#Gloucester River

[fatchance]

The dock at Cappahosic Oyster Company, on the York River in Gloucester, Virginia.

[theeeveetamer]

Sadly Leicester is in a national shortage of Dads, so have this poll instead

I don't want the one you like the most. I want the one you'd fuck.

[rothgalleries]

Annisquam Harbor Lighthouse

Annisquam Harbor Lighthouse is located on Wigwam Point in the quaint New England village of Annisquam, a small neighborhood of Gloucester, Massachusetts. It overlooks the Annisquam River and provides navigational aid for ships entering the river and the nearby Gloucester Harbor. The beacon is somewhat difficult to find and parking is very limited and strictly enforced during the summer season.…

[arcielee]

Peace Beneath the City

Summary: Years have gone by and you receive a familiar visitor. Paring: Osferth x Female!Reader Word Count: 3052 Warnings: Smutty smut, we got season 5 Osferth coming in with the d that they were fighting over, oral (female receivng), p in v. 18+ MINORS DNI. Author’s Note: Thank you @aspen-carter​​ for being my beloved beta reader, seriously you all would unfollow my ass if I posted without her sage insight. Anyway, here is part 2 of Silver Coins as per the poll I posted! It’s smutty, it’s sweet, it’ll pull at your heartstrings (maybe). Enjoy! ♥  Dividers by @jaysdividers​ Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @watercolorskyy @eddiemadmunson​ @schniiipsel​ @aaaaaamond​​ @tssf-imagines​​

The old man who owned the alehouse was considered a philanthropist for the growing city, an elder in this regard who would help with the affairs. You thought yourself fortunate that he was always kind to you and the other girls, with a sense of kinship for the mismatched gathering beneath the roof.

When he passed and it was known he had no children of his own, it brought forward a slew of greedy claimants who tried to take ownership of the tavern and by proxy the whorehouse below.

This was when you and the girls dared to step forward, bringing your combined silver saved from the years and demanded ownership, demanded your freedom and for the right to own yourselves. 

Their response was the threat of riots, their reverberation for violence rolled throughout the city and promptly died at the feet of Lord Uhtred and his men. Perhaps it was luck, or maybe the mercy of the gods, that they happened to arrive that day, intrigued by the city brimming with chaos. Lord Uhtred was quick to remind them of the faithful peonage served and how it should be rightfully rewarded with ownership; he then continued to boast of the sound mind you possessed and his faith for you to take on this vacant role. 

Most importantly, he told them that if they decided to keep the tavern still, that you, as well as the other women who rallied behind, would leave the city and return with them to Coccham. 

Your face was flushed and you had no words as you watched the title be signed to your name.

That night was a celebration for the new era in the city of Gloucester. The cups brimmed with ale and you were able to find Osferth in the crowd; it had been several months since the last night you spent with him and you felt the warmth pool between your thighs at the sight of him. You were bold to seat yourself in his lap and table cheered when you wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled him in with a soft kiss; he grinned with your affection. 

He stayed with you that night and it was just as sweet as before with his same eagerness to please you. He was adamant to practice your trade secrets and you adored him for being quick to learn, responsive with your soft moans and hums for direction. 

You had been heartsore to see him leave and you declared that they were forever welcomed within the city walls. It was a new day to embrace new responsibilities and the decree let it be known that you and your own were protected by Lord Uhtred. 

The city of Gloucester was on the apex of the river Severn, at the cusp of Mercia and the crossroads where travelers, traders would pass back and forth from Wessex to Wéalas. You showed that you were savvy with your role and there was an unspoken accord that the city was a sanction, a place where Dane, Saxon, or other could come to trade, rest, drink, and fuck in peace. 

You became the revered Madam of the city and it began with you moving your belongings upstairs and renovating the downstairs amenities, having them cleaned and properly furnished. You were the known shrewd haggler, creating partnerships to guarantee stock, food and ale for your establishment and its residents. With the growing respect, you were able to convince space to be made and stalls created for the passerby merchants, which allowed the small economy to thrive. 

The city adored you and the peace continued, with a harmony that welcomed when Lord Uhtred returned. On this night, the tavern was thrumming with life and your eyes danced over the men, your cheeks flushed as you searched for him.

Lord Uhtred was seated at the head of one table, with his men around and some already partnered with your girls. You could see Sihtric, his hint of a smile as he drank his ale, and Finan with his cheeky grin, glowing as the ladies were vying for the attention of the handsome Irishman. 

And then you spotted him. 

There was maturity from the years that had passed. Baby monk, as you remembered Finan and Sihtric crowed, was no longer suitable for the man who entered. You noticed that his face had leaned, his features had hardened but that his cerulean blue eyes still twinkled when he saw the men. He held himself with a severe pride, his shoulders broader, perhaps from the years of fighting, but he still moved with the same grace as he weaved through the crowd and came to seat himself. 

You knew the years had changed you as well and with that thought, came that flutter of trepidation down your spine, though your steps still brought you towards where they all were now seated. Your hands were nervous and smoothed the silk of your wrap dress that hugged to your womanly curves; your curls were worn down and billowed with your walk. Your face was bare, as you no longer felt the need to paint it to appease men; in fact, you had not taken another man to your bed since the last time Osferth had been in the city and this was because…

Well, he was different. 

Despite your unease, there was also the warmth that coiled in your lower abdomen and gave a determination to your steps; you called out for their cups to be refilled and you were greeted with the uproarious response of Lord Uhtred and his men. You felt a hitch in your chest when you saw how his face glowed with his recognition, how his eyes watched you move to his side, a soft touch to his shoulder and you leaned forward to whisper in the shell of his ear, “My lord, you are welcome to stay in my bed this night, if it pleases you.” 

You watched him through your eyelashes, coy with your demeanor, and felt the flutter of pleasure as you watched the severity etched onto his features soften from your touch, how your words made him redden with your proposition. He looked into your eyes and you saw the same kindness as before, then he reached to pull you onto his lap. A giggle spilled from your lips and the men cheered even louder, drinking to good health, good fortune, and to good friends.

With the commotion, Osferth nuzzled into your neck and you felt the tickle of his lips to your ear, his voice low. “You are always a pleasure, my lady.” 

You shivered with delight at his words and there was a comfort against his chest, you felt almost girlish with how your feet almost touched the tavern floor from your seat in his lap. As the men regaled with tales of their adventures, you felt his large palm move around your waist and rest on the outside of your thigh, the gentle caress of his thumb. When you shifted your weight, you felt his hardness beneath your bottom and your cheeks grew rosy, a heat that pooled between your thighs. 

Osferth noticed the shade of red and when you looked into his eyes, his hand moved to squeeze the softness of your hip and he gave you a sly wink. 

The anticipation bullied you; it grew late and the men paired off, you were quick to slide from his lap and take his hand into your own, all but dragging him upstairs. Your face blushed again from the good natured catcalls from Finan, Sihtric, and the remaining company; your head remained high, but you stole a look to see the shy smile on his face as he followed your steps. 

Your room was cool from the night air that came through the windows, the soft flutter of fabric from the curtains you took care to hang. You turned on the ball of your foot to see him stop in the doorframe, bending over to remove his boots. 

Your hand moved to cover your smile, touched with his gesture, and he peered up at you, his face brightening with a grin of his own. He took care to set them by the door and your feet padded soft across the rugged floor; you pressed against his chest and tilted your chin up to find his lips.

They were soft and warm as you remembered; his large hands roamed your body, one that cupped the back of your neck to deepen the kiss and his other gripped into your hip. You moaned into his mouth and his tongue pressed forward to taste you, the slow motion to savor before his kisses trailed your jaw and fell to the junction of your neck. You sighed and melted flush against his chest when he nipped his teeth against your pulse, gooseflesh rippled over your skin that showed. 

“My lord,” you breathed, daring to tease him. “You kiss like a man starved.” 

He pulled back and you see the upward curl of his bow lips. “My lady,” his voice was low like before. “You, of all people, may simply call me Osferth.” 

Your eyes met with the brilliant blue of his own and you saw they still held that same genuineness as before; you reached to trace his jaw and stepped closer still, your lips finding his once again. 

His arms wrapped around the small of your waist and picked you up enough for your feet to not touch the floor; you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, enjoying his woodsy musk mixed with sweat and ale. 

Osferth was careful to eye the bed and his long steps brought you to the foot of it; you felt  his hold relax and once the floor was beneath you, your hands were quick to unfasten his embossed leather and help him remove the albe underneath. You stopped and allowed your eyes to wash over his matured form, the crimson returning to your cheeks.

His broad shoulders only emphasized his slender waist and there was a refined definition to his abdomen, the same tuft of hair across his chest. Your eyes looked over each healed scar that decorated him, as well as the sporadic placement of freckles from where the sun had kissed his pale skin.

That thought, the sight of him emboldened you and your touch was gentle, just a finger to trace the jagged line above his pectoral and you followed it with a kiss. He hummed his pleasure from the tickle of your lips and reached to catch under your chin, bringing your eyes to meet with his own and you see how his pupils swallowed the brilliant blue. 

“May I?” He asked and his large palms moved to rest on your hip, on the knot for your dress. He watched you, always adamant for your consent, and you smiled at him. Your hands rest on his own and you helped him untie, allowing the silk to spill onto the floor. 

It was his turn to admire you; his eyes looked over your curves, adoring how the silk chemise beneath clung to them, and widened at the sight of your nipples peaking beneath the soft fabric. 

His tongue wet his lips, your name a fervent prayer whispered and he pulled you into his arms, flushed against his bare chest and his lips tasting the curve of your neck. You made a noise that was a mixture of a giggle and a hum when his tongue trailed your collarbone, his hot mouth latched to the softness of your chest and left love bites. 

“Please, my lady,” you can feel his breath, how his lips curl with his words against your flesh. “Allow me to show you what I have been practicing.” 

Your eyebrow arched and he reached for your hem, pulling the silk over your head. You giggled again as your curls spilled onto your shoulders and you felt his large palms clasped onto your waist; there was a quick lurch when he pushed you to fall back against your bed. 

He grinned with your almost lyrical laughter, you were bright and flushed and he moved to climb on top of you, kissing every inch of you with a renewed hunger; a soft moan escaped you and his mouth moved lower, stopping only to nip at your hip bone before trailing towards your center. 

Osferth nuzzled between your thighs and you felt the blossom of blood when his tongue dragged along your wet slip, then pressed between the top folds and began to flit back and forth against your pearl. You mewled his name, gripping the bedclothes and pushing to your elbows to look down at him; your eyes fogged with pleasure and he pulled back, the dribble of spit that fell from his lips onto your cunt.  

He looked at you with a grin that dimpled his cheeks. “I find this better prepares the ladies…” but he trailed off, his focused return to move until his slender fingers touched the wetness with deliberate circles. 

Your question to the plural use of ladies died on your tongue, your head fell back against the bed with a moan to the gentle prod of his finger as if he was searching; a louder moan spilled from your mouth and you moved to muffle the sound, but his other hand caught your wrist. 

He shook his head. “It is just us,” the grin was still on his lips. “Let me know how this feels for you.” 

You were almost wanton from the pleasure that continued to build in your lower abdomen, more vocal with the second finger that curled sinfully within you. He paced himself, the momentum brought you to the precipice of your peak and then his mouth returned, suckling above your entrance. The simultaneous act had you seeing stars.

“Osferth,” you exhaled and he moved to climb on top of you, his mouth finding yours and you moaned from the taste of your release on his lips.  

You grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, your hands moved to the laces and helping him remove his breeches; he was bare and you straddled him, the slickness from your cunt trailed his cock and your palms were flat on him tensed abdomen, holding yourself as he shifted to line up with your silken folds. 

Though the stretch was not as severe as the other times, there was still the unmistakable fullness as he slowly sheathed himself into your cunt. You felt the warmth of his palms on your thighs, how they grabbed into their softness and his eyes were watchful for your response, allowing you to adjust.

You realized your fingers dug into the solid plans of his abdomen and you exhaled before you slowly began to rock your hips into him.

He relaxed with your movement, a guttural groan from the back of his throat as he reached deep within your wet heat. You clenched in response, his jaw tensed and his eyes fluttered while your own soft noises came with how he hit your sweet spot.  

His hands moved to grab your hips and the rhythm quickened, the coil in your stomach tightened with each pleasurable thrust and your cunt clenched. 

You almost whined with its abrupt stop; he pushed himself up and rolled you onto your back, with kisses that tickled your bare chest as he cradled into your hips, pushing into you once more. Your back arched, your fingernails bit into his shoulder and you sighed when his hands came to rest on your hips, rutting into you and the rhythm returned to press upon your sweet spot. 

His pace began to build towards your second release and your cunt fluttered around him; he groaned, his hand shifted and his thumb pressed against your bud with a familiarity, matching with the brutal pace of his hips. His touch was the push over, the rolling pleasure causing you to clench with your own release and he followed.

There was a tenderness in the moment, with the slouch of his posture and how it allowed his damp brow to touch against your own. You closed your eyes and enjoyed how your breaths synchronized, enjoying his woodsy musk with sex. When your heartbeat settled, you opened your eyes and he pulled back, the returned curl of his lips and a sweet kiss before he allowed you to move from beneath him.  

The basin was filled and you took care to hand him a damp cloth; he was careful to wipe himself and he laid on his side, waiting for you to return. His arm reached to pull you close, to rest your head in his chest and cuddle beneath the quilts; it was the same comfort you remember, the gentle thrum of his heart to your ear. 

After a moment, he asked, “My lady, do you ever feel we may have been destined for one another?”

This was a thought you would revisit over the years, whenever you rekindled the shared intimacy of the few nights you two had spent together. Reality always brought you back, for you knew he was damn near a nomad and driven by his bastard status to create something all his own. It was a plight you could relate to, as whoring had not been your own life’s ambition, but you had been able to create from it, a life of comfort and a kinship with the girls. 

A haven all your own. 

“I believe,” you began, your voice soft and words slow to form on your tongue. “That we all each have our destiny to follow and that we are lucky enough for our paths to cross, from time to time,” and you turned your head, pressing your lips to the underside of his jaw and against his neck, savoring his scent that would linger on your sheets when he would leave you once again. “Please know that you are always welcome whenever you return.”

He did not say anything, but wrapped his arms tighter around and hummed his acknowledgement. You closed your eyes again and relaxed against him, enjoying the soft touch of his fingers as they drew circles on your backside.

arcie’s masterlist  

[lilacsnid]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐔𝐩𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭 | 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦)

➪ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: They despised one another & barely tolerated each other while working at Slough House. Tensions rise as they are sent out into the field together, working undercover to search for a sleeper agent in the cozy village of Upshott. To avoid being caught, they are forced to pretend that they are "together". Being so close in each others company causes certain feelings rise to the surface that they have both tried to bury for far too long.

𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨: she/her pronouns used. this story is based on the episode - from upshott with love, but I have changed the storyline line slightly, so it might not be the exact same as the show.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from slow horses, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally.

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

Music blared through her earphones as Y/N sat outside Gloucester train station, perched on an uncomfortable bench. One leg crossed over the other with her bag resting underneath her feet. She kept peering over the bridge of her sunglasses, surveying the station's surroundings. With a quick glance at her watch, a flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She had received very particular instructions from Lamb earlier that day to be at Gloucester station by 2:00 pm, and now it was already 4:45 pm. She was starting to grow impatient. The prospect of a mission outside Slough House had completely and utterly exhilarated her. She felt as if she had been withering away there and craved an opportunity to prove herself. The anticipation of action was a welcoming change.

Her fingers picked mindlessly at the chipping paint on the seat beneath her, trying to stop herself from going crazy. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a black car pull up in front of her. No cars had entered the car park since she got off the train, so she jumped up, fairly confident that it was Lamb.

She stood to her feet with a heavy sigh, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her gaze remained fixed on Lamb, who briskly got out the car, meeting her eye before closing the door.

“Oh, you are here. Didn’t expect you to show,” Lamb quipped sarcastically, retrieving a cigarette out from his pocket.

Through her sunglasses, she rolled her eyes, retorting, "You're hilarious, really. What the fuck took you so long? I've been off the train for at least two hours."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Had a few loose ends to tie up. Surprisingly, you weren't at the top of my to-do list."

"Sure," Y/N scoffed, pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, shooting him a glare.

A sudden realization hit her as she drew in a deep breath - Lamb hadn't been the one driving the hire car. Before she had the chance to voice her confusion, the other car door opened, and River emerged from the driver's seat.

Her narrowed gaze locked onto River, looking at him from head to toe before shifting her attention back to Lamb.

"Why is he here?" She asked sharply.

Lamb took a long drag of his cigarette, replying rather nonchalantly, "He's going with you."

Y/N raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her expression twisting in bewilderment. "You've got to be kidding."

"When do I ever joke?" Lamb retorted rhetorically. "Didn't have enough assignments to go around, and frankly, I could do with a break from the constant bickering between you two."

His words caused Y/N to shake her head, her gaze shifting over to River, who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender from where they rested on the roof of the car.

"Trust me," He said, his eyes briefly glancing off into the distance, "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either."

Approaching her with a file in hand, Lamb handed over the contents. "New ID, brief, funding package and dossier. Try not to fucking lose any of it," He remarked, met by another glare from Y/N as she snatched the file from his outstretched hand.

"Enjoy yourselves," Lamb said, already heading towards the train station's entrance. "Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention. Your cover story: you two are engaged."

"WHAT?!" River and Y/N both yelled in unison as they stared him down, their voices echoing through the station.

Turning back to face them, Lamb explained, "The point is to stay undercover, right? You need a believable story. No one will suspect two lovebirds exploring the cozy villages of Cotswolds."

"Seriously?" River objected, disbelief etched in his voice.

Lamb let out an exasperated sigh at the two of them. "Listen, I really couldn't give less of a fuck about the specifics, but for your own sake, make it look fucking convincing. Real lives are at stake here, and I don't need to remind you how that weighs on the line. I know 'acting' might be a stretch, especially for you two."

"Such a prick," Y/N muttered under her breath as they watched Lamb stride away.

River couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at her, watching as Y/N strode toward the boot of the car in frustration. With a forceful heave, she tossed her bag inside beside his, the resounding sound of her slamming the car boot shut making him cringe. Reclaiming the driver's seat, he waited for her to slip into the passenger seat beside him before reversing out of the carpark and back onto the gravel road.

An uncomfortable silence lingered within in the car, thick with tension, as they kept driving. Y/N couldn't believe just how unlucky she had gotten — being paired with the one person who drove her absolutely crazy. Their snide comments and constant bickering would undoubtedly always drive their colleagues mad.

She opened the folder Lamb had handed over, skimming through the documents detailing the individuals they were tasked to surveil. She made sure to read over the brief, absorbing all of the pertinent details.

"Just when things seemed to be looking up," Y/N murmured, her gaze now fixed on the passing scenery as they drove.

The audible sound of River sucking his teeth showcased his patience that was wearing thin. "You're not the only one feeling like that,” He grumbled, sinking back into the driver's seat. One hand gripped the steering wheel, while the other casually rested on his thigh.

A few moments passed in silence, the air growing even more thick with an unspoken tension between them. River drew in a deep breath, the air of annoyance dissolving momentarily before he spoke up again.

"Look, I get it. You're not my biggest fan, and I've never quite figured out why," He began, stealing a quick glance in her direction. "But I really want to nail this. Chances are, you do too."

She responded with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes held an expectant look, urging him to continue.

"Regardless of our history, let's set it aside while we're out here," He proposed, gesturing towards the road ahead. "As Lamb pointed out, people's lives could be on the line."

Y/N sighed, knowing deep down that there was some truth in his words. Their clashes had been a staple at Slough House, a constant battle for dominance. Ultimately, she knew the mission took precedence, regardless of who she was partnered with.

"Fine," She relented, nodding in agreement.

"Great," River replied, raising his hand from his thigh, offering it for a shake. "So, are we good?"

Glancing at his offered hand, she hesitated briefly before accepting it in her own, giving it a firm shake. "We're good."

She felt the unexpected warmth of his hand leave as she released his hand. She offered a soft smile as she watched him maintain his focus on the road ahead. There was a palpable shift in the air, a mutual understanding settling between them.

“This doesn’t make us friends though, Cartwright,” She pointed her finger at him, “This purely for the sake of the mission.”

“Agreed,” He grumbled, a flicker of agreement laced in his tone.

As River continued to drive, they dove into the dossier. She continued firing off questions about the individuals that were listed while River shared what he had found from earlier on in the day. They planned their trip, discussed accommodations and went over their cover story multiple times to ensure it held up under scrutiny just in case anyone came asking questions. 

“Harriet Madden,” She spoke, reading the name off her fake driver’s license, “And what is the name of my so-called fiancé?”

River chuckled softly, leaning across her to reach into the glove box, retrieving his own counterfeit driver's license.

"Jonathan Walker," He stated, extending the card for her to inspect.

With a playful eye roll, she accepted the card, examining it with a smirk, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm amber glow across the car park as Y/N lounged in the passenger seat of the hire car with her feet resting on the dashboard, engrossed in her phone. She had quickly changed into high-waisted jeans paired with an oversized sweatshirt, finding comfort in the casual attire as night would soon be approaching. 

A while later, she heard the car door creak open causing her to glance up. She instantly did a double take at River's transformed appearance. He now wore black jeans complemented by a black button up shirt and topped with a forest green jacket. What really grabbed her attention was the reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, altering his usual look entirely. It was a change Y/N wasn’t entirely opposed to. She couldn’t help but stare at him with an evident furrow in her brow.

He caught her stare, returning it with a curious gaze of his own. He couldn't help but admire the relaxed vibe about her in the casual outfit—a side of her he had never witnessed before. The contrast between her usual demeanour and this relaxed appearance intrigued him, causing a subtle shift in his perception he had of her.

"What?" River queried, arching an eyebrow in response to the smile she wore.

Her grin widened, her gaze lingering on him. "You actually pull off the specs, you know."

"Was that a compliment I just heard?" He chuckled, fastening his seatbelt.

"Don't get used to it," She shot back, crossing her legs with a playful glint in her eyes.

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, River took a quick glance at his watch, releasing a short sigh. "Right, we better get going," He announced, turning the key in the ignition. 

Y/N nodded in agreement, securing her seatbelt as they prepared for the last fifteen minutes of their drive.

"Oh, I almost forgot," River interjected suddenly, grabbing her attention as she watched him reach into the pocket of his jacket. "Here." With a deft toss, a small box landed in her lap.

Her curiosity piqued and she picked up the box, examining it with a quizzical expression. "What's… this?" She inquired.

He hesitated momentarily before responding. "Well, considering our 'engagement'," he emphasised the word with air quotes, "It might help if you had something to wear, you know?"

With a mix of surprise and intrigue, she slowly opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled in the light that filtered through the car window. She gazed at the ring nestled inside, caught off guard by the gesture.

"It wasn’t expensive or anything, so don't get carried away," River remarked, his cheeks flushing slightly as he averted his gaze.

Her laughter was soft and genuine as she carefully examined the simple gold band with its oval-shaped rhinestone. It’s cheap appearance, most likely bought from the convenience store's jewellery section at the service station they were at, didn't change the thoughtfulness of it.

River tried to ignore the sudden tightening in his chest caused by the unfamiliar but pleasing sound of her laughter. 

“Oh, so that’s what it sounds like when you laugh!” He teased, glancing down at her with a funny look. 

Shaking her head, a lingering smile tugged at her lips. She purposefully avoided his expectant gaze, a playful edge in her voice. "Shut the fuck up."

It was quiet for a moment as Y/N bit her lip, a teasing glint in her eye as she remarked, "Who knew River Cartwright had a romantic streak?"

"Shut up, Harriet," He retorted, playfully jabbing at her with the fake name.

Y/N scoffed before sliding the ring onto her finger, finding it a tad loose but still manageable. She lifted her hand to display the ring, wiggling her fingers and drawing his attention to the now deadpan expression on her face. His eyes caught the sight, and he scoffed while rolling his eyes. 

"Set your expectations low," He quipped, beginning to reverse out of the carpark with a hint of amusement laced in his voice.

 

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

It was dark by the time they had made it into Upshott. Y/N peered through the car window at the pub they had just arrived at, her brow furrowing at the peculiar name. Despite the late hour and it being midweek, "The Downside Man" appeared rather inviting, glowing with dim lights and a bustling atmosphere.

"The Downside Man," Y/N recited the name aloud, pondering about the way it rolled off her tongue. "Why is it that all these small villages have such peculiar names for their pubs?"

River casually unbuckled his seatbelt, shrugging slightly. "You tell me and we’ll both know."

They jumped out of the car, the cold air greeting them almost instantly. They both hopped out, heading towards the boot of the car to grab their bags. River took a moment to survey the surroundings, locking the car before turning his attention to Y/N.

He waited for her to glance up at him before asking, “You ready?”

"Absolutely," She replied with a sigh, gesturing for him to take the lead as they moved towards the welcoming glow of the pub.

Opening the door to the pub, he held it open courteously for Y/N to step in first. As she entered, the warm embrace of the cozy atmosphere and the lively hum of conversation instantly enveloped her. River walked ahead of her as she followed him through the animated crowd until they reached the bustling bar area, filled with patrons enjoying their evening. River spotted the barmaid, and Y/N took a quick moment to observe her as well. As they shuffled through the small crowd of people, he quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder, ensuring she was still in tow.

She came to stand at his side, glancing around at their surroundings while as River approached the bar. The distinctive sound of him placing his bag on the floor caught the attention of the barmaid, causing her to look up.

"Hi," She greeted with a hand on her hip. "What can I get you?"

River cleared his throat slightly before speaking, "Actually, we're just checking in for the night."

Y/N suppressed a scoff as she watched the barmaid blatantly check him up and down. The barmaid then quipped, "Johnnie Walker?"

Her lips curled under her teeth, and she glanced up from where she stood beside him as he hesitated. It only took a brief moment for him to regain his composure, shaking his head slightly.

"Yes. Yes, I am," He replied with a smile, recovering smoothly. "Sorry, you threw me. It's- It's Jonathon or Jon. It's not Johnnie, sorry."

The barmaid laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Do you get that a lot?"

River chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, mainly in pubs."

Y/N's gaze narrowed as she observed the scene unfolding between River and the barmaid. A subtle cough from her drew his attention, as she discreetly fixed a pointed stare at him. She couldn’t help but suspect that he might have been appreciating the barmaid's charms a bit too much.

Breaking the moment, River suddenly introduced her. "This is my fiancé, Harriet," He announced, resting his hand on Y/N's shoulder. She offered a polite smile towards the barmaid, "Hi."

However, the barmaid, simply turned around, completely blanking her as she grabbed the key to their room. "I’m Kelly, follow me," The bar maid instructed, leaving Y/N feeling like she was somewhat invisible.

She trailed behind River as they followed Kelly through the lively pub, a flicker of unease beginning to settle within her.

“What brings you to Upshott?” Kelly questioned, twirling the key in her finger as they began to climb the stairs.  

River discreetly glanced back at Y/N, a silent exchange passing between them, before responding, "I'm a journalist, and Harriet is a photographer. I've been working on a piece about village life, and well, Upshott just seemed like the perfect place to start, really."

As he smoothly recited their rehearsed story, Y/N listened intently, realising that every detail matched their car conversation word for word. Kelly finally looked at Y/N for the first time, offering only a slight nod before unlocking the door to their room. Y/N couldn't help but narrow her eyes at Kelly as she turned her back, surprised by the lack of a proper greeting.

Despite “Jonathon” mentioning his fiancée, Kelly still refused to even acknowledge her presence. 

"Who do you write for? Insomniacs Weekly?" Kelly joked with a playful smirk as she stepped into the room.

River chuckled slightly, "No, uh, The Times."

"Oh!" Kelly exclaimed, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on him.

Unable to stay silent any longer, Y/N stepped around River, walking further into the room. "This is lovely!" She exclaimed, raising her voice and briefly glancing at Kelly as she walked past.

Once again, Kelly ignored her and turned her attention back to River. "Well, I can give you the headlines. Apart from the village pub downstairs and the village shop, there really is fuck all going on."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at her behaviour, Y/N had to bite her tongue. It was evident that Kelly was captivated by Jonathon Walker, and River Cartwright's undeniable charm and good looks played a significant role. Despite their personal differences, Y/N couldn't deny his ability to make a woman feel weak in the knees. He was an incredibly attractive man.

The barmaid's blatant disregard for Y/N's presence surprised her, and she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. River could also sense her discomfort and walked across the room to stand next to her rather than alongside Kelly. Y/N felt the subtle brush of his arm against her shoulder, and she kept her gaze fixed on Kelly who was standing at the door.

"Well," He continued, maintaining the facade, "Where there's people, there are stories."

"Boring stories," Kelly retorted.

"No," He countered, "You ask the right questions, and you can usually find something interesting. You know, everyone has a secret."

The barmaid smiled, her sharp gaze fixed on him. "Well, don't be asking too many questions. We tend to sacrifice troublemaking strangers to the Green Man."

Observing their conversation, Y/N discreetly narrowed her gaze towards her as she spoke, feeling an unexplained unease. There was something about the way she watched them talk that unsettled her, though she couldn't quite pinpoint it. River maintained a polite smile but glanced down at her, his eyes searching hers as if to say - you okay?

Y/N maintained her smile, playing her part as she leaned against the bedpost.

"Oh," Kelly said, turning around. "I need to get you some towels. I need to get back downstairs, but I will leave them outside your door later."

"That's alright," River replied, glancing down at Y/N. "Think we're both pretty keen for bed, aren't we, darling?"

She looked up at him, her breath catching at the unexpected pet name that momentarily threw her off character. Nonetheless, she smiled and nodded in agreement. Sensing Kelly’s stare, Y/N felt his hand slide along her waist before resting on the bedpost where she leaned. In a spontaneous move, perhaps to irk the barmaid further, she wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning into him to present the image of a normal, happy couple.

"Alright," Kelly spoke shortly, glancing quickly at Y/N before offering the key to River.

Stepping forward, Y/N interjected, taking the key from her hand instead. "Ta," She said as she nodded, her face completely deadpan.

"Anything else?" Kelly asked, the question clearly directed at River.

"Uh, no," He answered, pulling Y/N back into his side. "All good, thank you."

"Right, see you later," Kelly said as she approached the door, pausing momentarily before adding, "Johnnie Walker."

River laughed, calling out, "Just Jon."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh at the nickname. As the door closed, River glanced back at her with an oblivious look.

"What?" He asked, throwing his arms up in question.

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes at him.

"I'll see you later, Johnnie Walker," She said mockingly, tossing the room key onto a nearby table.

He scoffed, starting to take off his jacket. "Fuck off."

"She's clearly into you," Y/N observed, "And making it rather obvious that she doesn't give a fuck about me being here."

River scoffed again, this time playfully. "Not like you to care that much about something like that."

"I don't care," Y/N insisted, attempting to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach at the mere thought of River with someone else.

A brief silence lingered between them, both their gazes settling on the solitary double bed in the middle of the room. Y/N had just about forgotten the obvious fact that there would be only one bed.

"Oh, great," She muttered, gesturing towards the bed.

River sighed, "I'll sleep on the floor."

A wave of guilt washed over her almost instantly, prompting her to abandon the bratty demeanour and take his comfort into consideration. The night was exceptionally cold, and the thought of him trying to sleep on the hard wooden floor seemed rather harsh.

"No, I'm sorry. Don't do that," She said, crossing her arms. "It's freezing, and I doubt you'd get a wink of sleep on this floor."

He looked at her, trying to figure out what she was implying.

"We can share the bed; it'll be fine," She suggested.

He half-smiled, "What if I would rather sleep on the floor?"

"Well, then knock yourself out," Y/N retorted. "Just trying to look out for you."

"That's unlike you." River remarked, furrowing his brow.

"River..." She sighed, growing a bit annoyed with his teasing.

"Alright, alright," He relented. "Thanks."

He watched her as she sat down on the bed, falling back against the mattress with a content sigh.

"Take what you can get, Cartwright," She remarked, "It's actually really comfortable."

River nodded, his gaze fixed on her as he stepped closer. Standing in front of her, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed, and her hair sprawled out across the mattress. Despite everything, he found her beautiful, though he thought admitting it to her face was a step too far.

She heard his footsteps across the floor, and when they stopped, she opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her, towering over her as he looked down.

"What?" She asked, watching him chew on his lip.

"If I'm sleeping in the bed, you're going to have to move," He stated.

She shot him a perplexed look. "Excuse me?"

"I always sleep on the left side," He explained with his hands in his pockets, his silver watch on his wrist catching the light.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yep," He confirmed, shifting his weight on his feet. "So, shove over."

She scoffed. "Not a chance. You're lucky I'm even letting you sleep in the bed at all."

"C'mon, move," He urged, tapping her on the leg.

"No," She shook her head, staying put.

River sighed. "Move."

She laughed, "Fuck off!"

He groaned in annoyance as she sat up, starting to playfully poke and prod at him with her hands.

"You're annoying me, stop," He said, holding his hands up while trying to avoid her playful gestures.

She found it incredibly amusing, knowing all too well that she was the only one that could get under his skin the way she always managed to. Her teasing continued as she started to sense his patience wearing thin. River groaned, gripping her arms forcefully, yet still being careful not to hurt her. With a mischievous squeal, she tried to resist, but he leant over her small frame while skilfully trapping her arms at her sides.

In this unexpected proximity, their faces were mere inches apart, a closeness they hadn't experienced before. A wave of familiarity swept over Y/N, a sensation she hadn't associated with River until this very moment. He felt it too, yet he tried his hardest to dismiss what he was feeling.

"I said, stop," He breathed out, shooting her a stern look.

Their eyes held each other's gaze for a few moments as they found themselves both getting lost in the silence. A quick idea sparked in her head, and she purposefully alternated her gaze between his eyes and his lips, enticing him to lean closer. She could feel his grip on her arms starting to loosen and she seized the opportunity. Without warning, she expertly wrapped her legs around his waist, flipping him over so that he was now laying on the bed, with her on top. Placing her forearm against his neck, she made sure not to press down too hard.

He grunted, attempting to stay as still as possible, but the feeling of her pressed against him became overwhelming, causing him to throw his head back.

"Great," He huffed, not being able to move as she had him pinned down. "Bet you’ve pulled this move on many people before."

"Only a few times," She chuckled. "Just be glad you had the bed to land on, unlike that poor policeman who you dropped onto the concrete at Stansted."

River sighed, shaking his head. "It was a training exercise."

"Don’t think he’ll be forgetting that in a hurry," She teased.

She soon released her hold from him and rose, briefly sitting back on his thighs. River followed suit, propping himself up on his elbows to gaze at her. Eventually, she stood up and headed over to her suitcase.

Grabbing some pyjamas, she made her way to the bathroom. "I’m having a shower."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, he fell back onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

What the fuck just happened?

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

As the hot water cascaded over her weary body, Y/N found her thoughts drifting. Despite her efforts to focus on the mission, River kept intruding into her mind. Each time, she attempted to shake off the distraction, but it proved to be quite a challenge, especially given their close proximity.

She didn't want to get side-tracked, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Unfamiliar feelings were beginning to surface, starting to complicate things.

Stepping out of the shower, she went through her night-time skincare routine before changing into a pair of light grey pants and a matching singlet top. Towel in hand, she left the bathroom and entered the dimly lit room. Her eyes fell onto River, who was sorting through his clothes near the end of the bed. She scrunched her hair with the towel as she sat down at the desk in the corner, observing him pick out clothes he wouldn't have chosen for himself.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed him glancing over his shoulder and out the window, a shift in his demeanour quickly catching her attention.

"What is it?" Y/N asked softly.

He held a finger up to his lips, quickly switching the bed side lamp off to avoid being seen as he shushed her, gesturing for her to join him by the window. She hung the towel over a chair before approaching him. Standing together, they gazed down onto the street where a figure stood.

"Hey, Dad," They heard a voice say as Kelly emerged from the pub.

Y/N squinted, trying to discern the figure on the street below, and continued to eavesdrop.

"Just out for a stroll," The man spoke. "Thought I’d walk you home."

He then glanced up at their room. "Who's staying in the guest room?"

"He's a journalist, here with his fiancé, writing an article on village life," Kelly explained.

Y/N quickly glanced up at River, noting his focused expression in the moonlight, his eyes trained on the street below. They were so close, he tried to ignore the fact that he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume.

"Is he a proper journalist or a pretend one?" The man inquired as they began to walk away from the pub.

Kelly sighed, "Says he works for The Times."

They both watched sneakily through the window, peeking behind the curtains as the pair walked off down the street.

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "Well, at least our story checks out."

River hummed. "For now."

She eventually finished her night-time routine, quickly brushing her teeth and running a brush through her damp hair. She then made her way over to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping beneath them in an attempt to avoid the night chill. River took his turn in the bathroom, closing the door behind him causing the darkness to envelop her. She closed her eyes, trying her best to seek relaxation for the night.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and River emerged, clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt. She heard him approach the bed, sensing the movement as he pulled back the covers and the mattress dipped when he settled in beside her. Even in the confines of the small double bed, they still managed to maintain some space between them.

Y/N lay on her side, facing away from him as she could feel his gaze on her. He drew in a deep breath before speaking, "I reckon we take a look around the village tomorrow, try and see what we can dig up."

"Okay," She hummed.

They fell into a breif moment of silence before he mumbled, "Night, then."

"Night," She replied.

Despite a couple of hours passing by, sleep became impossible for Y/N. The room was cloaked in darkness, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Frustrated, she tossed and turned, unable to still her mind that was racing at a relentless pace. She turned onto her side again, facing the wall, and shook her head, unable to silence her thoughts. Suddenly, she heard a voice breaking through the silence.

"What's wrong?" River asked groggily, his voice laced with sleep. "You've been tossing and turning for ages."

She sighed, feeling guilty for waking him. "I just... can't sleep."

He sighed gently, turning onto his side to face her back. "You're the worst person to share a bed with."

"Yeah, thanks," She grumbled, tossing the sheets off her shoulder.

River breathed out, opening his eyes to peer at her back. The moonlight casted a gentle glow, revealing the cascade of her hair down her shoulders and back. A yawn escaped him, and after a moment of contemplation, his hand instinctively reached out.

Y/N felt her hair being pushed aside, initially thinking it was her imagination. Yet she soon felt a warm hand resting on her back, between her shoulder blades. Her breath hitched as she turned her head slightly to look at him.

"What are you doing?" She whispered.

"Just shut up and close your eyes," He teased. She gave in, turning back to face the wall. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck with every exhale he took through his nose.

His hand traced soothing patterns on the soft, exposed skin of her back. Despite the space between them, she could feel the warmth radiating from him as he inched closer just slightly. She surrendered to the sensation of his fingers tracing her back, gently lulling her into a deep, peaceful slumber.

©𝙇𝙄𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙎𝙉𝙄𝘿

5296 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

[queer-ragnelle]

The Quest For Olwen by Gwyn Thomas & Kevin Crossley-Holland, illustrated by Margaret Jones PDF available to read. Enjoy!

ID: "We must go and rescue him," said Arthur. Arthur and his warriors went with Culhwch and the other knights to the river. This time it was Cai and Bedwyr who traveled up the river to Gloucester on the Salmon's back. The rest went by another route. [image of Cai and Bedwyr riding the giant salmon]

Find more Arthurian retellings to read on my blog.

[wonder-worker]

I really dislike (the second half of) David Baldwin's biography of Elizabeth Woodville, tbh. It's the first modern biography of her, and probably the most "academic" one out there till date, but it's unfortunately heavily flawed.

He takes Elizabeth and her family's "general unpopularity" as a given.

He wrote that after Edward IV's death, "Elizabeth allegedly urged Rivers to bring the young King to bring the young King to London as quickly as possible and with as large a force as he could muster...There can be no doubt that Elizabeth wished to see her son crowned before anything could frustrate it." In Baldwin's view, it's only after Hastings expressed reluctance that she decided to act as a "peacemaker" instead. How on earth is this any different from what Ricardians have said about Elizabeth during this time?

He claimed that after Richard of Gloucester seized 12-year-old Edward V - against his will, I might add - "The Woodvilles [Elizabeth and Dorset] tried, unsuccessfully, to raise an army to recover the initiative", referring to her unpopularity as a reason for why she wasn't successful, and incorrectly states that both Croyland and Mancini refer to this. They don't - only Mancini does. Croyland, on the other hand, does not write of any Woodville attempt to raise arms, but does write that after Elizabeth sought sanctuary, adherents gathered under Westminster "in the queen's name". Mancini presents Elizabeth as aggressive and unpopular, Croyland presents her as understandably worried and widely supported.

He believed that Elizabeth of York genuinely wanted to marry her brother-vanishing uncle Richard III and quoted George Buck's letter on this.

Even worse, claimed that Elizabeth Woodville "approved and encouraged" her daughter in this, because she was "cynically hoping that a marriage between King Richard and her daughter would restore her [meaning EW] to her position at the centre of affairs". Like. Do I really need to say anything?

And lastly, he believed that Elizabeth genuinely plotted against Henry VII and her own daughter in Simnel's Rebellion due to her own desire for power and prominence, along with "resentment" towards Margaret Beaufort, and was subsequently imprisoned and deliberately depowered for it.

While Baldwin certainly gives credit and sympathy to his subject, his biography of Elizabeth during Richard's usurpation and Tudor rule is effectively no different from the way Ricardians and other general histories write about her. He is inconsistent, objectively incorrect, and never once questions the blatantly propagandic narratives (both misogynistic and classist) that were spread about her. Some of the things he said about her in his book "The Kingmaker's Sisters" aren't expecially great either, but I'll leave those out for now.

Again - this is the most academic biography of Elizabeth till date, and this is the crap it said about her. That's literally how bad historical studies of her have been till date.

This epitomizes another problem I have with most - tbh, pretty much all - of Elizabeth's historians. They focus primarily on contradicting post-contemporary rumours and accusations about her (Thomas Cook, the queen's gold, the Earl of Desmond's death, etc). It's understandable to an extent: these are "safer", less contrary, less disruptive. They probably won't offend most of their readers. But when it comes to actual contemporary accusations? Every single historian till date has been utterly lacking and disappointing. This applies to both Warwick's rebellions and Richard III's usurpation. They never question the fundamental narrative of 1483. If they do focus on propaganda, it's the more overt ones (eg: Richard's letter accusing Elizabeth of treasonable necromancy). And even then, they never acknowledge - let alone emphasize - the true extent of what was said about her, and how much of it was very unprecedented when it came to queens.

The greatest irony is that it's two of Richard III's historians - Rosemary Horrox and A.J Pollard - who have done a better job highlighting the extent of Ricardian propaganda (reflected by Mancini, an innocent newcomer, who unknowingly painted Elizabeth and her family as aggressors and Richard as a victim of circumstance forced to defend himself). Of course, while Horrox and Pollard analyzed this mainly from Richard's perspective, with very little attention given to Elizabeth herself, the mere acknowledgement is still somehow better than anything that any of Elizabeth's historians have ever done till date. That's a shame, tbh.

[aimeedaisies]

2024 Garden Parties!!!

The dates for The King's Garden Parties* in 2024 are as follows:

✨ Buckingham Palace - Wednesday 8th May 2024

The King and Queen, the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester hosted the first garden party of 2023

✨ Buckingham Palace - Tuesday 21st May 2024

Last year (2023) the Prince and Princess of Wales with the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh hosted the Kings Garden Party at Buckingham Palace

✨ Palace of Holyroodhouse - Tuesday 2nd July 2024

The King and Queen with the Princess Royal hosted last years Holyrood week garden party

*Please note, Garden Parties are traditionally referred to as The Sovereign's Garden Party. Attendance at each Garden Party will be confirmed on the day.

✨ The Creative Industries Garden Party - Wednesday 15th May 2024

His Majesty The King has given permission for a Garden Party to be hosted at Buckingham Palace, with support from the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, in celebration of the Creative Industries of the United Kingdom. The Garden Party will bring together approximately 4,000 representatives across culture, art, heritage, film, TV, radio and fashion.

The Garden Party will celebrate the economic value of the sector to the UK economy in helping to showcase British culture and creativity around the Globe. In 2022 the Creative Industries generated over £124 billion in economic value and employed 2.4 million people in the United Kingdom. From theatre to video games, publishing to design, museums and galleries to film sets and music studios, the creative industries, and the creators and organisations within them, bring happiness, prosperity and help shape the world around us.

✨ The Not Forgotten Association Annual Garden Party - Friday 17 May 2024

From the Not Forgotten Association garden party in 2022

His Majesty The King has given permission for The Not Forgotten Association Annual Garden Party to be held by The Princess Royal, accompanied by Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, in the Buckingham Palace Garden on Friday, 17th May 2024.

The Not Forgotten Association is a tri-service charity which provides entertainment, leisure and recreation for ex-service men and women with disabilities or illness and serving personnel who are wounded, injured or sick. The Garden Party will bring together 2,000 beneficiaries of all ages and from all services.

The Princess Royal is Patron of The Not Forgotten Association.

✨ Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) - Thursday 23rd May 2024

The Duke of Kent and Sir Tim Laurence attending the RNLI 200 service of thanksgiving at Westminster Abbey in March 2024

His Majesty The King has also given permission for the RNLI 200 Anniversary Garden Party to be held by The Princess Royal, accompanied by Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, and The Duke of Kent in the Buckingham Palace Garden on Thursday, 23rd May 2024 in celebration of the charity's milestone anniversary.

Since the RNLI was founded on 4th March 1824, following an appeal to the nation from Sir William Hillary, the charity has saved 146,277 lives - this equates to an average of two lives saved every day for 200 years. Today, the RNLI operates 238 lifeboat stations around the UK and Ireland, including four on the River Thames, and has seasonal lifeguards on around 240 beaches around the UK.

The Duke of Kent has been President of the RNLI since 25th March 1969. In his 55 years as President, the RNLI's volunteer lifeboat crews and beach lifeguards have saved more than 51,000 lives. Sir Tim Laurence is also Vice President of the charity.

The Garden Party will bring together 2,500 of the charity's long-serving volunteers, staff and their families as well as featuring an Atlantic 85 inshore lifeboat.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

General elections are hardly famous for diplomatic exchanges.

But Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer are sure to learn some lessons in pragmatism when Emperor Naruhito officially begins his state visit on 25 June.

What will they talk about if they attend the formal banquet at Buckingham Palace, as they are both expected to do, and at which they will perhaps be just a few seats apart?

Naruhito’s unexpected love of the Thames Barrier – he studied the history of cargo-carrying on the river during his spell at Oxford University – will surely appeal.

But the manner in which the British and Japanese royal families have rebuilt bridges after the deep scars of the Second World War might be a more illuminating place to start.

Those scars – the result of Japan’s crimes across the Asia-Pacific and the cruel treatment of British prisoners of war – had left a legacy of resentment that lasted long after the hostilities officially ceased in 1945.

The pressure was on the young Queen Elizabeth II to restore good relations.

Though she rose to the occasion, making huge progress during her reign, the reconciliation was gradual to say the least.

In fact, when official diplomatic relations were restored in 1952, proceedings nearly fell at the first hurdle – over the Emperor’s Garter star.

When the new British Ambassador, Sir Esler Dening, presented his credentials to Emperor Hirohito, the Emperor’s household asked the British Foreign Office if he should wear what they called his “Garter rosette” when he received the ambassador.

The BFO said they preferred that this question had not been asked in the first place, given that Hirohito had of course picked the wrong side to align with during the war.

The exchange also highlighted what a delicate issue Garter honours had become.

To rewind: It’s a tradition for Japanese Emperors to be made British Knights of the Garter.

By 1952, three had had the honour:

Emperor Mutsuhito, who was appointed in 1906 in recognition of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902; Emperor Yoshihito in 1912, and his son, Emperor Hirohito in 1928.

Emperor Mutsuhito, who was lucky to be appointed in the first place, had never actually left Japan, and Edward VII did not want him to have it because Mutsuhito was a non-Christian monarch.

But Edward changed his mind after Japan’s 1905 victory over Russia and sent Prince Arthur of Connaught to Tokyo on a Garter mission to present the Emperor with the insignia.

Back then this journey was no trifle:

It took Arthur a month to sail from Marseilles to Yokohama to ask Mutsuhito to accept “the highest mark of friendship and esteem which it is in His Majesty’s power to bestow."

The Emperor was so delighted by the honour that he broke tradition and personally received him at the Imperial Palace.

Yoshihito made it out as far as Korea, but his disabilities and sickly disposition prevented him from much else.

His son Hirohito, meanwhile, was much more used to overseas visits.

He’d already visited Britain as part of a European tour in 1921, when he was a rather shy Crown Prince (the Duke of Windsor, as the Prince of Wales, visited Japan the following year).

After Hirohito succeeded as Emperor in 1926 he was appointed to the Garter, which was the cue for another long trip from England to Japan (this time by Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester) to invest him.

But during the Second World War, Hirohito was regarded as an enemy alien, and his Garter banner was removed from St George’s Chapel and “placed in the vaults.”

Did he know of his demotion? Surely Dening would have maintained a dignified silence when he was pitching his ambassadorial services in 1952.

But the missing banner did cause minor concern ahead of Crown Prince Akihito’s visit to represent his father at the 1953 Coronation.

Luckily, when he laid a wreath in St George’s Chapel in honour of Queen Mary, who had lately died, he did not notice the absence of the Imperial banner.

Instead, his mind was on more youthful pursuits: during his visit, he was keen to go racing and attend Wimbledon.

Ever the astute hostess, the Queen duly invited him to the Derby.

In those early post-war days, the bridge of cordiality that was slowly being built between Japan and Britain was as fragile as kintsugi porcelain.

A more important step towards reconciliation was needed and that came in 1961 when Elizabeth II’s cousin, Princess Alexandra, visited Japan.

She was accompanied by her mother’s private secretary, Sir Philip Hay, who had been a prisoner of war in the Far East, as a result of which he suffered recurring malaria.

Princess Alexandra found the Japanese very friendly but received letters asking why she had gone, since their families had suffered so gravely.

She told me that she gave him a “bottom scraper,” an unfortunately named device used for trawling the sea bed.

He was a marine biologist, having written several books on the subject and collected these objects.

Perhaps this inspired his grandson’s interest.

Whatever the Emperor made of his aquatic gift, he was undoubtedly more pleased by the fact that, during her visit, he was allowed to wear his Garter star.

During these and subsequent years, Princess Chichibu, the Emperor’s sister-in-law, worked tirelessly to improve Anglo-Japanese relations.

Her father had been Japanese Ambassador to Britain and she had been born in Walton on Thames.

With her husband, Prince Chichibu, she had attended the 1937 Coronation.

She became Patron of the Japan-British Society in Tokyo and had a prominent role during Princess Margaret’s visit for British Week in 1969.

At the time, Prince William of Gloucester even served at the British Embassy.

In 1970, King Charles III (as Prince of Wales) visited Japan, and the following year marked the first ever state visit by a Japanese Emperor to Britain when Hirohito landed on our shores once more.

When he accepted Queen Elizabeth II’s invitation, he addressed her as “Madam My Sister” and signed it “Your Majesty’s Good Brother.”

He added in his letter:

“I once visited your country when I was the Crown Prince and have always cherished the pleasant memories of it.”

It was enough to restore his full diplomatic standing: he was quietly reinstated into the Order of the Garter, and a new banner raised over his stall.

The British newspapers were less forgiving:

Private Eye produced a particularly disparaging front cover, and David Walker, at the Foreign Office, wrote that his impression was “that the press became more hostile as the visit wore on.”

The public made their feelings known too: though the Emperor’s arrival at Victoria passed off smoothly, a man was arrested in the Mall for a mild incident, and a protester dug up the tree the Emperor planted at Kew.

Many more favourable column inches were devoted to the visit in the Japanese press, but the British Ambassador conceded: “the misdeeds of the past still remain alive.”

The return state visit by Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip in 1975 was a game-changer, however.

As part of it, the Queen wanted to drive through Tokyo in an open convertible Cadillac.

But Sir Fred Warner, the British Ambassador, was aware that there was “a tradition in Japan of political assassination” and that the Japanese police had a “proper fear” for the Queen’s safety.

President Gerald Ford had visited shortly before and had been guarded by an astonishing 160,000 Japanese police.

As Warner put it, “might as well have been wearing a cloak of invisibility.”

The original plan for the Queen was that everywhere she went, she should be driven at 50mph in a car with dark bullet-proof glass.

Unsurprisingly, this held no appeal for her: the Queen got her way and what became known as “the Open Car Drive” passed into Japanese history.

Since it passed off well, the Japanese police emerged as heroes of the plan.

The effect was that the Emperor, who led a somewhat cloistered existence, was impressed by the openness of the British Royal family.

The members of the Imperial family “felt that a window had been thrown open and a gust of fresh air let into their lives.”

On both sides, the overwhelming view was that the Queen’s visit, with its innovative approach to visibility, had “marked a significant step towards reconciliation and renewal of old friendships.”

Prince Philip played his part too, making a virtue of lying by omission.

During the state visit he was frequently asked: “Your first visit to Japan?”

“Yes”, he said.

In truth, he had been in Japan in 1945 at the time of the Japanese surrender.

When Emperor Hirohito died in 1989, Prince Philip volunteered to represent the Queen, feeling he was the right person to do so, since he had served in the war and did not mind any criticism that might come.

A decade later, in 1998, it was Hirohito’s son Akihito’s turn to pay a state visit to Britain.

But this time, the press were more pro-actively hostile: one TV station sent a car down to the house of a former POW to film him looking at his photos from the war.

They also took him by car to the Mall to film him setting fire to a Japanese flag – directing the cameras so that the state procession could be seen passing behind him.

This was despite the fact that Emperor Akihito, unlike his father, had played no part in the Second World War.

Akihito was given the Garter on his visit. Naruhito will also receive it on his.

He’s an Anglophile, having attended Oxford’s Merton College between 1983 and 1985.

During that time, while studying the waterways of Britain, he wrote:

“The name of the Thames conjures up in me feelings of affection and nostalgia transcending distance and time.”

In 2006, King Charles wrote of “the close friendship between the United Kingdom and Japan, which is reflected in the solid bond between the Imperial and Royal Families.”

This visit will further cement that bond – something that the Emperor will reflect on when he privately visits St George’s Chapel at Windsor on June 27 to lay a wreath on the tomb of Queen Elizabeth II.

There, the Garter banner of his father will be above his stall, and the stallplates of his predecessors in their stalls – a permanent record of years of growing friendship.

[slotumn]

While I'm Leicesterposting today: headcanon + theory on the Crescent Moon War and House Ordelia being a part of the Roundtable.

So on the Leicester emblem, you can pretty clearly see symbols and Crests of Riegan, Goneril, Gloucester, and Daphnel:

Implying that they lead the independence war, which pretty much lines up with what you'd expect. Oldest houses in the region with the most clout and power, access to Relics, etc. Daphnel eventually got kicked off and all that, but yeah.

Meanwhile, there's one Roundtable house that's not represented on the emblem, one that was presumably added after the war: Ordelia.

And in Lysithea and Lorenz's supports, we hear that Ordelia is (about) 300 years old:

Lines up approximately with the Crescent Moon War, which occured from 881 to 901. So I think it's fairly reasonable to assume that House Ordelia was established and admitted into the Roundtable due to their accomplishments in the independence war.

And speaking of that, Crescent Moon War lasted pretty damn long: 20 years. Someone born at the beginning of the war could have been fighting in battles by its final years.

In contrast, the war for Faerghan independence lasted 4 years, and the Unification War we see in-game lasted 5 years. War of Heroes took nearly 70 years, but tbf that was against a bunch of people who drank fresh magic dragon blood and presumably were much stronger than their descendants.

There are multiple explanations for that, one that's more or less confirmed in canon being that there were conflicts within territories as to whether stay a part of the Kingdom or not, as shown by the Daphnel-Galatea split. So it wasn't a neat "big battles with big national army against big national army," it was more like a bunch of civil wars, which obviously get messy.

I think it's also pretty likely that the Empire would have tried to intervene and get Leicester back, which would have made sense because remember: Leicester didn't break away alongside the Faerghan territories, they rebelled and got annexed after the Kingdom was established. Not only would that have been a severe wound to the Empire's pride, it would have been a fresh wound, because the whole incident was only 80 years ago, as of the start of the Crescent Moon War.

Btw I think the whole business above has some interesting implications about how the Leicester region always liked to be autonomous, and I find it pretty realistic given the geography: they have Airmid River to the south and Oghma Mountains to the northwest as natural borders. It must have been a hassle to get there from Enbarr and Fhirdiad; feels pretty likely that they would've been left more to their own devices and grown to enjoy that, especially when it came to trade and profits. (My personal headcanon is that both the Leicester Rebellion and Crescent Moon War kicked off because the Leicesterians didn't want to pay taxes to Enbarr/Fhirdiad lmao)

Anyway, back to Ordelia and the fact it was established during the Crescent Moon War, then incorporated into the Roundtable afterwards, in relation to my theory about another reason why the war took so long:

I like to think that the Crescent Moon War was about a bunch of warlords fighting each other for the opportunity to become noble lords, and on top of that the potential to become a part of the Roundtable, as much as it was about driving out Faerghan (and maybe Adrestian) loyalists.

There's nothing in canon text to support this, but I hold this headcanon for a couple of reasons. First, I think the country my blorbos (Golden Deer) are from should get to suck because it's fun. Also Lysithea is my blorbo of blorbos (alongside Claude) so it's very moe to think that she is the descendant of a ruthless warlord who slaughtered a bunch of civilians. (And I think Lysithea should get to follow in those footsteps during the war but that's for a different day)

Second, I think it adds an additional layer to Lysithea's personality and how she wants to be recognized for her own effort and skill, not "being a prodigy" or having two Crests. There's the fact the two Crests are gonna kill her at a young age, yeah, but also, what if the "we earned this by our own skill" was the founding basis and pride of House Ordelia? As much as she intends to abolish her house and give up her title as nobility for realistic reasons, what if that's the part of the family dignity that she won't/can't let go of? Stuff like that.

Third, gives some additional context on why Leicester seems somewhat more flexible on social mobility compared to the other two countries. Never ask the non-Elite Leicesterian noble houses (so everyone aside from the four featured on the emblem) what their ancestors were doing during and before the Crescent Moon War! The answer to the former is "slaughtering rival militias and also civilians" and the answer to the latter is "Insolence!! (translation: idk man they weren't nobles back then)"

Finally, it adds some beautiful irony and layers to the Leicesterian neuroses about the "savage Almyrans." Part projection, because what was 20 years of internal fighting and killing if not savagery? Part cope for humiliation, because Leicester had a hard time fending off the "savages" to the point they immediately had to go and ask the countries they'd just broken away from for help.

And finally, part looking into a mirror, because if Almyrans, with their warrior culture, heard that Leicester decided who the new lords would be by literally fighting it out?

They just might say, "Ah, you get it, we're not so different, after all," and the Leicesterians would know that was true.

[randomnameless]

Okay I can see various fire emblem lords being big horseback riders and skilled in equestrian riding.

The jugral lords being into dressage, the hoshido nobles being into horse racing, I can see the tellius lords being into cross country, and show jumping being popular in Valencia.

Thoughts on horseback riding and fire emblem lords?

Oh!

It depends for the Jugdral Lords, if you mean Siggy, Eldie and Quan then yeah, maybe dressage was prevalent in their places, maybe just to show their mastery over their horses.

However, Seliph and Leif weren't raised in the same "environment", with Seliph wanting to emulate Shanan rather than his dad through Oifey lol

As for Leif, being on the run since age 4 sure didn't help him take riding lessons, even if I'm pretty sure Finn wanted to have that covered!

TFW both Hoshido and Nohr enjoy horse racing (tenma racing for Hoshido, they don't have pony classes, so most likely no pony in Hoshido?).

Imagine Elibe : Lycian Lords love cross-country and love participating in contests... but then Lyn's grandpa has the idea to bring a Sacaen golden horse to the contest, and it's a drama : Sacaen Golden Horse can cross rivers and forests with ease, it can jump to 10 meters with his rider.

Lord Caelin is thus banned from ever entering a cross country contest with his "foreign" horses - which raises a shitstorm because it's not cheating, and maybe the Lycian horses should be trained just like their Sacaen cousins as well - have you seen Lord Eliwood's horse?

Lord Caelin being overjoyed when his great-granddaughter Sue asked him to name her first horse and writing him letters about how his horse loves the Caelin carrots

Tellius nobles don't usually ride horses for war, but more as an demonstration of etiquette and for leisure.

However, duke Persis, cannot ride horses for shit - even if he lost his powers, his laguz instincts are still there to make him fall from any horse, but hopefully, Begnion Senators aren't expected to ride horses unless necessary (which might or not be the reason why he lent warp powder to Lekain and oversaw the development of warp staves).

Alm'n'Celica?

Rode the hell out of Grandpapa's Mycen horse when their were kids, hell, Mycen taught every kid in Ram Village how to ride a horse - not necessarily how to fight on horseback, but just, you know, how to "not fall" when sitting on a moving horse.

Zofian Nobles enjoy horse racing for the "noblest/purest" ones, the others help in the fields, but in Rigel they're more valued so put under less stress - and when their time come, they're also used for their meat.

Fodlan wise?

Adrestia being in dressage too - which utterly puzzles Faerghans who use their horses for war or to plow the fields that can be worked even in winter (aka not galatea lol) - and while Leicester also had a history with horse racing, its nobles, who want to emulate Adrestia, thinks it's vulgar and want to start the trend of dressage too.

Too bad for them, horse racing has such a massive following and is actually a not that ridiculous part of Leicester's economy in Gloucester's own territory that horses are still, mostly, used for racing.

For their part, full-blooded Nabateans, much like Lehran, cannot ride horses for shit. Let it be Seteth or Rhea, whenever they "sit" on a horse, they fall within seconds. Flayn hopefully can ride better than the rest of her fam, and back in the days, Saint Indech was a beast at Chariot Racing in the newly founded Adrestia : but given how Chariot Racing became highly political in Enbarr, Empress Fredegund III banned it in 354.

[une-sanz-pluis]

How is the relationship between Margaret of Anjou and Jacqueta of Luxembourg? (Jacquetta was one of the three people who convinced her not to enter London, which made me fantasize about their relationship.)

We simply don't know a lot about their relationship. Jacquetta does seem to be prominent at court during Margaret's time as queen consort but we don't know if this indicates - or led to - any personal closeness between the women. We know the Woodvilles had a close affiliation with the House of Lancaster and Jacquetta was the widow of Henry VI's uncle, John, Duke of Bedford and the dowager Duchess of Bedford so that may well have been the reason for her prominence. Jacquetta could also claim a familial connection with Margaret herself: her sister, Isabel, had married Margaret's uncle, Charles of Anjou, Count of Maine. The idea that Jacquetta and Margaret were especially close seems to have been popularised by Philippa Gregory in her novel, The Lady of the Rivers, and her biography of Jacquetta in The Women of the Cousins' War but historians are more cautious.

Jacquetta and her husband were part of Margaret's escort to England in 1445. According to B. M. Cron, Jacquetta attended Margaret's coronation banquet and was seated on Margaret's right - this is far more likely to be due to her being the first lady in the land after Margaret than an indication of their closeness; Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester was seated on Margaret's left and the idea of Gloucester being a close friend of Margaret is not credible. Cron also claims that Richard Woodville was Margaret's champion in the jousting festivities that followed. Lynda J. Pidgeon claims it is "significant" that Richard Woodville was not created a baron until after Henry VI's marriage to Margaret, but credits it more to Henry's desire to "create a royal family around him" than to any relationship between Margaret and her escort.

Jacquetta's servants were regularly given gifts by Margaret in the New Years celebrations. In 1446, her servants received 53s. 4d. and in 1447, 1449 and 1452, Jacquetta's servants received 66s. 8d. This is on a par with other gifts to ducal servants - in 1446, this was the same amount given to the servants of the Duke of York and Duchesses of Buckingham and Exeter, while in 1447, the same amount was given to the servants of the Duke of Gloucester, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duchess of Buckingham. Jacquetta herself was only given gifts by Margaret in 1447 and 1452 according to Pidgeon but I'm not sure what the source is for that and neither Helen Maurer nor A. R. Myers mention it when discussing Margaret's accounts. Not all of Margaret's accounts survive so we don't have the full picture.

Jacquetta attended Margaret's churching after the birth of Edward of Lancaster in 1453. Jacquetta and her husband were part of Margaret's court during her extended stay in the midlands beginning in 1456, though, according to Pidgeon, they are only rarely mentioned as being present. This is may have been due to the frequency of Jacquetta's pregnancies keeping her away from court.

And yes, Jacquetta was one of three women (the others being Lady Scales and Anne, the dowager Duchess of Buckingham) who accompanied a delegation of London aldermen who convinced Margaret to send her army away. As Helen Maurer says:

Both Jacquetta, the dowager duchess of Bedford, and Ismania, Lady Scales, had been among the women who had escorted Margaret from France, and Lady Scales had remained in her household as a personal attendant. All three ladies had been recipients of New Year's gifts at various times, and Anne, duchess of Buckingham had stood godmother to Prince Edward. Though the personal relationships that existed between Margaret and these women are difficult to assess, it is apparent that the mayor and aldermen believed that they would be received with trust and favor.

Jacquetta's prominence at the Lancastrian court may explain the tradition that her daughter, Elizabeth Woodville, was a lady-in-waiting to Margaret. There is, however, no evidence of that Elizabeth served Margaret and historians have generally poured doubt on the idea. One exception is Susan Higginbotham who suggested that it is still possible that Elizabeth was one of Margaret's damsels, saying if that Elizabeth did serve Margaret , it's "more likely that she did so in the late 1450s, a period for which Margaret's household records do not survive".

There is no evidence to tell us what Margaret thought of the marriage of Elizabeth Woodville and Edward IV or the Woodvilles' defection to the House of York. There is no evidence Jacquetta and Elizabeth feared Margaret especially during the Readeption - it would be very, very surprising if they feared her more than Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (after all, it was in Warwick's attempt to depose Edward IV in favour of George, Duke of Clarence that had seen Jacquetta's husband and son executed, presumably without trial).

Nor do we know if, in the aftermath of the Lancastrian defeat at the Battle of Tewkesbury and Margaret's capture by Yorkist forces, whether Jacquetta met with or attempted to advocate for Margaret before her own death in 1472. We do not know if anyone advocated for Margaret's imprisonment to made more bearable, who decided her jailer would be Alice Chaucer, dowager Duchess of Suffolk and an old friend. If anyone did, I suspect it would be Jacquetta or Elizabeth Woodville (possibly in memory of her mother's friendship). It is tempting to speculate that Margaret's entry into the London Skinners’ Fraternity of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in c. 1475 came about due to Elizabeth's influence (Elizabeth had entered the fraternity in c. 1472) but there's simply no evidence of it. It makes for a nice story, though.

In contrast to Maurer, Pidgeon is fairly doubtful of the idea that Jacquetta and Margaret were friendly, citing first the lack of mention of their attendance on Margaret and the lack of New Year's years gifts given to Jacquetta, saying:

Margaret’s apparent lack of friendship for Jacquetta might also be explained by Jacquetta’s Burgundian connections. Jacquetta’s father had been responsible for the capture of Margaret’s father at the Battle of Bulgnéville in 1431, following which René had been held prisoner by the Duke of Burgundy for some years until his ransom was paid. Margaret was also concerned to promote French interests to Henry and any reminder of a previous Burgundian policy might have been frowned upon. It was widely believed that it was through Margaret’s prompting that Henry had agreed to surrender Maine to René of Anjou in 1445.

However, Pidgeon bases some of this on the claim that Margaret "probably detested" the English, which we don't know and seems to be drawn from Yorkist and Tudor stereotypes of Margaret. As for the claim that Margaret pushed for Henry VI to surrender Maine to her father, it is true that she was blamed for it but what role, if any, she actually played is unknown. It is more likely that the surrender of both Maine and Anjou was an unofficial promise made by the English delegation in the negotiations that resulted in the Treaty of Tours (1444). Given Margaret was a 14-year-old girl at the time, it is incredibly unlikely she was responsible for that promise. She was urged to intercede with Henry to ensure the fulfilment of that promise but we simply don't know if she did or even what she thought about it. As I say here, she was still in her teens when the handover occurred and we must be wary of the misogyny embedded in the narrative that a teenage girl was responsible for the actions of an adult man - who, after all, was surrounded by experienced and mature advisors.

In short, the answer is that we don't know what the relationship between Margaret and Jacquetta was like. We see Jacquetta given favour in keeping with her status as a duchess and in keeping with her family connections to both Margaret and Henry. If any special relationship grew up between Jacquetta and Margaret, if they became close friends, there is little evidence to show it.

The Woodvilles were loyal to the Lancastrians throughout the resumption of the Hundred Years War until the Lancastrian defeat at the Battle of Towton. How much of that can be credited to the Woodvilles' traditional loyalties or Jacquetta's personal ties to Henry VI (who, after all, was her nephew by marriage) versus a (hypothetical) close relationship between Margaret and Jacquetta is unknown.

Philippa Gregory made much of this limited evidence, while Maurer more cautiously suggests that Margaret looked on Jacquetta as someone she could trust. Pidgeon, on the other hand, argues that there was no friendship between the women. I have my suspicions about why Pidgeon argues that (I haven't read her whole book so I can't say for sure).

Personally, I've tended to imagine a connection that dimmed over time due to diverging lives - Jacquetta's frequent pregnancies kept her away from court, Margaret's life became absorbed by the political struggles of the Lancastrian court. The simple fact is that we don't know - there isn't anywhere enough evidence to judge - and you're free to imagine what you like.

Sources

B. M. Cron, Margaret of Anjou and the Men Around Her (History and Heritage Publishing 2021)

Philippa Gregory, David Baldwin and Michael Jones, The Women of the Cousins' War: The Duchess, the Queen, and the King's Mother (Atria Books 2011)

Susan Higginbotham, The Woodvilles (The History Press 2013)

Helen Maurer, Margaret of Anjou: Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England (Boydell Press 2003)

A. R. Myers, "The Jewels of Queen Margaret of Anjou", Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, vol. 42, no. 1 (1959)

Lynda J. Pigdeon, Brought Up Of Nought: A History of the Woodville Family (Fonthill 2019)

[captain-price-unofficially]

Soldiers of the 1st Battalion the Gloucester Regiment taking up defensive positions along the Imjin River in Korea on 9 May 1951.

[mononijikayu]

so historically there are comparable thoughts about the velaryon boys being legitimate.

so, richard duke of york has black hair and his wife cecily neville has light hair, so blonde. they produced a couple of children but one of the most important was edward iv of england who had brown hair.

a lot of times, this fact actually got twisted. that he didnt look like his father enough or that his father was away and he couldn't have fathered edward. those were all made up to make edward look lesser in the eyes of his contemporaries. edward had to fight the rumours of illegitimacy based off the greed and politically motivated moves of others. especially by both of his brothers, george of clarence and richard of gloucester. they too wanted the crown but as eldest son, edward was the one who managed to maintain his claim. and later on, he is betrayed by richard, who claims falsehoods on his brother and his own nephews.

now his own wife, elizabeth woodville had red copper hair and probably inherited it from her mother, jacquetta of luxembourg. her own father lord rivers, was probably of dark hair as her own brother lord anthony has gotten black hair in medieval contemporary depictions.

the power of elizabeth's hair is actually the stuff of legend in the plantaganet line because it was her hair that would later be the staple of the later tudor dynasty and even as far as the stuarts who became the main line.

she and edward had a big brood of children but their eldest son named was named edward v and he was born of blond hair. which he probably got from his father's line, which he also could have gotten from his mother's line. various ancestors can provide something interesting all the time.

so, up above we can see that with richard and cecily's union, the dark colored hair hair and blonde hair equates to black or brown hair - which edward does get. his own brothers as far as we know have also the same predicament in hair. however we also know that his sister mary of york, duchess of burgundy inherited fair/blonde hair as well. YET it would also have been very likely for him and his siblings to have inherited copper red/red gold or blond hair because its in the genes already.

as mentioned before, edward and elizabeth have many children besides edward v and his brown hair to her red hair equated to blond and copper blond in the family. edward v inherited lady cecily's blond hair and his sister elizabeth of york had her mother's copper red.

this later on with many brood of other children later on would pass on to the rest of the plantaganet children and into the tudor dynasty and become such a famous trademark for them.

BUT had edward v not been blond or for elizabeth of york to not have copper red, it would also be possible for him or her to have gotten red copper or even black/brown hair/ blonde.

because as we mentioned before, it is in the family already. their grandmother lady cecily had blond hair and their own maternal uncle anthony rivers also has dark hair.

as long as there has been a family member close enough, it doesnt matter which generation it decides to come or skips - that character trait will continue to pass on. just as character traits, just like traumatic experiences, just like language and heritage and culture - the genes and the features like hair come with it.

it would have been very possible for any of the velaryon boys to earn any trait from genes already there, waiting to be rebirthed in one of them.

like we have to understand that there was 100 years of intermarrying by the time of rhaenyra. like we dont know how many kids orys and argella completely had. we dont know how many kids davos baratheon had. we dont know how many kids ronnell arryn had or if he had sisters or who they all married and had kids with.

but the one thing that is sure is that there would be a lot of new blood that could be in rhaenys and aemma and even from corlys himself who had first men blood from the masseys. the genetics that they bore and brought to a very intrinsic incesteous bloodline is gonna be an interesting, fresh, lottery.

they could pass that on to their descendants. a lot of the bastardry claims about the velaryon boys is highly politically motivated, especially when we consider the fact that their claim rests on the matriarchal line. which is important because westerosi law is salic, male to male. and then viserys made it semi - salic by naming a female heir and her male sons his heirs.

a great way to undermine the claim of the heir's heir is to declare them bastards, illegitimate and a stain on the dynasty. especially the heir being a woman, it would be easy to call them out for 'improper' behaviour because of the double standards settled between man and woman in a heavily patriarchal society like westeros. many people were really desiring a male line for the male line. and it didnt matter if the male claimant was not a good ruler. what mattered was them being a man in a mam's world for the sake of preserving the status quo. and rhaenyra challenges that by being heir and having her own line exist.

like here we see that no matter the dominant features - some genes would overpower that and produce children with different features than what we are used to. genetics is a mystery box that people dont understand. even with magic, the targaryens are not exempt from intermingling their blood outside house targaryen and forging new flow in the veins. like, the fact that the valyrians had ties of marriage with first men is already interesting enough. that brings A LOT OF POSSIBILITIES.

that is why its important to look at asoiaf as also having traps especially in terms of features. being a targaryen isnt only the silver hair or lilac eyes. if it was, then we wouldnt have the pleasure of enjoying characters like baelor breakspear or daeron, son of maekar i who inherited more diverse genetics than their other targaryen counter parts. like i expect GRRM loves to play around things in the story and make us have a lot of stuff to ponder about. and its insane.

[silversdragonemporium]

WIP Wednesday

Excerpt from: the Wolf Lord

"The war won't last until next winter," Dimitri said, crossing his arms. "It ends here. I will ensure it."

"Uh... that enthusiasm is good," Annette nervously said. "But we shouldn't get overconfident—"

"As long as Edelgard is dead... Nothing else matters," Dimitri grumbled.

"Anyway," Byleth cut in. "When the war is won, we will need to rebuild. Having the resources of Gronder Field will be good for us no matter what. Now that Count Gloucester backs us, the Alliance's Roundtable has voted to join us in the invasion of the Empire. We will consolidate our forces on Gronder Field."

"Not on Myrddin?" Dimitri asked. "It' d be best to merge and reshuffle our troops before the greatest pitched battle of this entire war."

"The Great Bridge of Myrddin is large, but it does not have enough largeness for all of our armies together," Petra calmly said. "If we are delayed because of this... um... strangle point, Edelgard would not have to be fighting all of us at the same time."

"Exactly," Byleth said. "The Empire has the advantage in a battle of attrition. We cannot get delayed on the crossing of the river. We will pass through the Great Bridge of Myrddin first, and then Claude will cross his army through all the minor bridges along the Airmid, following in after us."

"You would allow our army to be stuck between two potentially hostile forces?"

"Again with this?" Byleth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Don't you think Claude and the Alliance deserve the benefit of the doubt? He cooperated with us to capture Myrddin. It would make no sense for them to try to attack us now."

[histoireettralala]

Noblewomen, Family and Identity

Women's use of seals points to activity and identity independent of their husbands, and the seals themselves indiciate that they saw themselves in the context of their own ancestry as well as identifying with their husbands; this was common in the British Isles and in France north of the River Loire. Devorguilla de Balliol depicted herself on her seal as a widow, holding in her right hand her husband’s Balliol shield, and in her left the lion-shield of her father’s lordship of Galloway; smaller shields provided a reminder of her own connections with the earldom of Chester and the royal house of Scotland. The reverse of the seal gave the place of honour to the lion of Galloway over the Balliol arms. Marie de St Pol, countess of Pembroke, also had a female figure in the centre of her seal; on one side was the shield of her husband Aymer de Valence, and on the other that of her father, Guy de Chastillon, count of St Pol. The seal could also epitomize a woman’s claims to power and land; the way in which Galburge de Mévouillon gave herself the title of lady of Serres on her seal in 1259 emphasized her claim to the lordship.

Surnames and titles display a similar desire to advertise birth, marriage, property, and authority. Marie de St Pol continued to use her father’s name after her marriage, as did Marie de Berry and Marie de Sully. Hereditary and marital titles were combined, as when Mahaut, heiress to Artois, and wife and widow of Count Otto of Burgundy described herself in the early fourteenth century as ‘countess of Artois and palatine Burgundy and lady of Salins’. Anne Stafford, daughter of Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, and Eleanor de Bohun, combined ancestral, parental, and marital titles when she styled herself countess of Stafford, Buckingham, Northampton, and Hereford, and lady of Brecon and Holderness [..]

Family identity for noblewomen was of primary significance, but did not prevent them from having a wider identity as well, mainly with their fellow-nobles, whether these were neighbours, friends, distant kin, or people they met at court. The knightly orders of the late Middle Ages point to the importance of chivalrous networks for men, but these overlapped with social and religious groupings in which both men and women were associated. The evidence of household accounts points to the amount of contact and socializing among the nobility by means of letters, messengers, and hospitality. Mahaut countess of Artois was in touch in this way with many of the nobility of France, and kept up to date with the news of births and deaths.

Jennifer C. Ward - Noblewomen, Family and Identity in Later Medieval Europe, in Nobles and Nobility in Medieval Europe.