#Bridgerton prequel

[labellaaria]

I would love for them to do another Bridgerton prequel. This time I would love for it to be about Violet and Edmund. I would love to see their love story.

[dorkybooktrash]

The Queen Charlotte story gives a lot of meaning to the character of the Queen in the main story. For example: How she continuously asks the doctor if her husband is dead as the first thing.

[doomed2repeat]

If I’m fan casting anyone from The Little Mermaid to be in a Bridgerton spin-off, it’s not Jonah Hauer-King (who’s too big for this anyway, let’s be serious) it’s Jessica Alexander (Ursula/Vanessa) as young Portia.

She IS young Portia and young Portia would be excellent spin-off material. Show her social climbing and scheming, with Edmund and Violet as a subplot since their story is simple and easy.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

A Brother’s Love: Healing

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton Rated: G, angst from grief/loss Word count: 2.2k GIFs by @misskatesharma and @dailybridgerton

Masterpost Summary: A restless night for Hyacinth and Violet

Dedicated to @broooookiecrisp who has been patiently waiting for Violet to have her moment 💙

Benedict had grown used to the sound of a crying baby. All of the eldest Bridgerton children had. It had been a constant in the background of their lives as each new sibling joined them in the world. But even so, Hyacinth’s cries were something else entirely. Maybe it was because she was destined to have the strongest will in the family, or maybe it was because she inherently sensed the absence of her parents - an experience unique to her among her siblings - but she wailed like a banshee, and simply would not stop.

He had the bad fortune of his room being closest to the nursery in the family wing. All of the children’s rooms ran down a hall from there, and his mother’s and the viscount’s rooms were removed in the opposite direction. He had no idea if anyone else could hear Hyacinth’s screams, or if they were managing to sleep through them, but after almost two hours of unbroken cacophony, he had had enough.

He pulled on a shirt and trousers and marched over to the nursery door, not bothering to knock before opening it. Within, he saw a scene very reminiscent of the night Gregory was in so much distress when his sister was being born. The nursemaid, looking exhausted, was pacing around the room with the infant, bouncing and cooing to her, and trying to offer her anything that may pacify her cries. Tiny Hyacinth in her draping nightdress was squirming in her arms, red-faced and howling, unendingly, through her toothless gums.

The young nursemaid jumped when she turned and saw Benedict in the doorway. “Mr. Bridgerton! Sir, I’m so sorry. She simply will not quiet.” The poor woman’s face was desperate.

Benedict walked over to them. “Have you sent for my mother?”

The nurse looked at him with wary eyes. In a trembling voice, she responded. “She asked not to be disturbed unless something was dire. I did not want to bother her.”

Benedict could sense the uncertainty she felt. Everyone in the household, himself included, was still negotiating how best to interact with his mother. They all wanted to treat her gently, knowing the overwhelming distress she was in, and so they obeyed her wishes to largely be left alone. But she was still the parent of eight children in the house, and it became difficult to calculate when her solitude should be invaded to ask her to see to their needs.

Benedict gave a sympathetic nod to the nurse and held out his arms. “Let me give it a try.”

The woman balked. “Sir? No, you should try and sleep.”

Benedict shrugged, “It worked for my brother, perhaps it will work again.”

Without further resistance, the desperate nurse passed Hyacinth into his arms. Her piercing wails were now directly in his ear. “My god, but you’ve got some lungs on you,” he murmured with a smirk at the nurse. She looked entirely deflated, on the verge of tears to have been granted this reprieve. 

“Please go and rest,” he told her. “I will send for help if anything is needed.”

Stunned, the nurse only stared at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Please,” he gave her a reassuring nod, then winced as Hyacinth took a breath and shrieked anew.

Defeated but grateful, the nurse curtsied to him with a barely audible “Thank you,” and then ducked out of the room.

“Now,” Benedict sighed, bouncing Hyacinth on his arm, “What in hell will it take for you to stop crying?”

In response, she opened her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut and wailed directly into his face. She was not going to be as easy to tame as Gregory had been. A two month old couldn’t understand him the way a two year old could. He tried everything. He pulled faces at her, silly ones and scary ones, but that only seemed to make things worse. He jangled toys in front of her and she turned her head the other way, howling. He tried to place a wooden pacifier between her lips and she spat it at him, screaming anew with gleaming eyes.

How long this went on, he wasn’t sure, but he felt as if he was starting to go mad. He had no idea what spurred him to it, but suddenly his mind fell back on the French lessons he had been working so hard at, and he grumbled at the baby, “Tais-toi.” 

Immediately he felt a pang of guilt for cursing at this infant, but it vaporized when her cry faded and she looked at him, eyes swollen, in curious silence. Benedict held his breath, then tested the waters further. “Pouvez-vous me comprendre, ma sœur?”

Hyacinth blinked at him and cocked her head, staring at him in that fathomless way that only newborns can, as they experience something for the very first time. Dear god, had his sister somehow been born French? Now Benedict was sure he had gone mad. Of course she didn’t truly understand him. Nonetheless, he was so grateful to have found something, anything, that would stop her screaming, that he seized upon it. He launched into an entire one-sided conversation, chastising her for keeping him and likely the whole household awake that night. At this, she nuzzled her head into his shoulder and continued to stare up at him with huge eyes. Then, he walked with her about the room, pointing out each toy and piece of furniture, teaching her the French name. When she started to squirm, he sang a song, some silly little tune about a cat, and rocked his sister in time with the words, brushing his fingers over the wisps of light brown curls that were just starting on her head.

When he looked down at her face, he sighed in relief to find her finally, mercifully, asleep. He held her as if she were made of glass, careful not to do anything that would disturb her. He began to repeat the song, more softly, and gingerly sat down on the divan by the fire. It had been brought into the room for the nursemaids to sleep on when they needed to stay with the children and now Benedict understood why. He would sooner stick his hand into a fox trap than jostle Hyacinth by laying her in her cradle. He could rest with her for a while. He laid back and held her, his hand rising and falling against her back with her small, contented breaths. He was somewhere in the middle of his third round of the song when he helplessly sank into welcoming sleep.

—

Violet awoke in the dark from yet another nightmare. A fitful array of heartbreaking scenes where she found herself alone, searching or reaching out for her husband, only to find him missing or hopelessly out of reach. It left her feeling hollow, though she supposed that was all she had felt for months. 

Something had woken her. A noise of some kind had broken through the edges of her dreams. Was it a cry? She thought of Hyacinth, her last gift from Edmund, and longed to hold her. Maybe it would chase the shadow of her nightmare away. She wrapped herself in a dressing gown and found her slippers in the dark, then made her way noiselessly toward the nursery.

When she pushed open the door, the scene within made her breath catch in her throat. Benedict lay on the divan by the fire, holding Hyacinth on his chest, the two of them sound asleep. Nothing could have prepared her for what this elicited. All at once, Violet saw the past, present, and future, crystallized in this one image, this one moment.

For a fleeting instant, she saw Edmund holding Hyacinth, the same way he had held each of their other children. Though all of her sons carried some resemblance to their father, it was Benedict who bore the most striking similarity. At times, especially since Edmund had passed, Violet would confuse the son for the father, thinking she had just seen Edmund as his younger self, looking as he had when they first met. She had never told this to Benedict, but it was why she had kept the furthest distance from him in her grief. To see Edmund’s gentle eyes reflected in her son felt like a painful trick of fate. 

But now, in this moment, her heart ached with realization at what a gift it was. For one instant she could see Edmund united with the daughter he never knew, and if Benedict was the only way for her to imagine that, she was unspeakably grateful for it.

Then she saw the present; the moment as it truly was. Here was her second born son, no longer a child, caring for his youngest sibling. It rattled her to realize that he was now, in a sense, the eldest brother, while Anthony had become the viscount and head of family, a surrogate father to them all. Though she knew with certainty that all of her children loved each other, she also knew that Benedict’s heart was the biggest and most sensitive. She knew that he and Anthony had been tending to the children when she could not, but it wasn’t until now that she had considered how much of himself Benedict was apt to give. He was surely keeping smiles on the faces of his siblings and shepherding them through this unthinkable turn of events, while putting himself last. 

A cloud of guilt descended on Violet’s heart as the scene before her drove home how very absent she had been since losing Edmund. Anthony had enough to do, grappling with the title and its attendant responsibilities that were his birthright. That left Benedict, a good deal older than the rest, to devote his time to the children. She should have been there to help him. He was going to Cambridge soon and should be focusing on his education and his passions. But here he was, infallibly caring for those in need, as he always had. Violet sighed, knowing to her bones what a wonderful man her second son turned out to be, and what a wonderful husband and father he would no doubt make.

At this, her mind turned toward the future, and she saw Benedict holding his own child, her granddaughter, someday. Her breath caught again with the dawning image of the years that lay ahead. Her children would grow, each of them, even tiny Hyacinth who was so new. They would, god willing, grow to be men and women. They would, if they desired to, marry, and then, if god and desire willed it again, have children. She would be a grandmother, likely to an army of new Bridgertons. The love that she and Edmund had shared would echo down through dozens of branches of a family tree.

All this time since Hyacinth had been born, she could not dispel the feeling that she had reached an end point. That Hyacinth was the last piece of Edmund she had, and now that it had left her, she would never feel him again. But here, with a baby in Benedict’s arms, she could see - she truly believed - that her and Edmund’s eight beautiful children were just the beginning. The beginning of countless generations and households filled with love. 

Then, like sunlight peeking through clouds, she felt a brightness within her, an uplifting warmth that was eager to see that love. She was eager to see her children find their own true loves, as their parents had been lucky enough to do, and she was eager to see the children that would be born out of such love. She now realized that she could find Edmund in each of these moments, in every wedding and every birth to come, because without him, none of them would have occurred at all.

She needed to be there. She needed to see that future. And she needed to support all of her children in reaching it too. The cascading realizations rained down upon her and she wept, silently, a hand over her mouth as she stared in awe at her sleeping children. It was the first time she felt that she had the strength to contend with her grief. It was the first time she had seen the pathway out of the darkness. It was with her family, where it had always been.

When she had swallowed her sobs and steadied herself, she moved softly into the room and gently lifted Hyacinth out of Benedict’s arms and into her own. The newborn squirmed contentedly, nestling against her mother’s body. Violet reached out and ran a hand through Benedict’s dark hair, so much like Edmund’s, then planted a kiss on his forehead. 

“Benedict, dear,” she whispered.

He stirred, opened his eyes groggily and blinked in surprise when he saw her. “Mother…”

Violet beamed at him and brought a hand to his cheek. “Thank you dearest, for looking after your sister. Thank you for everything.”

A lopsided smile spread across Benedict’s face and he knew, somehow, that the days ahead would be brighter.

Translations: Tais-toi = shut up Pouvez-vous me comprendre, ma sœur? = Do you understand me, sister? (French speaking friends, correct me if I am wrong)

Author's Notes: This is the chapter I am most proud of. Violet's distance from her children in her grief involves so many complex emotions. I wanted to explore her perspective and establish an emotional groundwork for why she is so invested in her children's marriages moving forward. She is a flawed but well-rounded character. She grows, apologizes, and loves with incredible depth, and that is why I love her.

[ladybridgertonbridgerton]

Now It's Time For The Love Story That Started The Bridgerton Dynasty:

Violet & Edmund : A Bridgerton Story

I would like this going just before Season 4, but I think it would work well after season 4 is completed and right before season 5 airs.

Or as a series Prequel right after Season 8 is completed.

[gogh-chase-the-stars]

now that the prequel’s out it’s time to make bridgerton my entire personality for a few weeks

[blumoonfiction-blog]

#ShowsWeLove: Bridgerton

Dearest Readers, I promised a review of Netflix’s Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story, and I would never dream of disappointing you. By now, many of you know about my journey into the world of Bridgerton, inspired by my magical evening at the Bridgerton Ball (I’ll link that post here). After becoming a newfound fan of the Bridgerton universe, I was advised to watch Queen Charlotte before…

[miscellaneousjay]

One of my favorite parts!!! She straight told his Dr. Frankenstein-looking ass to gtf and be REALLY happy she ain’t clock him!👊🏾💥

Bye, bye doctor.

[inlovewithquotes]

“I think he’s hungry,” Georgie said.

“He’s always hungry. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with him. He ate half of my mean pasty yesterday.”

Georgie sent a horrified look at her little nephew. “Does he even have teeth?”

“No,” Violet replied. “He just gummed the whole thing down.”

“You little monster,” Georgie said affectionately. Colin gurgled, clearly judging this to be a compliment.

-First Come Scandal

[apinchofm]

Mistaken Identity

Edwina's tea with the Queen leads her to another encounter with King George. Angst and fluff.

Edwina's stomach was twisting as she waited in the gardens of St James.

She was rather not looking too forward to tea with the Queen. She had a feeling Queen Charlotte wanted to ensure she would not mess up her second season.

The unmarried Diamond who ran from the wedding altar. She made her choice, she was fine with it. But the way people whispered about her; her virtue; what was possibly wrong with her.

The Queen must have been unhappy. Hence her making Edwina stew in the gardens under the sun. At least she thought she was alone. A man was walking towards her, in a long blue robe and night clothes.

She recognised him, even without the wig. It was the King. She had always assumed he stayed mainly at Kew. Then again, when she had seen him on the day of her failed wedding, that presumption was clearly wrong.

"Your Majesty." Edwina curtsied lowly to him as he approached her.

"No need for formality, Emily." The King said with a laugh. He embraced her and she gently patted his back, as she looked to the approaching guards not to startle him.

"Are you well, my dear? Look at you!" George said, looking at her with wonder. He cupped her face gently as if she was so very precious at him.

"Yes… Yes, I am." Edwina replied, settling into a warm smile, "Very well."

"Is your mother still trying to have you married? You must not marry unless you are in love!" He advised, "Remember that!"

Charlotte was running to the two, holding the hem of her red gown, two guards and Brimsely close behind.

"Of course." Edwina agreed, "Why don't we-"

"George!"

"Lottie." He grinned, still holding Edwina's hands, "Emily and I were speaking of her potential nuptials. Is she engaged to Friedrich yet? She deserves a good man."

"Yes, George," Lottie confirmed gently.

"I do hope he is in love with her. She is precious." George said, gently stroking her cheek. Edwina smiled gently, chuckling softly. Poor man.

"He is." Charlotte assured, "No less for our daughter."

"Father, might you find your rest? So that you are ready for the day. It is happening rather soon, and I should hate to exhaust you." Edwina said, leading the king to his men.

"Only if you are sure." He said.

"Mother has everything in hand." Edwina assured, looking to the Queen. Charlotte stepped forward and gently took one of his hands.

"Is everything in hand, Lottie?" He asked with a smile.

"Yes, George." Charlotte assured, "Everything is very much in hand!"

"Do not go over the wall. He is a good man." He whispered to Edwina, kissing her on the cheek before allowing himself to be escorted away.

"Your Majesty, I-" Edwina began. Charlotte stopped her, taking her hands.

"Let us have tea. We are all set up in one of the greenhouses."

They walked silently to the orangery, where tea was set up. Edwina had a million questions when she first arrived but found they had all disappeared after

"Thank you. For helping him. Again." Charlotte said, "As he has become sicker, sometimes it can be hard to pull him out of his state."

"Perhaps one does not need to pull him about but sit with the King inside of his mind at that moment." Edwina offered thoughtfully. The Queen's gowns. The palace. Everything is slightly outdated but no less ornate. All to keep His Majesty calm.

"Your Majesty, if I may ask; Who is Emily?" Edwina asked cautiously.

Charlotte smiled sadly, "She was our youngest. She was so very sweet and kind and so excitable! She was my favourite of my daughters; I am not ashamed to say so. She was to marry the Kaiser Frederick of Prussia, but she died."

Edwina looked shyly at the Queen, "I am sorry for the loss of your daughter." She said. A part of her wished to say 'and your husband', but King George was there, if not mentally. He was a kind man, Edwina could tell and it was clear how much Charlotte loved him.

"That is the true test of marriage. In sickness and in health." Charlotte continued, "To choose someone over everything. I still choose my husband every day."

Edwina nodded but was still rather confused. She had been chosen as a Diamond encrusted wife for the Viscount.

"What if choice is not enough?" Edwina asked.

"It is the most powerful part. It is clear now the Viscount chose you one day but did not care for you the next." Charlotte explained, "But he made his choice in full view of the Ton, at risk of his reputation. He is a man, which makes it easier for him. But you have the right to choose someone as well, Miss Edwina. I hope you know that."

"Thank you," Edwina whispered.

"I have a proposition for you. Which is why I asked you here today." Charlotte said, "I know you are facing rather vicious rumours and speculation due to recent events. I wish to offer you a simple marriage. To my nephew. Prince Friedrich of Prussia. He is a military officer, now a diplomat. He requires a wife of your virtues and skills."

"I accept," Edwina said, nearly immediately, and she raised an eyebrow, "I did promise the King, did I not? And I trust your judgement for me, your Majesty."

"No less for a child of mine. And my Diamonds are my daughters in a way." Charlotte said gently.

[loveisnotfinite]

Random: I want a prequel entirely based on Lady Danbury after her affair with Violet’s dad.

“I have lived a life. I am a widow. I have loved, I have lost. I have earned a right to do whatever I please, whenever I please and however I please to do it.”

[lets-disneyprincess-blr-blog]

What about casting Simone Ashley as voice and singing voice of sadira mother in prequel movie or series based on Aladdin animated series ( as sadira mother name Samantha) please leave comments or retweet

[golden-cherry]

I just finished "Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story"

I need two or three days to recover

*spoilers in the tags*

[eleanor-bradstreet]

A Brother's Love: Guidance

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Rated: G, bit of angst, allusion to difficult childbirth Word count: 1.8k Masterpost

Summary: A picnic for the Bridgerton brood.

For some director's cut commentary on this chapter, click here.

“If you put any more biscuits into that child, we shall have to roll him out of the nursery rather than carry him.” Anthony chastised Benedict who was passing yet another treat to Gregory. The toddler reached out with crumb-covered fingers and a joyful gleam in his eye.

Benedict folded his lip in a frown at the viscount. “Last one.” He smirked, and handed off the biscuit, which Gregory sank his tiny teeth into greedily, his feet kicking with delight. The three brothers were lounging on a blanket, spread out on the back lawn of Aubrey Hall, enjoying something of a picnic in the sunshine. Under the shaded canopy nearby, Daphne and Francesca gathered cooing around their newest sibling, baby Hyacinth, who was just over a week old. The wet nurse and maids helped the girls take turns holding her. Utterly repelled by such activities, Eloise sat at a far corner of the lawn, nose buried in a book. Colin dashed around amongst them all, knocking a ball about with a mallet to perfect his aim for their next pall mall game. 

It was a moment of peace and happiness for the siblings. As Benedict looked around at everyone in the warm sunshine, he realized it had been so long since the family had shared time like this, he had almost forgotten what it felt like. It felt like it used to when both of their parents had been around, and he hoped that it was the beginning of a new, adjusted kind of happiness for them all.

This sunny outdoor excursion was precisely what they had all needed in the aftermath of Hyacinth’s birth; That scarring night a week earlier, when the halls had echoed with his mother’s screams and Daphne’s haunting singing while a thunderstorm raged outside. When Violet’s labor had begun in the afternoon, Benedict and Anthony had gathered their siblings in a far wing of the house, attended by maids, and encouraged them to read and play until they had news of their new brother or sister. When the waiting stretched past dinner time and their mother’s wailing could be heard throughout the entirety of the house, they had to act on instinct to soothe everyone’s anxieties.

Eloise was the most disturbed, and was practically vibrating with panic, demanding to see her mother. Anthony and Daphne had compromised and agreed to take her just outside the birthing room. Anthony later retold that Eloise had been so petrified by what she witnessed through the open doorway, that she had collapsed and trembled in Daphne’s lap for the rest of the night, while the elder sister tried to distract her with songs. 

Colin was driven into action, and eagerly followed the butler and groundskeeper as they moved through the house, checking window fastenings, inspecting for roof leaks and taking inventory of supplies to combat the storm.

Benedict was left with the two youngest children, and eventually migrated upstairs with their nursemaid. Francesca somehow drifted into a fitful sleep and was put to bed. But every time Gregory was laid in his crib, he would shriek and wail. He began fighting the nursemaid altogether, wriggling and crying, trying to escape her grasp. When Benedict stepped in and held him, the boy went quiet at last. He sank against his older brother, resting his head on his shoulder, though never falling fully asleep. He sucked on his thumb and allowed Benedict to move with him about the room. Perhaps it was just the comfort of a family member, but it was the only thing that brought Gregory peace. 

Benedict held him for hours, sometimes pacing, sometimes sitting, sometimes humming or murmuring nonsense when their mother’s screams grew the loudest. The longer it wore on, the harder he clung to his small brother, realizing that the contact was needed to help repel some of his own anxiety. When Violet’s screams were the shrillest, he rested his cheek against his brother’s small head and sent out a silent prayer that they would still have a mother in the morning.

After the sharpest and loudest of Violet’s distress, a new cry could be heard in the house, that of a newborn testing their lungs for the first time. Benedict couldn’t stop tears from rolling down his face and he happily explained to Gregory that he was now a big brother too. It was only after this that the exhausted little boy closed his eyes and slept, not stirring after he was laid in his crib.

The next hours passed in a blur, as the storm subsided and the cold dawn cast a blue light throughout the house. Benedict had rushed to the birthing room to find Anthony, Daphne and Eloise still outside. They notified him that they had a sister, Hyacinth, and that she and their mother were alive and well, but wanted to rest without visitors. The eldest brothers had then ensured that all of their siblings were safely installed in their rooms, then staggered to Benedict’s room and sat on the bed before their legs failed them. 

There, Anthony had confided in Benedict the full account of what had happened; the choice that the surgeon had confronted him with, and how their mother had bemoaned that such a decision should fall to her son. With the last of his energy, Benedict reassured his brother that he had done the right thing in leaving the choice to their mother herself, and that all would be well now that everyone had made it through the night. He wasn’t sure how helpful his words had been, because neither of them had any strength left to talk further. Without intending to, they both eventually slumped across the bed fully clothed and slept until midday.

The week had progressed with a level of unease that was unusual to follow an occasion as happy as a healthy birth. Their mother had stayed hidden away in her rooms, tending to Hyacinth as much as she could, but relying heavily on the wet nurse and maids to care for her and bring her to interact with her siblings. She allowed brief visits from the children, during which Benedict could detect that she was not so much recovering her health, but rather combatting her despair. He had not seen her looking so sunken since his father had died months earlier. Hyacinth’s birth seemed to have visited upon her a new wave of grief.

Anthony met with her daily, serving as something of an emissary between mother and children, but he had little to report other than that she simply needed more rest. Benedict could tell from his eyes that he could sense her despair too, and that it was creeping upon him as well. Thus, he had proposed this outing, for all of the siblings to enjoy the sunshine and escape the gloom currently permeating the house. Anthony had jumped at the idea, and eagerly corralled the family and servants for a day spent in the fresh air.

It was a success, Benedict thought proudly, looking around at his family, who were all either smiling or happily engaged in their leisure. He shot a lopsided grin at Anthony who lay on his side across the blanket. The viscount returned a nod and small smile too.

“Mama!” Gregory suddenly squealed, wiggling all of his limbs. Both brothers’ heads snapped to where he was looking and there they saw, far across the grass toward the opposite end of the house,  a figure moving along the horizon. It was their mother, dressed in black and carrying an armful of lilacs, walking in the direction of their father’s grave.  

They were so stunned to see her up and about that they didn’t register how Gregory clambered to his feet between Benedict’s knees, and started a toddling run toward his mother across the lawn. It was only when he shouted again, “Mama, mama!” that he caught their attention. Benedict saw him, racing over the grass on his chubby little legs, and knew they were too far away for their mother to see or hear him. Or maybe she was too absorbed to hear him. In any event, he knew this was not the moment for Gregory to run to their mother. She would hold him soon, but not right now. Not when she was going to tell their father about the new baby.

He finally regained his senses and jumped up to chase after the boy, quickly scooping him up in his arms.

“No you don’t Gregory,” he murmured, “You will see Mama soon. Right now, you stay with us.” 

Gregory searched his face with wide eyes and a dimpled frown, before promptly bursting into tears. He wailed for his mother, and Benedict cradled him into the crook of his neck as he had on that awful night. He rubbed the boy’s back and shushed him, walking back to sit on the blanket across from Anthony. It was only now that he saw the rest of the children staring over at the silhouette of their mother as she rounded over a hill and disappeared into the trees. Then their eyes turned toward Gregory, and Colin came running over to crouch next to his brothers.

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Benedict assured Colin. Gregory’s wails had died down to whimpers, but tears continued to roll down his cheeks. In the distance, Eloise turned back to her book and the other girls turned back to the baby. Gregory’s nursemaid began to approach, but Benedict waved her off. Anthony had sat up, his eyes wide and brow stern. He and Benedict exchanged knowing glances, expressing their surprise at seeing their mother, but silently understanding that they must stay put for the children. 

Benedict continued to pat Gregory’s back, and grinned when Colin reached out a cautious hand to do the same. Quickly, the youngest brother quieted, and with a sniffle, he turned his head against Benedict’s shoulder and looked over at the viscount.

“An-ton-nee,” He squeaked, and his eldest brother balked in surprise. The boy had never pronounced his name so clearly before. “An-ton-neeee!” Gregory chirped again, leaning away from Benedict and reaching out to the viscount, flexing his chubby fingers.

Anthony looked dumbfounded. Benedict quirked an eyebrow at him, then held out the boy for him to take.

“Well, I can see who the favorite is here,” he smirked.

Still bewildered, Anthony was frozen in place.

“Go on,” Benedict chuckled, and settled Gregory into his arms. Anthony held his youngest brother on his lap, looking at him with a newfound sense of connection.

“An-ton-nee,” Gregory sighed once more, grinning up at him and gripping the hem of his jacket in a plump fist. All signs of the boy’s distress had disappeared as if they had never occurred at all.

Then for the first time in months, Anthony broke into a wide, genuine smile.

Author's Note: It really was the BTS photo of Benedict holding tiny Gregory (see Masterpost) that was the seed for this entire fic idea. I had to explore how Benedict cared for his siblings both during the loss of Edmund and during the night of Hyacinth's birth. He would have been looking after the youngest children while Anthony was with Daphne and Eloise.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @heeyyyou @faye-tale @hopepaigeturner

[arrthurpendragon]

[iwrotemrtambourineman]

N e ways watched all the bridgertons in one sitting as is the proper way to consume any and all bridgerton content. Its fine 👍