#I love a good historical portrait

[mifunebooty]

Nosferatu 2024 rocks my balls off

[skitskatdacat63]

Some coloring practice w my ocs :)

Though I must say, I always really just like the lineart the way it is, I guess they're perfect just the way they are

[summerhighlandfalls]

Two men, London 1923. Unknown artist

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love

[vexx-the-egg]

I think one of the Worst Things about wanting to find period clothing from other cultures, is trying to find fucking casual/work clothes. Like no, I do not want to see all these fancy intricate kimonos, I want to see jinbei, and field work outfits so I don't put a damn obi on this poor boy so he has a belt to hang his knife from.

[cheriecoke]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 — 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 ♡

when your family finds out about the romance between you and the stable boy, they arrange a marriage with the wealthy earl, nanami kento.

status: discontinued

overall contents. fem!reader, sfw & nsfw, arranged marriage, eventual romance, regency era (1800s) au, slow burn, resentment to love, mutual pining, complicated relationships, historical inaccuracies, nobility, some angst, more tba —

notes. this is the fic that won the wip poll, and i am so so very excited to share it !! <3 since i'm already working on a long fic, i decided to break this up into a series. be sure to read contents for each part for more specific warnings!

♕ of broken hearts. after you find about the marriage arranged between you and nanami kento, you have to find a way to break the news to your lover.

♕ the earl. you remember nanami from the balls you attended in your youth; he's just as unapproachable as he was then.

♕ guilded promises. despite his seriousness, nanami is far more agreeable than you'd anticipated.

♕ novelties. in his attempt to make you feel more at home, kento shows you his favorite room in the estate.

♕ a night at the opera. though you often feel like a nuisance to the busy man, he proves himself to be a good listener.

♕ liaisons. weeks have passed without a word, but satoru finally meets your husband.

♕ rose petals. over a cup of afternoon tea in the garden, you realize something that you hadn't before.

♕ scarlet opulence. your first ball with kento as his wife feels like the first time you've seen him clearly.

♕ portrait of a gentleman. kento admits he doesn't like the way other men look at you.

♕ confessions. a fight with kento leads to words that you'd been too shy to share.

♕ luxury of affections. somehow, you failed to see how lucky you were, to have met nanami kento at all.

— reblogs appreciated & thank you for reading. more parts may be added, but this is all i have planned for now!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I really like this 1826 Federal Style home in Stockbridge, MA, but I'm not sure about the remodel. It's a Federal, and it has more than one style, which gives it a confusing look, but it kind of works. 5bds, 4ba, 3,891 sq ft, $1.35m. Take a look at it- if you're not a purist, you'll probably like this attractive home.

The entrance hall. I like the floor, but I'm not sure if that would be an original pattern.

This is the first room off the entrance hall, and I'm sure that it has to be the sitting room, but the mural makes it look like a dining room. It has a refurbished fireplace that looks good.

This would be the dining room and while it is wonderfully pretty and bright, it's not a Federal style room.

I like this, though- it matches the mural in the dining room.

This part of the house is a newer addition. Wow, does that gothic shelving unit convey? Looks like they left it. That's a great piece.

This room is magical, but it's Gothic Revival and that historical portrait is out of place. Look at this room, though. It has the gothic windows and 2 built-in gothic cabinets.

Isn't the ceiling beautiful?

They redid the kitchen with classic Shaker cabinets painted Federal blue. It's a perfect renovation for this style home.

The secondary bedrooms won't be large or fancy in this style home, but it's a decent size. I'm not sure if these are the original floors, refinished, but they have the planks typical of the period.

It has a modern marble ensuite.

Quite a large 2nd fl. landing with a linen closet. There's room for some furniture up here, too.

The largest room would be the primary bedroom. This floor has very wide planks and looks original.

The bath looks like a remodel from the 40s with that built-in dresser. The pale pink fixtures look like they may be reproductions.

You wouldn't find something like this in a period house, but it's a very nice addition.

The wallpaper in this little room looks like an Egyptian tomb.

Here's another larger bedroom with wide plank floors.

Marble bath redo with a pale gray sink. Nice.

This is great- an original plaque from the waterworks survived. I've never seen anything like it.

The grounds are lovely. This is a koi pond.

The property is on the Housatonic River.

Cute little greenhouse.

And, look at this wonderful garage.

The land measures 2 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homes/82-E-Main-St-Stockbridge,-MA-01262_rb/56816938_zpid/?

[vinceaddams]

Early 18th (and late 17th) century fashions are so under-utilized in vampire media and I think it's a damn shame.

I don't actually think I've ever seen a single image of a vampire character in an early 18th century suit. Hardly any movies set in that era either, and hardly any historical costumers who do it. (Even my beloved gay pirate show set in 1717 takes nearly all of its 18th century looks from the second half of the century. Not enough appreciation for baroque fashion!!)

Yes I love late 18th century fashion as much as anyone, and 19th century formal suits are all very well and good, but if you want something that says old, dead, wealthy, and slightly dishevelled, then the 1690's-1730's are where it's at.

(Retrato del Virrey Alencastre Noroña y Silva, Duque de Linares, ca. 1711-1723.)

There was so much dark velvet, and so many little metallic buttons & buttonholes. Blood red linings were VERY fashionable in this era, no matter what the colour of the rest of the suit was.

(Johann Christoph Freiherr von Bartenstein by Martin van Meytens the Younger, 1730's.)

The slits on the front of the shirts are super low, they button only at the collar, and it's fashionable to leave most of the waistcoat unbuttoned so the shirt sticks out, as seen in the above portraits.

(Portrait of Anne Louis Goislard de Montsabert, Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil, 1734.)

Waistcoats are very long, coats are very full, and the cuffs are huge. But the sleeves are on the shorter side to show off more of that shirt, and the ruffles if it has them! Creepy undead hands with long nails would sit so nicely under those ruffles.

(1720's-30's, LACMA)

Embroidery designs are huge and chunky and often full of metallic threads, and the brocade designs even bigger.

(1730's, V&A, metal and silk embroidery on silk satin.)

Sometimes they did this fun thing where the coat would have contrasting cuffs made from the same fabric as the waistcoat.

(Niklaus Sigmund Steiger by Johann Rudolf Huber, 1724.)

Tell me this look isn't positively made for vampires!

(Portrait of Jean-Baptiste de Roll-Montpellier, 1713.)

(Yeah I am cherry-picking mostly red and black examples for this post, and there are plenty of non-vampire-y looking images from this time, but you get the idea!)

And the wrappers (at-home robes) were also cut very large, and, if you could afford it, made with incredible brocades.

(Portrait of a nobleman by Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess maybe 1680's or 90's.)

(Circle of Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess very late 17th or very early 18th century.)

Now that looks like a child who's been stuck at the same age for a hundred years if I ever saw one!

I don't know as much about the women's fashion from this era, but they had many equally large and elabourate things.

(1730's, Museo del Traje.)

(Don't believe The Met's shitty dating, this is a robe volante from probably the 1720's.)

(Mantua, c. 1708, The Met. No idea why they had to be that specific when they get other things wrong by entire decades but ok.)

(Portrait of Duchess Colavit Piccolomini, 1690's.)

(Maria van Buttinga-van Berghuys by Hermannus Collenius, 1717.)

Sometimes they also had these cute little devil horn hair curls that came down on either side of the forehead.

(Viago in drag Portrait of a lady, Italian School, c. 1690.)

Enough suave Victorian vampires, I want to see Baroque ones! With huge wigs and brocade coat cuffs so big they go past the elbow!

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Antiquated Brindleton

An 1890s Decades Challenge Save File

This save has been almost a year in the making, but it's finally here! It includes a completely rebuilt Brindleton Bay inspired by historic New England towns and set in the 1890s. This save uses a light amount of historical cc and most of the packs.

Download and details under the cut:

SAVE DETAILS:

Includes:

Eight new residential lots

Seven new community lots

Six new households

Builds and households are all located in Brindleton Bay. The world is intended to be historically accurate to about 1890, though some liberties for functionality have been taken.

Builds in other worlds have been deleted. The necessary buildings, like dorms, active career lots, and the high school, have all been left in place.

Townies have been evicted, but not deleted, as I prefer EA townies to fully randomized townies.

If you’d like more period appropriate townies to add, the lovely @jewishsimming has some great historical ones to download and @cowplant-snacks has an amazing tutorial on how to manage your townies with MCCC.

REQUIREMENTS: I have all the packs except Batuu and some of the kits. I didn’t limit myself when building. I don’t have everything listed out here, but I will be uploading all the lots and households to my gallery, so if you’d like to know specific pack usage you’ll be able to check there. If you load in and things are replaced or missing and you think it looks obvious feel free to message me, I’m always happy to try to help you find something else that fits! This save includes historical CC, some is included in my download in folders and some you will need to download from the creators directly. The CC required is listed and linked below, you need to download these linked pieces in ADDITION to the included cc folders.

CC To Download:

@lilis-palace

FOLKLORE Set

@s-imagination

Cottage Kitchen Stuff Pack

@happylifesims

1840s Suspenders Outfit

1900s Male Hunting Fashion

1920s Nightgown

Piteous Outfit

Sylas Fashion Set

Wilbur Outfit

@satterlly

Medieval Nightgown Della

@vroshii

Functional Tennis Set

@vampireloreskill

Antique Standing Camera

Creators Whose CC I Included:

@ameyasims (Better Than a Bush Outhouse, Victorian Swimwear)

@buzzardly28 (Multiple women’s hairs)

@chereindolente (Sacco Chore Coat, Edwardian Child Clothes)

@gilded-ghosts (Boudoir Belle, Victorian Visions, New Woman)

@jewishsimming (Off The Grid Objects, CAS items)

@linzlu (Assorted CAS and BB items)

@the-melancholy-maiden (Victorian Hair and Hat)

@nolan-sims (Potbelly Stove Set)

@pandorasimbox (Get To Church Pack, Azariah’s Sack Suit, Antique Slipper Tub, Heirloom Silhouette Portraits)

@peacemaker-ic (Simple Siding Wall Set, Luxurious Single Bedding V2)

@plumbobteasociety (Some BB and CAS items from the Cottage Garden Pack, HSL Happy Birthday Set)

@twentiethcenturysims (Langtree Hair, Historical High Chair, Quilts for Kids)

@waxesnostalgic (Sportswear Separates, Peterpan Bodysuit)

Thank you to all of these wonderful creators, your historical cc creations make this game a million times better to play and I appreciate all of you so very much. Recommended but not required mods:

Timeless by @pandorasimbox

Default Map Replacements by Deshayan (if you’d like your map to look like mine does in the preview)

Victorian NPC Replacements and Llama Scouts Historical Replacements by @cowplant-snacks

Home Regions by Kuttoe

DOWNLOAD: There are five zipped folders to download, four of which contain included cc, and one which includes the save itself.

Download the "AB_SaveFile" folder, unzip it and simply move the file inside to your saves folder inside your Sims 4 folder (where your mods folder is located).

The included cc is in four folders (to allow for easier upload/download) for build, buy, clothing, and hair. Simply download the folders, unzip them, and place them in your mods folder.

After this you should be good to load up your game and get playing, let me know if you run into any issues, I'm happy to try to troubleshoot. SFS | Google Drive THANK YOU: To all my amazing testers: @epistolarysims @aheathen-conceivably @cowplant-snacks and especially @simadelics who edited my household and build descriptions.

If you use this save file, please tag me in any photos you take, I want to see them all!! This save has been my baby for so very long and I cannot wait to see what you all do with it!

@maxismatchccworldrld @mmoutfittersters

[darklcy]

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

‣ eddie's session runs longer than you thought. bored, with nothing to do, you find his shirt.

‣ eddie munson x reader | stranger things masterlist | 823 words | fluff, established relationship, idiots in love ig

‣ i havent posted him in a while and i just got to rewatching s4, so naturally-

He’d been gone far too long already.

You tried not to complain, not having the desire to suck the life out of his soul for simply engaging in his passion. Dungeons and dragons served as an enigma in your brain, its complexity never failing to swirl your thoughts in knots each time you tried learning to play. If him being late was the only self punishment for not comprehending the rules of the game, then perhaps it was justifiable.

..It was just late. And you were beyond bored.

Boredom was a lazy explanation for the feeling you were experiencing at the moment, but for lack of better word, boredom will do. Body sprawled across his mattress, Gremlins displayed in the living room television down the hall, fingernails touched skin in a pattern, as if counting sheep represented itself through your fingers. The night sky stretched further along the hours as you waited for his campaign to finish, but with the way your eyelids drooped and head bobbed, you may not be around for his return.

Laying back on your spine, ceiling coming into view, you fought the upcoming dreams with all your might to avoid slumber, wanting to greet Eddie properly the moment he stepped inside. Chin lolling to the right, a signature club shirt curiously grabbed your eye, the red faced demon poking through the gaps of his drawer. 

Huh.

Somehow that pumped a vein full of awoken energy throughout your body. Sitting back up, you crawled over to the drawer and yanked the shirt from its clenches, freeing the fabric from its prison. The demon’s eyes met yours in a sneer, and sometimes you wonder if the corners of his mouth grew each time you stared at him. Discarding your own top, you replaced it with his, the remnants of smoke and faint cologne wafting in your nostrils.

Eddie smelled like home, a sanctuary, a safe place. A bit ironic, with fire comes reassurance, in your world, that is.

The garment was a bit loose on your figure, the ends reaching just below your hips. With the canvas of your legs exposed from lack of pajamas, his shirt became your blanket and lover all in one, a figment of the real thing. This will have to do until he returns. 

Cheek pressed to the comforter, Gremlins had just barely faded out into the credits when sleep found you, tucked away and hidden in the cotton of Hellfire.

“Baabe, I’m home.”

Brass met knob when Eddie unlocked it open, enjoying the warm heat of the trailer compared to the brisk November air outside. Campaign was good, as usual. Dungeon Master certainly had its perks, even if repeating senior year didn’t. The journey to his bedroom was swift, eager to finally end his day with you by his side, how it always should be. 

However he wasn’t at all, in the slightest bit, prepared to greet you adorning his beloved club shirt, soft skin of your thighs bare, asleep comfortably in his bed. His bed. Alone. With his shirt on. And boyshorts. Oh, wow. You were going to be the death of him.

It was as if he’d been transported to the Moma, viewing a delicate, historical self portrait of an acrylic artist from the 1700s. You were a sight to behold, and for him only. His feet almost sunk into the floorboards from the sheer weight his heart plummeted against his ribs. He’d just fallen in love  all over again. How do you do it so easily?

A gentle groan emitted in your throat as you shifted. What a sweet sound. You’re so sweet. 

Crouching down towards your face, his ringed knuckle gilded hair from your eyelashes, a smile on his face at the way you stirred from the action. When your eyes awoke to meet his, his lips only stretched wider.

“Mornin', sweetheart.”

Stretching out your arms, a yawn escaped you as a sleepy, “Oh, you’re home,” uttered out in a jumbled whisper. His full palm caressed your face now, occasionally smoothing down your hair while continuing to grin at your drowsiness. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yeah, Hellfire ran a lil late. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You shook your head into his fingers. “No, you’re fine. I was just bored.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he moved to sit beside you. His fingers transitioned from your cheek to the shirt on your skin, rings grazing the neckline and shoulder. Eddie had never seen anything like it, and he wore this exact thing every god damn week. 

“You look beautiful like this.”

It was as if complimenting a model, the way he spoke so carefully and tender. You gave him a look.

“..It’s comfy. I might steal it from you.”

He’d give you anything he wanted if you gave him the word. His lips captured yours in a trance, ending too quick for your liking. 

“You should. You wear it best.”

—

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me, body and soul

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. SMUT. creampie. mentions of pregnancy. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. also, reader has brown eyes (for story purposes, everything else doesn’t really matter lol.)

Word Count: 13,027

A/N: IM SO GLAD PEOPLE LIKE THIS🥹🥹 I love historical romance, I eat it up every time so I didn’t want to mess this up. Thank you all so much for your support!!! MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH

[pt.1][pt.3]

“He’s got so much in his heart, but he doesn’t know what to do” — John Wayne, Cigarettes After Sex

As training came to an end, Andrews bid Leon goodbye as he went with the other soldiers to the knight’s quarters. You were standing in front of a portrait, a woman, Leon’s mother.

Leon, tired and sweaty from training, was on his way back to his chambers when he noticed you standing in front of his mother's portrait.

He paused for a moment, his heart clenching. He hadn't expected to run into you here, but there you were, standing in front of the portrait of the woman he loved and lost. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he approached you, standing beside you in front of the portrait.

You were too focused on the painting of his deceased mother, you’ve heard the servants say he lost his mother in the war. The same war against your kingdom.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone next to you. It was Leon. Your eyes widened slightly and then you turned to look at him but then you remembered the argument in the library and you turned to look back at the painting. You didn’t want to be a burden so I held your tongue.

Leon shifted awkwardly next to you, feeling the tension between the two of you. But Andrews' words echoed in his head, reminding him that he needed to start seeing you for who you are, not just the enemy princess.

He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice low and gruff, "Do you..." he started, his throat feeling dry.

You quickly turned your head to look at him as he started to speak, giving him your attention.

“Do I…” you repeated quietly, trying to understand what he was trying to say. There was something different about him right now, maybe it was because he just finished his training but something told you he was acting differently. Less hostile towards you.

Leon took another deep breath before continuing, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and memories.

He remembered the pain and anger he felt when his mother died, the way it fueled his desire for revenge against your kingdom.

But he also remembered Andrews' words, reminding him that you weren't responsible for any of it. That it wasn't your fault.

So he pushed down his anger and spoke again, his voice a bit gentler, "Do you... know who that is?" he nodded towards the portrait of his mother.

His soft voice took you by surprise, it was a nice change for once instead of him snapping at you and saying mean things to you.

You looked back at the portrait and then back at him, nodding your head, “Yes,” you replied softly, “This is the former queen, your mother.”

Leon felt a pang in his chest as you confirmed that you knew who his mother was. It was a memory that still stung and hurt, but hearing you speak about her with respect and not hostility made him feel… different.

He glanced at you, his gaze flickering over your expression before he shifted his focus back to the portrait.

"She was… a good woman," he said quietly, his voice laced with a hint of tenderness that was rarely present when he spoke to you.

You knew what your kingdom did and it made you feel so guilty. The war took the lives of many including his mother.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered and turned your head to look up at him. You were slowly starting to understand why he hated you. It was hatred by association. He got sent a bride from the kingdom that murdered his mom, he had every right to be angry. But you didn’t kill anyone with your own hands either.

You turned to look back at her portrait, not knowing what else to say. This whole situation was different than before. Leon's heart ached as you apologized, and he could tell that the guilt you felt was genuine.

He looked down at you, his mind torn between the anger and resentment he had held for so long and the understanding that none of this was your fault.

But old habits die hard.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said sharply, the harshness of his voice betraying the complex mix of emotions he was feeling, "You didn't do anything."

You looked back up at him, staring into his eyes and for once you saw him aside from his cold and harsh self. You saw a son grieving the loss of their mother and that made you feel really bad.

Your eyes drifted around his face, staring intently at every feature. The roundness of his eyes, the color of his irises, his lips that looked soft. But then you caught yourself staring and looked back at the portrait of his late mother. Leon’s eyes widened slightly as he noticed your gaze drifting across his face, taking in every feature. He could see the sympathy and guilt in your eyes and it made him feel… weirdly vulnerable.

“She’s beautiful,” you muttered under your breath. She truly was a gorgeous woman.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the feeling as you looked back at his mother’s portrait.

"Yes, she was,” he replied quietly, his voice low and hoarse, "A lot of people always said I have her eyes.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as a small smile reached your lips. You stared at the painting intently, “I can see it,” you replied quietly.

Then you looked over at him, “You do have similar eyes,” you muttered under your breath in agreement. The moment was vulnerable, a contrast to what usually happens when you’re around each other.

Leon felt a small pang in his chest as you chuckled and agreed with him. It was a strange moment, a rare one where the hostility between the two of you was replaced by something else. Something more… gentle.

He couldn’t help but notice how calm you seemed, no longer tense and guarded like you usually were when he was around. He found himself taking a step closer to you, his body almost imperceptibly drawn towards you.

He cleared his throat, again, and looked back at his mother’s portrait, trying to force himself to keep his distance.

Andrews seemed to be right, for the first time ever since you came here, it only took him to put his anger aside to finally see you for you. It was a good thing for your relationship.

You nibbled on my bottom lip, shifting awkwardly before you spoke up in a nervous tone, even though you tried to hide it under a calm blanket, “I didn’t get any of my parent's eyes,” you mumbled with an awkward chuckle.

“My dad has blue eyes and my mom has green eyes but I came out with brown eyes,” you said as you glanced at him before looking back at the portrait.

Leon couldn’t help but notice the nervous yet earnest edge to your voice as you spoke.

He looked down at you, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Your comment about your eyes made him feel… oddly endeared. It was a mundane detail that was entirely meaningless in the grand scheme of things, yet it made him see you in a different light.

“Well,” he said, his tone softer than usual, “brown suits you.”

You felt your cheeks warm up a bit, did he just compliment you for the first time? You couldn’t hide the smile creeping up on your face, and then you looked at him, “Thanks…” you replied softly.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat as he heard your soft reply and the hint of a smile on your lips. He felt his own mouth twitch upwards at the corners in response, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

“I’d probably look weird with blue eyes,” you mumbled, trying to be nonchalant but secretly your heart was beating really fast, “Guess my eyes didn’t get the memo with my parents.”

He chuckled at your joke, the sound escaping him almost unintentionally. You chuckled nervously at your own joke, but as you stared at his mother’s portrait, you couldn’t help but say something in a soft mutter, “Blue suits you.”

He caught your comment about his eyes, and he felt his cheeks start to heat up, “Thanks,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. He glanced down at you again, feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach.

You felt his gaze on you and you turned to look up at him. For the first time, there was no hostility and hatred. It felt nice.

You opened my mouth to say something but you didn’t know what to say. Sure, you were married but it wasn’t like you did anything couples did. You felt a bit awkward but you also felt giddy?

“Are you…” you started quietly in a whisper, your heart beating fast as you looked up at him.

Leon’s gaze lingered on you as you looked up at him, his heart racing in his chest. He waited patiently as you spoke, his breath catching in his throat as he heard the question.

“Am I…?” he repeated, his voice low and soft, barely above a whisper. He was acutely aware of how close the two of you were standing, the air between you almost crackling with something he couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you…” you repeated nervously as you stared into his blue eyes, you then swallowed dryly and proceeded, “Are you going to bed?”

You were so nervous for some reason, your heart hammering inside your chest as you waited for his answer. You didn’t even know why you asked that. He just came out of his training and it was nighttime. He was covered in sweat and was probably tired.

You nibbled on your bottom lip just slightly, doing it almost subconsciously, a nervous habit.

He met your gaze head-on, and he couldn’t help but notice the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. He had to resist the sudden and strange urge to reach out and touch your face.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and gruff. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to go in this direction and it was slightly throwing him off guard.

You nodded slowly, of course he was. His servants were probably waiting for him so he could take a bath and change into his night clothes.

“I, uh,” you stumbled upon your words as you shifted your weight between your legs, “I don’t know why I asked,” you muttered truthfully.

Leon couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as you stumbled over your words. It was strangely endearing.

“Was training good?” You suddenly asked, not wanting the moment to end with him.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes never leaving yours, “Training was fine,” he replied quietly. He wasn’t sure why you asked that either, but somehow it didn’t matter. He found himself wanting the moment to last, just as you did.

“I should…” he started, motioning vaguely down the hallway towards his chambers.

You looked behind to see where he was pointing at, your shared chambers. You quickly looked back up at him and nodded, “Right, yeah, I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you muttered nervously.

“Your servants are probably wondering what’s taking so long,” you chuckled nervously and chewed on your bottom lip again out of nervousness.

You looked down at your feet, seeing your heels from under your dress before you looked back up at him, “I should probably go too,” you muttered but you made no effort to move.

He nodded in response, his eyes fixed on you. He noticed how you couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, how you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. He didn’t want you to leave, but he didn’t know how to express it without sounding strange.

“Yeah…” he agreed, nodding slowly. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“I…” you muttered softly as you saw his eyes flick down to your lips and felt your breath hitch for a moment. Your eyes subsequently doing the same to his lips.

You quickly looked back up at him, “Goodnight then,” you whispered before you moved to the side and started to walk down the hall, opposite of him.

Your heels echoed through the air, you glanced behind your shoulder to look at him, your breath hitching once more and you subconsciously quickened your pace. Why were you feeling so nervous all of a sudden?

You didn’t go to your shared quarters, not yet at least, you actually walked towards the library and closed the door. The entire interaction seemed out of the ordinary.

You paced around the bookshelves as you thought to yourself what led to the sudden change in him. Why did he suddenly start to treat you different. It was nice but you couldn’t help but question it a bit.

Leon went through his nightly routine in a daze. His mind was racing with thoughts of you and the strange, new feeling in his chest.

The servants washed him, dried him, and dressed him in his night clothes, but he barely registered their presence. He was too preoccupied with thinking about the conversation he had just had with you. Finishing, the servants bowed respectfully and left silently, leaving Leon alone in his chambers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

Maybe Andrews was right, all he needed to do was put his anger aside and treat you differently. Andrews really was too smart for his own good. Sure, it wasn’t easy and it’s a bit confusing to suddenly act different to the person from the enemy kingdom, but you were his wife now. And Andrews seemed to have noticed how unfair and terrible he had treated you before.

Your maids also bathed you and helped you change into your night dress. The dress being white and reaching the floor, the silky material dragging as padded to your shared quarters.

Leon looked up as you entered the room, his heart skipping a beat again. He observed the way the silky fabric of your night dress hugged your figure and it made his stomach flip once more.

He quickly looked away, trying to control the unwanted reaction he was having to your presence. He hadn't slept in the same bed as you ever since you arrived here and he was having a hard time understanding why that suddenly bothered him.

"You're here," he stated quietly, his voice low and gruff.

“My lord,” you quickly curtsied and nodded, “Yeah,” you muttered breathlessly, feeling your voice get stuck in your throat, “I’m here.”

Usually, he slept on the couch near the fireplace and a part of you still remembered all his mean words.

But this was unexpected and new. You slowly walked over to the couch, thinking he wanted to sleep on the bed instead. A strange feeling washed over him as he saw you approach the couch, assuming he wanted to sleep on the bed.

"No," he said suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

His voice was soft, but there was a hint of command in it. He patted the bed next to him, signaling for you to come closer.

You looked over at him and saw him patting the side next to him on the bed. Your heart was beating fast, he wants to sleep on the same bed? You stared at him in shock for a few seconds before you nodded and made your way towards the bed.

You’ve only been married for three months but this would be the first night you’ve ever shared the same bed, somehow, it felt like the first day of your marriage.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, fixing your hair and dress nervously before you laid down on your back next to him. You both stared at the ceiling with your shoulders close to each other.

For a few moments, the two of you were silent, both staring at the ceiling. Leon couldn't help but steal small glances at you, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your hands were down at your sides. Since you were laying next to each other, your hands were so close to his. You could practically feel his body heat radiate from him. You moved your pinky, your finger gently grazing his hand. Leon felt the gentle graze of your pinky against his hand and it sent a small shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to hold your hand, to feel the soft warmth of your skin against his own.

He glanced over at you again, his eyes flickering over your features. Your body was so close to his own, and he could feel the heat radiating between you.

Suddenly, he reached out and took your hand in his own. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers intertwining with your own.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when you felt him take your hand and intertwine his fingers with your own. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you u looked down at your joined hands.

His hand was bigger than yours and felt rougher with callouses, presumably from his sword training. Your hand was smaller and dainty, soft and smooth as it signified your royal status as princess.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. Your eyes roaming his features, taking him in and committing him to memory. Then, you held his hand back just as firm, giving it a little squeeze.

Leon felt a strange warmth spread through his chest as you squeezed his hand in return. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of rightness about this moment, holding your hand as you laid next to each other in the bed. His thumb began to brush over your knuckles, the callouses on his skin creating a pleasant friction against your softness.

He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours as you took in his features. His breathing became slightly uneven.

A small but closed-lipped smile appeared on your face when you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing also becoming uneven.

You eyes stared deeply into his eyes before they accidentally dropped down to his lips. You forced your eyes back to look at his blue eyes, feeling absolutely nervous.

Leon noticed the way your eyes lingered on his lips for a moment before quickly darting back up to his eyes. He felt a strange flutter in his chest as he realized you were as nervous as he was. He squeezed your hand gently as he leaned slightly closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You didn’t move away as he leaned slightly closer to you, you swallowed dryly and parted your lips slightly as you maintained eye contact with him.

You unknowingly squeezed his hand out of nervousness, holding it firmly in yours as you felt yourself grow to be a ball of nerves. Which led you to do your nervous habit, nibble on your bottom lip and wondered how his lips would feel on yours.

The atmosphere was tense but not in the way it used to be. There was no hatred and no malice, instead there was something else that you didn’t quite know.

He felt his own heart racing in his chest as he imagined how your lips would feel against his own. The tense atmosphere wasn't like it used to be, there was something else there. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced before.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to gently grip your chin, tilting your face slightly closer to his. You quickly stopped nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt his gentle grip on your chin, his fingers held you gently as he tilted your face up and closer to his.

You parted your lips once again, your faces slowly losing distance until you could feel his warm breath on your face. You looked down at his lips before you looked up at his blue eyes.

And then you closed my eyes, waiting for him to kiss you as your other hand rested on his chest very faintly, as if not to hurt him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. Youwere both hesitant, scared of rejection when you were both married. It was almost funny. But then again, it was an arranged marriage to end the war.

His lips felt soft against yours and you found myself melting next to him. Your grip on his hand tightened a bit but then it relaxed as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

The kiss was soft and tender, almost too gentle as if to say ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ or ‘I don’t want to scare you.’

Leon couldn't believe how good it felt to finally kiss you, to feel your soft lips against his own. He could feel your grip on his hand tighten for a moment before relaxing as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

He couldn't ignore the way his heart fluttered in his chest as the kiss continued. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted more, but part of him was afraid to take the next step.

He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged as he tried to slow down his racing heart.

You opened your eyes and stared at him as he leaned his forehead against yours. Your breathing was hard as you tried to catch your breath.

Your cheeks were flushed but you were…happy. Genuinely happy and you couldn’t help my smile. You let out a nervous laugh and moved to hide your face on his chest.

Leon felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the way he had treated you earlier that day. He had been harsh and cold, using sharp words that he knew would hurt you. But then he remembered his conversation with Andrews, how the man had convinced him to try and make things better. And now, here you were, lying together in bed, with Leon's forehead rested against your own.

As you let out a nervous laugh and hid your face on his chest, he couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his heart. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. For three months you didn’t do anything a married couple should do, he slept on the couch while you slept on the bed. Since your first day, he ignored you and made sure to never speak to you or touch you. And the few times he did talk to you, he’d be mean to you and you’d only argue.

But here he was, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, not wanting to let go anytime soon.

Leon could feel guilt tugging at his heart as he held you close in his arms. He knew he had been unkind and distant towards you for far too long. He had pushed you away, treating you like an enemy instead of a wife.

He rested his chin on the top of your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if to hold you close forever. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was grateful to Andrews for making him see reason.

He understood now that this arrangement had affected you just as much as it had affected him. He knew that he had been blinded by anger and grief.

For the rest of the night, you slept in each other’s embrace. You may not have taken it further but you were content with the slow pace of change. In your opinion, you wanted to know him for who he is instead of just jumping straight to the action.

In hindsight, you could see yourself actually being happy with this marriage. All he needed was a wake up call and a clarity check from his friend.

When morning rolled up, his servants and your maids entered the room to wake you both up but they halted as they saw you two sleeping together on the bed. Their eyes bulging out as they stood speechless.

His eyes opened as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bed. He didn’t move, not wanting to disturb you, but he felt a pang of irritation at the interruption. He slowly untangled himself from your arms and sat up in bed, his eyes scanning the servants as they stood frozen in place.

You remained lying on the bed, oblivious to everything as sleep asleep. The servants and maids bowed at Leon, “Good morning, my lord,” they all said in a hushed tone as to not wake you up.

Which was great because you didn’t even stir in your sleep. The servants and the maids tried to continue with their routine as normal. Your maids going to the bathroom to set up your morning bath as his servants started to help him get ready behind the room divider for privacy.

The servants didn’t dare say anything to Leon about the way they found you and Leon sleeping. At the sound of water running, you groggily woke up, realizing it was morning. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before they landed on Leon behind the dressing screen. Your heart beat a little faster but you were soon taken out of your thoughts as a maid helped you to the bathroom for your bath.

Once you were taken to the bathroom by your maids, Leon’s thoughts lingered on the fact that he’d woken up next to you that morning. Nothing else happened except for the kiss, which was your first kiss, but you still enjoyed sleeping in his arms for some reason.

After your bath, your maids helped you get dressed. This time, you were wearing a light blue dress with jewels. It was perfect for summer as the straps hung down your arms. The length reached the floor, just like any other gown.

But as your maids helped with your hair, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Leon from the reflection of your mirror.

Leon was deep in thought as his servants helped him get dressed, his mind filled with thoughts about the previous night. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for how long he had been treating you badly, but at the same time, he was grateful for the change that had begun.

His eyes darted to the mirror that was placed in front of him as he caught sight of you in the reflection. He couldn't help but stare at you for a moment, admiring your beauty.

“My lord,” one of his servants said as he pulled him out of his thoughts, “today you have a meeting with the kings. It’s about the war that ended,” he whispered so you wouldn’t hear.

After the war ended between your kingdom and his kingdom, nothing was over by just having you two marry for an alliance. There were other things to discuss such as reparations and how to avoid future conflicts.

Your maids finished helping you get ready and you stood up from your vanity stool, “Come, my lady,” the head maid said, “breakfast will be served shortly,” then she started to guide you out of the room, not before you spared Leon one last glance, giving him a small smile before you disappeared into the hall.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard the maid urging you to leave the room. He saw you give him one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, though he knew he had a lot on his plate for the day. He made a mental note to make time to talk to you later in the evening.

As you made it to the dining hall, you sat on the table where you were served warm breakfast. As you were about to take a bite, you noticed a few stares and saw your maids staring at you with curiosity.

“Yes?” You asked them as you took a small bite out of your breakfast. One of the maids stepped up, “My lady,” she spoke nervously, “did you and the lord…” she trailed but you knew what she meant. Your face turned red and you almost choked on your food. You quickly shook your head no, “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. We just kissed and hugged.”

But at the revelation, their shoulders slumped in disappointment. You furrowed your brows confused but then spoke up softly, “But maybe in the future,” you muttered to which they heard and seemed to be happy? You were still getting used to this kingdom.

Back with Leon, his servant was telling him of his schedule: meeting with the kings, oversee taxation history of the town, sword training, and evaluate the final preparations for the upcoming festival.

Leon listened intently as his servant listed off his schedule for the day. It was going to be a busy one, he knew that much.

The mention of the upcoming festival tugged at his heartstrings, as he remembered how he used to attend with his mother. But now she was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

He pushed the thought aside as his servant continued to brief him on the other tasks he would need to attend to, including meeting with the other lords.

The servant guided him towards one of the many rooms of the castle, but this one was where the meeting was taking place. Upon Leon’s arrival, the older men stood up and bowed at Leon.

“Good morning, my lord,” they said before they sat down. There was the king, Leon’s father, sitting next to my father, the king of the kingdom they fought against in war. It seemed as if it were just the three of them.

“Ah, there’s my son,” the king said as Leon entered. Then he looked at my father, “Told you he’s been faring well.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as they resumed their seats. Leon’s eyes darted to his father and your father sitting next to each other, and he was surprised to find them being civil towards each other. He made his way to the empty seat at the table and sat down, his eyes flickering between his father and yours.

It was kind of surprising to see them civil, given that your father was the reason the whole war started in the first place. The whole reason why Leon’s mother died.

Your father stood up and formally addressed Leon and the king, “I’d like to start us off with the topic reparations,” he said before his snapped his fingers, signaling for his servant to bring something in.

A servant came in with a box, putting it in front of Leon and the king, “This is for the construction damages,” your father began, watching as the servant opened the box to reveal gold coins and bars.

Leon's expression remained neutral as your father addressed him and the king, but a wave of anger and resentment washed over him as he mentioned reparations.

His eyes darted to the box that was placed in front of him and his father as the servant opened it, revealing gold coins and bars. Leon couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at the thought that the war was the reason behind his mother's death.

He clenched his jaw but said nothing, his gaze flickering towards his father to gauge his reaction.

“Go on,” the king said as he looked at the contents of the box before he looked back at your father, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

Your father cleared his throat and proceeded, “No amount of wealth will bring people back from the dead. We’ve both lost incredible amounts of people,” he stated, “innocent lives were taken during the war and I stem accountability for starting it.”

Leon's expression remained stoic as he listened to your father's words. He could sense his father's skepticism as the king looked at the contents of the box before shifting his gaze back to your father.

“Hence why I propose we seal the alliance. We know that by marrying my daughter to Crown Prince Leon,” he gestured to Leon, “it was the start of the process of the peaceful era. Well, here gentlemen,” he said as he took out a rolled parchment before handing it to the king. It was a contract.

“That has my legal stamp, declaring my unwavering loyalty to our alliance and friendship. I will provide support and aid whenever you request just as how I expect you to do the same,” he stated as he bowed his head in respect.

As your father went on to propose sealing the alliance, Leon's mind raced with thoughts. He had mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, he knew that the marriage was a part of the process to bring peace and stability.

But on the other hand, he still harbored feelings of anger and resentment towards your father for starting the war and causing his mother's death.

The king hummed before he gave Leon the contract to let him have a read, obviously trusting Leon to also make a decision since he was the heir to the throne.

“What’s the catch?” The king suddenly asked your father. Your father shook his head and clasped his hand behind his back, “The catch, is not really a catch,” he said.

“It’s too simple Sylus,” the king said as he stood up and stared at your father, “Yes we agreed to have our children marry but it takes more than that to end a war.”

Leon took the contract and began to read through it, his eyes flitting across the page as he absorbed the contents of the agreement.

Sylus, your father, sighed, “Ever the observant, Your Highness,” he said before he stared at the king.

“The catch is,” he started nervously, “well, you see, in my family, the women usually have fertility issues,” he said as he gave Leon a brief glance before he focused back on the king, “I do not know if my daughter can even be with child and I do not want her to face the consequences for something she can’t control.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to your father explain about the fertility issues within your family. His heart suddenly felt heavy as he realized the implications of those words.

The thought of you not being able to bear children was a difficult one, but Leon knew he couldn’t change the situation. He was an heir who needed to create future heirs for the throne.

He looked up at his father, who seemed a bit surprised by your father's confession, and Leon couldn't help but feel the pressure weighing down on him.

“Are you certain, Sylus?” The king asked your father in a firm tone, “there needs to be an heir once my son becomes king and if your daughter can’t give him one then why did you send your daughter for marriage?”

“Your Highness, with all due respect, it’s not *all* the women,” he said nervously, “in my kingdom, fertility is blessed based on good health and my daughter has always been a strong one. She’s never once had chicken pox!” He chuckled nervously.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not guaranteed,” the king argued back, he sighed and looked at Leon, “Have you tried?”

Leon felt the weight of the king's gaze upon him, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably as the topic shifted to his private affairs with you.

"We... have not," Leon replied, his voice firm but his eyes avoiding his father's. He knew what he was really hinting at. Leon didn't want to admit it, but the idea of producing heirs hadn’t crossed his mind. He was a man with an obligation and he knew he would eventually have to perform his duties. But that was before he started to be nice to you, now he understood what his duties were aside from politics.

The king stared at Leon blankly, “Son…” he muttered, “It’s been *three* months since you’ve met her, how have you not—“

“Hey don’t rush them,” your father quickly interjected, “She’s young, she’s at the ripe age of childbirth…right?” He asked his servant who nodded at your father. He then looked back at the king with a shaky smile.

It was true that you were young, it gave the advantage of trying as many times as possible to conceive as it was your duties as future king and queen. Leon clenched his jaw, feeling frustrated by the conversation.

"We will try," Leon said, his voice firmer this time. He didn't want to be pressured into something. He could take care of things on his own. But deep down inside, he felt a hint of guilt. He felt bad that you were being used for his political ambitions.

His father gave Leon a firm nod, “You better,” then he looked over at your father. As a woman, it seemed as your only role was to have children, along with minor duties around the castle such as tending to the kitchen and garden.

“And you won’t have to worry about my daughter,” your father kept trying to lessen the king’s anger, “she’s good with children. Did I tell you about that time when she volunteered at a children’s church?” He chuckled nervously.

The king sighed, “Sylus, if your daughter can’t produce an heir then what use do I have for her?” Your father visibly wilted at his words, “She’s got many talents. She speaks five languages, she paints, she sings, she plays piano, she reads maps and knows geography. Believe me, she can be very useful when she wants.”

Leon's heart panged with sympathy as he listened to your father defend you, listing off your many talents and skills. He knew that you were not just a tool for producing heirs, but a person in your own right with your own abilities. And he felt guilty for realizing it after three months.

His father, however, seemed less impressed. He simply grunted in response to your father's words, not convinced by his defense. Your father sighed, “Give her a chance. She’s young, she’s at the right age for bearing kids,” he basically pleaded, “all she needs is time. You’ll have an heir before you know it.”

“Very well,” the king said before he took the contract, “I will sign it but until she is with child,” he then looked at Leon, “You better get to it.”

Leon clenched his jaw as his father gave his ultimatum. It was clear that the king saw your value only in your ability to bear children. Leon knew that he had a duty to produce heirs, but he struggled with the idea of treating you like nothing more than a vessel for bearing his children.

He nodded at his father, signaling his understanding of the king's condition, "I will," Leon said firmly, but his tone betrayed his internal conflict.

“Very well,” the king said before he stood up, taking the contract with him, “you’re all dismissed,” the king said before he started to walk out of the room. Once he was out, your father let out a sigh as he slumped on the chair.

“What am I going to do…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his forehead, clearly this was affecting him as well. A father who only wanted to protect his daughter.

As Leon watched his father leave, he felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that he had to start fulfilling his duty as soon as possible.

He turned to your father and saw the tired, worried look on his face. He knew that the pressure was weighing heavy on him too.

"Don't worry," Leon said, his voice firm, "I'll do my duty. I'll make sure you don't regret giving your daughter to me."

Your father looked up at Leon, “I don’t,” he answered, “I don’t regret giving her to you, my lord.”

“My poor little girl,” he whispered to himself before he focused back on Leon, “She’s a great girl. She’s smart, she’s kind…” it was evident that your father was going through a whirlwind of stress and emotions.

Your father then stood up, giving Leon a deep bow in respect before he also walked out of the room to go back to his kingdom.

As your father left the room, Leon was left alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the king's words and expectations weighing down on him. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to stand up from his seat. He had a duty to fulfill and a promise to keep.

You were wandering the halls, yet again, oblivious to their meeting. You knew Leon was busy as the lord of the house, so you weren’t aware if they might be discussing.

“My lord,” the servant came over to Leon, “your next duty on the agenda is to foresee the taxes. The treasury just wants to hear your opinion, he says,” the servant said.

Leon had a promise and duty to fulfill, just as you did. The rest of his morning was full of tasks he had to do. It wasn’t until evening that his schedule was finally free. Leon spent the entire day attending to his responsibilities, from overseeing taxes to attending to other matters related to the house. Despite the busy schedule, his mind kept returning to the agreement and the king's condition.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned a hue of orange and purple, Leon finally had a moment of peace. He took a deep breath and looked out the window. The house suddenly felt so quiet and empty. Leon realized that he hadn't seen you all day. A pang of guilt gnawed at his heart.

You were in your shared quarters, talking to your maids. Your voices echoing around the walls of the room as the sound of clothes rustling was heard since the door was slightly ajar opened.

Right, today you had your new dresses delivered to you, “This one is gorgeous!” One of your maids said as she picked up a red ball gown.

“No, this is the one that beats all dresses in the kingdom,” another maid said she held a white gown. They were both beautiful and you could only laughed.

Leon stood outside the ajar open door, listening to the conversation between you and your maids. He heard your light laughter and the chatter about the dresses. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he heard your laughter. He didn't realize how much he had missed you until now.

He cleared his throat and knocked softly on the door, signaling his presence. Your maids quickly stood up straight up and tidied the room, the few boxes of dresses on the floor but upon seeing him, you smiled.

“My lord,” your maids greeted and curtsied as you stared at Leon before you remembered you had to do the same too. You were too caught up staring at him!

Leon was handsome, no doubt about that, but you still felt a bit embarrassed for forgetting to greet him formally. A hint of amusement flickered across his face as he took a step into the room, looking around at the boxes of dresses on the floor.

"No need for formalities," he assured your maids, his eyes shifting to you, "I merely came to check on my future Queen."

Your maids hurriedly tidied the place, they worked fast, right before they went over to the door, “We will leave you two alone.”

You nodded at them and watched as they left and closed the door, leaving you alone with Leon in your room. Your smile widened a bit, “Your future Queen?” You muttered softly as you stood in front of him.

“How was your meeting?” You asked as you stared up at him, “I heard my father visited. I wished I could’ve said hi but I was busy in the library,” since you weren’t in the meeting, you didn’t know what they talked about.

Leon chuckled softly, "Yes, my future Queen," he reiterated, his eyes never leaving yours as he looked down at you.

A hint of tension hung in the air as he remembered the real reason he was checking on you, but Leon quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused his attention on you. He gently reached down and brushed a strand of hair from your face, "The meeting went fine," he said casually, not wanting to reveal the true topic of conversation.

You smiled softly at him, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his touch soft, “Not too stressful I hope,” you teased lightly.

“I hope my father didn’t give you and the king a hard time,” you said to him, “I know he can get a bit…well, he’s just very notably himself.”

Leon's gaze softened as he listened to your words, his mind briefly flitting back to the meeting and the king's ultimatum.

"Your father didn't give us a hard time," he replied with a slight smirk, "He can be... expressive, but that's what makes him unique. I can handle him."

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes searching your face, "But enough about the meeting. I wanted to spend some time with you."

A warm smile reached your lips, he wanted to spend time with you? You could feel your heart beat fast in the best way possible.

“You do?” You whispered teasingly as you couldn’t hide your smile, “Did the crown prince miss me already?” You chuckled softly.

You took a small step closer, hesitating for a moment before you rested your hands on his shoulders, “You better say you did,” you muttered in a fake threatening tone. Leon chuckled at your teasing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He couldn't deny that he did miss you, but he would never admit it outright. He raised an eyebrow at your hands on his shoulders, but he made no move to remove them. Instead, he reached up and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him until there was barely any space between you.

"Is that so?" he teased back, "Are you threatening me, my future Queen?"

"Perhaps I do miss you," he said, his voice lowering, "Just a little."

You chuckled and stared at him with fondness in your eyes, for a moment, memories of the meeting were gone from his mind. Right now, it was just you two.

“I missed you too,” you muttered, “just a little,” you repeated his words with a grin. But you did miss him. The whole day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Leon's heart skipped a beat at your admission that you missed him.

“So, what else happened in the meeting?” You asked quietly, not knowing what else to say, “Did the king say anything about…heirs?”

He looked down at you and his eyes darkened slightly, but he quickly schooled his expression and kept his voice casual.

"Heirs?" he repeated with feigned nonchalance, "Yes, the king mentioned heirs. He expects us to produce them... sooner rather than later."

Your face started to grow red. You understood that as a married couple, your duty was to produce an heir since you’ll be the new rulers of the kingdom. But at the same time, didn’t it seem like things were progressing too fast in your relationship? But maybe he was just being pressured by the king so you thought that deep down he probably only wants to fulfill his duty.

“Soon?” I repeated quietly, “very well,” I whispered and nodded, “When do you want to start?”

His hands on your hips tightened slightly in response to your question, his voice low and huskier than before, "Tonight," he answered, his eyes meeting yours, "I want to start tonight."

You nodded again as you looked up at him, “Alright, we’ll start tonight,” you whispered softly, “I’ll let my maids know so I can prepare.”

Part of you was a bit scared, you were pure and you didn’t know how it would feel to be intimate with someone. But you knew Leon wouldn’t hurt me voluntarily. So you trusted him, which surprised you.

“I should go prepare,” you whispered to him as you let go of his shoulders. He let go of your hips when you did, and he watched you closely, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll see you in our quarters," he said softly, his tone both authoritative and tender, "Be ready for me when I get there."

You nodded and gave him a small smile, “I will,” you replied softly before you left the room. There was much to do and you wanted to look your best for him for tonight. You walked along the castle halls until you found your maids, letting them know about tonight and what needs to be done.

Leon watched you leave the room, his mind swirling with thoughts of what was to come. Guilt and desire warred within him, but he pushed them aside and focused on the task at hand.

As the hours ticked by slowly, Leon found himself pacing the corridors, waiting anxiously for the moment when he could finally return to his quarters and see you. The king's order echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what was expected from him.

As the sun began to set and the hall grew dark, he finally made his way back towards your shared quarters.

The rest of the day was very busy for you. Your maids put all sorts of herbs and creams on your body to ensure your skin was soft as milk. They also did the same to your hair so it would shine and be as soft as silk. You stood in front of the mirror, watching as your maids dressed you in the appropriate dress for tonight. Candles were lit for the ambiance that made the room all more intimate. You were wearing a white night dress robe with lace around the edges, the material being thin and almost see through. You were wearing nothing under your dress as you knew what tonight meant. Your hair was down, all in its natural glory. Under the moonlight you looked like a goddess.

He stepped closer to the door, his hand reaching out to knock on the door before he hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Leon's breath hitched the moment he saw you. You looked like a vision, soft as silk and as beautiful as the night sky. Heat pooled in his gut as he fully saw the see-through dress you were wearing.

You heard the knock and turned around to find Leon. You were a bit nervous, did you look good? Desirable? You curtsied to him and smiled softly, “My lord.”

“You’re here,” you muttered softly. Leon's eyes roamed over you from head to toe, taking in your figure and the thin night dress. He swallowed hard, his pulse racing and his body responding to your mere presence.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes, but there was also a mixture of desire and anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his hands aching to touch you, but he held back for the moment.

"I am," he replied in a soft, gruff voice, "And you look..." he trailed off, lost for words for a moment as he drank in your beauty. Your smile widened when he was at a loss for words, did you really look that good? You twirled around for him, your dress spinning with me. The candle lit room caused the warm flames to dance along on your skin, the shine from the creams encapsulating the richness and softness of your skin.

“Good?” You asked softly, not sure if you actually looked beautiful.

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it," he murmured huskily, his eyes locked on your figure, "You look divine."

He took a step closer to you, his hands twitching at his sides as he ached to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat, he thought you looked divine. That was the best compliment he’s ever given you. You smiled before you turned around and walked over to your bed, getting on it and laying in the middle of the mattress as you looked over at him, waiting for him to come closer and start touching you. Your hair pooled around the pillows as your dress rode up to your ankles, revealing your supple skin.

The room was covered in candles, a sweet aroma that added to the sensuality of the moment. Leon watched you lie down on the bed, his heart thudding in his chest at the sight of you on the soft mattress, looking like a goddess waiting to be worshipped.

His eyes drank in the sight of your bare skin, his gaze roaming up from your ankles, up to your dress, and then to your face. He swallowed hard, his control starting to slip as he slowly approached the bed. Each step was deliberate, his eyes darkened with a mixture of heat and need. As he reached the edge of the bed, he placed one knee on the mattress, towering above you.

Leon could see the mixture of nervousness and desire in your eyes, and he understood the trust you had in him. He took a moment to collect himself, his own emotions and desire threatening to overtake him.

His eyes roaming your body, taking in the sight of you laid out on the bed like a tempting offering. He swallowed hard, the need to touch you and claim you was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his fingers tracing a path down to your exposed skin, "You're beautiful," he whispered coarsely.

“Thank you, my lord,” you whispered softly and almost breathlessly. He’s never touched you like this. You’ve only ever held hands and kissed and that was yesterday. You hesitantly brought a hand over to him, your fingers ghostly hovering over his clothed chest as your eyes wandered on his chest. His shirt made it so that his muscles were a bit noticeable.

Your eyes then looked back up at his before they flicked down to his lips. You looked back at his blue eyes, noticing the dilated pupils almost obscuring the blue around it. Leon's breathing grew heavier as he felt your hand hovering over his chest, your touch like a ghost against his skin. He watched as your eyes darted down to his lips, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in response.

“You can touch me,” he said gruffly, his voice low and hoarse, “I won't break.”

He reached down and gently grasped your wrist, guiding your hand onto his chest so you could feel the warmth and firmness of his muscles. He watched your expression closely, his own eyes darkened with need.

Your breath hitched for many reasons; his hand on your wrist, your palm against his warm chest, his reassurance—it all made you a bit breathless.

You pressed your hand on his chest, feeling the muscles through his shirt. Your eyes drifted down to his hand on your wrist, he made your wrist look so small with his big hand. It made your heart flutter.

You looked back up at him, your lips slightly parted as you touched him. Even if it was just his chest. Leon's heart raced as he felt your hand on his chest, pressing and feeling the muscles below his shirt. It was the softest touch, but it sent jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He tightened his grip on your wrist, the feeling of your slender, soft skin under his rough, calloused hand made his blood boil. He had to fight the urge to just tear the dress off of you and take you right there and then. Instead, he watched as you took in the feel of him, your touch lingering, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to maintain control.

You brought my other hand to his cheek, your hand trailing down his neck before you also let it rest on his chest. Right as he held your wrist gently.

You looked up at him again, your doe eyes looking at him so innocently, “My lord…” you whispered quietly before your eyes fell back in his lips. Your nightdress sleeves slipped down your shoulders, exposing your collarbone as well as the top of your breasts but not entirely.

Your touch was both innocent and sensual, igniting a fire in Leon's core that he was struggling to control. He swallowed hard as he watched your sleeves slip down, revealing more of your creamy, supple skin, and his eyes darkened with growing desire.

"I'm no lord here, not to you," he responded gruffly, his voice hoarse with need, "Say my name."

Your stomach flipped when you heard his words and his tone. He sounded so needy and just for you. But what made you more flustered was that he wanted you to say his name.

No title at all. For the three months that you’ve been married, you’ve always called him by his title out of respect as he was initially rude to you. But now that things have changed, maybe you should start calling him by his first name.

“Leon,” you whispered softly, the name rolling off your tongue with ease. As if it felt right to say his name.

The sound of you whispering his name sent a shiver down Leon’s spine. It was a soft, shy whisper but to him, it sounded like music to his ears. He brought his other hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your soft skin, "Again," he murmured, his voice thick with need, "Say it again."

You leaned into his hand as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, “Leon,” you repeated his name again.

Leon couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped him when you said his name again, his grip on your wrist unconsciously tightening at the sound. You spread your legs a bit so he could settle between your legs, causing your dress to slip up your knees to expose your calves. His grip on your wrist was firm but gentle and you moved your free hand to your night dress.

Your fingers undid the knot of your robe before you put your hand back on his chest, your dress opening to reveal your naked body to him. Your breasts looked soft and shiny from the candle lights. The skin looking so supple and creamy, almost like milk. His eyes darkened with hunger as he looked at your now exposed body, his breath hitching in his throat. You looked so soft, so creamy, so perfect, and the heat that pooled in his groin was almost unbearable. He let go of your wrist and brought his hand down to the opening of your robe, pushing it further down to reveal more of you to him. Laid out like a meal just for him to devour. Leon's breathing grew more ragged as he took in the sight of your bare body, his eyes slowly roaming over every inch of you as if he was trying to memorize each curve and detail.

He ached to touch you, to feel your soft, warm skin beneath his hands, but he held himself back, just taking in the sight for a moment.

“Gods, you are exquisite," he murmured hoarsely, his eyes darkened with desire and lust. He couldn't look away even if he tried, you looked like a vision in the candlelight.

You looked up at him. Your hesitant hands slowly rested back on his chest, your fingers resting along the strings that hung loose from his shirt. Leon's heart thundered in his chest as your hands moved back to his chest, your fingers gently playing with the strings of his shirt. The feeling of your touch sent sparks of heat through his body, and he had to remind himself to stay calm.

He reached up a hand and gently took a hold of yours, bringing it up to his lips and gently kissing each finger.

You watched attentively with parted lips as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed each finger, your breathing quickened and you felt myself grow hot. Such a sincere and innocent gesture made you want him more.

There was glint of something in my eyes, something you’ve never felt until now. Was it respect? Kindness? Affection? You didn’t know but you did know that you were starting to feel something heavier than want. Something that could only ever be read in books.

Leon's eyes met yours as you cup his face with your other hand, your gentle touch sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The look in your eyes was new to him, but it stirred something within him. Something more profound than mere want.

He continued to kiss your fingers, his lips ghosting over your knuckles, your palm, the inside of your wrist. He gently placed your palm against his cheek and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he basked in the feel of your skin against him.

"You're so gentle," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse with an unnamed emotion.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered back to his words. Leon's heart ached at your words, hearing the sincerity and affection in your voice. The way you held his face in your hands, so gently and softly, made something inside him stir.

He opened his eyes, looking back at you with an unreadable expression, his gaze intense and almost vulnerable.

"You won't hurt me," he assured you, his voice low, "And even if you do... I don't care," he reached up and gently placed his hand over one of yours, "I don't care as long as I'm with you like this."

Your heart swelled at his words, what you were eeling frightened you a bit. You didn’t know anything about what you were feeling right now.

You gently pulled his face down towards yours, your eyes glancing at his lips before you looked back at his eyes. Leon's breath hitched as you pulled his face down towards yours, and when he felt your soft, warm lips on his, something inside of him snapped. He gently but firmly brought his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him as he deepened the kiss.

He had intended to take things slow, but the feeling of your lips on his, the heat of your body against him, it was too much to resist.

He moved one hand up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head to kiss you more deeply, his tongue gently seeking entrance into your mouth. You gasped and opened your mouth, feeling his tongue dance with yours. Your hands fell from his face to his chest, resting there for a moment as you relished in the feeling of his lips and tongue. Savoring him, you didn’t care if he tasted like his dinner, you were tasting him and you felt him close. That was all that mattered to you.

You kissed him back, pushing your tongue inside his mouth. He was the oasis and you were a thirsty wanderer, you needed him and you didn’t realize how much until this moment.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and he wanted more. He groaned against your lips as you kissed him back, his hand moving further up your neck and tangling into your hair as he pulled you even closer to him, his body growing needy and greedy for you. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fisting the material as you held on to him. You didn’t want to let go. Your body was responding to him in a way you’ve never felt before.

Your hands were quick to lift his shirt up, breaking the kiss momentarily as you undressed him with gentleness. Leon's eyes darkened with desire as you lifted his shirt, exposing his toned, muscled chest to your gaze. He watched your eyes as they roamed over his scars, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers gently traced over them.

He could see the way you looked at him, with a mixture of awe and admiration, and it only made him want you more. He leaned down, his lips hovering above yours as he spoke in a deep, husky voice, "Touch me, touch me as if I am your only."

Your eyes drifted back up to look at his, his words stirring something deep in your gut, “You are,” you whispered back in a breathless voice. Your hands roamed around his torso, feeling each contour and dip from his muscles and scars.

Leon's heart quickened at your words, his body responding to your touch, your tenderness, your love. Every caress of your hands, every gentle touch, made him feel alive. He didn't know what to make of the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. He had married you out of obligation, but now, with your hands on him, it felt like so much more.

He took one of your hands in his and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles before pressing it against his chest, over his heart, "Feel that?" he whispered.

Your hand was pressed against his chest, over his heart and you could feel how fast it was beating, a reflection of your own heart as well. You looked back up at him and nodded.

“I do,” you whispered back, his heart was beating fast, almost uncontrollably. It caused my breath to hitch and your words to cut short.

"It means you have mine," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. "My heart. My soul. Everything that I am, it's yours."

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin, "Only yours," he breathed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart beat faster and you could feel yourself turn to mush. Your heart ached and your stomach flipped inside you at his words. He was yours, everything about him.

“Leon,” you whispered, staring at his eyes to try and look for signs of deceit but you could only find honesty. Leon could see the look in your eyes, the mix of surprise, disbelief, and awe, and it only served to make his own heart beat faster. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but the words had slipped out on their own. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

"Say it back," he breathed, his voice hoarse and almost desperate, "Say you're mine," he needed to hear it, to know that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

“I’m yours,” you whispered as you looked at him, “My entire being,” uou continued, suddenly feeling the words spill out of you with no control.

“Let me have you for myself and myself only,” you whispered in an almost pleading tone, “let me be the only woman in your life.”

Your eyes were basically begging him to have you as his sole woman. You didn’t want him to have concubines, you wanted to be his only lady. Leon's heart clenched at your words, his breath catching in his throat. The desperation, the plea in your voice, it hit him hard. He knew he had been with other women before, it was expected from him, but the thought of having anyone else but you after tonight felt wrong, felt foreign.

"You are," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion as his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, "You are the only woman in my life. From this day forth, and every day after."

Your heart swelled and you could feel your eyes glaze over with nothing but love. That’s right. What you were feeling was love and it was overwhelming.

You crashed your lips against his, gripping his arms as you pulled his body down against yours until you were pressed together like mush. You kissed him deeply and passionately, pouring all your emotions into the kiss.

Leon groaned deeply as you pulled him down on top of you, feeling the heat of your body against his, the softness of your lips on his, it was all too much. He moved his hands down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he ground against you, his body responding to yours with a primal need. You gasped against his lips as you felt him ground against you, feeling his bulge through his trouser press against your bare core making me feel some type of way.

He kissed you back with equal fervor, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and claiming you as his own. He wanted to feel all of you, to be inside you, to make you his. The thought of claiming you, of making you his completely, of filling you with his seed and making you carry his child, sent a shiver down his spine.

He ground against you again, his hips moving on their own, seeking friction and relief from the ache that was building up inside him.

"You want that," he breathed, his voice low and rough, "You want me to take you, make you mine?"

“I’m already yours,” you whispered breathlessly, feeling him ground against you again, your heat and wetness obviously showing how much you wanted him to take you.

You moved against him, grinding your hips against his bulge as you also felt a tight feeling that sought relief. It was an ache that was unfamiliar to you. The sound of your words and the feel of you moving against him made Leon's body ache for you. He growled as you ground your hips against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he returned your movements, pushing against you and causing a wave of pleasure to wash over him.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes roaming over your naked body as he continued to move against you, "I never want to stop touching you."

You let out a quiet moan, feeling pleasure coursing through my veins like electricity, “Don’t stop,” you whispered. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling even if he was still wearing his trousers.

Leon let out a guttural moan, his breathing growing ragged as he continued to move against you, his body aching to be inside you, to be one with you. Your words were like a command and he knew he had to obey, he didn't want to stop, he didn't want to hold back. He never had, but now, the consequences would be different.

But he didn't care.

"I don't want to stop," he groaned, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers, "I don't know if I can even if I tried."

Your eyes trailed down to his hand on the waistband of his trousers, watching as he started to fully undress himself and show you his bare form. He was like a drug you grew addicted to, you also don’t think you could stop even if you tried. Now, all you wanted was to be with him. To be his lady forever as you ruled over the kingdom as King and Queen.

“Me neither,” you whispered as you looked back up into his blue eyes. Leon was barely holding on to the last bit of control he had. Your words, your breathless voice, it was driving him to a frenzy.

He lowered himself down, his body resting against yours, his hardened length pressed against your wet core, the tip barely grazing your entrance. He groaned deeply at the feeling, his hips instinctively moving against you. You whimpered as he started to push his hard cock inside you, filling you when he hasn’t even started.

"You don't know what you do to me," he breathed, his face buried in your shoulder, "What you make me feel."

You let out a shaky breath as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his back. Leon groaned as he entered you, the tightness and warmth of your body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was ecstasy and heaven all in one. He lifted his face from your shoulder and looked down at you, his eyes full of love and desire.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice hoarse, "So tight, so perfect."

He began to move slowly, his hips rocking against yours, his hands caressing your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on your neck and chest.

As he started to move inside you, slowly thrusting into you, you rolled your head back against the pillows and closed your eyes as you relished in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. His hips rocked slowly but you could feel so well, you had finally become one.

You could only moan softly in his ear, savoring him and holding him close to you. Leon continued to move inside you, his pace steady and slow, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. He needed more, he needed all of you.

He lifted himself up, resting on his forearms, and looked down at you, "Look at me," he breathed, "I want to see your face."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him as he moved deep inside you, your lips parted and your cheeks flushed as you moaned and gasped breathlessly. As he lifted himself up, your hands fell down from his back and laid on either side of your head.

The tempo was slow but sensual, wanting to make this moment last longer. The sounds we made echoed through the room. You arched your back as he started to move faster, slowly starting to feel his hips slam against your, the sound of skin clapping echoing in your mind. Leon continued his pace as he watched you unravel beneath him. The sounds of your moans and gasps, the way your body trembled and clenched around him, it was all too much.

Your moans became short and breathy, an indication of how much he was taking you to the edge as well. You rolled your eyes back and gasped quietly, you couldn’t hold much longer. The faster and harder he went, the harder it was to hold back. He could feel himself on the edge of release, his body taut and his muscles coiled, ready to explode.

You looked up at him, making sure he was seeing your face as you were so close to coming. Your body started to tremble slowly at each thrust. You panted heavily as your hands gripped the bedsheets under you and before you knew it, you looked at him, eyes full of bliss and pleasure as you let go and felt yourself spasm and clench around him, finally coming on him.

As he watched you come undone, he felt himself falling over the edge as well. His hips moved frantically, his body taking over as he chased his own release.

You let out whimpers as he started to move frantically, thrusting against you like an animal in heat and desperate for release. He let out a guttural moan as he found his own pleasure, his body tensing and shuddering as he found release inside you.

He snapped his hips against you before he spilled his seed deep inside you, coating your walls white with his cum. You were left panting and sweaty, your body suddenly feeling tired from the intimate activities so you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath. Leon breathed heavily as he collapsed on top of you, his body damp with sweat and his heart racing. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, letting your familiar fragrance fill his senses. He knew what he had just done, the thought of seeing you grow round and heavy with his child filled him with a sense of joy and possessiveness.

Your breathing has settled down and you slowly started to succumb to sleep, feeling your body grow exhausted and limp. As he remained on top of you, your head moved to the side, seemingly asleep as your body was so tired.

Never once would you have thought that you’d share a night like this. Previously, he was cold, harsh, and rude to you. You almost believed he’d never even hold your hand. And yet something in him changed and here you are.

He knew he had been harsh and cold with you in the beginning, but he had to be. It was to maintain a certain image, a facade. But as time passed, he realized that he was falling for you.

He gently pulled himself off of you, careful not to wake you, and then laid down beside you. He pulled the covers over the both of you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he, too, allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

[mac-ann-cheese]

Some 19th century rusameamerus hcs!! (⁠゜⁠o⁠゜⁠;) and a little comic (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Today, I will skip over the entire revolutionary war+whatever happened in the world in 1812, and we are nearing the 1820s. Um, no, actually over 1825... Cause in 1822 there is Monroe's doctrine with the whole "you don't mess with my stuff, I don't mess with yours,” a hands-off policy in South America, as a reaction to plans of the Holy Alliance (Austria, Prussia, Russia) to discuss matters at the Congress of Verona on the Spanish question. Like they wanted to restore Spanish rule over Latin American colonies that had declared their independence. AnOpinions of the former 13 colonies were not asked. The USA might have plans for LatAme, how could they??????!!!!!

Okay, I'll stop with the historical stuff. I got sidetracked. Sometimes I start to act like Philomena Cunk…

The portraits are in the appropriate style of grand manner for 18/19 century. Highly referenced Joshua Reynolds. They're unfinished cause I got bored. Sorry! (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

Anywho

Al and Ivan knew each other in the first half of the 19th century. They met and interacted; some points of friendship were gained. This is established, at least in my interpretation. After many times of proving his independence, Alfred is still being isolated by the Old World. Like they're aware of his existence and literally don't give a fuck about it. Many other things are happening on the continent; no time for new acquaintances. However, America wants to be included and to have friends!! So he is still stuck with his "sort of not fully an ally in independence war cause yknow we don't want the british to consider us as enemies too, so here are two ships if the shit hits the fan - use them" Ivan. A close neighbour from the north who started doing... something? in the icy part of the land (expansion, colonial adventure in Alaska). A BIG imperial monarchy with a good position in the Concert of Europe. Someone who probably knows a lot about diplomacy and other things on how to exist as a whole country. On the other hand, Russia isn't reluctant to have a nosy and too energetic creature around; of course, he is excited about a new friend. They see benefits in each other—"the whole world will open for me/I won't feel so lonely with him". Almost compatible with problems. This was probably curiosity at first sight. Major "why is that with him this way and not the other?" factor.

A hot new bombshell has entered the villa

The next bit might come across as too metaphorical and OOC. You've been warned.

Ivan sees Alfred (at least until the 1850s) as too nice, too innocent, and an overall pure being. A boy is so full of wonder and love for everything that it feels almost impossible. Ivan doesn't want that to change and is actually afraid of it happening, he tries to hold back Alfred from seeing the other harsh side of reality; nevertheless, Al wants to experience all - dirt, bliss, the world as whole. He doesn't want to be brought back to life, isolated from others.

After the 1850s, the situation changed. Ivan really appreciated Alfred's benevolent neutrality with the mess the Crimean War was; there is no secret in that. As a way of showing gratitude for it, he started inviting Alfred more frequently to his place. For tea, for hunts or even without a proper reason [yeah, it takes like a month to sail from one continent to another, inconvenient!]. And Alfred crushed. Real hard (regular oh, italicized oh). No other nation was treating him like that—"humanly". Everyone wanted something from him and wished for him to somehow change in a direction that was more beneficial for them. For Ivan, Alfred, as he was, was more than enough. America knew that he appreciated Ivan way before, but didn't give much thought to his feelings. He was capable of some sort of controlling it. However, now [as in the second half of the 19th century] Alfred cannot. He sighs too loud, looks too long, and smiles too much. Everything feels too much for him to handle. He tries to distract himself and pays attention to making new friends (cough the opening of Japan in 1853-1855 cough), but is still drawn to Ivan. However, the latter doesn't understand why America is suddenly more jumpy, more uneasy with him, and why his laughs are more strained. Although Alfred insists that everything is just peachy (he doesn't want to ruin this friendship with his weird feelings), Ivan's suspicion grows. He wants to know why but can't come up with a solution.

Their already interesting liaison transforms into more confusion.

And I consider hetamyu canon (cause musicals fill in all the missing plot points in manga, for me at least), sooo according to the second one, there was something peculiar between them (the infamous kiss scene).

Although I headcanon, at least for half of the 19th century, their friendship was childlike and mostly naïve. Ivan and Alfred are tall kids in diff ways. And I can absolutely imagine them playing tag or hide and seek. Though, this could have happened in any century.

In 1861-1865 they couldn't physically see each other (Alfred had to crawl in trenches), so their usual correspondence intensified (that sort of "absolutely not gay in any way" messages, like "my heart aches at the thought of your suffering, my dearest friend")...

Except for the late autumn of 1863 [the visit of the Russian fleet during the fall-winter of 1863-1864*]. Ivan paid for the first time in a while for a visit to New York (I like to think that Alfred stayed a lot of times in Saint Petersburg; however, Ivan wasn't that fond of travelling). Alfred was tired and pretty much beaten from fighting with himself; however, some obsessed excitement brought back his optimism for one night. At the ball they, as expected, danced a bit, and escaped to a more enclosed space from people and noise. Not much talking happened there; soothing silence at that time was needed. Of course Alfred was stressed because your own family literally wants to dismember you (don't know if I need to put a historical reference, but still—at the outset of the war, England and France supported the South. Napoleon III, with colonial designs on Mexico [Second Franco-Mexican War, 1861-1867], looked longingly on a divided United States, and British shipping interests were seriously affected by Lincoln's blockade of southern US ports, which led to the recognition of the Confederate states as belligerents. Russia supported the Union).

*I wanted to add here an actual fun historical fact! This “gesture” was interpreted by Americans as sympathetical move and overall a sign of “secret agreement” and Russia's protection of US Government (you can read about it further here: https://www.jstor.org/stable/25156012)

Not long after that, Ivan started viewing Alfred as more mature than he was before (Ame literally got torn apart in the Civil War, of course he boosted in character development).

I'll stop here (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

(They were literally bros before hoes....................)

I'll think about making other additions to this long list of headcanons about the start of the 19th century and, of course, the whole selling Alaska event.

For finishing reading this scientific paper-sized post, you'll get old sketches of Al (and Matt!!! Woah!!) in Victorian clothing.

trench coat buttoned to the TOP.

[kirbyluvr63]

need f1 fanfic recs

im SO fucking glad you asked!

im gonna give you some of my favs here and youll kinda notice a pattern, i guess! im about to expose my whole psyche in front of you.

first, one of my favorite ships is maxiel! but i particularly love anything that explores daniel's character specifically, so my first rec is an entry on Daniel Ricciardo's Internalized Homophobia Fic Fest!

heart's a mess by nunnit - just a great character study of internalized homophobia and trying to no-homo your way out of your own life until you lose the one guy you really loved. warning: there's a bittersweet ending! ships: Jenson Button/Daniel Ricciardo; Cyril Abiteboul/Daniel Ricciardo; Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Blake Friend; Daniel Ricciardo/OMC

Montreal Bounds by ellipsis99 - this one has a happy ending! daniel's in a complicated relationship with a guy who has a girlfriend and max makes him reconsider a bunch of stuff. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Scotty James; (brief Max Verstappen/Pierre Gasly)

pale green things by yekoc - historical fiction set during the tulip fever where jos is a rich tulip trader that commissions daniel to paint a portrait of max for his fiancee. yekoc is a GREAT author, i recommend anything by them! ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

glory, from a high rise by yekoc - speaking of, another BANGER from yekoc. daniel works at a bar and max is a neurotic alcoholic office worker who's also horny as all hell. there's some commitment issues involved as well. it's perfect. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

honorable mentions:

a body wishes to be held and held by CamilleDuDemon

All We Knew of Home by LoveLeah

mon voisin by kitversuskat

now, my second favorite ship, my actual favorite drivers on the grid and the ones i cheer for: galex! <3

table in the back by crescenteluce - if you love miscommunication you'll love this one, the dialogue is so precise like you can clearly see how one would misinterpret what the other is saying and at the same time you get why the other person didn't even realize a misunderstanding happened aaaaaaarrrrgghhhh it's a bit infuriating too but so so good. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

footnote in someone else's happiness by finedae - in this one george and alex kind of have a fucked up relationship... they break up so george can date women and fit in the box expected of him, but stays in touch with alex and alex has to, as the author put it themselves, keep things real. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by prettyrotten - this ones also crazy good and revolves around miscommunication.. i guess this is my favorite trope for them for some reason. george humiliates himself to keep his relationship with alex who just decides how george feels and makes things shitty for everyone. must warn you that i almost cried with this one, very angsty, but with a happy ending! ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

honorable mentions:

take care of you (take care of me) by ginnydear

Strike a Pose by amphibiangeorgerussell

carry you home (orphan work)

another ship that i adore is charlos! their dynamic is very interesting to me... between them and between ferrari and also i just like carlos and want to study him under a microscope. can't wait to find out how his chemistry will play out with alex once they're teammates tbh

In for a penny, in for a pound by chiliconcarlos - this one's the quintessential charlos fic; a required reading, if you will. charles gets drunk and hires an escort to accompany him at a wedding so he doesn't show up alone in front of his ex. he thinks he hired a female escort, but then carlos shows up and... the rest is history. just a very very good fic. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

the same as all those men by almondmilkk - idk about you but i'm obsessed with cowboys and this is THE cowboy au... carlos has a lot of repressed feelings and internalized homophobia and charles just doesn't give a fuck anymore, it's glorious. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) by choripan - if you like catholic guilt, this one's for you! there's a lot of religious imagery in this one and it's just... chef's kiss. charles and carlos meet at an abandoned church while on vacation at mallorca with their respective families. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

honorable mentions:

semiotic study by linearity

says he's gonna teach me just what fast is by foggystars

can't sleep 'til I feel your touch by chiliconcarlos

and now.... for my most deranged ship: george and lance. "WTF??" you may ask, and i say "don't knock it till you try it!" think of it this way: george is stuck up and hates himself a little and lance is just there and doesn't give a fuck and is the pillowest of princesses. unfortunately few see the vision so there isn't much, but i can't recommend enough Lesson Learned by bottomtxt who's also one of my favorite fanartist here on tumblr and the one who opened my eyes to this AMAZING ship dynamic! finger trap by rivalism is my other recommendation for this criminally underrated ship!

and this is it! i hope you'll enjoy it

ps.: sorry for taking a while but as you can see i was taking this very seriously and i had some college stuff to get done at the same time etc etc... feel free to keep talking to be about it, tho :)

[lilbeanz]

hello beanz, hope you're doing well! do you have any useless worldbuilding headcanons or jodt facts which are utterly useless or very mildly useful to the plot?

Hello lovely💗 I'm doing well, and I hope the same for you!

And gah! This is such a good ask! Definitely a thinker, too 🤭

The Useful Headcanons:

• The Wizarding World is called the Wixen World because fuck the patriarchy. (And yes, I realise both "wizard" and "witch" can be perceived as gender neutral, but typically, wizards are male, and witches are female (ugh👎))

• There are more magical schools than just eLEvEn, because as a wise man once said:

Take it from Hermione and Draco in GS,ch4:

“There’s around fifty in all of Europe,” Hermione began.

“Another fifty in Asia,” Draco carried on.

“Several in the Americas.”

“A handful of smaller schools scattered across the Pacific Islands.”

“And near a hundred in Africa.”

• Generally, wix are not homophobic, transphobic, or racist. Their prejudice problems revolve around blood and magical creatures.

Historically speaking, the Victorian era really fucked up Muggle society. And, yes, there was homophobic/racist ideology pre-Victorian era (1600s - 1700s), but by then, the magic and muggle world was already at odds with each other (Statute of Secrecy was eatablished in 1692) -- why would purebloods concern themselves with such trivial Muggle bigotry?

• Which leads me to my next worldbuilding point; Paganism. Traditional witchcraft and its influences on both the Wixen and Muggle worlds. Pureblood families are known to celebrate the Wheel of the Year -- equinoxes and solstices etc... Paganism existed before the statute and still exists into the Muggle world of course, which is how Muggles have wicca and the craft. Why Wiccan Muggles gather at Stone Henge for the summer solstice and all sorts. It just makes sense 🤌✨️

• Wolfstar. That's it. That's the whole bullet point. Just. Wolfstar.

• In Pureblood society, there is an unspoken hierarchy. The Malfoys' circle consisted of the Goyles, the Crabbes, and the Notts (and other notable Death Eater names), as well as the Parkinsons, the Greengrasses, and many other blood purist sympathisers.

Draco grew up with Greg, Vince, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo. The coming war will surely test the strength of childhood bonds...

• The divide between Draco and his father means Draco is becoming his own person as opposed to following in his father's footsteps. Draco finds himself striving to be a little more like his mother, and a lot more like himself.

The fire of rebellion flourishes inside him, but how far can he go before the flames grow out of his control?

The Not So Useful & Sort of Silly Headcanons:

• Crabbe and Goyle are not as thick as some people (*cough* Harry *cough*) perceive. Vince is a Transfiguration whizz-kid & Greg enjoys art.

• Pansy Parkinson falls in love very easily, but also very quickly moves onto her next meal -- ah, her next fixation.

• Mad-Eye Moody enjoyed a very relaxed year of his retirement from 1994 to 1995, with absolutely no home intrusions or attacks from dark wix.

• Lucius Malfoy has an unhealthy obsession with white peacocks. Especially his prized darling, Bartholomew Armand Malfoy the Third.

• Dobby has a cupboard specifically for storing all of his socks at Hogwarts.

• Professor Burbage had a groovy flower-power phase in the 70s.

• Harry sometimes finds himself talking to Draco's embroidered portrait on the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld Place.

• Erik, Nikolaj, and Katrina embark on a journey across America after graduating from Durmstrang. In their travels, they may discover many things...

I'm sure there's more! But here's what I can think of off the top of my head! 🥰💕

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 2 - Sub-Zero | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: You move in to the Targaryen home and begin training with Aemond | Word Count: 7.3k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general cock, sexism, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing

A/N: I want to apologise for the long chapter, but I don't think I will 😙

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

You want to say that the hardest part of moving away was the packing, but that wouldn’t quite be true.

The hardest part was looking out the car window and seeing Ellyn on the side of the road, waving you off with both hands, looking significantly more excited about the prospect than you were. You laughed at her enthusiasm and waved back, not wanting to admit that you were misty-eyed as the car had pulled away from your flat.

Everything you could stuff inside a suitcase had been shoved into the back of the car, and Rhaenys, despite how she may appear, was stronger than she looked and managed to haul it all into the boot. She was meeting with Baela and Rhaena that evening, renewing their contracts, so she couldn’t see you off either, which meant sitting in the back of the car the Targaryens had sent for you alone. To ponder in your thoughts, your thumb between your teeth, chewing at the nail nervously.

The entire ride to their home, you wondered if you’d done the right thing. After you had decided to go ahead with it, your phone exploded with an onslaught of text messages, some from good friends and some from people who had risen from the dead and hadn’t spoken to you in years. Perhaps trying to get in on some of the success that had managed to sweep your way.

The driver doesn’t make conversation the entire way there, at least until he pulls up to the electric gates that close off the long road up to the property.

“There is no need to be nervous,” he says, making you meet his deep brown eyes in the rear-view mirror. He wears a grey suit, with a cream-white undershirt beneath it. He has such dark hair and eyes, he could only be Dornish.

You force a reassuring smile to your face, trying to be convincing.

“Ms Hightower is very accommodating”

You cock your head, “Not Mrs Targaryen?”

His eyes meet yours again once the gate is completely open, revving the engine, “No” he simply replies, and you’re not able to see the rest of his face when he says it, but it must be stoic from the tone of his voice.

You watch as you lean over to the middle of the backseat as he advances down the long driveway, the house most obscured by trees until he gets closer. And when he does, the sight is quite something. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you gaze over the ivy-covered house, with several floors and historic windows. It is truly a sight to behold.

You’d laughed at Jace when he said it was their ancestral home, but now looking at it, you completely believe him. Who wouldn’t want to pass this beautiful home down to their children? You’re surprised actually that they’re allowing you to stay here for the duration of your contract and can’t help but wonder…if they usually do that.

Your look of awe continues even as the brown haired man helps you out of the car, closing the door behind you.

It’s all so grand, you sort of feel out of place in sweatpants, a jumper and trainers, a feeling that’s exacerbated as you step into the foyer of their home, your backpack heavy on your shoulders.

“Thank you…?” you smile politely at the brown-haired man as he brings your suitcase inside.

“Criston Cole” he nods, a smile never making its way on his face the entire time you’ve spoken to him, “I’ll take these to your room”

You’re not sure how he manages both the suitcase as well as the backpack you previously had, but he trudges them up the winding grand staircase anyway.

The foyer is clean, with a few pillars decorating the sides and large portraits adorned by golden frames embellished on the walls There’s several portraits of people you don’t recognise at all, all with that familiar platinum hair and pale eyes. The first is a woman, perhaps early twenties, who looks an awful lot like Helaena when you saw her at the schmoozing event, except this woman has sharper eyes and a stronger jawline, whereas Helaena has soft, kind eyes.

Your trainers squeak against the waxed floor as you pace to the next, the one you recognise as Viserys Targaryen, the famous Olympic judge, ousted from his position. He died several years ago. Alzheimer's. Something curls in your gut at the thought of the family dynamic, you could see him being a harsh father. The portrait right beside it is none other than the Sweetheart of Oldtown herself, Alicent Hightower. It’s clearly a recent-ish portrait, with age her lips had turned down into a frown, and the youthful innocence you had seen her have on TV had dulled somewhat into a motherly gaze. She still looked beautiful though, and you can’t help but feel sorry for the fact that her youthful carefree nature had been stripped from her much too soon.

And then there was the last portrait at the end. There were four little platinum heads, all of varying ages, but mostly all of them teenagers or less. Clearly the two stood were Aegon and Helaena, looking the closest together in age, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen in this particular painting, and all looking away from the observer. Seated on the floor, was another pale-haired child you don’t recognise at all, a book nestled in his lap. And then there’s the last, leaning against a chair, looking only around eleven or twelve. You have to admit, at first you don’t recognise him without the scar. But it must be him. Aemond.

He almost looks sad. All of them do.

“There you are” a pleasant, soft voice rolls through the foyer, stealing your attention from the portraits. It takes you a moment, but the auburn curls give it away. Alicent Hightower.

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

She approaches with a warm smile, immediately enveloping you in a motherly hug.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too long” she says with her arms on yours, her cosy brown eyes crinkling up with her smile.

“Oh no, it was fine, thank you”

“Did Ser Criston give you an earful?” she teases, laughing when she sees your panicked face, “I’m only joking. Ser Criston isn’t one for conversation”

So I see.

“Admiring the portraits?” she smiles, joining at your side to glance up at the portrait of the four pale-haired children.

You hum and nod, “Although, I don’t recognise him?” you point to the youngest.

“Ah, that’s Daeron, my youngest boy. He is in Oldtown at the moment training for his first championships. We will probably cross paths with him at some point when we go on our tour”

“Oh right” you reply. They all look so similar in this photo, when they were younger, “I almost didn’t recognise Aemond”

Alicent visibly stiffens, biting her lower lip only slightly, “I don’t blame you, child. He did look quite different before the accident. But the personality remains”

The accident?

You look at her, admiring the way her eyes glimmer seeing her children so young again, “Has he always…?”

She meets your eyes, an amused smile only half held back, “been difficult?”

You swallow anxiously, not wanting to offend. But it’s somewhat lifted when Alicent laughs breathily, “He was half Aegon’s size, but twice as fierce” she muses, “But now he towers over all of us, with the personality to match”

You bite your lip, “I can hardly wait to see them all skate, Mrs-”

“Alicent, please just call me Alicent” she smiles, turning towards the stairs “Now come, I’ll take you to your room. Ser Criston should have all your things in there. Are you hungry?”

You can’t help but smile the entire time you’ve spent in Alicent’s presence. For someone who was in the limelight and barraged by paparazzi all those years ago, she is surprisingly lovely. She takes you up to your new room, which, to be honest, renders you speechless for a long moment. It’s a lot bigger than any room you’ve had before, maybe even bigger than the entirety of the flat you shared with Ellyn. It has tall period-style windows, the colour neutral and cosy and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ready to jump into that Queen sized bed right now.

She quickly points out the rest of her children’s rooms a bit further down the hall, noting that Aemond’s room is across the hall to yours, but with the doors not directly in front of each other. A fact that gives you a little relief.

The kitchen is no different from the rest of the house, bright, airy and spotless.

At the breakfast table sits a woman you recognise as Helaena, her long wavy hair in a loose plait down her back. She’s flicking through a magazine twirling a spoon in her hand as she casually eats a snack, but her head flits up right into a smile once she hears footsteps and sees you.

Alicent smiles, “This is my daughter, Helaena”

She rounds the kitchen counter, and she either ignores your outstretched hand or doesn’t see it, but the air is knocked out of you when she pulls you into a hug that surprises you with its intensity.

She pulls away, a soft smile on her face, “It is so good to meet you!” she beams, “It’ll be nice to have someone else to skate with”

“Aw, thank you. I can’t wait to work with all of you”

Alicent smiles at the interaction, “Helaena does Pairs with Aegon”

And just like that, all the air seems to be sucked out of the room. Helaena’s expression falters and she briefly looks at her mother, exasperated, and then back at you, but now with a forced smile.

“Have you seen the ice rink yet?”

“Uh…no, I just got here really”

“Come on” she says excitedly, taking one of your hands, “I’ll take you”

You give a quick wave to Alicent who stands by in the kitchen, an unreadable look on her face as she watches her daughter pull you along. You weren’t sure what you were expecting in regards to family dynamics within a figure skating family, but it’s all becoming clearer by the second.

Once out of earshot, Helaena huffs, “I wish she wouldn’t say that as if it’s my whole personality”

She leans down to pull her trainers on, leading you out of the back door to their vast gardens. As expected, all mown and perfectly green.

You’re unsure if you should ask given that you only really just met, but you can’t help yourself, “I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no it’s not that, you didn’t say anything wrong” she interjects, crossing the gardens to the back of the property, across the cobblestoned path and swinging open the gates, “It’s just always business with Mum, it gets annoying that’s all”

You nod, “I can understand that”

“Are you parents the same?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite actually. But still…I get it. I'm sorry about your Dad by the way”

She pulls a face, "Don't be. Poor thing was suffering for far too long". When she responds like that, you kind of regret ever asking. It doesn't sound like they were close, or at least Helaena anyway. You wonder if it's any different with the boys.

You smile reassuringly at her, and she gives you one in understanding back, not pressing any further.

Behind the back of the property, largely obstructed by trees, is a building, looking very much like a sort of sports hall.

“Is all this yours?”

Helaena nods, pushing the door to let you inside, “Yep! It’s all private, so this is where we’ll be practising. Grandfather’s weird about us using public ice rinks”

You can’t find it in yourself to reply when you see the inside. For a private rink, it’s absolutely huge. Seems almost a waste for it to be only used by four people regularly.

“The gym is that way” Helaena points, “Aemond is usually there all morning. Me and Aeg prefer to sleep in a bit more”

At the mention of Aemond, your mood somewhat sours. Ever since first meeting him all those weeks ago at the schmoozing event, you can still see the self-assured, twatty look on his face.

I’m not sure you can handle it.

You’ll be eaten alive.

Irritation and, you hate it, but also self-consciousness eats at your insides at what he’d said. The idea of having to see him everyday. Work with him. It sends dread working its way through your veins, anger burrowing its way inside. Gods, he was such a dick.

“I know that look” Helaena smirks,

“What?”

“It’s the look Floris Baratheon had when she met Aemond for the first time”

You raise an eyebrow, “A common feeling then”

Helaena pulls a face, her lips forming a line, “He’s not really a people person”

“And I’m supposed to do Pairs with him”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better I am literally doing Pairs with my asshat of a brother”

You smile, “At least he’s your brother”

Helaena produces a box from a locker, looking excited, “This came for you from Rhaenys”

You keep forgetting that technically, Helaena and her family are related to Rhaenys in some way, so they knew of her already, being Viserys’ cousin.

She hands the box to you like it’s precious, and it definitely looks like it. It’s white with a ribbon tied around the middle. The note that’s nestled between it reads, ‘Good luck out there. R x’.

Excitedly, you pull off the knot, Helaena and you gasping in breathy unison when you see the most gorgeous pair of skates you’ve ever seen nestled inside. They’re just so brand new and shiny, that it almost seems a waste to use them for yourself. But nonetheless, you reach inside and adore their bright white leather fabric, smiling at the kindness of the gesture from your manager since they must have cost a small fortune.

“Gods, they’re gorgeous” Helaena beams, “Shall I go and get mine and we’ll skate?”

You nod excitedly, hardly wasting time and pulling off your trainers, eager to get back on the ice again.

You’re out on the rink before Helaena, the new skates slicing through the top layer of ice in such a satisfying way it tickles something comforting in your brain. Pushing off to go faster, you do several laps, leaning down to feel the sensation of the cold on your fingertips. Being out on the ice like this, outside the realm of competitions, it reminds you of why you love it. Feeling like you’re flying, gliding so effortlessly like you could be swimming through air, and the soft feeling of the air conditioning through your hair.

Helaena joins after a moment, with pale cream skates, and though you are both in the same industry it does strike you how different your styles are. Hers are precise, calculated, whereas yours, while you do have to judge your moves before you do them, it’s clearly not as well thought out. You chop it up to, realistically, her being from a figure skating family.

She even puts some music on, the tunes boosted through the speakers at either side of the rink. And after some time, showing one another your favourite moves, as well as the moves you don’t like so much, after saying you love how the two-foot spin looks, she rests her hands on her hips, insisting you show her.

So you do. And it’s such a nice atmosphere, that you don’t hold back. You do it as quickly as you can humanly do, making sure to do as Rhaenys instructed so you don’t get too dizzy. Finishing with an exit push with your arms stretched out.

“Floris couldn’t do that without going cross-eyed!”

You both gasp as the double doors slam shut, revealing a wide-grinned Aegon leaning lazily against the side of the rink.

“Bet you can’t do double lutz” Aegon smirks,

“Double lutz is for babies”

“Okay, triple then”

You roll your eyes, “I’ll need to gather some speed first”

Aegon chuckles, “It sounds like you’re making excuses”

Your gaze flits to the other blonde who has just walked in, who is so preoccupied looking down at the floor and pulling his hair into a loose bun that he hasn’t realised you’ve seen him.

Aemond.

You take Aegon’s challenge and push off on your skates, doing a few laps around the rink to gather the speed you need. The lutz, at least the double, is child’s play, and you’re pretty sure you could do that with your eyes shut. The triple requires an extraordinary amount of balance, practice and judgement. Not only the actual move itself, but the dismount needs to be smooth.

The only sound in the room right now is the low volume of whatever music Helaena had put on, and the crunching and cutting of the ice beneath your blades. Approaching backwards, you push off into the air, pulling your arms in for the spin, and dismount, arms outstretched for balance.

You’ll never get tired of that feeling. Ever.

Taking a steady breath, you ride the speed all the way to the edge of the rink, looking up at the two Targaryen brothers as you do. Aegon still has a lazy smile on his face while he mutters something quietly to Aemond, who in turn, doesn’t appear to be listening. Instead his gaze, stoic and borderline unreadable, is trained entirely on you.

He looks pissed. For what reason? You’ve no idea.

You don’t even attempt to hide the smirk on your face.

Aegon nudges his shoulder and it seems that sets him off, and Aemond hurriedly leaves before you get a chance to pull your trainers back on and make your way over. You feel your heart going fast in victory, adrenaline pumping through your veins at showing him that you’re not just an empty-headed girl with no real talent.

You would show him what you’re made of. Starting today.

Helaena furrows her brows, “What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s not wrong with him?” Aegon counters, watching as Aemond makes his way back to the house, “He’s always got a stick up his arse. Maybe that’s why he’s so tall”

As you all laugh your way back to the house for dinner, you see Aemond through the glass doors, leaning over the kitchen counter, looking less than enthused at a conversation he’s having with his mother, pinching the bridge of his nose at the same time.

He doesn't look up when the glass doors open.

"Mother, that smells divine" Aegon shouts obnoxiously loud, waltzing into the kitchen.

Helaena slaps the back of his head, "She didn't make dinner, dumbass"

"Stop it, you two and just sit down for dinner please" Alicent breathes, closing her eyes as if the mere presence of her two children has given her a migraine.

The two eldest Targaryens continue to bicker, the sound of them slapping each other harmlessly echoes through to the dining room. Before joining them, you meet Aemond's cold gaze.

He's still hunched over the counter, one finger rapping on the marble in barely-contained annoyance, even the muscle of his jaw twitches. Every bit of him is rigid, seething with anger or irritation. For a moment, his icy glare seems to pierce right through you, setting every hair on edge, like being caught in the headlights in the dark.

He can be a dick and devastatingly handsome at the same time. Right?

He doesn't say a thing and watches as you walk away to the dining room, his gaze following your movements. Alicent says something in a hushed manner to him, but you're too far away to hear it.

You take a seat next to Helaena at the end of the table as the food is all bought out. From this angle you see Otto Hightower arrive in the kitchen, sporting rather posh clothing once again, greeting his daughter with a kiss on the cheek, and barely greeting Aemond at all, simply nodding in his direction. They act more like colleagues passing each other, rather than family.

Gods, the dynamics just get weirder.

"Ah, you've arrived. I hope you are settling in well" Otto says as he enters the dining room. You stand from your chair, shaking his hand, seeing Aemond take his seat opposite Helaena.

"Thank you, yes, Helaena has been showing me the ice rink"

"She did a triple lutz" Helaena beams at her grandfather. This dynamic surprises you the most, as Otto manages a genuine smile at his only granddaughter.

Aegon has managed to shove food into his mouth already, earning a half-hearted slap off Alicent, "Triple axel next" he grins at you.

"Deal" you smirk, not missing the way Aemond sighs, subtly rolling his eye and turning away.

Otto sits beside Aemond, while Alicent takes up her presumably regular seat at the head, making you feel quite lonesome on your end, with a spare seat beside you and an empty one in front. Being sat within eyesight of Aemond no less.

The food is placed on the table, and then the staff pours some wine for everyone in attendance and takes their spots in the room, making it feel so much more formal than a simple dinner. It feels like a job interview, where you have to be careful about every little thing you say. Except the job interviewer is staring right at you, and you know that if they start writing something down, you’ve fucked up.

"Prayer before we begin"

You watch in semi-awkwardness as every member of the family sits in silence while Alicent does her prayer, her golden ring clad fingers intertwined on the table in front of her. Out of respect, despite not being so devout, you clasp your hands together, not quite able to bring yourself to close your eyes.

Aegon luckily sighs right afterwards, bending over the table to dish himself some food before passing it to Helaena, breaking the silence in the room.

After a moment, Alicent speaks, stabbing some salad with her fork, "So, my darling, how did you get into figure skating?" She asks you, seeming genuinely interested.

Willing the warmth at your cheeks to not give away how caught off guard and stared at you feel, you splutter a reply after taking a hesitant sip of wine, "Um, well, some of my family were - involved in skating"

She nods, "Oh I see. From what house?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Ah - of no notable family, I'm afraid"

The silence is deafening. And you swear you’ve never felt smaller in your life.

"I'm terribly sorry, do forgive me" Alicent immediately apologised, but you shake your head, looking down at your plate, stabbing a new potato and plopping it into your mouth.

"It's fine, really"

For a few moments, all that can be heard is the sound of cutlery scraping against the plates, which for some reason feels even louder in the grand expanse of the dining room. Aemond is eating slowly on purpose, spending a large portion of the meal with his good eye traced in your direction, and try as you might, it burns to be under his gaze for a long time.

"I understand you are close with Floris' sister, Ellyn I believe?" Alicent continues. It's nice that she's trying to make some effort in conversation, where everyone else feels too awkward to.

You nod, "Yes, we were flatmates"

"And how is Floris?"

"Doing well, I've been told. She'll need some months to recover entirely though"

Aegon scoffs, "She did do a number on it. Saw the whole thing happen, dozy bitc-ow!", Helaena slaps his arm in reprimand.

Alicent glares at her two eldest before turning back to you, "I am happy to hear Floris is doing well. I can't say how happy we are to have you with us" she smiles.

Aemond makes the only sound you've heard him make all day.

He laughs. A half-hearted chuff, coupled smug smile.

Your eyes narrow on him.

"Something funny?" You ask. His amused face turns to meet yours, his fork clattering on his plate. He leans back in his seat, legs stretched under the table, invading the space around him.

"No. Nothing"

"You laughed"

"No, it's just-"

"Just what"

At your lowered tone, his eye really does meet yours. His expression of amusement falters just for a second, before pressing his lips together, the muscle in his jaw tightening.

"Just be interesting to see how you handle it. It's a lot of pressure" he hums, "might be difficult, for someone of your background"

You bite your lip. The words echo once again, making your grip tighten on your fork. His voice is so patronising, you want to climb over the table and slap his stupid nepo-baby fucking face. Otto visibly bristles next to him, trying to appear as if he isn’t hearing a word.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern" you reply flatly.

"Floris couldn't handle it"

"Well, it's a good job my name isn't fucking Floris isn't it"

Silence.

You and Aemond stare at each other like it's a competition. He bites his lip, as if wondering what to say next, his pupil dilated so wide you can barely see the blue there. The expression he wears is difficult to decipher, but eventually he yields, his eye flicking down to his plate.

Fuck this.

You stand up, looking at Alicent, trying to calm your breathing, "May I be excused, I'm just tired from travelling"

Alicent nods quickly, wanting to dispel the tension, "Of course, my darling"

You don't need to be told twice, you shift past Helaena and Aegon, right into the hallway, feeling the hot frustration behind your eyes. And all you hear is Aegon mutter, 'nice one, bro' before you're out of earshot.

With your blood roaring in your ears with rage, you barely remember slamming the bedroom door and shedding all your clothes. It was there, underneath the steady stream of warm water in the en-suite shower that you begin to reflect on what Aemond had said, the hot spread of embarrassment in your chest reminding you of his harsh words.

He is so fucking rude. Classist. Nepo-baby. Arrogant. A dash of sexism perhaps?

And an all round dickhead.

Though you feel a little bad for disrupting dinner, you just couldn't allow yourself to tolerate that. And judging by the heightened tone of Alicent’s voice downstairs, she wasn’t going to either. He seemed a bit taken off guard that you'd even said something back. Perhaps Floris hadn't been so…intolerant and bitey.

And you're supposed to have a routine with him. Wake up, work out, practise with him for several hours a day. It's literally written in your contract that you have to see this man.

You sit on the bed, towel around you, for an obscenely long time, with your hair wet around your shoulders now starting to frizz up. The warmth of the shower you just spent a small lifetime in is still warming your bones, but more than anything, dread creeps in, stealing it and leaving a cold sensation behind. One that makes you a little homesick, or just desperate to see someone familiar.

Your phone pings (surprisingly given the Targs seem to live in the middle of nowhere so you're making do with 3G) and you can't help but grin at the texts.

What a golden retriever of a man.

Ellyn also seems to have you on the brain as well, following up with a text only a few minutes later. Is everyone fucking talking about you?

She's so sweet it's gross.

You break a small smile at their chirpy text messages. Realistically you could text Rhaenys, tell her everything that's happened, she'd waste no time in coming to the rescue.

But it would also mean letting her down. Letting yourself down.

Letting Aemond win.

And that wasn't going to fucking happen.

Words can't describe how much you didn't want to pry yourself from the cosiest bed you've ever slept in. But needing to pee, being hungry and also the alarm on your phone signalling that it was 04:30 in the morning, unfortunately all would work in favour of finally getting up.

It doesn't even really bother you waking up early anymore. In the beginning it was torture, having to be awake so quickly and then straight in the gym and the ice for training. Several times Rhaenys had to drag you from your bedsheets in the morning, back in the early days.

But now, as you brush your teeth and wash your face, pulling on some semblance of sportswear to begin your training day, it feels more difficult than usual to get ready, knowing that he is going to be there as well. Skating with you. Having to touch you.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment’s fucking reprieve in this household as you close your bedroom door and are greeted by the sight of Aemond’s bedroom door wide open. He’s sat, fully clothed in black on an armchair, pulling a pair of shoes on. The short sleeves show just how muscly his arms and shoulders are as it sticks to him like a second skin, whereas before you weren’t able to see.

Since he's leaned over, several strands have made its way out his loose silver bun, hanging straight before his face. That as well as the silver chain that sways over the rounded collar of his shirt.

A part of you is intrigued to see what such a tall, lithe man looks like on the ice. Would he be graceful, despite his stature?

Hearing your bedroom door open, he looks up, double tying the shoes he was wearing. When your eyes meet, he visibly pushes his top and bottom teeth together in annoyance, as if she's just desperate to say something. His breathing noticeably heavier at having seen you.

You want to say something.

To tell him how much of a dick he is.

How he made you feel.

But you assume he must know this already and yet continues in the way that he acts. That’s almost the worst part about it.

You swear his eye looks you up and down. Right from your feet, over your middle, chest and then back to your face. Not a quick motion either. It was calculated. Taking in the very clothes you’re wearing, which isn’t anything special, just the sportswear you always wear when training. Now, with your arms and chest on show in the tank top and skin tight leggings, you feel very on show. Judged almost.

Your gut swirls with nerves all of a sudden, and you swallow whatever saliva you had in your mouth and turn away from him finally with a sigh. Each foot heavily trudging down the stairs. You manage to make it to the kitchen, leaning against the counter nursing a glass of orange juice in an effort to wake yourself and also to psych yourself up for working with Aemond for the first full day. Usually waking up early doesn’t bother you, but with the dread and nerves, your eyes feel heavy and itchy.

Aemond shuffles into the kitchen not a few minutes later, making a point of slipping narrowly past you along the kitchen to fill up his water bottle. The silence between you both is exaggerated by the trickling of water into his cup, and the sound he makes when he takes a few heavy sips, making you feel as if you have lead in your stomach.

In your periphery you see him, tall and slender in the middle, his head tipped back and throat bobbing as he drinks almost the entirety of the bottle in one go. You realise you’re staring when he brings it from his lips, his good eye making contact with yours, before refilling his water bottle again.

“Regretting the partnership?” he asks without looking at you.

Your cheeks burn at having been caught staring, so you flit back to your glass of orange juice, tapping the glass nervously, “Be lying if I said no”

He laughs through his nose, “Hm”

He can’t hum. That’s my thing.

“I can tell” he starts, to which you throw a pointed glare, “If a look could kill I’d be dead by now” Aemond muses, not doing a good enough job of not smiling, with the way his lips almost naturally curl upwards.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an rude, insufferable dick, I’d be more inclined to tolerate you”

He pushes his lips together, your quip only making him smirk even more, which he tries to hide by sipping some more water.

You shake your head, muttering under your breath, "Fucking nepo-baby"

And just like that, the air feels cold and he places his water bottle down on the counter with more force than you anticipated, "Don't call me that"

His jaw is tense. His eye serious.

Victory and pride swell in your head.

"Oh, have I touched a nerve?"

"Fuck off"

"So it's alright if you're a classist prick, but it's not okay when it's the other way around?"

"Shut u-"

"Gods, please" Aegon interrupts, walking groggily into the kitchen, wearing loose sportswear and carrying dark purple circles under his eyes, "Fucking hell guys, I walk in here and it drops a few degrees" he murmurs tiredly, propping up a foot to tie his laces.

You and Aemond never break your stare the entire time, and you feel your grip so tight on the glass, you're surprised it's not broken apart. He does as the same, a white knuckled grip on the edge of the counter, as if he is aching to say more.

He takes a noticeable deep breath and slips away from the counter, swinging the water bottle on one finger, "Be on the ice in 5" he says flatly, stepping out the glass doors to take the path down to the sports hall.

Once he's gone, the atmosphere lifts significantly and you feel for once you can breathe. You're only bought out of a trance when Aegon chuckles,

"He should apologise"

Slowly, you look over at Aegon, who is sat on the sofa, elbows rested on his knees.

"He should" you reply, "But I have a feeling he won't"

Aegon bites his lip looking away, confirming that you're right.

Having had enough of talking about him, you changed the subject, downing the rest of the juice and going to the sink to wash the glass.

"Forgive me if this sounds…judgemental" you start, "but you don't look like the figure skating type"

Aegon smirks, "You'd be right, all judgement aside, I'm not really the type"

“Then why are you in it?”

He shrugs, tugging his sweatpants over his hips a bit higher, “Family thing. Have to”

You don’t say it to him now, but you can’t help but think that’s a bit sad. That Viserys and Alicent’s children might feel pressured to be in the same business as her, just because of their family name.

“Don’t pull that face. Women love it” he smiles, “It’s half the reason I do it”

“For the women?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, they think guys in figure skating are sweet and sensitive, or something”

You laugh half-heartedly, “I’m not sure if that’s true for either of you”

Aegon grunts as he pulls himself to sit on the counter, “I don’t go for girls in figure skating. Too smart for the likes of me”

“I think that was a compliment?” you smile at him, to which he rolls his eyes.

Checking the time, you start to make your way out the glass doors.

“For the record” Aegon calls from the counter. You look back, half over the threshold, “That was the best triple lutz I’ve seen”

You smile at him, nodding in thanks.

“Except when I do it of course” he adds, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Goodbye, Aegon”

“Enjoy training with your favourite person!”

You don’t respond to that as you step to the back of the house, trailing the path you had done with Helaena only the day before, heart going fast with nerves and anticipation. The air conditioning of the sports hall hits you immediately, making goosebumps erupt on your arms, but you know you’ll just get warm as you train.

On the edge of the ice rink, Otto Hightower stands on the outside, hands behind his back as Aemond tends to do when stood still, watching his second grandson as he skates. Your feet halt in their tracks once you see a flash of white hair on the ice, flitting by your vision with such speed that it almost makes you question for a moment if it was real.

Otto coaches him from the side lines, instructing him on perfecting certain moves. But honestly, sometimes he needn’t bother. For such a tall, lithe man, he skates across the ice with such sharpness but also grace that it shocks you into a frozen stance, just observing.

You watch as Aemond builds speed, skating backwards, one foot lifted to start his Triple Lutz, the same move he saw you do the previous day with Helaena, he lifts his body with ease and lands with his long limbs outstretched. He does a few more moves at the advice of his grandfather, until Otto realises you are stood there. And it’s when Aemond looks over at you, slightly out of breath, gliding across the ice, that the illusion breaks, but not enough to lift your gaze from his broad chest.

“Good morning” Otto greets, only turning his body slightly.

You nod to him, blinking the trance away, “Morning”

“How did you find the routine?” he asks, referring to the video he’d sent, highlighting the routine you would practise with Aemond today. It was fairly standard, no lifts, (at least for the time being), something you could easily do. As expected with Pairs figure skating, there’s a lot of contact, which given how you and Aemond started the day, is making your stomach reel a little.

“Yeah looked all good to me”

“Wonderful. Shall we begin?” Otto smiles, barely visible beneath his beard, but you nod anyway.

Once you have your skates laced, you stand by the side lines, threading your hair through your fingers to get the majority of the hair out your face and into a ponytail, with only a few pieces too short and sitting by your jaw. You sigh, almost not wanting to acknowledge Aemond’s presence as you pause in the middle of the rink, where the routine begins.

To say Aemond wears all black, his ice skates are white, contrasting almost perfectly with his platinum hair which is still loose in a bun. And you notice all too well the closer he gets as he skates behind you that he is extremely tall, which of course you’d noticed before, but being in such forced proximity, it’s all the more obvious.

You both get into position, standing straight in front of him, his body behind you not quite touching. His hand slips between your waist and your arm, resting on your middle, his touch briefly brushing over your bare arm. If you didn’t have goosebumps before, you did now. Pairs always felt a bit…close. And you’d never done it professionally, but had dabbled before, so you at least know this is normal.

You put your hand over his, mirroring the stance you’re supposed to start with, your other hand behind your back. His hand and yours moves with your breathing against your ribs, and with his fingers splayed out, his hand is so large it covers a large portion of your torso. And you don’t quite know, but despite his god-awful attitude, the sheer closeness and intimacy of it has warmth pool in your stomach. But you blame it somewhat on nerves.

The music is classical, as are most of the Targaryen’s routines. And slowly you and Aemond skate, trying to avoid eye contact the entire time. It’s only a two minute routine, and yet it feels long. You didn’t know what to expect, but Aemond is strictly professional about it. He doesn’t say a word and is calculated and rigid about his movements, without any facial expression to give away what he’s really thinking as your hands join in several of the moves. And true to the rest of him, his hands are soft, the fingers long, his chest fairly broad, arms subtly well-muscled and legs that go on for days.

Not that it matters. The attitude on him is enough of a turn off.

Otherwise, he’d be an attractive guy.

The last proper move you do, is where he picks you up and throws you into a triple spin, not unlike the triple lutz, landing on one foot. And so as you both gain speed, gliding from one corner of the ice to the other, both his hands brace your waist as you skate backwards, applying the smallest amount of pressure that still makes you flush. It’s all very quick, and he lifts you with your help, spinning you just enough that you gain momentum and speed in the air, landing on one foot and dismounting as smooth as you can. You wobble a bit on the dismount, having not been flung in a while and you screw your face up, not entirely happy with the outcome.

After finishing the routine in the same position, Otto calls, “Very good. The dismount needs a little work, but I think you know that”

You nod, skating towards him, away from Aemond, who remains on his spot for a moment. You can’t help but feel the burn of his continued gaze on the back of your head though.

As you lean on the wall, Aegon and Helaena materialise from behind him, since they must be starting their own routines soon.

“Yeah, apart from looking like they want to murder each other it was great” Aegon muses, carrying his skates in his hand and flashing a look to Helaena. She presses her lips together, trying to not laugh out loud.

Otto is quiet for a moment, before nodding his head, “Well I shall leave you all to it. I need to speak to your mother” he turns to you, “I shall leave you in Aemond’s capable hands”

He doesn’t even wait to see the fallout, insisting on leaving this tense atmosphere as soon as possible and ducks out through the doors where he came in. You sigh, turning, almost bumping your chest right into Aemond not realising he was there. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue in what you observe is pure annoyance.

“Right” he says finally, “Spins”

Charming.

You nod wordlessly, getting into position and crossing your ankles, into something akin to a ballet stance, all while Aegon and Helaena are practising on the other end of the rink, the music playing loud enough to mask the sound of their skates. Aemond stands behind you, hand on hips observing, and you’re about to go into the third spin when he steps forward to your back.

“You need to keep your back straight,” he comments in a low tone.

He pushes his fist square in the middle of your back, his other hand tugging one shoulder gently back to improve your posture. The entire notion happens so quickly that it genuinely catches you off guard, and you pray to all the gods that exist that he didn’t hear the tiny gasp that came out of your mouth. It just slipped out so involuntarily, now your face is starting to burn.

“Better” he says.

When he steps away, you move your shoulders, readjusting. But the burn where his hands had been didn’t disappear.

The fluttering feeling that erupted in your gut when he’d first placed his hand over your middle, hadn’t faltered. Not even a little bit.

And finally, your head, that felt as if it were filled with cotton, was whirring a million miles an hour at the closeness between you.

You thought maybe it would disappear after a few hours.

But you were more mad at yourself, that it didn’t seem to.

Bold means I couldn't tag!

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[dresshistorynerd]

Ranking Men's Costumes in Period Dramas - Part II: The Good

Part I: The Bad

This is the second part to my ranking of men's costumes in Renaissance period dramas. I selected 10 shows and films which I think have great costuming for the female characters and ranked them according to their costumes for male characters. I have noticed that even when women's costuming is great, men's costuming might be absolutely dog shit. And that's very much what we saw in the first part, where I ranked the five worst entries. For some reason shows and movies are afraid to put men, especially the characters who are supposed to be cool, manly and hot, into historical costumes. And I'm not even asking for historical accuracy, I just don't want my male characters living in the actual 1500s in basically modern leather jackets and pants. Like I don't watch period dramas for vaguely historically inspired modern fashion, I watch it for the historical setting, which costumes help create. This time we will be looking some rare gems that actually imo have really good costuming even for the male characters. For the five best entries, we'll go from worst to best.

5. Eizabeth R (1971)

Elizabeth R is incredibly committed to historical accuracy in it's outfits, especially for queen Elizabeth herself, many of her costumes being directly recreated from her portraits. It covers the whole reign of Elizabeth, so this commitment is especially admirable as the timeline is more than 40 years, including a stark shift in fashion from less structured and more toned down Tudor fashion to the extremes of the highly structured Elizabethan fashion. It's not perfect, The hair is not always great and like many others they fail at French hoods, though they are not upward pointing or pseudo crowns detached from the hood, so could be much worse.

The men's costumes are also very good. They are faithful to history, they wear stockings, very short trunk hose, ruffs and even have some structuring in their doublets and jerkins. However, the reason this is not higher is that the men's costumes especially, but also many other costumes beside Elizabeth's are looking a little sloppy. There's some structure yes, but the men's silhouettes are just not bold enough and they end up looking a little costumy. Even the codpieces are shrunk so small I'm not even sure if they are there half the time. Cowardice. Here's two Robert Dudley's costumes and an actual portrait of him. I think the second costume is probably an attempt at recreation of that portrait, but it's just kinda halfway there.

4. Taming of the Shrew (1967)

This film is set in Renaissance Italy, the women's costumes fit well to 1520s-30s. They are honestly really great and cohesive. My only gripe is that their bodices have a very 1960s shape and the make-up is a little distractingly modern. But the costuming is not attempting to recreate historical accuracy, rather they took the historical silhouette and basic elements and crafted a very over the top but cohesive look. I honestly love these very much.

An interesting choice is made with the men's costuming, especially the main male lead, whose costume is based much more on the Renaissance German men's fashion of that period. His costumes resemble the over the top fashion of the German Landsknecht (first image below). In Italy (second image below) the doublets were also very voluminous and quite colourful but not to that extent as by the Landsknecht and literally no one, not even the other Germans, rocked that slashed style as hard.

This is not really criticism though. In fact I respect that choice a lot. His costumes are certainly not historically accurate, but they do fit the bombastic aesthetics of the overall costuming, they are loud, large and not afraid to fuck around. This man oozes sex-appeal much more than any character with some modern plain black pants and leather jacket. This is how you costume a Renaissance man who fucks.

3. Tulip Fever (2017)

I am stretching the definition or Renaissance here a bit, I admit. This movie is set during the 1630s tulip mania, by which point the remnants of Renaissance fashion had already been left to the previous decade. However, I do think most of the movies and TV set in Baroque era also struggle with the men's costumes. Though not as much, because black was fashionable for everyone, the cod piece was gone, trunk hose were replaced by more palatable Venetian hose, fashion was much more stripped down from embellishments, leather was not uncommon in jerkins and appeared even in doublets and hose and the Hollywood's beloved boots became actual fashion items. The men's silhouette in this period is very silly in my opinion and people seem to agree because it's usually skipped in costuming, but overall the period seems to fit modern masculinity standards much more easily than Renaissance era.

But I just really wanted to include this because the costuming is absolutely stunning (and let's be honest we are a bit desperate here trying to find 5 actually good examples). I have not watched the movie and probably never will because the post production was an absolute mess and it apparently came out as just a very bad movie, which is a shame, since the costumes are so good. The ruffs are perfectly crispy. The buttons are dense and look just right. The shoes, both boots and otherwise are so on point. The fabrics are honestly perfect. The silhouettes are just as goofy as they are supposed to be. And the women too have perfect silhouettes. All the details are just simply perfect. You rarely find costuming this meticulously created with historical details and great construction.

Honestly these top three could all be the best one. This final order was decided purely on which costumes I like more. And while I love the women's fashion of this period, I think the men's fashion is kinda stupid and boring, so I don't like these costumes on aesthetic level as much as the top two.

2. Romeo and Juliet (1968)

This movie is a perfect counterpart to the movie with the worst men's costuming which I talked about in the first post, Rosaline. They are both set in Italy around very end of 15th century and retell Romeo and Juliet. Both have very good costuming for female characters but obviously I think differ greatly in the male character costuming department. Romeo and Juliet costuming takes some artistic liberties to create a heightened reality quite similar to Taming of the Shrew costuming, but follows history much more closely. The colors are bright, the hose are tight, the giorneas are voluminous, the sleeves are long and massive and the cod pieces are prominent. Even the hair is perfect, even for women, they even use hairnets. I imagine the men's hair was quite easy to get right as hairstyles in 60s and 70s were basically lifted directly from 1400s Italian men's hairstyles. The men are even wearing appropriate goofy hats??? Amazing.

The costuming perfectly captures the era, but they still clearly had fun with it too. Honestly even though I appreciate the meticulously recreated historically accurate costuming, like in Tulip Fever, I tend to like more costuming that does take some artistic liberties to create a distinct look and atmosphere for the movie or TV show. There's some small things they don't get quite right, like having standard lacing instead of ladder lacing, metal eyelets (which would become a thing as late as in 1830s) and most egregiously Juliet in one scene has this very dumb supportive undergarment without even shift under it (first picture below)?? The outer garments were supportive during this era, there was no such thing as supportive undergarment which was any different from the outer kirtle (or gamurra in Italy). Shift was the only truly undergarment. But I will forgive these errors because the costuming is overall so fun and gorgeous. And they did get some details so so right, like look at Romeo's arming doublet (second picture below)! It has Lombardian sleeves!! This was a very specific style of arming doublet for this era and place. However those errors does prevent it from taking the first place. Which leads us to...

1. Orlando (1992)

This movie has Tilda Swinton in flamboyant Elizabethan men's clothing. That's all.

Okay, I that is all that needs to be said, but I will say more. This movie spans centuries and shows excellent costumes from several different periods, but I will focus on the Elizabethan costumes only for the sake of this post. The costuming is not super historically accurate in all the detailing, and clearly not trying to be, but it is always impeccable. Even while it takes artistic liberties and the story has an immortality fantastical element it still captures the men's fashion's silhouette much better than any other movie or TV show I know of set in this period. It does that better than the "we recreated these portraits" Elizabeth R. But what really makes this the best in my humble opinion, is that the movie is not afraid of the effeminate and emasculated modern perception of Renaissance men's fashion, no, it leans into it and uses it to explore the themes. The whole story is very much about gender and gender fuckery. Tilda Swinton plays the titular Orlando who is a cis man in Elizabethan era, becomes inexplicably immortal and later inexplicably turns into a woman for the rest of their several centuries. He is the embodiment of "I'm not sure if they are a butch or a twink" and as a bisexual I can only be grateful. But in all seriousness I think the costuming and the casting (queen Elizabeth is also played by a male actor) are so perfectly utilized to highlight the arbitrary construction of gender without needing to say it explicitly.

Conclusion

I have some closing thoughts. I took on this task as a way to show a point, which is that for some reason in Renaissance shows and film especially men's costuming is piss-poor, even when women's costuming is great. Male characters tend to have very bad costuming in Medieval media too, though this is also an issue for female characters. I don't think I have ever seen a Medieval show or movie with truly excellent costuming for anyone. In Renaissance media the issue is clearly not lack of skill or knowledge, they choose to do so. My thesis was that the producers think that the Renaissance men's fashion is too effeminate and too unsexy for the Hot Very Heterosexual Male Lead, who the mostly female audience are supposed fawn over like the female characters do. After the analysis think my hypothesis holds up.

Though there's an interesting trend I only noticed while doing this ranking; every entry (except the least bad) in the worst five list are from 21th century, and every entry (except Tulip Fever which is a little bit cheating anyway) in this best five list are from 20th century. I have some theories on why it turned out this way. First is that the studios have become increasingly more concerned with growing profits so they don't take risks and they put pressure on movies and TV shows to be as broadly appealing as possible. This means they can't just make period dramas for the core audience of period dramas, aka mostly women who are history nerds, so they pander to the modern sensibilities in costuming and not to the people who love to see actual historical costuming. Secondly, I think this might also tie to the broader conservative backlash against loosening of gender roles and broader queer acceptance. Among the core audiences of period dramas there are two distinct groups, queer nerds and conservative women, who don't want politics in their media, which is why they love historical stories because obviously queerness wasn't invented yet and people of colour didn't exist yet (they were and did). (They are ofc not always this extreme, but you get the point.) As men wearing dresses has become a culture war issue, I think the studio executives are afraid that anything not masculine enough in modern standards might alienate the more conservative audiences, and more broadly those who don't want to feel like they are engaging with modern political culture war topics in their escapist media. Even if they knew about the queer nerds, they wouldn't care about them and assume they will go along with it anyway. After all not challenging modern gender roles is not seen as an active choice, it's the default.

This bears repeating: cowards.

As a thank you for reading all the way to the end I will leave you with the image of Tilda Swinton in mid 1600s men's clothing. You are welcome.

Part I: The Bad