#Aristocrat Diamond Jewels

[daceydeath]

Her Knight

Pairing: Knight San x Princess Reader Word Count: 6.3k Genre: Fantasy AU, Romance, Smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit Activities

Another ball to attend another prince to meet but your Knight in shining armor is always there to save you.

Another god forsaken ball, with more god forsaken suitors that were either inbred or as exciting as drapery but your father insisted that you find a suitable match before your next name day celebration so that you would have time to plan an appropriate wedding for that of a future queen. Your only semblance of comfort was that this would be the last ball of the season and if no match was found you would be free for at least the winter months before the next ball season began so that you could spend another season mustering the courage to tell your father that you didn't want to marry a prince your heart belonged to someone else. Marriage to a man you barely knew was the last thing you wanted you had barely even seen your twentieth winter and you still had so much you wanted to do before your freedom was taken from you by an man, who would most likely spend his time demanding you remain demure and dull so that he could live out his fantasy of being a king to a mighty kingdom, regardless of the fact it would be your queendom not his. So you once again were being strapped into a corset so tight you would only be able to drink and not eat and a gown so heavy it would surely leave bruises on your hips from the weight.

Standing before the ornate mirror in your chambers your ladies in waiting scampered around collecting under skirts, ribbons, jewels and shoes to make the dressing process easier for you but all it ended up doing was giving you a headache as they argued whether the diamonds, pearls, gold looked better with your attire. As the princess royal you were expected to be dressed to a level of opulence that few could match dresses of the finest silks and velvets, covered in jewels and gold threads were common place for you and so the aristocrats and minor royals followed your lead having clothes tailored in whatever shades you wore.  Normally you stuck to a pastel gowns that were covered in lightweight sheer layers that, while looking beautiful, allowed you to move a little more freely, tonight you had picked a black gown that was heavily embellished with gold, your corset whilst covered in not just gold but also pearls and small semi precious stones. It was excessive in every way and that was exactly what you wanted, two younger sons of the neighboring kingdom were set to be in attendance and you wanted very much to drive them away with your wasteful appearance so they would see being matched to you more of a burden than an asset.

"your highness?" Your handmaid interrupted your daydreaming to help you begin dressing "If you would be so kind as to hold the bed frame we can begin your lacings" she smiled meekly, being careful to speak respectfully.

"Of course Bessy" you smiled not caring if your ladies in waiting were listening, your handmaids were your friends and you wouldn't treat them poorly just because of their station in life. Moving to grasp the wood tightly Bessy and her assistance Clara pulled each lace viciously, knocking the air from your lungs each time until finally Bessy placed her knee against your back for one last tug to ensure you were properly cinched in, leaving you breathing as heavily as you could.

Your ladies in waiting sat you down to begin fussing with your hair and makeup, you could always style yourself but you found it easier to just sit and be preened within an inch of your life.

"Princess, I must tell you what I heard about Prince Heeseung!" Lady Lisbeth whispered excitedly pinning your hair up into an elegant updo "I heard he has rejected three other kingdoms invites to meet you tonight and that he has high hopes of securing your hand over his brother".  

"I heard that his brother Prince Sunghoon has already found a paramour but is keeping her hidden so he is only playing the part of the competitive brother" Lady Hari interjected quickly before lowering her voice so that only you could hear her as she powdered your skin "But that would give you freedom if you allowed him to bring her with him".

"I wouldn't count on a match being made tonight though" Lady Sana smiled at you in the mirror giving you a sly wink "The knights of the realm have returned from your fathers conquest today so tonight will probably turn rowdy quite quickly with war stories and drunken antics".

"Anything to get me a few more months you couldn't help but mumble as Lady Sana moved to latch the Queen's Jewel around your throat, a large oval solitaire diamond that showed your rank and lineage, it hung heavily just below you collarbones shining brilliantly in the flickering light.

"Did they all return?" you asked almost indifferently hoping to look more concerned with their wellbeing for the kingdom's sake and not your own.

"Not all returned princess, but most have arrived back safely and triumphantly" Lady Hari answered, looking at you pleased with your appearance.

"Father must be very pleased then, I will make sure to congratulate both father and his loyal knights during the festivities then" you smiled with faux enthusiasm knowing that at least while congratulating the returned knights you would be free from your suitors advances, provided they were interested.

You bid you ladies farewell for the time being and waited until it was just you and your maids remaining within hearing range making sure your quarters were completely empty.

"Bessy how many did we lose?" you inquired trying to keep your voice even despite how nervous you were "and do you know who made it back safely?".

"Only two fell and five more were injured but made it back" Bessy smiled leaning in closer to you just to be safe from any prying ears "your favorite knights are all well though Ser San is expected to be rewarded for his bravery in rescuing Ser Yunho and Ser Mingi from enemy forces".

"Excellent, that's excellent" you breathed a sigh of relief "I have not got many friends Bessy, just you and the few maids that are purely my own and the knights who have to guard me. I don't want to lose any of you".

"You won't lose us your highness we will be with you until you decide otherwise" Bessy grinned, her and Clara, preparing your gown to finally be placed over all of your underskirts to complete your outfit and prepare you to go to the ballroom to greet your fathers guests.

Taking a final sip of wine you brushed the velvet of your skirt down one last time before opening the door to your quarters to find the guard who would take you to the ballroom. You prepared yourself for another night of dodging advances and hopefully leaving bad impressions on men who would marry you for a power play.  Sansa and Hari stood at the top of the grand staircase waiting for you to make your entry. The minstrels were quietened and the beginning of your title announced  before you stepped into view of the crowd of onlooking guests.

"May we present the Princess Royal, First of her Family and Heir to the Crown of Eastwood" he called loudly into the cavernous room as you felt all eyes fall on you and your attire. When you made the first landing the minstrels began to play and the buzz of the guests continuing their conversations filled the room once more leaving you free to make your way to your father and hopefully to begin the round of slow congratulations of his returned knights, who all looked resplendently dashing in their black and red military uniforms.

"My sweetest daughter" your father called to you clapping his hands loudly as you made your way through the crowd.

"Your only daughter father" you teased back grinning as he stretched his arms out to take your hands.

"You look particularly beautiful tonight my child" he smiled toothily before pulling you gently towards him to kiss your cheek.

"I heard your brave knights have returned, father and triumphantly at that" you beamed "you must be so pleased with their success I must congratulate them for honoring you".

"They did, and you should, they will be your knights one day and you should treat them with the respect their loyalty deserves." he nodded seriously as you tried your hardest to appear that you were focusing on his words with absolute concentration "You will make a fine ruler one day child, but first you must meet the Princes from Northwilds they have traveled far to attend this evening". You dutifully smiled and nodded letting your father escort you towards a group of men in deep blue and gold ensembles which you assumed to be military style uniforms from the Nothwilds kingdom. All ten of them bowed deeply when they noticed your father's and your presence.

"King Arin, we thank you for this generous invitation Eastwood is a most beautiful kingdom" A tall rather handsome man stepped forward taking your father's hand and bowing again to place his forehead against your father's ring which contained the royal seal.

"Prince Heeseung, I am most delighted you could make the trip, I realize that Northwilds is quite a journey from us. This is my daughter the Princess Royal" he introduced you, letting you curtsy despite you being of higher rank than either of the princes.

"We are most blessed to make your acquaintance" Prince Heeseung bowed, stretching out his hand to take yours and kiss the back of it softly. "This is my brother Prince Sunghoon" he gestured behind himself for his brother to step forward and greet your father and then yourself, also pressing a kiss to the back of your hand although so featherlight you almost didn't feel it.

"The pleasure is mine Prince Heeseung, Prince Sunghoon" you smiled demurely trying to remain as neutral as possible so you didn't garner too much interest from them.

"I will leave you to mingle, child, but you should remember to thank the knights before the evening is over" your father winked no doubt, noticing your not particularly keen interaction with the brothers.

"Of course father, I won't neglect my duties to the kingdom" you bowed your head as he stepped away no doubt looking for a drink. Sana made her way to your side instantly replacing your fathers place at your side, taking your hand she squeezed it once to let you know it was he as you continued to smile at the princes.

"Princess, you look exquisite tonight" Heeseung complimented softly as his brother stepped back to engage back into the conversation he was having with his entourage.

"You look quite dashing yourself Prince Heeseung" you smiled tightly not enjoying the awkwardness of first meetings "Tell me what is the Northwilds like? I have yet to travel that far yet, father doesn't let me travel too far from the kingdom" you explained hoping that he would bring up anything about his kingdom that you could find interesting and prompt some sort of discourse.

"I have heard it can snow there for months at a time, is that true?" Sana asked, hoping to help further the conversation.

"Please call me Heeseung, I am of lesser rank than you Princess" he smiled hopefully at you "Northwilds can be bitterly cold in winter. It is true it snows nearly all of winter but it is quite pleasant in the summer and early autumn. We have quite a few lakes and forests which makes for pleasant day trips"  he continued.

"Oh I do like spending time near the water" Sana gushed beaming at him "Don't you your Highness?".

"Yes I do enjoy picnics by the waterfront and also horseback riding. Do you have good horses in Northwilds? I imagine they would be hardy creatures" you answered politely, noticing that Heeseung's eyes were firmly locked on Sana as she batted her eyelashes and giggled softly.

"Our horses are the most sturdy of all the kingdoms" Heeseung nodded, obviously enjoying the attention Sana was giving him.

"I should attend the greeting of our returned knights, Lady Sana, would you keep Prince Heeseung entertained until I return? and ensure both he and his brother are comfortable" you touched her shoulder gently in a gesture of thanks.

"Of course Princess, it would be my greatest honor" she gushed enthusiastically letting you make your exit without any protest from either of the princes.

Wandering towards the outer edge of the room you were sure you would find at least one knight trying to avoid an over eager dowager who wanted to thank him more than was warranted or wanted. Sure enough you found Ser Seonghwa desperately looking for a pillar to hide behind as an aristocrat made her way across the crowd towards him.

"Ser Seonghwa" You called, stepping into his line of vision and watching him visibly relax knowing you would give him an excuse to not speak to the older woman, who now looked quite put out that you had stolen the object of her desire.  

"Princess Royal" he greeted bowing deeply to you.

"I had heard you had returned today and victorious" you grinned "I was hoping I could thank you all for honoring my father so valiantly".

"It is our honor honestly Princess" he smiled again, his handsome face lighting up "May I escort you to some of the other knights, your highness?"

"Yes please Ser Seonghwa, I would love to thank you all personally for your efforts" you continued taking his arm and allowing him to guide you towards the back of the ballroom where the large windows and open gilt doors spilt light out into the gardens. "I also thought I might be able to save you for a little while, Seonghwa" you whispered once you got closer to your destination.

"I cannot thank you enough," Seonghwa grinned. "It will help boost the others that you would wish to spend some time with us lowly knights rather than the Princes from Northwilds".

"Believe me you lot are much preferred company" you smirked as he led you onto the lit terrace, large glass containers filled with candles surrounding the entire area to keep it as well lit as possible despite it not being twilight yet.

"Look who I found in my travels" Seonghwa called to a cluster of men dressed in identical uniforms, they didn't even need to turn around for you to know exactly who each of them was having spent enough time milling around the training grounds in hoping one of them would take pity on you and give you some sword fighting lessons or teach you archery, which they eventually did. You had become friends over those years and you began to treat each other as equals rather than what your ranks demanded, even if it had to occur mainly in secret.

"If it's another kitchen girl I would say don't bother, you always strike out with the kitchen staff" Ser Hongjoong yelled cheekily before his eyes landed on you walking at Seonghwa's side. "Princess Royal, what are you doing out here?" they all instantly stood at attention facing you.

"At ease I'm alone" you laughed watching them all relax again "I wanted to see how you were I didn't know you were back until a few hours ago".

"We're mostly intact" Hongjoong admitted softly as you let go of your hold on Seonghwa's arm to touch Hongjoong's shoulder affectionately.

"What does mostly intact mean? I wanted you to come back whole" you pouted taking in each of their appearances "Yunho, Mingi you're hurt" you couldn’t help the way your voice raised an octave as you moved to look at them closer your large black gown swishing against all of their legs as you passed them. Your hands fluttering uselessly over Yunho's bandaged hand and arm which bulged under his dress coat and Mingi with obvious bruising to his face.

"War doesn't leave you intact Princess" Jongho sighed, his eyes meeting yours sadly.

"Sana told me that some of you fell. Who? Who did we lose?" you asked carefully knowing that such a tight knit group would be sensitive to the loss of a friend and comrade.

"Changbin and Seungmin are gone, Felix and Minho are pretty badly injured. Chan and a few of the others are staying with them around the clock in case the worse happens they can send for help faster" Wooyoung grimaced.

"Fuck" you breathed shakily lamenting the loss of good men “I’m so sorry”.

"Did you just say fuck?" Seonghwa blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Yes? I swear all the time when you teach me how to fight, have you only just noticed?" you enquired confused.

"You say crap, quim womble and bollocks, once I heard you say shit but never fuck" Hongjoong roared laughing while Yeosang, San and Mingi all smirked.

"Well now you have heard me say fuck congratulations" you rolled your eyes quickly looking around San's broad shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear your profanity.

"It's just soldiers out here Princess" San smiled warmly looking down at you, you almost lost yourself in them but remembered yourself and decided to look at his dimple instead.

"Can't be too careful, I saved Seonghwa from a dowager but right now you are saving me from Prince Heeseung" you joked, nudging his chest with your shoulder.

“There is no way we can hide you though not in that dress at least" Mingi teased looking you up and down exaggeratedly.

"It is true you outshine every other woman here" Jongho whistled "must be looking to impress a prince tonight".

"More like hoping to horrify one" you smirked, poking your tongue out at him "I hope they will see me as frivolous and vapid so they don't want to stay". You were happy to admit your plan to them you knew they would never tell a soul.

“Why don’t you just tell your father you don’t want to marry?” Yunho shook his head clearly amused with your plan.

“Because unlike you Yunho I don’t get a lot of say in when I get married, father has decided it will be in the summer so I have that long to convince him to let me marry someone I actually like or he will pick for me”. You sighed trying to keep the sadness off of your face “I don’t really want to get stuck with some horrible man who just wants my throne”.

“Why haven’t you picked any of the others who have come then? Some of them were really quite nice or were they just not quite like the tales of knights who slay dragons from your silly books?” Wooyoung pressed as your cheeks began to flush pink at the implication of his question.

“You are never going to understand Wooyoung” you rolled your eyes before quickly putting more space between yourself and them as the sounds of Sana’s voice floated across the terrace. “Again brave knights I cannot express my gratitude for honoring my father” you smiled politely with your best formal voice back in place as they all tried not to snicker at your obvious change in demeanor.

“Princess Royal” Heeseung’s voice rang out loudly “I did wonder where you had gotten to, were you stolen away by these brutes?” he raised his eyebrow challengingly towards your friends and saviors.

“Of course not Prince Heeseung, these knights are my father’s best. They have just returned from their campaign. It is part of my duties to congratulate the brave men who honor my kingdom” your replied almost coldly, your eyes narrowing slightly at him.

“Still it is not proper that you be alone with men so far below your station” he continued, not really bothering to listen to your words making you frown.

“Your Highness, the prince may have had a little too much of your father’s favorite vintage” Sana stressed quickly, making you step back a fraction more from him “I thought some fresh air might help with that”.

“Perhaps it would” you smiled tightly, watching Sana carefully in case she needed help ridding herself from him “Where is prince Sunghoon?”.

“He has retired for the night, your Highness” Sana answered quickly, her voice quivering slightly.

“I see, I will accompany you then” you announced, making Prince Heesung grin at his perceived victory. “Ser San, Ser Jongho, would you join us please? There may be all sorts of wild beasts in the gardens at this time of night” you looked at them pleadingly.

“Of course your Royal Highness” San answered smoothly, bowing deeply as Jongho copied his actions, nodding.

“Thank you Sers I will feel much safer with you with us” you beamed noticing the twinkle of mischief in Jongho’s eyes and the laugh San was trying to hold in.

“I would be with you Princess Royal, you would need no further protection than that” Prince Heeseung started to protest, looking dissatisfied with your choice.

“I know Prince Heeseung but who would protect Lady Sana in the event of an attack surely you would be protecting me in that circumstance and Lady Sana is my closest confidant I would want her to be safe so why not bring a few more swords along” you explained flashing your best doe eyes at him.

“Of course you have thought this through far better than I have” he bowed in apology before San offered you his arm and Jongho took a torch from one of the wall sconces beside the very edge of he terrace to lead the way.

“Thank you Ser San” you graciously accepted, allowing him to lead you towards the cobblestone pathway that lay on the edge of the hedge maze. Prince Heeseung glowered as San but said nothing further as he fell into step behind you but you couldn’t help the silent giggle that passed your lips imagining him glaring at the wide expanse of San’s back as you walked. In the dimness that surrounded you now that dusk had properly fallen and the sun had long dropped behind the horizon you felt San’s fingers stroke small patterns into the back of your hand making butterflies dance in your belly. Prince Heeseung was muttering something to Sana that you couldn’t make out but when you turned your head to attempt to hear them better San squeezed your hand and met your eyes his endlessly deep brown eyes gesturing to Jongho in front of you before returning to your face as though he was studying you.

“Princess Royal” Jongho’s voice called back to you “Do you wish us to play another round of first to the middle? I know that it is one of your ladies in waiting’s favorite games to play when you have the time and it would be a good way to show Prince Heeseung the hedge maze” he asked in faux innocence making Sana agree enthusiastically and you nod.

“Oh yes please Ser Jongho, Sana and I both adore that game. Would you like to play Prince Heeseung? It is a very simple game but such fun” you turned to look at him excitedly “We all take turns entering the maze and the one that reaches the middle first wins a prize of their choosing”.

“Any prize they choose?” Heeseung asked with a sly smile on his face.

“Well obviously not anything I wouldn’t give you the kingdom or anything silly like that it is usually a token for example a piece of jewelry, a favor from me, a special dessert from the kitchens that sort of thing” you rationalized hoping that he would agree to play so that you could help Sana escape him for a little while.

“I would enjoy that,” he answered simply, looking between Sana and you. 

“The Princess Royal shall go first, then it will be your turn and then mine” Sana volunteered, hoping that as long as she took a different start path to him it would be fine.

“Shall we start? Ser San, would you stay here and guard the entrance while we play?” you enquired watching San nod in silent agreement before you picked up your skirts slightly so they didn’t catch on the branches and made your way into the maze, you took the first right then second left which you knew led to a dead end then you waited quietly it didn’t take long before your heard heavy footsteps that passed by on the other side of the thick green wall that led deeper into the maze. You waited for a few moments prepared to count to twenty before you attempted to make your way back to the entrance hoping that San would be waiting for you when you heard more footsteps.

“Princess?” San whispered quietly rounding the corner to the deadend that you were waiting in “He’s long gone shall we head back?” his breathtaking smile lighting up his whole face.

“Yes,why not?” you stepped towards him “I’m so glad you came home San” you admitted taking his hand in yours “I would have been devastated if you had been lost”.

“It would take more than one campaign to stop me coming home to you Princess” you flushed quickly back tracking his words “I mean to your kingdom Princess, there is no other kingdom I would rather serve”. He met your eyes shyly.

“San…” you breathed, noticing the pretty color that now dusted his cheekbones. You were almost standing so close to him that if someone was to come across you it would have surely looked improper but you didnt care you were far too lost in the depths of his eyes that swam with such emotion that you could not bring yourself to look away.

“Princess, I…” San stumbled his words as he unconsciously pulled you slightly closer to him, your chest almost pressed against his and his hand still grasping yours firmly in the few moments of silence that followed. “Why haven’t you agreed to any of the suitors your father has invited to the kingdom?”.

“I already have someone I wish to be with, but he doesn’t know” you confessed without a shred of fear as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards “He’s someone my father trusts very much and once this ball season has ended I wanted to talk to him about it”. San’s other hand moved to grip your waist making your eyes widen slightly.

“Would the King allow you to be with this man?” he asked quietly, his voice deeper than it had been before making you feel a little light headed.

“I desperately hope so” you swallowed hard his hand letting go of yours leaving it to feel cool without the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, very slowly he moved so that it was now creeping up your arm leaving goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers brushed against you.

“May I?” he murmured his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath fanning across your face, his hand finally stopping to cup your cheek.

“Please San” you mumbled closing your eyes the moment his lips brushed against yours tentatively pausing to allow you to stop him going further which gave you the opportunity to place your hand against his chest to feel his heart beating rapidly within his ribcage. You leaned in a little more, pressing your lips against his fully, finally feeling the warmth of his plush lips against yours, smiling against you he pulled you against his chest slowly sliding his lips against yours until you felt dizzy.

“I need to get you back to the castle my Princess” he breathed against you lips pecking them once more before stepping back from you the smirk on his face showing how pleased he was with your reciprocation of his actions.

“Yes, you should escort me back to my quarters” you agreed blinking a few times to shake the feeling that was lingering in your belly from his use of my princess. “I don’t want to return to the ballroom”.

“Your wish is my command” he teased taking your hand in his and leading you back out of the maze instead of returning the way you came San led you through the darker side of the gardens towards the entrance that the knights often used when they came and went from the castle leading your through empty passageways and hallways until you reached the wing your quarters were in, you entered letting San stop at your door to let the guard know he would be taking over and to go get some rest before he would be following you inside.

You sat at your vanity waiting, removing your jewelry and hair pins before wiping the makeup from your face. You had already slipped off your underskirts which made your dress considerably less dramatic but there was no way you would be able to get out of your corset without your maids help so you just watched your reflection until you heard your door close and the lock click shut.

“San?” you called watching his shadow appear in the room.

“I’m here my Princess” he smiled warmly.

“I…I…I don’t know where to start” you chewed on your lip softly, the trepidation you felt was obvious.

“Is the man you want me Princess?” he asked tenderly his voice sweet like honey making you feel warm as it surrounded you making you nod silently.

“I love you San, I always have” you admitted shyly, your face burning with blush.

“God’s I’ve dreamed you would say that to me one day” he groaned striding to you and pulling you into his arms his lips pressing against yours once more this time not hiding the emotions he felt for you, his tongue traced the seam of your lips encouraging you to let him deepen the kiss which your did his tongue slipping past your lips to slid against your own in a slow sensual dance. You couldn’t help the faint moan that escaped your throat as his hands moved to hold you as close to him as he could. When he finally broke away from you he pressed his forehead against yours as you panted for breath.

“I loved you from the first moment I came to this kingdom and I will love you until my last breath” he declared to you sincerely “If your father allows this I will worship you from this day forth if you let me”. You nodded as tears came to your eyes, you had never imagined that San would ever return your feeling he was a far more worldly man and could have any woman in the kingdom yet he had wanted to be yours just as desperately as you had wanted him. Your lips crashed back into him too lost in the joy of his love to think about anything else, hands buried in his hair to hold him close to you as his arms encircled you, picking you up and pressing you against the wall beside the vanity. Pressing himself fully against you.

You let your hands fall to his shoulders to hold him as he began kissing his way down your neck towards your chest, your corset giving him enough space to get well below your collarbone before finding your lips again his hands had bunched your skirt up around your hips allowing him to press against your core more easily making you wiggle against him and cause him to let a deep groan escape his throat.

“Easy Princess, I might not be able to stop if we go too far” San panted against your neck, mouthing at the junction of your shoulder as you shivered in his arms.

“I want to, please I think I’m on fire” you whined wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

“Shit, my love, if I deflower you the king will kill me” he ground out between his clenched teeth as you rolled your hips experimentally against him.

“He would never harm the father of my child” you whimpered the feeling of his hardness grinding against your cotton covered core giving you the friction you desperately needed.

“Fuck don’t say things like that” growled his hands sliding between you and the wall to tug at your laces while he kissed you again making your need for him grow with each muffled sound that passed between your mouths. He flung the black top of your corsent to the side your under corset undone enough for him to get access to your breasts making you cry out as he took one of your hardened nipples between his kiss swollen lips teasing it and suckling at it until your head tipped back against the wall. Carefully lowering you to the fur rug on the floor he roughly tugged your undergarments away allowing you time to wiggle your corset off without undoing it completely leaving you bare to him.

“So beautiful” he whispered reverently his hand cupping your cheek again before slowly dragging it down your body making your skin erupt in a feeling of fire licking at your skin, he undid his uniform throwing the jacket and undershirt behind him before working on the laces of his pants allowing you to see him in all his glory, you couldn't help your fingers from reaching out and tracing the old scars that crossed his chest the silver skin standing out in the glow of the room his eyes boring into you watching your every expression as you took your time touching him before he slid his fingers from your hip to your center achingly slowly slipping them between your folds making your mouth fall open in surprise.

“San” you gasped, unsure of what he was doing.

“Let me pleasure you my love” he smiled reassuringly, moving to kiss you once more as one of his fingers began circling your bud causing you to begin mewling into his mouth “That’s it my love let me show you how much I love you”.

Subconsciously you spread your thighs apart wider to allow him to touch you more, another of his long fingers pressing against your entrance slightly before entering you, he sunk his digit deeper and deeper making your eyes roll back as you began to rock against his hand. Another finger began stretching your velvet walls, the feeling sending surges of pleasure through you as they massaged your walls.

“Saaan” you moaned the feeling building and building deep inside you like a coil waiting to snap.

“When it feels too good and you cannot hold it in, let go my love” he cooed, kissing your neck as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you.

“Oh San…agh..ngh” you cried out feeling the coil explode and white hot pleasure flood your veins.

“Good girl” San mumbled moving to slot himself between your thighs. “Tell me if this hurts you and I will stop”.

You nodded dazed from the floaty feeling that still filled your brain, only clearing when you felt a much larger stretch beginning as San cautiously entered you inch by inch until you were fully impaled on his cock the feeling almost painful as he stilled to let you adjust to the sensation of being completely full. Kissing you deeply he slowly dragged his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting back in his gentle pace to help you not feel anything but pain.

“Does it hurt my love?” he gasped against your lips, continuing to languidly move his hips.

“No feels good” you moaned quietly, no longer feeling unsure of the feeling of him moving inside you. He hissed in pleasure speeding up the rocking of his hips helping you to wrap one leg around him, each snap of his hips making the coil tighten again making you roll your hips to meet his thrust making him moan loudly and your walls flutter.

“Fuck just like that my love you feel like heaven” he grunted watching your face as your mouth dropped open again and your moans got louder “Good girl, let go when you want to alright, I want to feel you on my cock” he babbled making you start to see white again as fire spread through your veins again and you couldn’t he but scream as your second high hit you.

“San, San, San” you chanted before he rapidly pulled away from you his cock in his hand as he covered your tummy and breasts in thick white ropes of his release.

“Sorry My love let me clean you up" he panted, grabbing his undershirt from the floor and wiping you clean before collapsing beside you “Couldn’t risk letting go inside you at least not until your father lets me marry you”. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you at the idea of him still needing to keep you safe even whilst deflowering you.

"Let me get you into bed so that you don’t catch a cold from being on the stone floor” he smiled bashfully, helping you to get into your bed still nude but at least warmer as he cleaned up the clothes that we strewn around the room and partially dressed himself.

“Are you leaving?” you whimpered panic rising in your throat.

“I will never leave you but I cannot stay here all night, your maids will find me” he smiled climbing onto the bed beside you we can’t have a scandal in the castle.

“Come with me tomorrow when I talk to my father?” you implored cuddling into his side, his fingers softly combing through your hair.

“Of course my love” He whispered kissing your head as your eyes fell closed

A/N: Thank you again for reading my darlings xx

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[the-jewel-catalogue]

The tiara's not worn yet from the late Queen's collection of favourites

via the court jeweller

Queen Alexandra’s Kokoshnik Tiara,

Perhaps the grandest of the three is Queen Alexandra’s Kokoshnik Tiara, which was given to her as a silver wedding anniversary present by a committee of aristocratic women in 1888. They asked her for input on the tiara’s design, and she pointed toward a classic diamond kokoshnik worn by her sister, the Empress of Russia

Vladimir Tiara

Queen Elizabeth II also inherited another tiara from Queen Mary: the versatile Vladimir Tiara, which was made for a Russian grand duchess in the 1870s. Mary bought it, along with its original pendant pearls, from Grand Duchess Vladimir’s descendants after the revolution, and she had it adjusted so that it could also be worn with drops from her grandmother’s Cambridge emerald collection. 

Brazilian Aquamarine Tiara 

The third and final unworn tiara from the late Queen’s collection of favorites is perhaps the most unique, and the one I’m most looking forward to seeing Queen Camilla wear. For her coronation in 1953, the people of Brazil offered Queen Elizabeth II a necklace and earrings set with diamonds and aquamarines. Four years later, the Queen commissioned Garrard to make a tiara to match the set, and as Brazil offered her more aquamarines over the years, the parure was expanded and the tiara was made larger. 

[amostimprobabledream]

A Pale Jewel (Astarion x Reader)

AU also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56341306 It was too damn hot. You learned against a pillar, the fan in your hand working frantically to bring even a fraction of relief to your overly warm skin.

Really, it would be more practical to move across the ballroom to the open doors that lead out onto the huge balcony that lead out onto the gardens, with the white curtains fluttering flirtatiously in the night breeze. But that was easier said than done with how crowded and stuffy the room is. It seems as though every square inch of the elaborate marble flooring is taken up by rustling taffeta, silk, velvet and all other manner of fabrics in jewel tones, topped with glittering diamonds or lustrous strings of pearls. The fancy dresses some of the ladies were wearing took up so much room, like an overcrowded dock full of pretty boats bobbing on their own waves. The men, too, had gone all out for this ball, and while their sharp suits didn't take up as much space as skirts fluffed up with petticoats, but they were still flamboyant enough that it almost hurt your eyes to try and take in so much at once. You couldn't help but feel intimidated by being here, like any moment someone would spot something about you - a slip of the tongue, some small breach of etiquette like putting the wrong liquor in the wrong kind of glass, and all heads would snap in your direction, before cries of 'intruder!' would ring out. And then…what? They'd cast you out like a beggar? Form a circle around you to laugh and point? You knew these options conjured up by your fevered imagination were highly unlikely, but not impossible, and the uncertainty spread in the pit of your stomach like a blooming mould. You hoped your uneasiness wasn't obvious on your face - or if it was, it would simply translate into being uncomfortable in the stifling heat of the ballroom. You're not surprised that the friends you came with dispersed about the room to catch up with friends who were also in attendance. Your invitation had been extended genuinely, but it was something of a fluke, a last-minute cancellation that was instead extended to you. You tried not to take the others going off to talk to their acquaintances personally, though you did feel awkward and unguarded, standing here alone watching the people dancing.

As you intercepted a passing waiter to grab a glass of wine - not necessarily because you liked the taste, but because it would hopefully be chilled and give you a more obvious reason for why you're not dancing with anyone, you accidentally raised your eyes as you picked it up. Across the ballroom were three figures, also lounging beside a pillar. They're as finely dressed as everyone else here was, but there was something different about them, something that set them apart from the giddy revellers. The figure in the middle is the one that drew in your gaze, though. His suit was one of the more ostentatious ones you've seen, pitch black velvet with silver embroidery that seemed to shimmer with even the smallest movement, putting you in mind of the scales of a fish. The silver thread complements his hair, elaborately coiffed silver curls that must have taken quite a bit of time to get so perfect. There's something about his posture too, a subtle grace in his movements, back straight and an aristocratic, almost haughty, tilt to his head. And then, as you were observing the stranger, watching him gesticulating as he talked, he looked over. At you. You weren’t close enough to see his eyes properly, especially with the masquerade mask on his face that looks like liquid mercury, but there's no mistaking the prickle on your skin that comes from being watched. You stiffened, raising your wineglass to your lips in an effort to look casual. Mental images of the man pointing at you, the two beside him turning and laughing flooded your brain, but that isn't what happened. Instead, he smiled.

It was a slow, sensuous quirk of his lips, like watching honey being drizzled over fresh pastry. It would be sweet – perhaps overly so – but the heat of his stare and the slight unevenness of his smile, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other, adds a roguish, sultry flare that left you unable to look away.

Your fingers tightened around your wineglass, feeling your face growing warmer and it had nothing to do with the room’s overall stuffy humidity. Funny that something as simple as a smile and a look could have such a profound effect on you, especially when people doing so much more – a lustful up-down stare, compliments, resting a hand on your body, often left you indifferent at best or disgusted at worst.

Curiously, by the time you lowered your glass, he was gone. A potent, contradictory feeling of both disappointment and relief flooded through your body at the space where he was just standing. Perhaps it’s for the best – if a handsome stranger was capable of getting you so worked up just from a mere glance, you dread to think how big of a fool you could possibly make of yourself if you actually spoke to him, or even was just in his line of vision for too long.

“Ah, there you are!” a voice said.

You turned to see Lorna, who was the one who had invited you here, approaching you, slightly out of breath. She shot you a rueful little smile, fanning herself ineffectively with her hand.

“I’ve been looking for you, but it is so hard to see anything with all these masks and fancy clothes on display.” she said, apologetically. “Are you all right? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh, it’s just…so unbearably warm in here.” You replied quickly, with a little laugh that was just a bit too fast to be authentic, but fortunately for you, Lorna wasn’t the kind of person to pick up on little nuances like that. “Where are the others?”

“Oh, Demerius is over there, I think he danced with Melody before. Demerius!” Slowly, you turned.

Lorna’s group had mostly been welcoming when you joined them for tonight – you knew a couple of them already, and for those you didn’t know, you could tell one or two of them who were strangers to you were a little confused by the sudden change, but nobody had outright objected. And there was one of Lorna’s friends who had caught your eye, which was a little ridiculous since he’d barely spoken to you all evening. Lorna told you he was always a little standoffish with strangers, and that had made you hopeful that perhaps he might open up to you as the evening went on. The quality of being unknowable was an attractive one to you, there was a perverse sort of pleasure in trying to peer beneath the surface into whatever lay beneath. You’d always liked that over someone who wore their thoughts and feelings so obviously.

“How was dancing with Melody?” Lorna teased as he approached, brow faintly shiny with perspiration.

“Enthusiastic,” came his response, his eyes cutting between you and Lorna. “She found another rakish young noble to be swept away by when the song changed, so I thought I’d find a replacement.”

He was looking at you, the butterfly mask on his face doing a good job of concealing his emotions, but your insides give a peculiar kind of lurch as the implications of what he’s saying sunk in. You swallowed, wishing you had another glass of wine in your hand for courage.

“I’d love to-" you began.

“Lorna, will you dance with me?” he said at the same time as you.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Lorna’s face flushed, and you knew she’d heard you. You could only cling onto the desperate hope that Demerius’s voice had drowned out yours to his ears, you didn’t think you could stand the embarrassment. Shame tinged you everywhere – your cheeks, your neck, your ears.

“-go. Outside! I think I’ll go outside!” you said loudly, smiling widely as though this would convince anyone that you were just fine, thanks. “You two have fun.”

You thought Lorna said your name, but you ignored her, almost shoving your way through the crowd. Shame had proven to have an unexpected benefit – now you were so driven by your urgent need to get away from Lorna and Demerius that you no longer cared if you knocked into someone or looked ungainly – getting out of here was the only thing that mattered. The other dancers swirling around almost seemed to mock you as you plunged past them, giddy laughter ringing in your ears.

Outside, it was dark and blessedly quiet. You weren’t entirely alone, several people had slipped out to get some reprieve from the activity inside, but nearly all of them were either in groups or couples. You could hear people giggling and whispering to each other in the shadows, the rustling of skirts or soft crunching of gravel as several partygoers wandered about the gardens – apparently there was a large maze near the back and some of the most daring guests wanted to try their hand at navigating it.

You weren’t interested in mazes, and approached the stone wall that wrapped around the balcony, leaning your elbow on it and taking in a couple of deep breaths of night air, the scent of the blossoms carried on the gentle wind helping to calm you down.

They probably won’t even remember that. You reassured yourself. They’ll dance, drink and forget all about it.

But that didn’t do much to make you feel less stupid, or less like you’re an outsider. You didn’t really belong there and for a second, you’d let yourself forget that, and the universe quickly corrected that mistake. You’re almost tempted to slip away right here and now, to get away from this gaudy place of masks and other such illusions, but you swallowed down the urge. Instead, you expelled a loud sigh and leaned forwards, listening to the sloshing of the fountain below you.

Vaguely, you couldn’t help wondering what dancing with the handsome stranger in the silver mask would be like, but dismiss that thought before it can take root. It would probably be utterly nerve-wracking – his posture alone made you think he was probably a decent dancer, and you barely knew the steps. You’d be more likely to step on his foot and offend him irreparably than dazzle him with any witty banter. Coming up with any while being whirled around would be a challenge, for one thing.

…But the thought of him putting a hand on your waist made your heart pick up the pace like a pony going from a walk to a trot.

Get a grip on yourself. You scolded yourself, folding your fan away. You’re acting like a teenager. “My, and here I thought all that glamour inside was impressive. It seems there is more beauty to behold out here.”

You nearly plummeted headfirst off the balcony in your shock, turning around at the sound of a smooth, amused voice.

It’s him. The stranger from before. Though he was backlit by the ballroom behind him, it’s not so dark that you couldn’t make out his face. He wasn’t handsome – he was gorgeous. Up close you could see that his skin looked smooth and flawless as marble, and behind that mask his eyes were a pretty shade of red, like a garnet.

You tried hard not to gawk at him like a slack jawed idiot, even though seeing him so close was even more intimidating then having him smirking at you from across the dancefloor.

“Oh, I just…wanted to get away from it all for a minute.” You said, inwardly congratulating yourself for managing to sound fairly casual. “I’m assuming it’s the same for you?”

“Oh, yes. It is wonderful to be admired by so many others, of course, but even I need a little reprieve from it now and then.” The man confirmed in his posh tones, though there was a subtly teasing, sarcastic edge to his voice that prevented him from sounding like those humourless prigs you sometimes got in high society. He strolled over and leaned against the wall in a pose that looked a little too polished to be natural. “And who might you be, darling?”

Your mouth twitched at being called ‘darling’ in that tone, and you told him your name. He hummed and repeated it like he was savouring it in his mouth like a fancy chocolate.

“I am Astarion,” he said, tilting his head. “A pleasure.”

Was it your imagination, or did he put an unnecessary amount of emphasis on that word?

You nodded and it was odd but you felt almost like you were drunk, trying hard to focus on the words he was saying and smile and nod in all the correct places instead of letting your imagination run away with you, but your errant thoughts that didn’t want to be tightly contained kept thinking that the moonlight made him look even better than he did indoors.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that little…exchange in there.” Astarion said abruptly, and you hated how easily your embarrassment came flooding back to you.

“Oh, that.” You said, as if you hadn’t been agonising over it since it happened. “Just got our wires crossed, that’s all- “

“It truly is shocking to know there can be people who are so stupid and uncouth.” Astarion said, steamrolling over your breezy attempt to downplay the moment.

“Wh- you think so?” you said, hoping he meant Demerius and not you.

“Oh, yes.” Astarion answered, turning to you with a sly smile on his face. “Were I to offer to dance with a lady, I would not do so by insulting her friend in the same breath. Especially not one as lovely as you.”

“You’re laying on the flattery a little thick there, aren’t you?” you snickered, pretending like you weren’t loving it.

Astarion knew – he always knew when his honeyed words were getting to someone, and the smile you were trying to hide, tugging at the corners of your lips, only encouraged him to keep going. He lowered his voice to a sultry purr.

“Indeed, my dear. For instance, I would take her hand like this…”

His hand fastened around your wrist, and he pulled you to him, his other hand settled on your waist like it was why you had one in the first place. A soft gasp left your mouth as you were suddenly pressed flush against him, though his grip wasn’t tight or painful and you could wriggle away if you so chose.

You did not.

“Please tell me you’re not going to start up a waltz.” You said, jokingly, your heart now thumping so loudly you felt like he’d hear it. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Oh, you can’t be worse than some people I’ve had the misfortune to encounter in a ballroom.” Astarion replied, with a laugh that you couldn’t help but find charming, it invited you to laugh as well. “But this is much more pleasant than sweating alongside some drunken patriar who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

He wasn’t wrong – it’s more private, and cooler. His hands were pleasingly cool to the touch, and you’re struck with a powerful urge to put your palm on his cheek to see if it applies to everywhere on him. Astarion’s eyes swept over your body as he held you to him. He’d seen you across the room – you looked so adorably alone, like a fawn abandoned by its mother. A pretty, tempting thing for a natural-born hunter such as himself to follow, to track down…

But holding you here like this, he found himself rather enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Oh, it’s one thing to swoon people in a bawdy, crowded engagement while they’ve drunk far too much champagne, perhaps engage in some naughty fun behind a pillar or in an adjacent room, the thrill of getting caught a delicious accompaniment to physical delights…but this is a different kind of fun.

His hand left your hand and instead floated up, a finger tilting up your chin. Your eyes were huge and dark behind your simple, but stylish, mask, and he smiled.

“Of course,” he said, in a soft, lilting voice that required you to lean in some more to hear better. Oh grandma, what big teeth you have… “There are other things to do besides dance…”

And he kissed you.

Except, like Astarion’s smile, calling it a simple “kiss” didn’t do it justice.

His mouth was smooth against your own, and the moment his mouth even slightly made contact with yours, a surge of tingles erupted at the point of contact. Your lips were easy to part, so shocked were you by the suddenness of what was going on. Astarion was masterful at getting access to your mouth and the thought of refusing didn’t once across your mind. Instead, you sank into it, a blissful sigh muffled against his lips. He chuckled fondly, the hand on your waist tugging in closer, and the rest of the world, the revellers around you clustered on the balcony or wandering down into the gardens and maze beyond, vanished from your awareness. Your waist felt hot where his hand was touching it, like a brand, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth it sent a shiver skittering over your body.

He bit your lip, gently, not hard enough to draw blood, it was just a little jolt that made the sweetness of the kiss all the better. His free hand slid over your body with an intent that could only be called lascivious, squeezing your body as if he was testing its firmness. Heat engulfed you, a very different beast from the mugginess you’d been suffering from before. When his hand slid over your breasts, held by the corset of your dress as they were, you didn’t protest.

“Darling…” he purred as he broke away to let you breathe, and you gulped in a lungful of evening air like someone thirsty will gulp down water.

You murmured something unintelligible – it was probably his name – and Astarion decided to up the ante. His hands latched around your waist and in one smooth, practiced movement, you were suddenly sitting on the stone wall. The stone was much colder than everything else and the chill bit into the undersides of your thighs through your dress, but you barely noticed. Not with Astarion insinuating himself between your thighs to keep kissing you, enjoying this newfound angle. He didn’t leave it at just your mouth, either – he nipped a line of playful little bites down your neck, on your collarbone, sending small fissions of pleasure with each one, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Propriety flying out of the window, you responded by wrapping your legs around his trim hips, kissing him back with fervour until your lips started to feel numb, wrapping your arms around him and carding your fingers through his gleaming silvery hair.

You couldn’t even blame it on the wine – you’d only drunk two glasses of it since you got here. No, this was lust. Lust and the exhilaration of being seen. Of something you’d never have presumed for yourself being practically handed to you, and you seizing it with both hands. Literally, in fact.

It was hard to say how things might have gone. If Astarion had taken your hand and led you into a dark corner, you had no doubt you would have followed. He would have taken a lot more, and you weren’t sure if you could or would have refused. Not when you felt so good, not when he took notice of you when it seemed like nobody else bothered.

But then, when he had his lips pressed to your neck, Astarion paused, like he was listening to something. You thought maybe he heard a clock chiming and wondered what time it was now, and he suddenly stopped what he was doing, almost freezing like a deer hearing the snap of a branch.

Slowly, gently almost, he pulled back, away from you. Some of your lipstick was smudged across his mouth, though in a way that somehow looked Avant Garde instead of messy, and he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

“Astarion?” you asked, slightly confused, quickly closing your legs and sitting up straight.

He stared at you for a moment, and you couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t the sultry come-hither smile he’d been giving you across the room, nor was it the playful half-smirk he wore when he was joking. It wasn’t angry or disappointed, either, which was something. If you had to name it, it was more contemplative.

“You are sweet,” he eventually said, but far from that being a seductive or patronising statement, there was something in his voice that was almost…rueful.

“I…did I do something wrong?” you asked, feeling silly and slightly helpless, like you’ve failed at grabbing a rope you were meant to use to climb out of a pit.

“No, dear, you haven’t done anything,” Astarion said, and his tone was assuring enough that it eased some of the sting out of the sudden withdrawal. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through your hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “But duty calls, I’m afraid. I must go.”

You nodded, not wanting to seem childish or desperate in your desire for him to stay. You opted not to ask what possible ‘duty’ he could have at a masquerade ball, either. You decided it was none of your business and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeming too curious. And Lorna was probably wondering where you were by now, no doubt she felt equally as embarrassed as you at Demerius and his faux pas.

“Alright,” you said, giving a quick lick of your lips, still feeling a tingling sensation from where his mouth had been.

“But rest assured,” Astarion hummed, drawing so close to you that you were barely inches apart. “Our paths will no doubt cross again, darling. Until then…”

He pressed a swift kiss to your knuckles, and you’d normally hate that, you’d find it cheesy and horribly presumptuous, but when Astarion does it, it’s somehow charming and made your stupid heart (and other places) clench in response.

With a last smirk, he left, disappearing back into the ballroom and being swallowed up by the light and drunken laughter. It felt like a mirage, like you came out here, passed out, and imagined the whole encounter.

…But your lips are still kiss-swollen and bitten, and your lipstick was smudged too, you could tell it was without needing a mirror to confirm it. You definitely didn’t do that to yourself, and you hugged the knowledge of it to your chest like a comforting pillow.

A figure appeared on the balcony, and you relaxed. Lorna.

“Oh, there you are! I was worried you’d gone!” Lorna said, making her way over to you. Her skin is shiny with sweat and her hair is starting to fall out of its elegant style. It seemed that Demetrius might not have been as graceful as he might have looked at first glance. “Why are you sitting out here alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I was just talking with someone, actually.” You replied, slightly defensively. “But he had to leave.”

Lorna examined your face and a sly smile crept across it. You touched at your mouth self-consciously and pink came off at your fingertips.

“It looks like you had plenty to say,” Lorna said in a teasing voice, her eyes alighting on the love bites that now littered your neck.

“Shut up…” you said without heat, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“Come on – I think I’ve had enough dancing for one evening, and there’s a terrible argument going on inside.” Lorna said, holding her hand out for to you take. “What say we get something to eat, and you can tell me all about your mystery man? Do you think you’ll see him again?”

You accepted her hand and jumped down from the wall. You glanced up at the bright, full moon above you and thought of Astarion’s words, his voice teasing – promising? – he’d see you again. Your hand ghosted across the necklace you wore, the pendant hanging just over your loudly beating heart.

“I hope so.”

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (12/∞) ♛

↬ Queen Matilda Mary's Pearl Fringe Tiara

Out of all the tiaras in Sunderland's royal jewelry box, Queen Matilda's Pearl Fringe is perhaps the most remarkable. The tiara, which Queen Irene once called a wall of diamonds, is instantly recognizable due to its classic design with an intriguing twist. In 1908, the Prince and Princess of Danforth celebrated their silver wedding anniversary. The occasion was a great excuse for lavish celebrations and, more importantly, for Sunderland's courtiers to curry favour with extravagant gifts. Predictably, this turned gift-giving into a fierce competition between aristocratic families, who vied for the most expensive gift. To produce a magnificent gift, a group of prominent women formed an uneasy alliance. The three women included: the Marchioness of Bathurst (wife of the current Conservative prime minister), the Countess of Bloor and the Countess Farnsworth (the paternal great-aunt of the future Tatiana, Princess of Danforth). Pooling their combined wealth, the women were able to afford a major piece of jewelry for the princess. They quarrelled throughout the process, notably over the tiara's design and who would present the gift at Chester Palace, but the princess herself was impressed with their effort. The resulting tiara was a spectacular fringe tiara of white and yellow gold set with diamonds. Much to Matilda's delight, the tiara bore similarities to Queen Caroline's Fringe Tiara, a favourite of her estranged mother-in-law Queen Alexandra. The tiara featured sixty brilliant-set graduated bars and drop pearl toppers which cloud easily removed. Futuring over 400 diamonds, it cost around $7,480. Princess Matilda took an instant liking to the tiara, choosing to debut it at the wedding of her eldest surviving son, the Duke of Woodbine to Lady Anne Sunningdale, in 1913. At the wedding, the tiara generated interest from the press and public, who marvelled at the tiara's dazzling beauty. When Matilda Mary became queen in 1921, it continued to maintain the title of her most recognizable tiara. When Matilda Mary died in 1945, it was inherited by her daughter-in-law Anne. Despite having not one but two other fringe tiaras, wore the tiara consistently throughout her husband's reign. Posing in it for multiple portraits. Queen Anne died in 1973, and along with most of her personal jewels, she bequeathed the tiara to her granddaughter-in-law, Queen Irene. The piece quickly became a central part of Irene’s jewelry collection, being worn frequently throughout Irene and Louis's first European tour in 1973-4 where the press once again gawked at the tiara's enthralling row of diamonds. It is one of the few tiaras Irene has worn consistently throughout her tenure as queen, having appeared during foreign tours, at royal premieres, and at state banquets across the world.

[otomefiend]

Victor

Story Event: Luxury liner invitation

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

~~Part 1~~

Viscount Morris: ".....What?"

Victor: "What's going on, Morris? Did something happen?"

Viscount Morris: ".... let's keep this between us."

Viscount Morris: "It looks like -- there is a murderer aboard this ship that the police are after."

(What!?)

The police had been chasing a murderer known as `the mole` for a long time.

During their investigation, the trail went cold but they received a tip he might have boarded this ship.

Victor: "I see. We have to catch this man before he does something bad."

Viscount Morris: "But....I have no clue where to begin."

Kate: "That's..."

Viscount Morris: "Neither culprit's name nor his face are known. The only established fact is that it's a man."

Viscount Morris: "He's said to be a collector who's extremely obsessed with jewels."

Victor: "So, in other words, he's a man who's committed numerous murders to get his hands on them."

Viscount Morris: "Argh... why is he on my ship? What if something happens to the passengers?"

Victor: "-- Viscount, will you let me solve this case?"

Viscount Morris: "I know you are capable as the Queen's aide. But you are also an esteemed guest --"

Victor: "This ship has sailed from England and will return there as well. I want to nip the evil in the bud before we reach our destination."

Viscount Morris: "... thank you, Victor. Just try not to overdo it, okay?"

~~Part 2~~

Victor waved his hand at the Viscount as he was walking away with a worried look on his face.

Victor: "Evil seems to love us a little too much, don't you think Kate?"

Kate: "Heh, it really does."

Victor: "Still, I brought you here because I wanted you to spread your wings."

Victor: "That's why, I'll make sure that man --"

Kate: "Hey, Victor, may I join you on the case?"

Victor: "...."

(Victor is the exeptional aide to the Queen called the Grim Reaper)

(I'm sure he'll be able to solve the case brilliantly without me, but...)

Kate: "There has to be something I could help you with."

Kate: "Besides, I am a fairytale writer. If something happens, I have to be there to witness it."

Victor: "...."

Victor: "I understand where you're coming from."

Victor: "I must find and condemn the evil that has come aboard. May I ask you to assist me in this task as a fairytale writer?"

Kate: "Yes, of course!"

(... I'm so happy when he relies on me)

Kate: "But how will we identify this man whose face and name are unknown?"

Victor: "I have an idea. Will you hear me out?"

~~Part 3~~

Viscount Morris: "Attention, everyone! We will now begin the dance contest to celebrate the maiden voyage of the Orellus."

Viscount Morris: "There are ten pairs who entered the competition. The pair that impresses the audience the most will receive a special reward from me!"

Viscount Morris: "Here's the first pair! Victor and Lady Kate."

Victor: "Hello, thank you."

Kate: "I look forward to the competition."

(Ugh... people's stares are painful!)

*flashback starts*

Victor: "I have an idea. Will you hear me out?"

Victor: "There are two possible reasons why he boarded this luxury liner. First, he wanted to escape from the police."

Victor: "Secondly, he's planning to steal the jewels if the opportunity arises."

(... There are many aristocrats who board the luxury passenger ships)

Victor: "That's right, Kate. The blue diamond shining on your chest is the key."

Kate: "Do you want the necklace to be the bait...?"

Victor: "Just so. Of course, I'll guarantee your safety. How's that sound?"

Kate: "I'm not worried. I believe in you, Victor."

Kate: "But we need to somehow draw attention to this diamond, don't we?"

Victor: "Then leave it to me. I'm good at standing out."

*flashback ends*

(-- That's why he asked the Viscount to hold a dance contest)

(I can't believe so many people are here..!)

Most of the passengers gathered on deck and gave us cheerful looks.

Victor: "Kate, look at me."

~~Part 4~~

(-- That's why he asked the Viscount to hold a dance contest)

(I can't believe so many people are here..!)

Most of the passengers gathered on deck and gave us cheerful looks.

Victor: "Kate, look at me."

Kate: "...?"

When I looked up, I saw Victor smiling happily as usual.

Victor: "If next to you is someone invincible, what should you do?"

(What should I do)

(What Victor always tells me to do)

Kate: "To enjoy this occasion to the fullest?"

Victor: "A great answer. As expected of the fairytale expert of the Crown."

He smiled, and the musicians began to play a cheerful dance tune.

Victor: "Kate, take my hand."

Kate: "Right!"

Young female aristocrat: "Oh, look at those two. Hehe, they appear to be having a great time!"

Young male aristocrat: "Indeed. It makes me want to dance too."

We were thus chosen as the best couple, partly due to the Viscount's discretion.

As planned, when Victor was interviewed,

He naturally spun the story that the blue diamond shining on my chest was a `one-of-a-kind illusory necklacklace`,

Still, he wanted everyone gathered to know.

(I hope the culprit will be lured by this)

~~~

-- and then night fell on board of the ship.

I was standing alone in an empty and silent corridor.

-- To be a decoy, of course.

(The killer would most likely target me when I was alone)

(But will it really go according to plan .........?)

~~Part 5~~

No doubt Victor was prepared for any eventuality.

(I have to trust him. I'm sure it'll be all right)

???: "Lady, what are you doing here all by yourself?"

Kate: "...!"

Startled by the voice coming from behind me, I turned around and saw --

(this guy......)

*flashback starts*

Red-haired crewman: "Lady, I'll take care of your luggage."

Kate: "Oh, thank you. If you'd be so kind."

Red-haired crewman: "That's some nice dress and necklace you wear. Hope you have a good trip."

*flashback ends*

There he was, still dressed as a crew member, with a crooked smile on his face.

Kate: "You are the mole who commits murder to steal jewels."

The mole: "Tsk tsk, how does a little girl like you know about this?"

The mole: "No matter. I'll just kill you, take your stuff and dump your body in the sea."

His composed demeanour made it clear that he had taken countless lives.

Kate: "...why are you doing this?"

The mole: "You mean killing? Because getting jewels is more important to me."

Kate: "...!"

My former self would have been frightened here.

But now I understood.

That evil without reason also existed in this world.

The mole: "What's with those eyes? Damn you, I'm gonna kill you."

The mole: "But first, give me the necklace."

Kate: "...!"

The moment his hand reached for my chest --.

Victor: "Here I come!"

Victor: "Who is the naughty boy causing trouble on this lovely ship?"

Chapter 3 Premium

Chapter 3 Bitter

[wri0thesley]

pantalone, i think, wants one of two things out of a darling:

someone who is like him. someone who has not known luxury; somebody who he can mould into the perfect matching set to him. somebody whom he can hold the fact that 'i made you what you are' over their heads. pantalone hoards treasures, and a treasure is so much more satisfying to possess if you were the one to prise it out from the cracks of the world yourself. pantalone treats this darling like an extension of himself; he made himself, and he made his darling. people ought to look at them in envy and wish they had half of pantalone's talents, half of his ability, half of his knack for finding a diamond in the rough and then polishing it up to shine like a jewel amongst the snezhnayan elite.

or he wants to corrupt. though the aristocracy pretend to accept him, though he holds a certain amount of power as the financial arm of the fatui, there is always the whisper when he enters a ballroom that he was not born and bred to be like them. inside of him is a poor man. so this pantalone falls for a darling who has been brought up in that world; the child of some great aristocrat who has never known what it is to be poor, to not know where one's next meal is coming from or where one will sleep that night. this darling is a trophy; pantalone has them in his bed as a way to say 'see? i will have whatever i put my mind to, even if i take it from beneath your nose. even if you made it yourself, your most beloved treasure will come to me and lie beneath me and beg for me, my name like a prayer on their lips'.

trophies of what he can achieve, both kinds.

[isfjmel-phleg]

@inklings-challenge here is my contribution to day 19's prompt, "amateur."

This is an excerpt from a Coregean novel, The Amateur Princess, as described here. It's not the brilliant extravaganza I had in my head, unfortunately (I tried something more detailed but it was too ambitious for my current capabilities), but hopefully it gets the idea across.

Loriston society seldom had anything notable enough to warrant the rapt attention of throngs of ennui-stricken aristocrats. They were already accustomed to the ways of the Coregean royal family. They yawned over the most sensitive of poets, whispered through the performances of musicians whose work was renowned on the Continent, and favored the world’s greatest thinkers with only a half-hearted “how do you do?” It required a truly exceptional human being to command the regard of these jaded creatures, and at last society had found such a one: the exiled Princess Grayce of the tiny nation of Anatavia, somewhere in the southeastern mountains of the Continent. No one quite knew where to locate this land on a map. But one could locate Princess Grayce any evening at the residence of the Duchess of Ampnowle, surrounded by admirers. For not only was Princess Grayce amiable and beautiful—golden-haired and blue-eyed, with a foreign, high-cheekboned face—but she also told the most engaging tales.

That night a crowd had gathered around, begging for an account of how she alone of her family had escaped from the turmoil that deposed her father the king and brought a usurper to the throne.

“It really is quite painful to recall it, I am afraid,” said Her Royal Highness in a tremulous voice. She spoke excellent Coregean with hardly any accent, for it was one of the languages of the court in her homeland. “Surely you can imagine what a heartbreaking thing it is to lose everything you love in one night.”

The nobility, none of whom had lost anything more devastating than a small fortune at the gambling table, groaned in exquisite sympathy.

Princess Grayce acknowledged their kindness with the slightest smile and a regal little nod.

“For your sakes,” she said, “I shall do my best.”

And she did. She related an account full of palace intrigue, concealed crown jewels, faithful retainers, a daring plan for escape, and a devastating betrayal, resulting in the Princess Grayce getting separated from her mother, brother, and sister while en route to safety in neighbouring Ivica, only to hear upon arrival of the tragic assassination of her father at the hands of the conquering King Jellick’s supporters, while the rest of the royal family remained missing. 

Amid the cries and gasps of her audience, Princess Grayce had managed to maintain most of her composure, but it was at this point that Her Royal Highness’s eyes filled with glittering tears that trickled down her stately nose like fallen diamonds. For a time, she could hardly speak. The Duchess placed a gloved hand on hers and patted it with the tenderness of a mother. Not a soul in that room was unmoved by the sight of the Princess Grayce as her delicate form shook with sobs.

As she was starting to recover, a gentleman asked, “Where did you go next?”

She dabbed at her face with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I had nothing left but a locket that my parents had given me for my sixteenth birthday. I sold it and bought a train ticket to Vischland, which was as far away from Jellick’s influence as I could afford. From there, I earned my passage to Corege as a lady’s companion until I reached Loriston and made the acquaintance of the dear Duchess.” She smiled a feeble little smile at her hostess.

“But why,” persisted the gentleman, “did you not go to Ivica as you originally intended? Your elder sister is their queen; surely she would have taken you in.”

Princess Grayce said nothing. She clenched the arms of her chair and went white, then red.

When at last she spoke, it was with a note of reproach. “Do you not,” she said, “recall that Ivica itself is under threat? A party not unlike Jellick’s is gaining power, and my brother-in-law King Kostandin has pleaded with your own king for aid. How could I enter that country without causing greater problems for my dear Viera? I wouldn’t wish what I suffered on anyone, least of all my own sister. For her to accept me into her home now would be to acknowledge and give credence to…what happened in Anatavia, which would only send a message that if one deposition can be managed, so can another. I couldn’t go there.”

“Is that why you haven’t presented yourself at Rhosemore…Your Royal Highness?” asked the gentleman.

“Your gracious king,” said Princess Grayce, “has not yet invited me. Whenever he does so, I shall be delighted to accept. But at the moment I cannot intrude upon his hospitality. The generosity of the Duchess has already been more than I could have hoped for.” She went misty-eyed again but collected herself. “And if there are no further questions tonight…?”

Even the inquisitive gentleman had nothing further to add.

Princess Grayce rose and curtsied in the elaborate Anatavian fashion. “In that case, I shall retire for the evening, but I would be delighted to meet with you all again soon. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

And with a regal wave, she swept out of the room in a cloud of white lace.

#

Away in the Duchess’s finest guest bedroom, a golden-haired young lady had put aside her lace finery in exchange for a silken wrapper and had dismissed her maid (loaned to her by her boundlessly munificent hostess) for the evening. She sat for a time at her dressing table, studying her reflection in the glass in various attitudes, ending with disgust.

“Who does he think he is?” she muttered in tones quite unlike the silvery ones heard in the Duchess’s drawing room. “Thank heaven I remembered.”

Within the drawer of the dressing table lay the evening newspaper, folded as small as possible. Snatching this up, she strode near the fire and paced in front of it for a time, reading every article of world news as religiously as a university student “cramming” for an “exam.” Unlike a diligent student, however, she took no notes. When the final article had been pored over, the newspaper fluttered onto the grate and began to darken and shrivel into ashes.

“I’ll be ready for him tomorrow,” vowed Tresta Gild.

Nature had granted her the gift of total recall of anything she read, a talent which had served her well in her years as a confidence woman. From the time the identity of Princess Grayce had fallen into her lap, her knowledge of Anatavia and its former royal family, gleaned from every book, newspaper, or magazine on which she could get her hands, had increased until she had nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the subject—inasmuch as was written and published.

And much of the life of Princess Grayce, whatever had truly become of her, remained locked away in the memories of those close to her.

Cresta began to suspect that she had just met one of them.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

In London during the late spring of 1953, preparations for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s Coronation were reaching their denouement.

Couturier Norman Hartnell was completing a dress to outshine any other.

Tucked away at the back of Hartnell’s lavish Mayfair townhouse, a team of embroiderers were finishing stitching a floral garland on the ivory silk bodice and crinoline.

Pastel thread, jewels, sequins, beads and 10,000 seed pearls were sewn as Commonwealth emblems and British flora around an English Tudor rose scattered with diamond dewdrops.

Six young, aristocratic maids of honour, including 19-year-old Lady Anne Coke – best-selling author Anne Glenconner – were being drilled like guardsmen by The Duke of Norfolk, responsible for organising the coronation, as they rehearsed the walk to the Abbey altar, with his wife, the Duchess, standing in for The Queen.

“If the Bishops don’t learn to walk in step,” he remonstrated, “we’ll be here all night.”

The photographer Cecil Beaton, well-versed in photographing crowned heads and aristocrats in the Vogue studios, was prepping a vantage point in Westminster Abbey, high up by the organ pipes, as the best location from which to capture the ceremony.

It would be a long day; he’d fill his top hat with sandwiches to sustain him.

Nearby, at Garrard, the Crown Jeweller and his team of master craftsmen were hunched over workbenches altering the Imperial State Crown to fit the young Queen’s head.

Garrard had made the Crown in 1937 for King George VI – a replica of the crown designed and crafted for Queen Victoria, which contained virtually all the same stones symbolic of centuries of Royal history, fitted around a purple velvet cap and ermine band.

Clusters of diamond-set crosses and fleurs-de-lis linked by swags of diamonds, supported by sapphires, emeralds and pearls in the form of oak leaves and acorns, dazzled around the massive 317.40 carat Cullinan II diamond, the Second Star of Africa, cut from the largest diamond ever discovered.

Above it sat the Black Prince’s Ruby – in fact, a spinel, worn by Henry V at Agincourt – while the 104 carat oval Stuart sapphire gleamed at the rear of the band, with the cross atop the orb set with the sapphire from Edward the Confessor’s ring.

King George VI requested Garrard create an inner “hammock” style fitting, like a guard’s officer’s bearskin, to distribute the nearly three pounds of weight evenly on his head.

Reshaping the circlet for Queen Elizabeth II involved remounting the stones and motifs of which it is composed, as well as repositioning and lowering the arches, all of which required craftsmanship of the highest skill. 

The aim was to improve the strength of the crown with lightness of weight, which isn’t easy with large stones, and those which were cut nearly 300 years ago.

They were working against the clock. The new Queen required time before the ceremony to become accustomed to the crown’s feel and weight.

“There are some disadvantages to crowns, but otherwise they are very important things,” said Her Majesty, recalling its heaviness on the 65th anniversary of the coronation.

“Fortunately, my father and I have roughly the same shaped head, so once you put it on, it stays.”

The media demanded constant updates on Garrard’s work, with the coronation making broadcasting history as the first service to be televised, adding to the sense of pressure.

In addition, two gold Armill bracelets of sincerity and wisdom, symbolic of the monarch’s bond with the people needed to be finished, which were replacing the 17th-century enamel bracelets dating from the coronation of King Charles II.

In previous ceremonies, the Armills had been carried, but these were made for the Queen to wear, decorated with two rows of engraving and Tudor rose clasps with red velvet linings.

Garrard was also inundated with cleaning requests.

“No one had worn their jewellery or tiaras during the war,” explains Lady Anne.

“People were queuing to have their tiaras, which were like great fenders of diamonds, stomachers and necklaces cleaned.”

On the day, 2 June 1953, it poured with rain.

Lady Anne remembers arriving at the Abbey:

“It was pretty dark and cold. Our dresses weren’t lined, there were clothing coupons after the war you see.

A tiny thread of blue cotton had been placed on the floor in the Abbey, so the Queen knew where to stand.

When the procession began, we walked past row upon row of tiaras, as well as people in their National dress.

The Queen walked a bit faster than the Duchess had in rehearsals, so we had to adjust our steps.”

The ceremony ended at 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

Hartnell left after watching his historic dress sweep down the aisle followed by the procession of royal pages, maids of honour, peers and peeresses sparkling with diamonds, looking, he remarked:

“Like a lovely hunk of fruitcake, the damson jam of velvet bordered with clotted cream of ermine and sprinkled with the sugar of diamonds.”

Beaton rushed to Buckingham Palace to photograph the Queen theatrically against a painted backdrop, holding the orb and sceptre and wearing the Imperial State Crown.

The Crown Jeweller Garrard remained until The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh had taken lunch in the Abbey annex, in case any last-minute adjustments to the diamond-encrusted Crown were needed.

“Cecil was waiting when we all returned from the Abbey,” Lady Anne continues.

“He had everything set up for the photographs, and that’s when I really noticed the Crown and jewels glittering under the bright lights and took note of it all.

The Queen looked so young, beautiful and vulnerable, so the contrast of seeing her crowned with all the regalia was extraordinary.

She was weighted down a bit, but I remember thinking it was terribly poignant.”

A tense moment followed.

“The Duke of Edinburgh was fussing around, and Cecil got irritated, put his camera down and said, ‘Oh Sir, would you prefer to take the photographs?’” Lady Anne laughs.

“The Queen looked a bit horrified, and The Duke wandered off. You see, The Duke would have liked the photographer Baron, but it was The Queen Mother who adored Cecil.”

Later, it was still rainy and dark outside.

When the gleaming, crowned figure of The Queen appeared on the Buckingham Palace balcony, she shone with a sense of tradition and permanence.

With the Imperial State Crown, she wore the Coronation necklace and earrings, made in 1858 by Garrard and worn by Queen Alexandra and Queen Mary, including 25 brilliants suspending the Lahore diamond drop.

Time will tell if the Armills will return to being carried at the Coronation of HRH The Prince of Wales, and if he has inherited the Windsor head shape, but should substantial adjustments be required, the crown will appear once more unchanged.

The historical continuity of the regalia, and the fact the crown is still in constant use, makes these jewels created in the Garrard workshop the most potent in the world.

[justforbooks]

Inevitably, they are rich. Extremely rich. Very, very rich. There are the things you can see: the castles, the country estates and the top-of-the-range cars with which to drive between them. There are enough horses to stable an entire stud. There are the exquisite jewels and enormous gems glittering at state banquets.

There are the things you can’t see, too: the sprawling tax-free hereditary property firms and the share portfolio acquired with their annual dividends. There are the works of art in the family’s private collections, rarely, if ever, publicly exhibited. So if we already know all this, why, on the eve of the coronation of King Charles III, investigate the wealth of the British royal family?

The first and simplest answer is that we simply ought to know. From 10 Downing Street to your local district council, the private finances of public servants are fair game for scrutiny where they are derived from public funds. If anything, the need for clarity here is greater: Rishi Sunak and the mayor take money from the public purse only temporarily. The life of the king is funded at taxpayer expense from birth to death.

The second answer is that, to be blunt, the Windsors act as if they have something to hide. The finances are murky as hell, and structured according to a formula that means their annual handouts can only go up, never down. For several decades their shareholdings were owned through a secret shell company at the Bank of England that was immune from national transparency law. The judiciary has sealed their wills from public scrutiny in secret hearings for the past century. This is not the behaviour of a family relaxed about the prospect of an informed citizenry.

The question is not merely how wealthy he is, the question is: how much of the king’s private wealth is derived from his public role? Only once Britain has an answer to that can it discuss the most important question of all: is this really a good way to spend public money?

Just how rich is he? The first problem with valuing King Charles III’s private wealth is that nobody knows precisely how rich he is, probably including him. Centuries of dynastic marriages with the British aristocracy and the royal houses of Europe have produced a family whose personal history is intertwined with Britain’s national story, and whose personal wealth is inextricable from their public position.

Take the Cullinan III and IV diamonds: two gems cleaved from the largest diamond ever discovered and presented as a gift from the South African government to the king’s great-grandmother Queen Mary in 1910. She wore them in her coronation crown and later as a pair in a brooch, which was left to the queen and then, presumably, the king (the family pays no inheritance tax as long as assets are bequeathed monarch-to-monarch). Elizabeth inherited the brooch in 1953 when Mary died, rather than in 1952 when she became queen. That indicates that the jewels are private. But by modern standards, they were clearly official gifts, so shouldn’t they be national heritage?

The second problem is the culture of extreme deference and secrecy that surrounds the royal family. This is partly a result of a media environment that covers the Windsors as dysfunctional celebrity aristocrats, rather than figures of serious political or constitutional significance. It has created a culture in which the royal institution itself is above normal standards of scrutiny, and where any remotely uncomfortable or probing question, no matter how valid, is ignored or dismissed by default.

Palace responses to questions about the king’s wealth ranged from “we’re too busy, perhaps we’ll respond next week” to “that’s really none of your business”. Questions about which jewels were owned by the state went unanswered. At one point the press office announced it was too busy to respond to further questions until after the coronation. Issued the same day as a palace statement about a celebratory quiche, this did not feel especially convincing. When pushed, the king’s spokesperson said: “Your figures are a highly creative mix of speculation, assumption and inaccuracy.”

The short answer is that, all told, we think Charles is worth at least £1.8bn. But it’s the longer answer, about how the king came to be worth so much, that is more interesting. Excursions to the parliamentary archives to dig out accounts for their hereditary estates unearthed cash payments to the king and his late mother dating back to 1952. That the king and his mother together pocketed more than £1.2bn in annual dividends from the estates (adjusted for inflation) was just as breathtaking as the discovery that they were paying themselves about 10 times more by the end of her reign than they were at the start.

Then you find the gifts. There are the mint-condition stamps from the governments of Cambodia and Laos that have, it appears, been subsumed into the family’s private stamp collection (estimated value: £100m). There are the works of art: an illustrated Bible from the modernist master Marc Chagall, or an etching from Salvador Dalí, both presented to Prince Philip during official visits overseas and both subsequently exhibited as being part of his “personal collection”. The monarchy’s own policy says that gifts from other monarchs “as a general rule” enter the national collection of state heritage, but two diamond necklaces given to the late queen by Saudi kings are mysteriously absent.

You also find lingering traces of the dark moments in Britain’s history. A 100-year-old memo in the British Library records the looting of the city of Lahore in 1849 and the theatrical presentation of plundered diamonds, rubies, pearls and emeralds to an ecstatic Queen Victoria. Once the pride of the British empire, the Koh-i-noor diamond now sits in a vault in some strange, disgraced hinterland: to wear it would be too offensive, to return it to its rightful owners too humiliating.

The historian Brooke Newman discovered a page in a 17th-century share register documenting the transfer of £1,000 of shares in the Royal African Company from the slaver Edward Colston to William III, the first of 14 monarchs to either cultivate the slave trade or harvest its profits. Perhaps revealingly, this was the one dimension of our inquiries to startle the palace into issuing an extended public statement describing how “profoundly seriously” Charles considered the matter.

Does the king need a state grant? The immediate political question flowing from the king’s wealth is obvious. If the family is this rich, why does it need an annual sovereign grant (currently £86m a year) from parliament? Why are the multimillion-pound payments from the hereditary estates not paid to the Treasury, or at least taken into consideration when setting their annual stipend? Alternatively, if the estates are genuinely private assets, why don’t they pay corporation tax?

After that come much more difficult questions about how a constitutional monarchy behaves in a modern society. Behind the pomp, the wealth and the opulence is a lurking sense of a monarchy designed for the more deferential age of the 19th century, when its purpose was fuzzy but simple: unite and represent the nation.

This, however, is a 21st-century coronation. Whether multimillion-pound salaries and disdain for difficult questions can really unite and represent the values of a modern democracy remains to be seen.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[unhonest-iago]

Incorrect History; Crystals

Everything that you’ve ever known about crystals is wrong. The simple yet elegant rocks that ties us mere mortals to the world’s fertile soil. You’ve probably searched up many times which stone correlates to when you were born. Aries’ pressurized diamonds to Pisces’ aquamarine.  One used for stress relief, the other stimulating creativity. Looking at them, you wouldn’t think about the many wars and political conflicts they’ve played a role in. Thus I believe it’s time we stepped back and got an even clearer reflection of crystals. That is if you pray to not lose your coveted gems. 

The intro reel plays, the text on screen reading ‘Factually True and Real History with Ted Nivison.’ A few images cascade behind the text, one being of the painting Girl with a Pearl Earring, while it gradually scales in size. Now you see Ted standing in front of a grassy knoll, you can assume it’s a green screen as it looks akin to Microsoft’s home screen.

Most would believe that the first big boom for crystals was New Age mysticism that arose in the 1980s but in actuality, they’ve been around since Ancient Egyptian. A ‘mini me’ form of Ted standing in the original’s hand. This revelation came with the discovery of clay tablets with magic formulas inscribed in hieroglyphics. Because this might come as a surprise to most of you, they did not have Staples.  A picture of Staples green-screened, the smaller Ted becoming aware of larger Ted. That kinda blew my mind when I found out. What the fuck? The mini Ted disappeared now. The Parthenos now set behind them.

Most of what we know regarding crystals comes from the Ancient Greeks. The word crystal derives from the word cryo. Before battle, Greek soldiers would rub hematite on themselves. Oxidation gives the crystal it’s pristine rusted color, closely associating it with Ares, their god of war. One such battle being the Trojan war, historians claim it was over the prized Helen of Troy but this is incorrect. Paris of Troy stealing her from her husband, Sparta’s king. A clip of the film 300’s protagonist yelling Sparta appears on screen. Rather it was what Helen possessed, a coveted amethyst necklace. The war itself almost destroyed the economy, allowing for the Romans to easily take over the omega filled population destitute of alphas. And the amethyst necklace unfortunately lost to time. 

Now let’s talk about the Victorians. A flash of puffy powdered wigs appearing on screen, different pieces of clothing; petticoats, feathered hats, waistcoat pockets holding watches. In 1829, Sir Boris Peel established London’s Metropolitan police force. They quickly garnered a corrupt reputation, referred to as spokes, cracking down on jewelry related robberies. Opals, rubies, & pearls most sought after. Women took to sewing them into their clothes, secret pockets when women’s clothing still had them. Further incorporating them into spring bonnets men on the hands of their watches. As tradition, peer pressure from the deceased goes, this is where aristocratic families willing beloved heirlooms to their descendants originated. As they later traveled to the adventurous new-beginnings of the Colonies, so did these possessions.

The east coast having settled, needing more room to stretch their legs, these ambitious settlers journeyed out west finding specks of gold in the Rocky mountains. They kept part of their finds separate, off the record. Only setting up shop after the glorious centers of attention turned to dust, haunted by their lustrous ghosts. Developing the tricks of the trade, mentoring others under their careful thumb. Hitting the 1980s, with the New Age movement, those jewels repurposed into anchors of healing as we entered the Age of Aquarius. Ted looks to the hourglass sitting on their mantle, the sand at the top now all at the bottom. Ah, it looks like we’re out of time. Thank you so much for joining me on this episode of Factually True History. I’m your host, Ted Nivison. Thanks for watching…or reading. It cuts to them waving, as the camera pans outward, the same intro playing, repeating as the outro. 

[xxmyhomexx]

HARRY POTTER: The Wedding

I have another idea for fem!Potter and Draco, and it would be their wedding. After the war, the tragedy, and everything they've endured, it'd be a once in a lifetime experience.

~~~

"When this war is over, marry me."

"What? Draco, are you out of your mind?! We're still so young!"

"Life is unpredictable, Potter, and we might not get another chance. I said I'd make you mine and I meant every word."

"I must be so insane, someone might think I've been sent from St. Mungo's!" Harriet said out loud as she stood in the middle of the room while Molly and Narcissa fiddled with her dress.

"Stay still, Harriet dear," Molly commanded. "You're going to ruin my stitching."

Just as she pulled the strings if the dress's bodice, Harriet heaved in a breath as if the life were being squeezed out of her.

"Too tight!"

"Oh, sorry, dear!" Molly quickly waved her wand and the strings loosened. "How's that?"

"Much better," Harriet sighed. "And quite comfortable, too."

Molly smiled as she continued to fiddle with the bodice, humming to herself as the long sleeves flared out into bells, while Narcissa measured the length of the skirt.

"My, my," Draco's mother smiled. "That's the perfect length. You can dance without having to worry about tripping over your feet."

The dress stopped at her ankles, the skirt flaring out everytime she twirled. The sleeves were lacey and see-through, while the bodice was simple but tasteful with bare shoulders. Pure white, Harriet looked like a snow angel. Narcissa began to style her hair, twisting half of it up in a plait shaped into a tiara while letting the rest fall down. Her hair had gotten longer since the war in rivulets of fine waves. Mollywas busy digging through jewelry, tossing any necklace or earrings that didn't look right back into their respective boxes.

"Oooh, what about this, Narcissa?" She held out a fine diamond necklace with a golden heart charm.

"Careful, Molly!" Narcissa snatched it from her hands. "Lucius got this for me for our second anniversary. But yes, this is the one."

She clipped it around Harriet's neck. Her eyes widened at how beautiful it was, stopping just above the dip between her breasts. Molly continued to rummage through Narcissa's jewelry, pulling out pairs of earrings.

"No, too simple. No, too dramatic."

"That's enough, Molly. She doesn't need earrings!" Narcissa commanded. The Weasley matriarch rolled her eyes as she walked back over to Harriet. Narcissa finished placing jeweled flowers throughout her hair, while Molly began to dust the girl's eyes with shadow and mascara. Simple but effective, and both women stepped back to admire the work they completed. Tears shown in Molly's eyes.

"Oh, Harriet," she dabbed at her eyes. "You look so magnificent."

A light rap on the door interrupted them. Turning around, Harriet's eyes widened when she noticed Lucius Malfoy's presence. He awas always sharply dressed in robes of black, and most of the time his hair was always down, white and long. He wasn't much different, but instead of a cloak, he wore a suit. The coat was shorter, and his white collared shirt was buckled at the neck with a gold medallion. To Harriet, he looked more of an aristocrat rather than the father of the groom, only noticing his arms carried stuff as he shut the door.

"It's almost time," he told them. "The guests are out in the backyard. May I have a word with the bride before we head out?"

Narcissa nodded and ushered Molly out of the dressing room. Molly gave Harriet a huge smile and blew a kiss before closing the door behind them. Lucius turned around, taking a moment to gaze at Harriet in her wedding dress. The dress wasn't as extravagant or austentatious as others, but the silk and lacing twirled along with her every time she moved. His wife's necklace stood out the most, as well as the silver bejewed flowers lined through the braid around the crown of her head. Her hair flowed down her shoulders, and her makeup consisted of brown eyeshadow and mascara, giving her eyes a slight winged effect.

"My, my," he smirked. " You look..."

Even he had no words. Harriet could see the way his eyes shifted over her, a silent approval that meant Narcissa and Molly outdid themselves. Clearing his throat, he untucked a box from his arms.

"It came in just this morning."

Harriet unwrapped a black ribbon around the box, and her eyes widened. She'd never seen a bouquet so intricate and beautiful. Wrapped tightly in silk, the center of the daisies crystalized and the petals twinkled, a white ribbon square in the center. Gulping, she hissed in a breath as tears threatened to leak from her eyes.

"I'm NOT throwing this at the reception."

There was another knock on the door just as Harriet slipped on a pair of kitten heels gifted to her by Hermione. Lucius opened the door and Minerva McGonagall poked her head in through the door.

"The guests are here in backyard. You look beautiful, Harriet."

Nodding, she watched as McGonagall excused herself. Closing the door, Lucius straightened out his back and turned to Harriet with a saccharine smile, along with that eloquent look crossing his eyes she knew so well.

"So, shall we, my dear?"

Harriet gulped, her chest tightening. This was it, she was going to marry Draco Malfoy, the same arrogant boy she first met at Hogwarts, who had equally arrogant parents. That was until she learned more about them, their affliation with the Dark Arts and playing double agent and living with them. It took awhile for Draco to earn her trust and love, but somehow they persevered up to this moment.

She took Lucius's arm as he lead her out of the room. His cane knocked against the floor as they walked together. Her fingers felt slippery as she held onto him, forcing her to wipe them on the skirt of her dress.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"You're a Malfoy now, Potter," Lucius said. "It's time to embrace it."

"Were you nervous when you married Narcissa?" Harriet looked at him.

"I almost melted into a puddle."

They both chuckled as they came to the the doors leading to the massive gardens. Harriet tucked the bouquet close to her chest, gripping it tight. The doors opened, and sunlight filled the entire space. Outside, Harriet almost had a heart attack at the number of guests that arrived.

Hermione, Ron, the entire Weasley family, Neville and his grandmother, Seamus Finnigan and his family, Luna Lovegood with her father, Professor McGonagall, Professor Trelawney, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Viktor Krump, Horace Slughorn, Dean Thomas, and many others she knew were there. Draco and his family had many loved ones as well. While Harriet smiled widely as they passed down the aisle, a small frown formed.

Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, Professor Lumpin, Tonks, Cedric Diggory, Professor Snape and Dobby were not sitting amongst the crowd, nor were her parents. She thought they'd be the ones to give her away, James dancing with her and watching her get married. She looked down at the floor just as Lucius tugged her arm.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, uh...I just wish everyone that died were here to see this."

"They live inside you, darling. They'd be happy for you, as I am."

They came to a halt in the aisle. It was beautiful weather, the air none too cold nor worm. The sun was bright in a cloudy blue sky, and in front was a beautiful alter decorated in many colorful roses. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna stood on Harriet's side carrying bridesmaid bouquets, while Ron and Goyle stood along Draco's side. And in front of them all, awaited her future husband.

Draco was just as handsome as she remembered. He wore a fine suit taylored with black ruffles in the coat, a white shirt and tie, and hair was trimmed along the edges to give him a more manly appearance. His silver eyes danced on Harriet when they spotted her, and his breath hitched in his throat. He was not allowed to even sneak a peek at her, but now that she was here before him, all of that no longer mattered.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen," a voice carried through the crowd. Harriet and Draco stopped admiring each other to listen to a wizard wearing priest's robes.

"Today is a marvelous day as we are here to gather in celebration of a union between two yearning souls: Draco Malfoy of House Slytherine, and Harriet Potter of House Gryffindor, slayor of the Dark Lord and champion to all."

A light applause past through the crowd as the minister continued.

"If there is anyone who has concerns as to why these two shouldn't wed, speak or hold your peace before the Lord."

Nobody spoke.

"Who is here to give the lady to Mr. Malfoy here?"

"Lucius Malfoy, father of the groom."

Harriet stepped up to the podium, smiling at Draco. She offered her free hand, interlacing her fingers with his as they faced the minister.

"As you know, marriage is a covenant..."

He spoke the traditional wedding speech, following Draco and Harriet's vows and I-Do's.

"Draco Malfoy, do you take this woman as your wife? To hold and to love until death do you part?"

Draco squeezed Harriet's hand with a triumphant smile. "I do."

"And do you, Harriet Potter, take this man as your husband? To hold and to love until death do you part?"

Harriet swallowed a lump in her throat. She was nervous up until this point, because she'd never considered getting married to someone like Draco. She thought about Ron and Hermione, how Ron was much kinder when he was younger, while Draco had that arrogant and ruthless streak that turned her away from even the slightest possibility of friendship.

Then Voldemort appeared and she was forced to live with the Malfoys under the orders of Dumbledore. They took care of her and treated her like a part of the family, and she warmed up to Draco and saw he truly cared for her. She no longer imagined her home as Privet Drive.

"I do."

Draco's smile widened as they both turned back to the minister.

"Wonderful. I know we did not provide any speeches for this moment, so it is by the power invested in me and God himself, that you may be blessed with a life of eternal love and peace. May God be with you both. You may now kiss the bride!"

In one swift move, Draco lifted Harriet into his arms and kissed her. It was a passionate kiss, lapping her mouth and tasting every inch of her palate. When they pulled back, Harriet's cheeks were rosy and her lips were swollen, but she smiled down at him. Everyone clapped and rose from their seats. Fred and George whistled loudly, and before people knew it, the twins mounted their broomsticks.

Each of them threw their Whiz-Bang fireworks in the sky, setting off many beautiful displays. Draco and Harriet watched as one of them turned into a sparkling portrait of them on their brooms.

After the show ended, it was time for the reception. Every guest was ushered into a large tent, and the decorations were large and beautiful. Elegant silver owls stood as centerpieces for the table, two pillars of snakes from Slytherin represented the table for the wedding party. A stage stood at the far corner of the room, many instruments displayed.

Food was served right away. It was such a large variety that everyone got a helping of their choice, from steak and vegetables to soups and many desserts. A large wedding cake decorated in black and white was on a wheel cart closely guarded.

"Excuse me, my guests!" Lucius announces to the crowd. Everyone silences as he steps into the middle of the floor.

"First of all, I'd like to say congratulations to our happy couple tonight. It has not been an easy couple of years, but we can all agree that the worst evil is behind us, and today we can move forward. To the lovely groom and bride!"

An outbreak of applause carried through the tent.

"Now, will the groom please escort his bride to the floor? Tonight we have, to your musical pleasure, the Weird Sisters."

An even louder applause broke out amongst the younger crowd before Lucius cleared his throat. Harriet and Draco waltzed into the middle of the floor as Lucius stepped to the side announcing the bride and groom dance.

A slow song, full of classical instruments and a low medolic man's singing voice, echoed through the tent. Draco slid his hand from around to her back down to her waist, stopping at her bottom. Harriet squeaked when he gave it a good pinch. Nobody noticed as he twirled her in his arms.

They were like ocean waves, flitting across the floor. Just like the Yule Ball, everyone watched in fascination as the pair danced. Harriet could hear whispers amongst some of the guests, but she paid them no mind, focused too much on her husband.

Her dress flared out before her with each twirl, switching arms with Draco as he spun her. It was a waltz of sorts, and Draco caught her as she shuffled back into him. He lifted her in his arms and twirled her, earing OOHs and AAHs from the crowd.

The crescendo of the singer's passionate voice echoed onstage, and soon, Draco dipped her toward the floor, lifting her in his arms and kissing her before the crowd. When the song ended, a crescendo of applause from a standing ovation started when they bowed.

"Give it up for the bride and groom!" Myron Wagtail, lead singer of the Weird Sisters, boomed into his mic before Lucius could speak.

"If you both could please stay on the dancefloor and the parents join her, we have a special song for their dance.

Harriet froze. She forgot all about it, but her parents had been deceased for years and there was no way that could happen. Yet, Narcissa and Lucius stepped onto the floor. Narcissa took her son's hands while Lucius offered his out for Harriet.

"May I?"

Harriet nodded. His hands were a bit rougher than Draco's, but nonetheless each of them stood in position. When another song started to play, Harriet was careful to avoid his feet. To her surprise, Lucius was just as graceful as his son. He was moving slow so she could catch up.

Narcissa's silver ball gown swished as Draco spun, switching from one hand to another. When they danced, Lucius repeated his wife's moves with Harriet. By the time it ends, everyone claps and cake is served.

Draco and Harriet have a bit if fun smudging icing on their noses before feeding everyone vanilla and strawberry flavored cake. The Weird Sisters play a set that involves a rendition of a popular Muggle song: 'Wobble' by V.I.C.

"I requested it," Harriet winks at Draco, who is surprised but amused. "Coming, husband?"

The dance floor is packed as the line-dance plays. It's easy to learn, and even Narcissa is teamed up on by Harriet and Draco to join the crowd.

"Oh, no, I possibly couldn't!" she frowns.

"C'mon, Narcissa," Harriet crosses her arms. "I thought the Malfoys were fearless."

"It's ok, my love," Draco perks up, shrugging. "I guess this means Mum isn't as brave as you and I are."

Narcissa rolled her eyes with a smile. "Oh, alright."

She joins them and the party is in full swing. Everyone is dancing, talking, and enjoying the Weird Sisters play. Harriet catches up with Ron and Hermione before she is interrupted by Luna and Xenophilius.

"Congratulations, Harriet," Luna smiles. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Luna," Harriet smiled. She sees Xenophilius smile as well, but his mouth doesn't reach his eyes. When Luna excuses herself to get dessert, Harriet takes her father aside to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Harriet," Xenophilius frowns. "I-my daughter-"

"You were only trying to get her back," Harriet nods. "You didn't do it to betray us. You were just a desperate father."

"She's the only one I have after her mother died. I couldn't-"

"I would have done the same if it were someone I loved...like my husband."

She turns around to see Draco laughing and drinking with Hermione and Ron, shocking her to see that he was getting along so well with them. Now she understood how Xenophilius felt when Luna was taken.

"My husband is everything to me, too. He's family, and we never turn our backs on family."

Xenophilius's eyes widened as Luna came back and ushered him toward the dessert table. With another glance over his shoulder, a smile started to spread just as he disappeared. Yawninf, Harriet stretched her sore muscles and looked down at her feet. The heels Hermione bought her were starting to ache, and she sat at an empty table to unclip them.

"Ow!"

"Are you all right, my dear?" Harriet's eyes fell upon Lucius as he sat next to his daughter-in-law.

"My feet are killing me in these heels." She rubbed the soles of her feet. "I'm actually very tired."

Lucius checked the time on his watch and gasped. "My goodness! Yes, you and Draco should be getting to bed now. Go along, Narcissa and I'll take care of everyone."

Harriet thanked him as she carried her heels and drug her feet toward Draco, who saw she was incredibly exhausted. Looking around, he escorted her through the tent and toward the mansion. They could still hear the music and crowds loud cheers, but tonight was more than what they could handle.

Once inside their room, Harriet stretched out as she dropped her shoes near the door. Draco slid his suit jacket off and sighed happily.

"What a night," he turned around. "Now, why don't we-"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Harriet waving her wand. She was cleaning off her face of the makeup, the jeweled flowers in her hair, and unbraiding it to allow it to freefall down her shoulders. He'd never seen her work so meticulously.

"What?" She caught him staring, a seductive smile tugging her lips. "Did you really think I'd let us skip out on the most important moment tonight?"

"Oh?" Draco smirked. "And what would that be?"

Harriet licked her lips and flicked her wand once more, untying the strings and loosening the front of her gown.

"Muggles call it the wedding night."

[royal-confessions]

“In a 2006 Christie's auction, the princely family of Liechtenstein sold out a Ruby Tiara and a diamond necklace. If this family claims to be one of the richest among the aristocrats in Europe, why are they selling out their family jewels? The two sold pieces had been given by Franz Joseph to his niece who married into Liechtenstein family, those were pieces of great historical value and they didn't even earn that much. There is something off about this family, they claim to be billionaires but appear to be bankrupt.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[bala5]

The artist formerly known as Prince

Inevitably, they are rich. Extremely rich. Very, very rich. There are the things you can see: the castles, the country estates and the top-of-the-range cars with which to drive between them. There are enough horses to stable an entire stud. There are the exquisite jewels and enormous gems glittering at state banquets.

There are the things you can’t see, too: the sprawling tax-free hereditary property firms and the share portfolio acquired with their annual dividends. There are the works of art in the family’s private collections, rarely, if ever, publicly exhibited. So if we already know all this, why, on the eve of the coronation of King Charles III, investigate the wealth of the British royal family?

The first and simplest answer is that we simply ought to know. From 10 Downing Street to your local district council, the private finances of public servants are fair game for scrutiny where they are derived from public funds. If anything, the need for clarity here is greater: Rishi Sunak and the mayor take money from the public purse only temporarily. The life of the king is funded at taxpayer expense from birth to death.

The second answer is that, to be blunt, the Windsors act as if they have something to hide. The finances are murky as hell, and structured according to a formula that means their annual handouts can only go up, never down. For several decades their shareholdings were owned through a secret shell company at the Bank of England that was immune from national transparency law. The judiciary has sealed their wills from public scrutiny in secret hearings for the past century. This is not the behaviour of a family relaxed about the prospect of an informed citizenry.

The question is not merely how wealthy he is, the question is: how much of the king’s private wealth is derived from his public role? Only once Britain has an answer to that can it discuss the most important question of all: is this really a good way to spend public money?

Just how rich is he?

The first problem with valuing King Charles III’s private wealth is that nobody knows precisely how rich he is, probably including him. Centuries of dynastic marriages with the British aristocracy and the royal houses of Europe have produced a family whose personal history is intertwined with Britain’s national story, and whose personal wealth is inextricable from their public position.

Take the Cullinan III and IV diamonds: two gems cleaved from the largest diamond ever discovered and presented as a gift from the South African government to the king’s great-grandmother Queen Mary in 1910. She wore them in her coronation crown and later as a pair in a brooch, which was left to the queen and then, presumably, the king (the family pays no inheritance tax as long as assets are bequeathed monarch-to-monarch). Elizabeth inherited the brooch in 1953 when Mary died, rather than in 1952 when she became queen. That indicates that the jewels are private. But by modern standards, they were clearly official gifts, so shouldn’t they be national heritage?

The second problem is the culture of extreme deference and secrecy that surrounds the royal family. This is partly a result of a media environment that covers the Windsors as dysfunctional celebrity aristocrats, rather than figures of serious political or constitutional significance. It has created a culture in which the royal institution itself is above normal standards of scrutiny, and where any remotely uncomfortable or probing question, no matter how valid, is ignored or dismissed by default.

Palace responses to questions about the king’s wealth ranged from “we’re too busy, perhaps we’ll respond next week” to “that’s really none of your business”. Questions about which jewels were owned by the state went unanswered. At one point the press office announced it was too busy to respond to further questions until after the coronation. Issued the same day as a palace statement about a celebratory quiche, this did not feel especially convincing. When pushed, the king’s spokesperson said: “Your figures are a highly creative mix of speculation, assumption and inaccuracy.”

The short answer is that, all told, we think Charles is worth at least £1.8bn. But it’s the longer answer, about how the king came to be worth so much, that is more interesting. Excursions to the parliamentary archives to dig out accounts for their hereditary estates unearthed cash payments to the king and his late mother dating back to 1952. That the king and his mother together pocketed more than £1.2bn in annual dividends from the estates (adjusted for inflation) was just as breathtaking as the discovery that they were paying themselves about 10 times more by the end of her reign than they were at the start.

Then you find the gifts. There are the mint-condition stamps from the governments of Cambodia and Laos that have, it appears, been subsumed into the family’s private stamp collection (estimated value: £100m). There are the works of art: an illustrated Bible from the modernist master Marc Chagall, or an etching from Salvador Dalí, both presented to Prince Philip during official visits overseas and both subsequently exhibited as being part of his “personal collection”. The monarchy’s own policy says that gifts from other monarchs “as a general rule” enter the national collection of state heritage, but two diamond necklaces given to the late queen by Saudi kings are mysteriously absent.

You also find lingering traces of the dark moments in Britain’s history. A 100-year-old memo in the British Library records the looting of the city of Lahore in 1849 and the theatrical presentation of plundered diamonds, rubies, pearls and emeralds to an ecstatic Queen Victoria. Once the pride of the British empire, the Koh-i-noor diamond now sits in a vault in some strange, disgraced hinterland: to wear it would be too offensive, to return it to its rightful owners too humiliating.

The historian Brooke Newman discovered a page in a 17th-century share register documenting the transfer of £1,000 of shares in the Royal African Company from the slaver Edward Colston to William III, the first of 14 monarchs to either cultivate the slave trade or harvest its profits. Perhaps revealingly, this was the one dimension of our inquiries to startle the palace into issuing an extended public statement describing how “profoundly seriously” Charles considered the matter.

Does the king need a state grant?

The immediate political question flowing from the king’s wealth is obvious. If the family is this rich, why does it need an annual sovereign grant (currently £86m a year) from parliament? Why are the multimillion-pound payments from the hereditary estates not paid to the Treasury, or at least taken into consideration when setting their annual stipend? Alternatively, if the estates are genuinely private assets, why don’t they pay corporation tax?

After that come much more difficult questions about how a constitutional monarchy behaves in a modern society. Behind the pomp, the wealth and the opulence is a lurking sense of a monarchy designed for the more deferential age of the 19th century, when its purpose was fuzzy but simple: unite and represent the nation.

This, however, is a 21st-century coronation. Whether multimillion-pound salaries and disdain for difficult questions can really unite and represent the values of a modern democracy remains to be seen.

[aurathian]

wip wednesday

crumbs from my thief au

“Prince,” she sighed, “the truth is that I have no home.” And the truth it was, though uncharacteristically. “My family fell from grace long ago, and I have clung to what little belongings I still own, even as I sell a piece each day just to afford a meal.”

That was a lie. In fact, her sell-to-steal ratio was drastically uneven, her thefts outweighing her need to pawn her novelties. Sure, it was her only income, but she only sold the really expensive stuff, like diamonds or jeweled tiaras (Gerudo jewels sold for the most, praised by the Hylian nobility for their exoticity). The rest she kept for herself, though nobody would know they were once owned by aristocrats with how dusty and dull they had become after being shelved in her care. Even her finest jewels no longer glinted.

He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, a low hum escaping his throat. “Zelda,” he began, “if that’s really your name. If you could steal anything, what would you steal?”

Your power. Your riches. I would steal the clothes off your back, the gold on your wrists and the crown off your head. I would steal the world all for myself. Goddesses willing, I would steal the Triforce, just like the legends.

“I would steal a better life for myself,” she answered. “Perhaps it is selfish, but that’s all I want. A simple life in a quiet, comfortable home, with food on the table and wood in the hearth. I would steal a life where I no longer picked pockets.” Her eyes crinkled with a sad smile.

The Prince’s shoulders dropped and he exhaled. He bought it.

[daywalkers-fic]

(In the Western-European context and history) The Latin, memento mori roughly translates to “remember you must die”, or “remember death”. Dating as far back at the 16th century, memento mori jewelry were designed to remind wearers of their mortality, with designs that incorporate symbols of death like skulls and crossbones, coffins and snakes. With turbulent wars, rampant diseases, and unstable church and government establishments, the only constant was death. But death should not be feared -- deeply rooted in Christian belief of judgement and sin, these items were statement reminders for the living: informer wearers to live a well, and virtuous life. With print, the Bible became more accessible, and individuals were able to seek personal connections to God at home and not just at Church. As well, the extravagance of wealth and gold accessible to the aristocrat, royal, and clergy led to many commissioned memento mori jewelry and expensive pieces.

That’s not to say that this ideology and symbolism was exclusive to the upper-class. Re: Pirates and the Skull motifs in the 16th-17th century: “The idea behind the use of memento mori in art and literature was variously interpreted throughout history, although during the Golden Age of Piracy, it generally meant that people should not become attached to the things of this world because they would eventually die and pass into the next world, leaving everything behind” (src).

Memento mori jewelry could be seen as a precursor to 18th and 19th century mourning jewellery, becoming much more personal and intimate pieces. Unlike memento mori jewelry, these were for the dead. That is, to commemorate the death of a specific individual. Initials, obituary dates, poems and locks of hair could be tucked into rings, bracelets, brooches and lockets to act a token of remembrance for those mourning the loss of a friend or loved one.

Torre Abbey Jewel Pendant, c. 1540~1550 from the Aspects of Age Exhibit in the Victoria and Albert Museum

Enameled Gold Pendant, c. 17th century from the Wernher Collection in the English Heritage Ranger's House

Marriage and Mori Ring, with the inscription 'BE HOLD THE ENDE' and, 'RATHER DEATH THAN FALS FAYTH', round the edge with initials and a lovers knot, c. 1550~1600 from the Aspects of Age Exhibit in the Victoria and Albert Museum

Diamond Skull Agate Locket, c. 1860~1880 from Laurelle Antique Jewelry

Stock Pin with Pearl Skull, c. early 19th century from the Victoria and Albert Museum

Skull Coffin Pendant with the initials I.C.S. above its head and the inscription 'HIE. LIEG. ICH. VND. WARTH. AVF. DIH' (Here I lie and wait for you, in German)., c. 1660 from the Aspects of Age Exhibit in the Victoria and Albert Museum

[charlesreeza]

Mitre of St. Januarius made by Matteo Treglia in 1713 of gilded silver with 198 emeralds, 168 rubies, and 3,326 diamonds - commissioned to crown a bust of the saint carried in procession in Naples on his annual feast day.

Pectoral Necklace of St. Januarius made by Michele Dato in 1679, with later additions donated by aristocrats and the royal families of Europe from the 17th century until World War II. One of the jeweled crosses was donated by Napoleon Bonaparte.

Photos by Charles Reeza at the Museo del Tesoro di San Gennaro, Naples

All of the items in the cathedral treasury museum are now the property of the citizens of Naples, not the Roman Catholic Church.