#Guest Muse: Augustus and Family

[familylightfox]

     “[Tillie, what did I say about giving her sweets all night?]” Volt looked over from where he was sitting on the couch, to where Harmony was most happily chewing on a candy came given to her by their friend. The twenty year old only grinned at him and went back to carrying on her conversation as if he hadn’t said anything. 

     “[Oh let them have fun. They’re only young once and it’s not like the village isn’t used to hearing her howling in the middle of the night anyway.]” Augustus chuckled as Volt looked at him next and shrugged his shoulders before going back to messing with the collar around his neck. Even though the hybrid pair had arrived at the home for dinner as they had been asked, the older wolf was dead set on getting the device off before the holidays ended. 

     “[Yeah, but you’re not the one who has to stay up all night with her.]” A fair point, but it was ignored with a smirk and Volt settle back on the cushion, wishing he had his other arm in order to cross them across his chest while pouting. But he soon was finding himself letting out a startled sound as...

CLICK

     “[Finally!]” The shout brought the attention in the room to the two males, Volt bringing his hand up to his throat and taking a deep breath. Another breath and the older hybrid explored his neck, trailing the lock that had been pressed against his skin for just a bit too long. Augustus had been quick to remove the collar fully, and moved out of the way for Harmony to join her father on the couch as he closed his eyes in relief. 

     When they reopened and looked to Harmony, the preteen was smiling at seeing the bright color that she was so used to one again. It didn’t take long for her to throw both of her arms around his neck and hug him for all he was worth on the couch while the rest of the canine family gave them a moment before interrupting. Mostly because Heidi had something important to give as a gift. 

     “[I’ve been working on this while you both were recovering... I couldn’t get it to line up completely so I had to add some fabric, but I know how much this meant to you.]” Harmony had sat down beside her father as he looked down at the black fabric laid on his lap. His only hand quickly fell onto the magenta emerald symbol embroidered in the middle before looking up. 

     “[You didn’t have to Heidi...]” Anything else he would have said caught in his throat as she lifted the garment so he could get a full look at the repaired hoodie. It was only an inch of fabric that had been used to attach the sleeve to the rest of it, magenta in color to match the emerald on the front, Volt stared at it for a minute and then reached out while trying his best not to let the small amount of tears in his eyes fall. The woman only smiled as he brought it to his chest. 

     “[I might not have had to, but I wanted to. We all know the reason you have kept that hoodie for as long as you have and I don’t intend on having you lose it. Happy Yule Voltage.]”

     “[And don’t think we forgot about you Little Fluff.]” Tillie added as she grabbed the package she had stashed by the tree. Once in the preteen’s hands, the paper didn’t last long and she looked at the large satchel with stars in her eyes. “[We thought that maybe the one you had was getting a little small, so this might be just a bit better to carry all your stuff.]”

     They expected the preteen to show her appreciation for the gift. The coywolf just hadn’t been expecting to be knocked on her backside to be hugged for it. 

     “Thank ya so much Aunt Tillie! And Grammy Heidi and Grandpa GusGus! This is awesome and I’m gonna take really good care of it!” But it gave her parents and Volt a chance to laugh so she would deal. After a moment, Augustus gestured towards the dining room. 

     “[I think now would be the best time to eat our dinner then and we can all head back to the Inn after. I heard Greta was opening her newest batch of schnapps.]” He watched Harmony do just that with his wife and daughter in tow before offering a hand to help Volt up. One that was taking with a firm squeeze. 

     “[Happy Yule Augustus.]”

     “[Merry Christmas Voltage.]”

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Thranduil - Regency Era Aesthetic Board & AU

request by @hellojustlookingaboutblog

(thank you for your patience)

Lord Thranduil Elvenking, Earl of Mirkwood, is a major in the British Army. As a young man, his father bought him an officer’s commission in the military and Thranduil happily accepted, eager to travel the world beyond the social courts of England. Along the way, he realized the life of a soldier, even an officer, to be rigid and unexciting, allowing little time to sow the oats of his youth. After years of diligence to rise above his fellows during the the theatrics of the Napoleonic Wars, he returns home to find his father passed and himself heir to his family’s title and land.

You are also newly returned to England, the last two years spent in hiding under counsel of British intelligence. During the Terror in France, your family had been among the emigres who fled and your father had re-established himself in England in a county near the Channel. When Napoleon Bonaparte had crowned himself Emperor, you had worked endlessly to become a spy among your former compatriots. Reluctantly, you were enlisted by the grace of your natural French tongue and sent to surveil the enemy. During your operation, you contributed to the first exile of the French emperor before being recalled to a safe house in Northern Europe.

With the final defeat of the obstinate French, the Prince of Wales, George Augustus Frederick holds a royal fete to celebrate victory in Britain. You are invited by your spymaster to act as his escort for the evening; a placeholder for his true sweetheart who finds herself entangled in Glasgow. 

Dressed in your finest muslin gown, or rather that provided by your companion, you enter the glowing ballroom, flipping open a fan to hide behind. As such events had often served as reconnaisance, you found little true amusement in social balls without the lure of deceit. Your spymaster, distracted by old friends, detaches himself and leaves you to your corner to scrutinize the room unnoticed.

Lord Thranduil stands with a snifter of claret in hand. His eyes graze the swathes of silks, satins, and crepes with indifference. He wears an unadorned military uniform, forgoing his medals for a plain lapel and gilded tassels. He has no desire to discuss his battlefield feats with the citizenry and those ladies who swirled in their lavish skirts had little genuine regard for his soldierly trials.

His gaze catches the subtle flutter of muslin in the far corner, a figure in concealed in shadow though her eyes reflect the light of the dozens of lamps lit around the vast hall. There is an air of discernment to her as she observes the twitch of every lip and the wave of every hand. Her ears prick at the dissonance of the voices which surround her but Thranduil can tell that she hears every word clearly.

Snapping your fan shut, you kick out your skirts and plunge into the crowd, weaving between bodies until you reach the clothed table set with tall-stemmed glasses and stout snifters. You pour yourself sherry from an untouched decanter, the dark liquid settling smoothly into the crystal. You lift the brim to your lips to hide their movement and turn to the tall blonde officer sniffing at his claret.

“Are you retired…or merely considering it?” You alluded to his bare insignia, his pale eyes looking to you with surprise

“Both,” He answers in a dulcet tone, the straight line of his lips softening.

“Why were you watching me?” You challenge and taste the fragrant liquor.

“I wasn’t,” He lies, glancing away tellingly.

“I know the sense of being observed,” You retort, setting aside the drink you had little want for, “So?”

“If you are so certain that I was, why were you watching me, my lady?” The corner of his lips perks up slyly.

“Malédiction l'anglais,” You mutter under your breath and meet his eyes steadily, “For there is little to distract oneself with at such mundane affairs.”

“You are French?” He wonders with curious blink.

“Was…long ago. Though I would not claim to be English so flagrantly,” You shrug and search the crowd for activity, “You are an outre lot.”

“Are we?” Bemusement lingers on his tongue, “So wildly dull, the English.”

“Most,” You peer at him with the hint of a grin, “When not so concerned with the inflection of every word they speak.”

“I’d agree, my lady, if I were of a more treasonous spirit,” He chides as he relinquishes his snifter to the table top to lean in, “Or were I not surrounded by hungry ears and fast tongues.”

“You military gentlemen,” You shake your head and flick your fan open carelessly, “All the same. You can strip away the regalia but your sensibility is not so easily removed.”

“Would that I could bare myself to you, my lady?” He slithers, “But I fear social propriety would inhibit such impertinence.”

You chuckle at his suggestion. After years among brazen Frenchmen and their wives, it took much to faze you. You note his grin as he admires your reaction, his posture braces as if enlivened by your laughter.

“But, if you would accompany me elsewhere…away from all these wandering eyes,” He offers his arm formally, as if he is not proposing such an illicit assignation, “I shall divest to you all that hides beneath this soldier’s uniform.”

“Would that I was so curious to find out,” You tease and now it is his cue to laugh.

“Touche,” He muses but does not lower his arm, “Mademoiselle?”

You consider his invitation, glancing away to search for your errant spymaster and turning back, you close your fan with the flick of your wrist, “Ma plaisir, Monsieur." 

You take his arm and tuck away your fan, the hordes of babbling guests too enthralled by the taste of claret and gossip to notice your scandal. You glance to him in collusion as he guides you through the doors and into the darkened corridor.

[christinaepilzauthor-blog]

An Emperor's Christmas at Eltham in 1400

by Mark Patton The south London suburb of Eltham today seems an improbable location for a Medieval Christmas celebration involving kings and emperors, but the area was, in the Fifteenth Century, in open countryside, just a day's ride from London, but sufficiently distant from the polluted Thames and from the frequently plague-ridden capital, for a King of England to entertain his guests in style and to enjoy, with them, the favoured pastimes of the time and season, notably hunting and jousting.

Eltham Palace: the Medieval great hall is on the right; the buildings on the left were added in the 1930s, as the private home of Stephen and Virginia Courtauld. Photo: Nick Blackburn (licensed under CCA).

Over the Christmas season of 1400-1401, the King in question was Henry IV, and his guests included the Byzantine Emperor, Manuel II Palaeologus. We refer today to the "Byzantine Empire," but nobody who lived in it ever thought of it as anything other than the "Roman Empire." Although his capital was Constantinople, not Rome, and his people spoke Greek, rather than Latin, Manuel regarded himself as the heir to the empires of Augustus and of Hadrian: and of Constantine, who had made the empire Christian and moved the capital eastward to a new city named after himself.

King Henry IV, UK National Archives DL 42/1 (image is in the Public Domain).

Emperor Manuel II Palaeologus, Bibliotheque Nationale de France (image is in the Public Domain).

Roman or Byzantine, however, the Empire, in 1400, was crumbling. The schism that had opened up in 1054, between the Eastern Orthodox and Western Catholic Churches, had never been repaired: and in 1204, the forces of the Fourth Crusade, in open defiance of the Pope, had sacked and pillaged Constantinople, dividing much of Byzantine territory up between Catholic French, German and Italian nobles. Now the Empire faced a new threat from the Muslim Ottoman Empire, which had more or less encircled Constantinople, cutting it off from its agricultural hinterland.

The Hippodrome of Constantinople, here shown on a 17th Century print, was destroyed by the forces of the Fourth Crusade and never restored (image is in the Public Domain). The chariot races held here were among the city's last tangible connections to the Rome of the Caesars.

The Mediterranean World in 1400 (image is in the Public Domain).

Manuel's journey to the west, far from being just a friendly visit, was a life-or-death diplomatic mission to secure the military and financial support that might enable his Empire to survive. One can hardly fail to admire his efforts, but the harsh truth is that it was probably already too late to save the Empire, which would ultimately fall to the Ottomans in 1453. As a young man, Manuel had been a hostage of the Ottoman Sultan, Bayezid I at Bursa, and had escaped to Constantinople, where he was proclaimed Emperor. Bayezid besieged Constantinople from 1394 to 1402, and it was during a lull in the fighting that Manuel and his family had slipped away from the city to seek support overseas. Leaving his capital under the regency of a nephew, and his wife and children under the protection of his brother in Greece, Manuel traveled to Venice, and on to Padua, Milan, and Paris, where he met the French King, Charles VI.

The meeting of the magi, from Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, Musee Conde (image is in the Public Domain). The figure on the white horse is believed by some to be styled on Manuel. Clearly a fine horseman, the fifty year old emperor impressed the Parisian crowd by leaping from one horse to another without touching the ground. 

His Christmas sojourn in England may, in fact, have been an accident, prompted by a recurrence of the mental illness that had dogged Charles throughout much of his reign. Henry IV, however, was a natural ally. He was more widely traveled than many English monarchs, having participated with the Teutonic Knights, in a "Crusade" against the supposedly Pagan Lithuanians, and having made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he had promised to return as a Christian liberator. Henry met the Emperor at Blackheath, and conducted him, with his forty retainers, to Eltham Palace. Manuel spoke no English, which was unsurprising, but he equally spoke no Latin (the universal language of diplomacy and scholarship in the Catholic west). His entourage must have included men who could translate between Latin and Greek, whilst Henry's court would have included many who could translate from Latin to English. Conversation cannot have been easy; already, from Paris, Manuel had complained in a letter to a Greek friend, that "the difference in language ... did not allow us to converse, as we had wished, with really good men who were extremely anxious to show us favour."

Hunting in December, from Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, Musee Conde (image is in the Public Domain).

The Medieval hall of Eltham Palace (extensively remodeled by Edward IV). Photo: David Hatch (licensed under CCA). 

Manuel had brought with him Christmas gifts of religious relics: fragments of the True Cross and of garments believed to have been worn by Christ and the Virgin Mary. There was much hunting and feasting, and some of the people of London traveled down to Eltham to entertain the royal party with carols and mumming. Ultimately, however, Manuel returned to Constantinople empty-handed. Neither his English nor his French allies were able to offer any meaningful assistance, their own armies and treasuries seriously depleted by decades of war and plague. Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from Amazon.

Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors

[familylightfox]

@the-twinventors​ said:

Maybe it was a day late, but at least the twins were finally able to go and visit the hybrids, wielding the gifts they'd acquired for them - a brand new leatherworking toolkit for Volt, and varied collection of crystals for Harmony. They were both grinning apologetically, even though the tardiness wasn't their fault. "Sorry this took so long... did you guys have a good holiday?"

                                          ——————————

     It was the thought that counted when the twins got to the house. Since Volt and Harmony had been expecting them. Not to mention that it gave them a chance to get back themselves from visiting the village as they had for the actual holiday. As he opened the door for them, Volt gave them both a smile as he let them inside and closed the door behind them. 

     “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now and that’s what counts.” He gestured to the living room where Harmony was hard at work on another crocheted item, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated with the help of a coywolf woman guiding her stitching. “I hope you won’t mind a little extra company tonight.. It’s a little hard to cook one handed at the moment and they insisted on giving a hand until I have both of mine again...”

     “How could ve not? It is least ve can do.” The familiar voice chimed in from the kitchen and Augustus poked his head out from the kitchen. With a wave in greeting, he was back in the other room with his wife. The entire house smelled of all the delicious food that was just waiting for them to eat when it was done. Once they were all seated and both had taken their gifts, Volt smiled at the tool kit. 

     “I’ll be making good use of this when my classes start up again in mid-January.” As long as his arm was done in time, which was another reason the canine family was there. Harmony of course had torn into her present quickly after setting her crocheting to the side. All the crystals were given a wide eyed stare before the preteen was looking at the twins with a wagging tail. 

     “This is so Awesome! I can make a ton of my necklaces wit these. Thank ya both!” Off she went to go put them in a safe place for the time being, which left the adults all in the room together. Amethyst eyes followed his daughter for the moment and then leaned over in order to sneak a kiss with Stella. 

     “Merry Christmas to the both of you.”