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valkyrie138 · 4 months ago

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A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 1

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: This is an 18+ series, angst, canon-type violence, murder, torture, smut, fluff, etc.

Note: Please be kind. This is my first time writing in a really long time, but I'm always open to constructive criticism. Also, if anyone wants to be an editor, send me a message!

Word Count: 2.3k

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Astrid loved this view of Cretea. Lately, it had become her favorite place on the island. She’d often spend her nights atop the Brightwater Palace, the home of Prince Drakon and Lady Miryam. The palace sat atop the most prominent hill on the island, the stone pillars tall enough that they seemed to touch the stars. She loved this view and how she could observe her home below in almost its entirety. Astrid watched as a half-fae left a tavern with flushed cheeks, their human partner struggling to hold them up. The young seraphim wondered how the couple met. Was it stolen looks in a tavern, or did they find comfort in one another after the war? Astrid sighed as her eyes continued to scan the city below her. She missed the nights when she was red-cheeked and giggling with Lucy and Kendra while they stumbled home. But sitting up here and making up stories of those she observed seemed interesting enough. Her eyes drifted through the island streets to the glittering Erythrian sea surrounding them. A small smile crept onto her rosy lips. She really did love this view. The sound of a person landing was what tour her eyes away from it.

“They really should put a plaque here.”

“Whatever for, Kendra?” Astrid drawled, looking at her sister-in-arms. Kendra, with sharp green eyes and auburn hair, was the captain of the Seraphim aerial legion.

“So they can cement this as your spot, obviously. Your ass has made an imprint in the stone. That, at least, deserves a plaque,” Kendra was also a smart ass.

“I’ll make sure to tell Drakon and Miryam that you think my ass deserves such an honor,” she quipped before turning her gaze back to the city. Kendra moved to sit beside her, her feet dangling over the edge.

“I’m heading to the taverns tonight. Would you like to join me?”

There would be so many people, so many thoughts, so many memories, and so many emotions. Astrid's chest tightened at the thought. She sighed, “Not tonight.” She could feel Kendra’s disappointment wash over her. The captain stared at her for a while, her face contemplative. “Have you told Miryam and Drakon that you’re struggling? If anyone could help, it would be them.”

Astrid, hearing the question, sucked in a breath. There was no real point in trying to lie to Kendra. Astrid may have the daemati power, but Kendra always knew what she was thinking. A small part of Astrid wished she could go back in time and take back that drunk confession from a few moons ago. The moment she told Kendra that this new daemati ability controlled her more than she could control it, Astrid knew Kendra would be on top of her to fix it.

“No,” Astrid confessed. “Miryam suspects something is going on, though. I’m staying at the palace tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll ask.”

Astrid’s eyes lingered on the Cretea for another moment; she loved this island. But her eyes drifted to the other side of the palace, which looked out across a dark sea. Her mind often wondered what was happening across those blue waves. She had only left Cretea once, and it was to fight in the war against Hybern. No one on the island knew what was happening in Pyrthian for the past 52 years. Astrid felt that growing pain in her chest again, the warm air suddenly feeling like a small fire in her throat. The war had a cost, and the carnage still plagued her nightmares. But she still wondered what was happening in those faraway courts.

“I wonder what she’s doing, too,” whispered Kendra. She meant Lucy, the missing piece of their trio. The pain in Astrid's chest deepened, her heart aching. Lucy had lost her wings during the battle. Astrid was there when it happened, saw the Hybern soldier shoot her out of the sky, and heard Lucy’s screams as she fell. The memory played in her mind on a loop, and her guilt festered somewhere deep within her. After the battle, Lucy decided to stay in Prythian and start a new life. Neither Astrid nor Kendra had heard from her since. Remembering Kendra’s comment, Astrid only replied with a slight nod.

“Maybe the High Lord will know,” Kendra added.

“I do hear that he has eyes everywhere,” Astrid noted. The High Lord of the Night Court would be coming to the palace tomorrow for what she didn’t know. Kendra stood up slowly, wiping her pants lightly.

“If you aren’t joining me at the taverns tonight, at least get some sleep. You look positively dead,” the captain quipped.

“You really do know how to flatter me,” Astrid replied, a smirk spread across her face.

Kendra flew off with a wave over her shoulder. She watched as her friend flew above the streets and disappeared from view. Astrid’s eyes swept across Cretea, the rolling seas, and then settled on the stars above her. On clear nights, she used to sit on the roof of her family's home with her father, counting the stars, finding constellations, and listening to her father tell the stories behind them. She wondered if he was up there, along with her mother and sisters, watching over her. She wondered if they were proud of the female she had become. She felt the fissure deepen in her chest, full of ice and unyielding. She sharply swallowed the feeling, pushing it down, down, down. She couldn’t afford that cracking, the breaking. With a sigh, Astrid reached her arms to the sky as she stretched her back, her white wings fluttering behind her with relief. The hours spent sitting on the stone edge of the palace did nothing for her sore back. Astrid took one last longing look at the sea and the stars as she stood before gazing at Cretea below and flying home.

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The nightmares had plagued Astrid again that night. She awoke struggling to breathe, and ice covered her room, the temperature far below normal. She almost flung herself off the balcony in her room while trying to gulp down fresh air. Her dreams were full of the deaths of her family, and of her fellow soldiers she lost in the war. Their cries still felt like they were still echoing in her ears. The young seraphim stood examining her reflection. Her moon-white hair was pulled back high on her head, with intricate braids starting at her temples. Her midnight-blue eyes were stark against her hair and milk-colored skin. Her eyes drifted to her leathers. She probably should have worn a dress for the meeting with the High Lord, but her nightmares had left her feeling uneasy, the grip on her power slippery. The supple grey leather provided her a comfort that no court dress would. A knock on her door made her tear her eyes from the mirror.

“Come in, Dalia,” she said, turning toward the door. Dalia was a half-fae, half-seraphim like herself, who was well over half a century old but would never confirm her age. She was also positively senile.

“Astrid, you couldn’t have deigned to wear a dress today!” The old female exclaimed as she set down a tray of pastries. Most would take Dalia’s tone toward Astrid as rude. But the seraphim knew how the old hag felt about her. Astrid loved her; she was like an overbearing grandmother, with her braided grey hair and small, frail body.

“You know I just like being prepared for anything,” Astrid winked at her as she continued, “I’m guessing the bat is about to land on our shores.”

Dalia rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, “You should mind your tongue. He should be arriving soon, and I pray to the mother that you don’t converse this way with the High Lord.”

Astrid smiled at the old female, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, Dalia, I only reserve this way of conversation with you.”

“You are going to send me to an early grave,” Dalia quipped as she sat before the fireplace.

“I keep you young, old hag.” Another knock sounded on her door. The smell of sea and hydrangea wafted in Astrid’s nose, “Come in, Miryam.”

The dark-haired lady slipped through the door, her sage green eyes immediately falling on Astrid.

“I’ll have to tell Drakon he owes me thirty gold marks. I knew you would wear your leathers today.” She smirked as she crossed the room to sit across from Dalia, picking up a pastry as she sat.

“I told her she should have worn a dress today,” replied the ancient female as she stood. “Now, I will see you later, and please remember to watch your tongue around the High Lord." With that, Dalia slipped from the room. Astrid could feel Miryam's emotions shift from ease to concern. With a small sigh, she sat beside the princess, her palms sweating.

“I brought you something,” Miryam said as she pulled a rectangular jewelry box from behind her back. Astrid took it from her before resting it on her lap. The red velvet was smooth beneath her fingertips. Lifting the lid, a lump formed in her throat. In the box was a silver warrior’s diadem; it had carvings of feathers and wings sprouted near where it would meet her ears and a large sapphire shaped like a teardrop in the middle. The lump seemed to grow in her throat, an ache beginning to form in her chest, her eyes burning.

“This was my mother's,” Astrid croaked.

“It was always going to go to one of you,” Miryam paused while Astrid tried to shove this feeling of despair down till she couldn’t feel anymore. This diadem was going to go to one of her sisters, not her, if they hadn’t been murdered. If she hadn’t- “your mother would want you to have it.” Miryam finished as she delicately picked up the finery and placed it on Astrid’s head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; the circlet was the most ornate thing she had ever worn.

“You look so much like her,” Miryam smiled at her. “She and your father would be proud to see that on you.” She supposed they would. The circlet had been her mother's, but instead of a stone of sapphire, her mother's was emerald green. Her mother was a high fae from the Winter Court before the war, where she met her father. After coming to Cretea, her mother was Miryam's hand, which meant she was officially part of the royal court. Her parents would be proud if they were still alive. The burning in her chest only seemed to grow at the idea. She shouldn’t be the one wearing it; her parents should still be here, and her sisters should be too, and it was her fault they weren’t. Her skin began to tingle, her throat dry and hot. Astrid quickly took the circlet off her head, its weight feeling too much.

“Astrid?” She looked at the princess. Miryam’s eyes were wide, and her feeling of worry was closing in on her. “We might not be blood, but you are part of this family. Whatever is going on in that mind of yours…let me help.” Her voice was soft and empathetic as if she were speaking to a skittish deer.

Astrid gulped. The knot in her throat slid down to her stomach, heavily nestling itself there. “I’ve been…struggling.” She couldn’t meet Miryam's eyes as she said it, the dread of admitting she didn’t have a handle on her power. She didn’t know how the princess would even be able to help, but she continued, “I can handle getting into other's minds and shutting them out, most of the time, but” she paused, trying to find the words, “I can feel everyone's emotions all the time, I can’t escape them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shut them out. It’s honestly…suffocating. And it sometimes just becomes too much to control at once.”

Miryam didn’t say anything at first, just grabbing the circlet from Astrid's hands and placing it back on her head. Light green eyes stared at her as a wave of reassurance and determination washed over her.

“The High Lord, Rhysand, you know he is a close friend. One of the few who knew this island existed before Hybern. He’s a very powerful daemati, and so is his mate. If you're comfortable, we can ask him for some assistance during dinner.”

Astrid sucked in a deep breath. It would be embarrassing to admit to a High Lord that she couldn’t master this dumb power, and not many were privy to the knowledge of Astrid’s powers. It was unusual for fae to gain new powers as they aged. The seraphim was young in fae terms, only seventy-six, but her power was growing and expanding to levels even the oldest fae on Cretea weren’t familiar with. She had spent hours in Cretea’s library with their oldest scholars, trying to find answers. Still, because her people found refuge here, their libraries were considerably less dense than those in Prythian. Since the war, her daemati abilities have grown to feel others' emotions. And after the war, none of the feelings were good. These past months, she had found herself drowning in it, the sorrows of those around her suffocating her. After a while, she stayed in her townhouse, never leaving unless going to the palace. She knew she couldn’t live like this forever; Astrid only nodded in response before she felt a slight panic snake around her chest, a foreign feeling, not her own or Miryam’s.

“I believe the High Lord is here,” Astrid replied, knowing the time for this conversation was over. Miryam only gave her a soft smile of reassurance before taking hold of her hand. Together, they walked down Brightwater Palace halls, the seafoam-marbled floors and tall white pillars surrounding them. Standing at the home entrance was one of the most handsome man Astrid had ever seen.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x oc #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster

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insanityisdivine · 7 months ago

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As long I've got this face...

...you've got a place to sit

Palace of Auburn Hills in Detroit, MI on Oct. 14, 1990. The Hot in the Shade Tour

#kiss #mykissposts #paul stanley #starchild #I will take “Things I'm pretty sure Paul's mom did not say! for 500!”#KISSology Vol. 2

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marimayscarlett · 10 months ago

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Hi! I absolutely love all of your detailed posts about Richard, they make my day when you post them, I was wondering if you could make a compilation of very wholesome moments with fans? I'm afraid that Rammstein will never come back to the US and I'll miss my chance of meeting him in person and I'd love to see some sweet fan interactions ❤️ Dankeschön ❤️❤️

Hi 🤍

Please excuse my late reply to this, but I love this ask! It's known that Richard can be very warmhearted towards fans and gives out bone-crushing hugs left and right - I found several accounts of fans who met him and will accumulate these in the following post 😊 (sources are linked at the end of the post.)

First some stories of fans who shared their experiences on the internet:

One fan met him before a concert, he gave the fan a hug and they say that to this day, they haven't forgotten the feeling of this hug.

Here's an account of a fan who met Richard at a resort in Mexico: "Richard never acted like we were imposing on his time or being a hindrance, even though he was with a table of friends. As soon as we were in eye contact range, his entire demeanor changed. He lit up like a Christmas tree and stood to shake our hands, stood close to us to chat for a few minutes - five minutes, tops, and gave us hugs as we left before shaking our hands again."

After a concert: "The hug I got was bone crushing. I was right in front of him. Cried my way through Frühling [...]. He checked on me and asked me if I was ok. Said i was fine and even the amount of times I'd seen them play, i got so caught up in the emotion. Richard told me they were the most moving moments for him at least and pulled me into a huge hug that if i think about it, i can still feel. Sounds weird but when you get a hug like that you dont forget it."

Richard seems to be a bit camera-shy while being out and about (declining selfies most of the time), but offers/asks for hugs himself as a return, as told by a fan who met him at the Chicago Airport. The fan apologized after asking for a selfie, yet Richard immediately asked her to give him a hug afterwards.

At a concert at the Palace of Auburn Hills in Detroit back, May 2012: "For some reason, I thought of making a sign that said "Pick für mich, bitte". We were right at the barricade and I decided to flash the sign. I don't even know what I expected out of it. Well, Richard fucking Kruspe went to his mic stand, got a pick, went to the security guard in front of the railing and told him to give me the pick. The guard and I had chatted prior to their performance, so he looked at me with a "way to go, kid" look. People around me cheered. Best concert memory ever. Nothing but a class act."

Another fan reports him being quite talkative and attentive during parties - apparently really listening to the other person and showing real interest. He really likes to talk about music and guitars and seemingly likes hearing the opinions of fans.

Meeting the band in front of their hotel: "His hug was the tightest, and he smells SO GOOD, I wanted to ask what was his perfume. I told him I loved Emigrate, he gave me the biggest smile and thanked me."

Then we have voice from withing the fandom on here - the lovely and helpful @anwiel13 said this about meeting him at a Meet&Greet (thank you again for sharing this! 🤍):

"Once he entered the room, we immediately know it. Not that he did something, but he really has this big personality, in very good way. He was smiling all the time, unless taking photos, than we was all his gothic deep stare self. He was also super nice to two girls, who were absolutely nervous, telling him how much they love him. We all know he hear this all the time, but he really looked like he is listening them and make them feel not like crazy fangirls annoying him with their feelings. If that's make sense. He hugged one girl when she asked him and again, did not looked like she's annoying him with this. He left very quickly after taking photos and signed our things. Overall, he was very nice and caring. I heard somebody complain about him being all snobby and annoyed during some M&G, but he was nothing like this during the one in Prague."

Plus I have found two 'essay'-posts on here describing fan-experiences at Meet&Greets and afterparties:

Here Richard is described as really warmhearted, smiling and patient with the fans:

A very wholesome interaction (with a cute Paulchard momet) with a fan who brought selfmade fan art with her:

And since of course I found some experiences with other band members on my research-way, here are my favourites of some of the other guys 😊:

At an afterparty: "I spent a long time talking to Flake who is beautifully underappreciated. He's such a wise man with an incredibly dark sense of humour. [...] Flakes English isn't great but he seemed to really appreciate that someone would talk to him in German and happy to help me figure out words I wasn't familiar with and vice versa. I really appreciated it as he did slow down his natural German speaking speed to help me continue a conversation in German as native speaking speed was just a little too fast."

At a meet and greet: "Schneider gave me such Dom-Daddy vibes that I would have got on my knees if he asked. He was so friendly, asked about myself and I was able to give him a letter from my best friend who had spoken to him years before, and he was so happy to take it."

At an afterparty of Till's solo tour (London concert): "I went to see Lindemann in London and was invited to the after party and ended up trying to open a bottle of wine with a set of keys with Till and then ended up drinking vodka and chatting to him for a few hours. Such a humble human and one of my biggest role models in life - he made me want to become a fire performer and he said I looked great doing what I do."

"Did a meet & greet on the 2019 tour and a bunch of the after parties. Doom is an incredible dancer and Paul and Richard give the best hugs." (I've read several times that Schneider seemingly kills it on the dance floor 👀)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

All in all, it's always amazing reading about fans having nice experiences with them - but let's not forget (since some people do exactly this), the band members are also just human beings like you and me, don't owe the fans smiles and good moods, and it's not a crime to have a bad day once in a while (with less enthusiastic interaction with fans) or just wanting some peace or being in a hurry, since they all do have private lives🤝🏼

#long post #rammstein #richard kruspe #ask #fan expierences #richard and fans lore #interviews & quotes #Kruspe chronicles

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roamingleaf · 1 month ago

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"Return To Sender"

Tw: Public, St@lking, R@pe, Praise, Creampie

What a tease that ivory, flowing, landscape that's been tucked behind such tight clothings can be. He wonders though, does it make that cozy, pink palace of hers quiver when she knew how this man planned to use that easily broken, luminous, autumn kissed canvas like the filthy, degenerate, Fleshlight she desperately ached to become. Could that bunny imagine what would happen to her posh, petite, painting of a body if she told that stranger when she were returning from holiday?

They had been texting back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, when in reality it had been a week, the most two. Yet, in that ever shutting time frame they had spoken about so much. Her hopes, her dreams, her desires, even those pesky, naughty thoughts that dance between her squishy, tender, thighs. Nevertheless, on que that little lady did as requested and handed over the damning information. What a foolish mistake. Thanks to that time spent exchanging words between one another he had managed to gain the knowledge of when that shimmering light took her nightly strolls.

Like clockwork, here she came cresting over that concrete jungle unaware of what was waiting down stream. Thanks to the chilly autumn weather setting in, she had decided to wear a warm pair of pencil sketched black leggings. They crept comfortably up her charming, hazelnut thighs. Continuing up over her curving, winding, hillsides she claimed as hips. While the upper half of that delicate frame had a warming, shimmering, silver tank that clung to the outline of her portrait. That innocent bunny would have found it odd that there was no message from him for what seemed like hours, usually, they'd have been like lightning. Her wandering eyes wouldn't be able to pull themselves away from the phone all but glued to her palm.

Thoughts of what that gentlemen could be doing that was keeping all that well deserved attention from her swirled around in that mind as she strolled through those vacant, suburban, neighborhoods. With each towering oaken tree you passed, her auburn eyes couldn't help but light up like the stars in the night sky; That's when our desolate bunny would meet her brazen buccaneer. Almost as if the moon itself was the calling beacon it cast a pale, ghostly, glimmer upon that monster as he stepped from behind the tree a few feet in front of her. As any good bunnies would she froze in place once that predacious shadow locked eyes with her.

"Run"

That spell was the only one necessary to send her into a state of instant panic. Once again faced with a command; with the feeling of shivers racing upon every inch of her velvety, silken skin, our bunny did what was told of her. Unfortunately, instead of scampering off back towards her home, she darted off into the darkness of the treeline.

Strike two would certainly not go unpunished. Like all great hunters he instantly gave chase. Stalking, striding, this man was hellbent on capturing this fleeing prey. Then suddenly, his wicked wish was granted as he managed to reach out enough to grab her by her bouncing, rippling brown locks. From that foul control her chances of escaping were quickly coming to a close.

"No!" She yelled out into that emptied sky, but it was far too late, that hungry lion had managed to tackle such an innocent bunny to the ground. With mere weight alone enough to keep her subdue he wasted no time planting kiss, after kiss, after kiss all along her exposed neck.

Could she feel his hunger threatening to boil over as his gentle kisses started giving way to nibbling bites. His hands were growing restless at his side while his chest did most of the work of pinning this canvas to the ground. So, to keep busy, they started a race. Where? In different directions of course. His left would wickedly bolt along the silver roadmap of her shirt with a collision course in mind between her soft, enticing, braless hills. While his right, rushed recklessly towards her tanned, covered, booty for a good, tidy, grip.

As his sinister grasp closed in around our bunny would kick, shuffle, and struggle with all her might as her muffled mouth could barely make anything but barely audible scoffs thanks to his tongue intrusively thrashing amongst her mouth. Peril would be far from what our bunny had found herself in, it seemed as even her very clothes wished to betray her and aid in that hungry lions mission. With each dangerous wiggle she performed it seemed as her skin tight leggings would too try to make a daring escape. How could this be happening to an angel? How could she have been cast into the deepest pits of sin?

There would be no time for such thoughts due to this stranger leaning his towering presence up on to his knees. From there she could feel her thighs being spread apart and controlled as if she was a marionette being trotted across a grassy stage. She could feel the cold kiss of the crisp fall breeze rush past her exposed panties. As she felt her thighs being graced by the bristles of a foreign, heating beard she knew what was about to happen. Lady luck herself must have set this poor bunny up this evening, for right as her finally dwindling of hope faded that was when he forced his, meaty, throbbing, lance as deep as she could physically manage. A shock hurried its way through her from her very core in response to such an abrupt invasion. This electrifying message reached points in her she had never thought could be reached.

What a ghostly, haunting, choir that echoed through that defiled, deflowered, darkness. What a demon he was with such a relentless ransacking of her precious temple. Each thrust seemed like it was on a mission from God to reach harder, and faster inside her tight, coiling, dripping shrine. Oh how she wished her words would call for help, instead it encouragingly let lose a whoreish howl fit for a succubus in heat. As that pillaging occurred his hand that had been diligently groping and grasping at her jiggling hills found a new task. It's new goal was to keep her head steady by her flustering cheeks so he could better see the restless pleasure taking deep root behind her eyes.

With no other options left for this defenseless bunny there she laid in his clutches. Being treated like a brand new Fleshlight that had just been delivered. A deep sense of embarrassment started to take hold as she felt her orgasm approaching with each roughening thrust. Till finally, everything erupted. In a powerful gust of shivers her body tensed up all around that gentlemen's invading member as one last moan escaped her lips. Was this her body betraying her? Was this man's shaft truly that Intoxicating to her frame?

Rewarding such a betrayal of herself that man leaned in further till she could feel his panting breath basking against her ear. He grunted something along the tune of " That's my little whore." Before flooding her starved, Nile river with his own seed. Sadly, this would not quell our voracious predators appetite. Oh no, far from it. It would only show him what depths were still unexplored.

-🪶

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mixtapemag · 7 months ago

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MYSTICS VS FEVER IN WASHINGTON DC.

Photos by Christopher Hall

The Indiana Fever rolled into a very loud and sold out Capitol One Arena in Washington DC on Friday night. Over 20,000 strong were on hand to see Caitlin Clark tie the WNBA rookie record for 3-pointers in a game, hitting seven shots from deep en route to a game-high 30 points in an 85-83 win over the Mystics. Her 30 points on the night tied her season high to go along with 8 rebounds, 6 assists and 4 steals.

Friday's crowd was the largest for the WNBA since 22,067 attended Game 5 of the 2007 WNBA Finals between Phoenix and Detroit at the Palace of Auburn Hills in suburban Detroit on Sept. 16, 2007. It was the largest crowd for a regular-season game since 20,674 attended the Mystics-Rockers game on July 21, 1999, at the same arena as Friday's game, which was then called the MCI Center.

The rising tide of the WNBA continues with its new arrivals including Caitlin Clark, Angel Reese and Cameron Brink and veterans including Las Vegas Aces center A’ja Wilson, Los Angeles Sparks center Dearica Hamby, and Phoenix Mercury wing Kahleah Copper.

"The crowds never get old; they're great," Clark said. "I think at times they might have been cheering for us. It's fun to see people in Fever gear. It's fun to see people screaming about women's basketball."

youtube

Christopher Hall posts over here. CC.

#Caitlin clark #indiana fever #Washington mystics #Christopher hall #mixtape magazine #wnba #iowa #Youtube

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scotianostra · 1 month ago

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Marie Of Lorraine, also called Mary Of Guise/ Marie De Lorraine, or De Guise was born on November. 22nd, 1515 at Bar-le-Duc, Lorraine, France.

I cover Marie three or four times a year, but this time I shall post about her palace at 533 Castlehill on the Royal Mile.

Born in 1515, at the age of 11 Marie joined a convent. Her stay was relatively brief because her uncle, the Duke of Lorraine, took her into the French court where she matured into a tall, attractive, intelligent woman with auburn hair and grey eyes and with a ‘charming manner’. In 1534 she entered the first of her two relatively short marriages: to the Duke of Longueville with whom she bore 2 sons. Marie was widowed on the death of her husband in 1537. With the encouragement of the French king, Francis I, Marie was betrothed to James V, and arrived in St Andrews to be married in the summer of 1538 whence followed 40 days of extravagant celebrations in honour of the occasion. She made her formal entry into the city of Edinburgh later in the year. As consort, Marie was guaranteed life-long rights (‘jointure’) to the Palace of Falkland, Stirling Castle, Linlithgow Palace, and other properties, together with substantial land holdings. By 1541 Marie had borne two sons, both of whom died in that year. In 1542, a daughter was born, the future Mary Queen of Scots: not the distant future given that her father died 6 days after her birth and the infant Mary thus became queen.

The Earl of Arran was appointed regent and governed during the turbulent years which followed, including the ‘rough wooing’ when an English invasion sought to force the Scots into accepting a marriage between Mary and Edward VI. Marie supported Arran and helped to maintain the effective alliance with France which eventually led to the withdrawal of the English army. In 1548, during the siege of Haddington, then occupied by an English garrison, Marie and the Scottish government signed the Treaty of Haddington at St Mary’s Abbey in which Mary was betrothed to the French Dauphin. In 1550/51 Marie travelled to France to complete the betrothal arrangements, among other things. On her return to Scotland, she set machinery in motion to replace Arran, buying him off with a French dukedom, and so became Queen Regent in 1554. Her regency lasted until her death at the age of 44 in 1560.

It is thought that Marie spent much of her time in residence at Blyth’s Close off Castle Hill, in the period before her regency 1543-1554. Blyth’s Close no longer exists, having been demolished around 1846 to make way for New College and the Assembly Hall. Its location on the north side of the High Street was roughly opposite the Lawnmarket and, in the mid -16th century, Marie’s house would have been a large, imposing property with gardens and orchards laid out on the slope down to the Norloch. The view to the north would have been open and expansive. In the 1820s and 30s the buildings in the close were in a dilapidated, crumbling state and the High Street was by then crowded with the high tenement buildings with which we are familiar today. Victorian antiquarians took a great interest in old Edinburgh and one among them, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, concerned about the state of the increasingly ruinous Queen Regent’s house, bought all salvageable fixtures and fittings from the tenants.

His collection included four carved oak roundels which had formed part of what had been a rich and colourful renaissance décor. By this time the roundels, having been moved from their original positions as ceiling or wall mounts, reapplied elsewhere and whitewashed over several times, had lost almost all trace of their original colours, but the carved coats of arms were (and still are) clear. Sharpe died in 1831 and his huge collection was auctioned off. Much was acquired by the National Museum, but not the roundels. These were purchased by the 2nd Duke of Sutherland. The duke seems to have been toying with the idea of using them as part of the interior décor of Dunrobin Castle. Apparently, they were never put on display in the castle and simply stored away. They finally came to light in a Dunrobin Castle attic sale in 2021, when Dr Groundwater was able to bid for them on behalf of the National Museum of Scotland. Her success cost around £19 000!

The roundels have been restored and are due to be going on display in The Kingdom of the Scots area in The National Museum of Scotland, I'm unsure if they have been put out as yet, maybe a wee trip to the museum is in hand to see, and get some pics.

As I said 533 Castlehill was demolished in 1861 to make way for the Free Church General Assembly Hall. Before demolition, portions of a beautifully painted ceiling from the palace were rescued and preserved. It's hard to imagine how the Palce looked, we have some drawings and Canmore have photos of some of the ceiling art, I shall post a link to, so you can look att more photos, the pioneering photographer duo, Hill and Adamson took a photo, as you can see in the stereoscope photos. The doorway is a remnant of the building. The last two photos are my own, taken just a week a go at r New College.

#scotland #scottish #france #french #franco-scot #royalty

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