The world has raised them to be enemies, for so long. They are both tired. They are both ready to be more than what they are told to be.

For that very reason, the Duchess found herself in the particularly somber drawing room of the Cowper household, standing face to face with none other than Lord Cowper himself, Cressida only inches away from them. The Lord had made his stance clear, his voice booming in an otherwise dismal hall. ❛❛ Your Grace, my daughter is to be sent to Wales for a moment of respite from the ton. She is to live with her aunt. Away from all this- this foolishness. Why would a woman- Your Grace expend interest in Cressida, ... I will not allow it. ❜❜ The last five words spoken by Lord Cowper brought the Duchess' usual doe-eyed hues to sharpen. It is a look that she has not donned since inhibiting her title. She has had no use for it. But now, now is the most opportune time. She stands before him not as an ingenue, but a woman with power. A woman with rank far above his own. Which she will use to her advantage. Once more in this charade of society, Daphne dons a mask that she has perfected. She quirks her head to the side, allowing perfectly curled chesnut ringlets to fall just atop her bosom. Soft brows furrow, the rouge on her cheeks accentuated by the ivory flower on her hair. She has her own power. And with the bravado of a woman aware of her own stature. She feigns innocence in a smile. He will never know what hit him. ❛❛ Why Lord Cowper. What a bold assumption. My husband, the Duke, and I, are more than delighted to welcome Miss Cowper in Clyvedon Castle over the summer. She has certainly earned our favour. And as such I would assume you would be exuberant? She is your daughter, after all. And any fortune she is sure to encounter, reflects on your own? ❜❜ She sighs, soft, impatient. The final trick in her masquerade. ❛❛ I do believe it is highly frowned upon to refuse the hospitality of the Duchess of Hastings. ... Is it not? Surely it would be quite the gossip. ❜❜

𝑓𝑜𝑟 @cowpers.

[amorne]

@ldyinsilver        ∶        " Do you think Benedict will like it? "

THERE IS A ROSEATE GLOW IN THE WARMTH OF HER SMILE. Daphne had always felt it her responsibility to ensure her siblings happiness. Alongside Anthony, being the eldest of the female born Bridgerton's came with its own set of expectations and responsibilities. Least to say, the Duchess was overjoyed when she heard about the famed masked woman at their family’s own masquerade ball that swept Benedict’s heart away. She could not be more delighted upon meeting Miss Beckett herself. There is a kindness in her, but at the same time a ferocity that is often a requirement when marrying into the Bridgerton family. [They are most competitive after all, just look at Pall Mall].

" Why yes! You have captured his taste exquisitely, Miss Beckett. I’m quite impressed, if I do say so myself. " Daphne speaks in a light hearted tone as she gazed at the intricate painting perched in their drawing room. It is truly exquisite, and Daphne had no doubt her dear brother would be smitten with both the painting and Miss Beckett’s affections towards him. The painting itself could be construed as simple when paired against the grand paintings of Queen Charlotte, however, there is a certain intimacy to it; conveying authenticity and a genuine appreciation for the craft. It reminded Daphne of the late Duchess’ of Hastings painting that she and Simon love so dearly. She turns to face Sophie, a lightness and vivacity in her step. " Oh I am most excited! What else have you planned for your evening? "

[amorne]

@wistledown        ∶        " you make it sound so easy. "

DOE EYES PEER AT PENELOPE FEATHERINGTON'S REMARK. The Duchess cannot help but to give a small smile [to save herself from what she believes to be embarrassment, of course], to which she then looks at the red head even further; confusion rather evidently painted in the arch of her brows. " Penelope... " A brief pause. " I do apologize if I have offended you in any way.. It is simply what has worked for me for my own season.. I do hope you not think I am high in the instep for such a remark. "

The ball is well in its festivities. Young ladies dancing with gentlemen who they hope to share a home one day.. To share love. Even their own Francesca seemed to enjoy the melodic tune as she danced away with a gentleman, seeming to enjoy his company. She is beautiful, and as her elder sister, Daphne couldn't be more proud. It is the same sisterly bond she feels for Penelope, having seen her grow up in Bridgerton House with Eloise all these years. They all hold a special place in her heart. She faces the youngest Featherington once more as she extends an utmost sincere affirmation. " You are beautiful, Penelope, and any gentleman who shall be your husband is the luckiest man in the world. You must be true to yourself, and trust me, the right person will love you all the more for it. "

[amorne]

@nurturesmind        ∶        " you’re supposed to be on my side! "

THERE IS A SINCERITY IN HER VOICE THAT CANNOT BE MISTAKEN FOR ANYTHING ELSE. Brows furrow at the younger Bridgerton’s remark. Daphne had always been doting of her sisters. Wishing nothing but the best fortunes to befall upon their lives. It is with Eloise that she finds most difficult to extend her heart. For being of the same blood, they could not be more dissimilar.

The season has already brought scandal for the Bridgerton’s. With Anthony and Miss Edwina Sharma’s abrupt cancellation of their wedding, everyone has been on edge. More so the Duchess herself, as she has taken to the role of perfection from an early age. [Perfection at the cost of her own heart].

Daphne re-aligns herself. Taking a small breath, and once again addressing her sister, this time with less irritability. " Eloise. Surely you do not think that I am on anyone else’s side other than yours in this matter? I will always be by your side. You know this. " An abrupt pause, she changes her course once more. " However, this is simply not a matter of discussion. You were seen, Eloise. Lady Whistledown has written about your meeting with this gentleman, unchaperoned, no less. You do understand the implications of your— " Her sentence is cut short as hazel doe eyes seem to widen even further. The duchess had come to a realization that she was once in the exact same predicament, with others deciding upon her fate. When all she needed was someone to listen to what she had to say. How could she so hastily judge her dear sister? She sits next to Eloise, her hands reaching out to clasp her own. She does not need more lecturing. Now, more than ever, she needed a kind ear for her thoughts, and a warm embrace for her sorrows. " I apologize, sister. I'm sure you've had enough lecturing from Mama and Anthony... Tell me, who is this gentleman? And how was he ever so lucky to share your company? "

[amorne]

THE DUCHESS OF HASTINGS WOULD NOT HAVE MISSED HER DEAREST FRIEND'S SEASON. She, along with the Duke of course, arrived the night before. Well equipped with the bliss of a newly-wed couple, and armed with the comfort of each other's embrace. Daphne knew exactly what tribulations each season brought for a lady looking to secure a match. Her own season did not come devoid of woe. As such, the duke and duchess hastened their return to London.

@taroet        ∶        oh, i am so pleased you were able to come.

The rouge on Daphne's cherubin cheeks gave her an effervescent glow, a rose blooming under the sun. Being Duchess becomes Daphne, as they say. And the people at Clyvedon Castle, home of the Duke and Duchess, certainly confirmed so. The remark was "Lady Basset was born to be a Duchess". Which was received with gracious acknowledgement. However in truth, Daphne felt the title was simply a bonus. What she was born to be, with utmost certainty, was to love Simon. And to be by his side forever.

As they are sat in the Mikaelson's drawing room, with tea brewing and small pastries fill the table, lithe gloved fingers reach out to the other to give a light squeeze. " Oh Skye, I wouldn't have been anywhere else. " A gentle smile on porcelain features. " I trust that everything is in order before your presentation? If there is anything you need, anything at all, I am here for you. "