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namelessdumbass · 7 months ago

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Ultimate Nameless Ghouls guide

Nobody asked for it, but why the hell not?! Warning: looooong text, silly descriptions, shit ton of links and silly collages (sorry, tumblr only allows 30 pictures per post)

Happy reading!

4 Papas, 5 eras, different cool looks. There were a lot of changes, loooooots of Ghouls, but it's not as compicated as it may seem. There are many ways to tell them apart: -by the way they are placed on stage -their alchemic symbols (check out my Meliora guide where i shed more light on this topic) -their height and body types -body language -their instruments -jewellery -date of the photo/video (mhm) Let's start from the very beginning!

Opus Eponymous era (October 23, 2010 - december 15, 2012)

(from left to right: Omega, Earth #1, Lake/Water #2, Alpha/Fire #1 in front and Air #1) There were only 5 Ghouls: Fire/Alpha, Quintessence/Omega, Chain/Water (later Lake), Earth #1 and Air #1. Since 2011, Ghouls were placed in certain areas on stage: Quintessence and Earth on Papa's right, Water in the middle, Air and Fire - on Papa's left.

Alpha aka Fire Ghoul #1

Lead guitar. Had fire sticker on his white-n-black Gibson RD. Skilled motherfucker. Taller than Papas, looked bigger in first 2 eras. Was a bit reserved in era 1, but became quite active and naughty in era 2. Has blue eyes, started to wear a ring in era 2 and got tattoos in era 3. If you see a ghoul who often shows a peace sign - that's Alpha :) Hangs out with Omega, River, Delta, Pebble and Mist on stage. Enjoys attention, quite popular among fans. Can speak Italian, has strong accent. Joined in october 2010, left in november 2016.

Omega aka Ether/Quintessence Ghoul #1

Rhythm guitar, black Gibson RD with Omega sticker. Tall, stompy, was quite confident from the very beginning, graceful hand movements (trust me, you won't confuse him with any other ghoul). Has cutest laugh. The Perfect Ghoul™. Has beautiful eyes, chunky silver rings, is the reason the Ghouls got their alchemic symbols. Papa III's favorite Ghoul, that's why he was always praised and his butt was always touched/smacked during Year Zero solo by Terzo :) Did interviews in era 2 (sometimes together with Alpha or Special Ghoul) and 3. Joined in october 2010, left in july 2016 :(

Chain aka Water Ghoul#1

Bass. Mysterious and metal AF, wore a chain as a belt and painted black bones on his hands, had Grucifix on metal necklace (which was later worn by Omega after Chain left). Was quite active and actually the shortest ghoul of era 1. Joined in october 2010, left in early 2011.

Earth Ghoul #1

Drums. Had no other specific name. Tall (same height as Omega), slim, has blue eyes. Despite being in Ghost for like 4 years, is soooo underrated. There's not much we know about him. The only earth ghoul of Ghost who did an interview (together with Alpha). Was simply amazing! Joined in october 2010, left in 2014.

Air Ghoul #1

Also had no specific name. Synthesizer, keyboard and keytar. The tallest ghoul (a bit taller than Omega), dark eyes. Modest, very calm, didn't move much. Loved showing horns and stared at fans sometimes. Had badass Mummy Dust solo . Joined in 2011, left in november 2016 Lake aka Water Ghoul #2

Bass. Joined in 2011 after Chain left. Middle height, dark eyes. Quite calm. Played two different guitars in era 1. Had cool black lenses in era 2, wore a ring sometimes. Also quite underrated. Fun fact: Remember Year Zero mv when Secondo flashes us? Well, it was this Water in Papa's chasuble, not Tobias :) Joined in 2011, left in 2014.

Infestissumam era (december 15th 2012 - June 3, 2015)

(from left to right: Earth #1, Omega, River, Air #1, Alpha) How are Ghouls placed on stage? Same way as in Opus era. Same Ghouls, different outfits and masks. Their alchemic symbols became more visible and ghouls opened up more on stage. There was only one change of the lineup: Lake left in 2014 and was replaced by River. River aka Water #3

Bass. Middle height, dark blue eyes. Was quite chaotic and weird onstage. Held his bass in a suggestive way, humped it sometimes. Interacted with Alpha a lot, was a bad influence. Definitely had fun on stage, enjoyed attention. See a ghoul with wide-legs-stance? Yeah, that's him! The tallest of the Water Ghouls. Joined in 2014, left in 2015 (before Meliora era began).

Meliora era (june 3, 2015 - september 30, 2017)

(from left to right: Omega, Pebble/Earth #2 behind him, Delta/Water #4, Air #1, Alpha) Placed on stage? Same way as in previous two eras. This is when a lot of changes happened. In 2015, Fire, Quintessence and Air Ghouls were the same, but Earth#1 and River left and Delta and Pebble were introduced.

Delta aka Water#4

Bass. A bit shorter than Papa III, cute, has blue eyes. No visible tattoos or rings. Skilled, filled in for Apha and Omega (and also played his guitar!) couple times for a few rituals and acoustic shows. Loved interacting with Alpha and Pebble on stage. Became Quintessence Ghoul in july 2016 when Omega left, played rhythm guitar. Joined in June 2015, left in november 2016.

Pebble aka Earth#2

Drums. Despite being the shortest and smolest in the band, played the shit out of drums. Was the most active Earth ghoul of Ghost. A show off. Loved interacting with fans. Played a brief solo before Stand by Him. Had a ring, his mask looked a little bit too big for him. Slim, light green eyes. Loved interacting with Alpha and Water. Joined in June 2015, left in november 2016.

In july 2016 Omega left Ghost, Delta took his place and Mist, the first Ghoulette of Ghost, played bass. Mist aka Water #5

Bass. Tiny, has blue eyes, a tattoo and ring on her finger. Cute as hell. Was quite calm and modest. Loved by fans. Her mask looked too big for her. Same could be said about the bass. Joined in september 2016, left a the end of Popestar tour in november 2016.

In 2017 all of the former ghouls and Mist left and the new pack of Ghouls was introduced. All of them (except for Mountain) were +- same heigh as Terzo, so identifying them isn't hard.

Ifrit aka Fire Ghoul #2

Lead guitar. Hyperactive, full of energy, jumps, spins and moves a lot on stage. Papa III's hype man. Loved interacting with fans, gestures a lot. The ghoul that can't stand still. Has blue eyes, no visible tattoos or rings. Ray of sunshine (no really, he's very sweet). Quite popular among fans. Loved interacting with Zephyr, Aether and Dewdrop. Joined in march 2017, left in september 2017

Aether aka Quintessence #3 aka Banana ghoul

Rhythm guitar. A bit taller than Ifrit and Papa III. Loves bananas. Has dark eyes, bracelets and a ring. No QE sticker on his guitar. Beefy, friendly. Also spins, dances and jumps a lot on stage. Was present in Terzo, Cardinal and Papa IV eras. Interacted with all of the Ghouls on stage. Was Cardinal's favorite Ghoul. Was bullied by Sodo, but also annoyed him too sometimes. He and Sodo had pre Cirice guitar battles. Did backing vocals in Prequelle and Impera (in 2022) era. Joined in march 2017, left in may 2023.

Dewdrop aka Sodo aka Water #6 aka Fire #3

Bass and lead guitar. Present in Papa III, Cardinal and Papa VI eras. A bit shorter than Papas and the rest of the ghouls. Slim. Very popular among fans. Stompy, was naughty in era 3, but became muuuuuuch worse later. Horny i would say and even more aggressive. Ghoul equivalent of chihuahua. Shows middle finger, throws picks when he's angry or annoyed by Aether. Was a Water ghoul in 2017, became a Fire Ghoul #3 in 2018 after Ifrit left. This is also a year when his fire Ghoul nature started to come out: Licked his guitar, picks, tried to lick Rain, Aether and bullied Cardinal. HORNY during Mummy Dust. Vapes on stage, interacts with fans, loves choking Rain. Once hurt his finger, didn't give a damn and continued playing guitar smearing blood all over it. Can also be a gentleman. Joined in march 2017 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024).

Zephyr aka chAir Ghoul #2

Keyboard, synthesizer, keytar. Same height as Papa III, blue eyes. Quite active on stage, but can also be calm. Sits on chair a lot, but starts moving when he's feeling it. Interacts with Ifrit and Aether. Keytar solo - [X]. Cutie. Joined in march 2017, left in september 2017.

Ivy aka Earth #3

Drums. Dark eyes, wears bracelets. Same heigh as Ifrit. Even though he had been in the band only few monhs, he did an amazing job. Joined in march 2017, left in june 2017.

Mountain aka Earth #4

Drums. Tall, slim, has grey eyes and a tattoo on his finger. Hates shoes. Quite popular among fans. Pretty calm, especially comparing to Pebble. Nice fella. Was present in Papa III, Cardinal and Papa IV era. Joined in june 2017 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Prequelle era (april 6, 2018 - march 3, 2020)

The number of ghouls on stage has increased. Instead of 5 there were 7 ghouls. And this is the year when we got not one, but two Ghoulettes! How are they placed on stage? Like this:

(from left to right: Aether/Quintessence #3, Swiss behing him, Mountain/Earth #4, Rain/Water #7 in front, Cirrus/Multi, Cumulus/Multi, Dewdrop/Sodo/Fire #3) New ghouls of this era:

Rain aka Water #7

Bass. A bit taller than Dewdrop and Cardinal/Papa VI. Has dark eyes, beautiful hands, slim. Quite calm comparing to the others. Opened up a bit more in Impera era. The only adult on stage, beside Ghoulettes and Mountain. Has to step in when Sodo becomes a pain in the ass, also allows him to choke him during Year Zero. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Swiss aka Multi Ghoul

Baritone and acoustic guitar, tambourine, backing vocals. Tall, slim, has dark eyes and biiiiiiiiiiiiig smile. Dances on his platform, tries to seduce other ghouls, acts possessed. Is in your walls. A manace to society. Vapes on stage. Loves interacting with fans and other ghouls. Known for his powerful shimmies. The horniest Ghoul of Ghost. Annoying the shit out of Sodo aka jerking him off was his main hobby in 2023. Also went to Aurora's (see below) and Cumulus' platforms. The most chaotic ghoul. Popular among Ghesties. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024).

Cumulus aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals, synthesizer, tamboutine. Short, curvy, has amazing voice. No visible tattoos. Loves interacting with fans and other Ghouls/Ghoulettes. Dances, slays. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Cirrus aka Multi Ghoulette

Keyboard, synthesizer, tambourine, keytar, backing vocals. Tall, slim. No tattoos. Active on stage. Keytar solo - [X]. Loves sticking out her tongue. Comes to the center of the stage in Impera era. Literal queen. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2014)

Impera era (january 25 th, 2022 - october 7th, 2023)

(Front row from left to right: Aether/Quintessence #3, Rain/Water #7, Sodo/Dewdrop/Fire #3. Behind them from left to right: Swiss, Cirrus, Mountain/Earth #4, Cumulus, Sunshine/Multi)

There were a few changes in this era: new Ghouls and slight changes in the stage setting. In 2022 one more Ghoulette joined the Prequlle pack.

Sunshine aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals and tambourine. A bit taller than Cumulus, but shorter than Cirrus. No tattoos and rings/bracelets. Cutie. Dances and acts funny on her platform. Stood on Papa's left. Joined in 2022, left in may 2023.

2023: Sunshine and Aether left and were replaced by Aurora and Phantom. The rest of the Ghouls/Ghoulettes remained the same.

Phantom aka Quintessence #4

Rhythm guitar. Tall, slim, dark eyes. Loves interacting with fans and loves bats. A show off and a little bit chaotic. Quite confident despite being a newbie. Joins Rain and Sodo for epic into of Square Hammer and outro of Rats. Loves annoying Papa IV during Year Zero outro. almost No visible tattoos, wears a ring. Interacts with every ghoul/ghoulettes on stage. Joined in may 2023 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Aurora aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals, tambourine. Full of energy. The shortest Ghoulette. Loves dancing next to Rain during Miasma. Cute. Despite being smol, brought Swiss to his knees ;) Joined in may 2023, is still in Ghost (as of may 2024) Honorable mentions: Special Ghoul aka Phil aka Tobias

Showed up for interviews and to grab some awards. Talked about albums, meanings of songs and Papas. Worships cats, loves Abba. Slim, has green eyes. Wore Alpha's uniform. Was present in Primo, Secondo and Terzo eras. Makes a lot of silly sounds. Hasn't been active since 2017. Cowbell Ghoul

Plays cowbell in "Ritual" and "If you have Ghosts". A freaking legend. Tall, has a posture of a shrimp. Always got shooed by Papa III. Only showed at the end of Popestar tour in 2016. Brought many people joy with his presence.

And that was it....for now. The movie and new era are coming soon. I'm excited about what's going to happen next. If there are going to be any changes of the lineup i'll make sure to update this guide :)

Thanks for reading 🖤

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valentine-cafe · 1 month ago

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˖⁺. ﹙ the unkillable mercenary. ﹚: alessio arias 781 .𖹭 ݁

. . . need a man after midnight !? 🍒 : “ oh come on cariño — yeah I'm a bad influence but I'm fun aren't I? think you could use some fun. . . so how about it? could have a lot of that with you in my lap, ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 781

꒰ species ꒱ enigma

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ italian spaniard

꒰ age ꒱ 31

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ enfp

꒰ alias ꒱ the reaper, god’s perfect idiot ♡, the emerald scourge ( remedy members ), the defender ( civilians )

꒰ story ꒱

chaotic and full of grins, alessio arias is known for his effortless charm, flirty exterior and sense of humour. he lives for havoc, is what's been rumoured. befitting, for a mercenary such as himself.

at day, a charismatic mechanical engineer and art student - but a feared, almost lunatic mercenary by night known as the reaper. 'unkillable' is what they call him but he laughs every time. oh he's very much killable. he just keeps crawling back. a bullet wound healed, an arm regrown, cells to joints to bones. he always finds a way back.

he seems to be roped in with the heroes every now and then, but he'd be damned to call himself that. his true mission lies in weeding out every last member of that blasted anti-enigma organisation; someone's gotta be a monster, don't they? and he's exceptional at such.

꒰ appearance ꒱

dark, slightly messy and wavy medium-length hair, which extends just above the base of his neck

emerald green eyes ( with bordered pupils ), black eyeliner below his lids with faint black smudged eye shadow. has a vertical piercing on his left eyebrow

fair olive skin tone. two beauty spots below the right corner of his eye. masculine facial features with a few androgynous aspects here and there

6’7” ( 201cm ) and an athletic build of lean muscle

punk goth styled fashion. typically wears a lot of blacks with green accents. lots of leather jackets and black combat boots along with silver jewellery. especially silver chains around his belt loops

typically has black lipstick on his upper lip. sometimes uses a lip piercing

piercing littered ears; standard lobe piercings on each, whereas his right ear has a triple lobe, an orbital and a forward helix piercing — the left wears a triple stacked helix and a daith

midline tongue piercing and stud on the right side of his nose

wears silver and black rings along with bracelets

sometimes paints his nails black

silver nipple piercings

꒰ personality ꒱

charming and charismatic. characterised by his signature grin, often teasing

a maniac, is what people often call him. best known for his chaotic, eccentric attitude

a charmer, flirtatious and bold. always up for a challenge

doesn’t keep his mouth shut sometimes, definitely loud-mouthed

mischievous and teasing, always joking around and sometimes being a bit silly

might come off as intimidating because of his confident front and bold persona ( has a bit of a bad boy esque )

incredibly protective of those he holds dear and the less strong, has a reputation of putting people around the university in their place ( and making it look like an accident )

isn’t all playful and pleasant as he may seem, extremely morally grey as his job outside of university is hunting down an organisation known as “remedy” for the experimentation on mutants

can be incredibly vengeful and ready to do whatever it takes to achieve his goal

can be reckless and even self-destructive. most definitely has a darker side to him, however masks this with humour

becomes far more terrifying when all the jokes and grins drop completely

deep down, is an extremely anxious and shattered person. feels immense guilt over the atrocities that he has committed. is far more shattered and emotionally vulnerable than people think

a person who is deeply caring when it all boils down to it. someone who thinks he is a monster but actually has a heart of gold with those he cares about or those in need

꒰ with a lover ꒱

fun and hyper boyfriend, with an eccentric attitude that carries chaos with it wherever he may settle his two feet, and oh he loves bringing you into it.

very flirtatious, much more than he is in his usual platonic settings and often resorts to teasing you as a way of showing his affection.

passionate and loving — often displays it through physical affection and through spoiling you rotten a lot.

a fan of touch? you’re in luck, this man is touch-starved PUPPY and will take any chance he can get to at least have his hand wrapped around your waist, shoulder or arm. it helps him feel calm.

adores playfully bullying and poking fun at you, be it through making you indescribably flustered or simply pulling at your leg.

speaking of teasing, he loves mischief and spooking you by jumping out from random corners around the dorm, just so that he can pull you into his arms and soothe you after with a wide grin on his face.’

very protective, but will always do his hardest to ensure it is not overbearing.

may also display signs of possessiveness, however, this is also a trait that he tries not to be overbearing in and ensures that he is not coming off as controlling or toxic.

loves dancing you around and taking you with him on late night drives to sing in the car and grab some snacks — and also sometimes sit with you in silence and cuddle up in the backseat.

always expect alessio to unexpectedly show up and snatch you, just to litter you with kisses, fluster you or cuddle you with him — sometimes to also play games in his apartment.

calls you up during missions just to hear your voice

ask him nicely and he would most likely burn the world down for you.

꒰ strengths ꒱

hyper-regenerative abilities: the ability to heal from any wound, whether it be a papercut or being disintegrated.

advanced bodily function: heightened speed, strength, agility and durability — along with advanced senses.

weapon mastery: a master of weapons and highly adaptable to anything he can get his hands on, ranging from sword to a mere fork.

immunity: due to his fast-replicating cells, most illnesses and diseases are killed off immediately before they have any sort of long-lasting affect on him

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

strawberries: he has an intense allergy to strawberries — it greatly deters his senses when consumed.

꒰ relationships ꒱

valerio agresta: father

elena arias perez: mother, deceased.

lorenzo agresta arias: younger brother, deceased.

rishen herrera: boyfriend

zhào talisen: frenemy

zhào yŭ xī: younger sister figure

felicity smith: ex girlfriend

luciel bealieu: ex boyfriend

the artisan: enemy.

yuè yizé: complicated

takara shimada: friend

shalika vaishya: friend

yuè mèng yáo: motherly figure, from another universe ( verse 9948e )

zhào mùchén: enemy, from another universe ( verse 9948e )

zhào hàoyú: best friend, from another universe ( verse 9948e )

zhào yizé: friend, from another universe ( verse 9948e )

zhào haitāo: friend, from another universe ( verse 9948e )

꒰ extra ꒱

he is a university student who majors in biochemistry and takes a theatre class as a minor

he speaks spanish ( castilian ) and italian

he knows asl

he is apart of the university dance club

he plays both acoustic and electric guitar

he smokes cigarettes

he has many goldfish named bob

#﹙ tea time. ﹚: alessio 781 𖹭 ݁#monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster fucker #terato #x reader #reader insert #oc x reader #original character x reader #mercenary x reader #immortal x reader #enigma x reader #antihero x reader #monster x reader #monster oc #alessio 781 #asterism

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lotstradamus · 7 months ago

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inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

#BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH #answered #oh let’s add Belgrave to this too. great pizza and vibes

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veryberryjelly · 6 months ago

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Hii!! I would also like to request a spaghetti with any of the hp slitherin boys <3

Im English and Italian, I have long blonde hair, I'm 5'6 and I have a subtle fringe. I'm always listening to music, reading, or watching YouTube. My favourite colours to wear are either red or navy blue and my favourite shoes are my checkered vans. I study psychology, biology, and maths, and my favourite movie is Tangled. Occasionally, I smoke to relieve stress with friends. I have a necklace with a love heart and a red ruby gem inside that I always wear and love heart earrings to match.

Thank you so much 💓

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 !

i ship you with ...

poly!mattheo & theo !!! [ i dont have a header for them yet XD ]

i was debating for a little while between the two but then i figured, why not both !!

i feel like both mattheo and theo are so protective as boyfriends, but also so possessive.

not in like a toxic way, but more in a ' this is our girl, fuck off ' kinda way.

so after a few months of dating, they've both bought some jewellery for you all to share !

two pieces each for each partner in the relationship.

mattheo got two earrings that he wears in one ear, one with a ruby in it to match your necklace and the other with a little metal knot on it for theo

theo got a ring with a ruby in it to match your necklace and a thin silver bracelet with ' why is a raven like a writing desk ' engraved on it for mattheo [ its a riddle lol ]

and the boys got you two rings. one with a knot tied in it and the other with ' the more you have the less you see ' engraved on the inside and they both insist that you wear them on your left ring finger. almost like a promise ring.

when the three of you are in a group setting no one is left out. if you're in mattheo's lap on the couch, your legs are draped over theo. and if mattheo and theo are sat together on one side of the bench in the great hall, both of them are playing a subtle footsie under the table with you.

in conclusion.

best

boyfriends

ever

i really want to elaborate on this so lmk if anyone wants a proper fic or headcanons with poly!riddlenott

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 1 year ago

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Semper Eadem (iv, ao3)

Chapter four: In the aftermath of the jousting match, Elizabeth and her court go hunting, where Cassian has conspired to get Nesta alone.

(chapter one // chapter two // chapter three)

Nesta wasn’t thinking of the joust.

As the morning after dawned bright and clear, full of promise and expectation, she swore to God and all the old saints above that her mind would not stray to yesterday. She willed resolution in her chest, begged for strength, and as the sky lightened beyond the lead-paned windows of the Queen’s chamber, she focused instead on dressing her mistress. She refused to remember the tiltyard beyond those stone walls— kept her thoughts far from that bastard-born son of a nobleman who had so decidedly won command of her heart, like it were just another treasure he had plundered.

Obstinate, she clenched her jaw.

No.

By almighty God, she was not thinking about it.

Around her, the ladies of the royal household tittered and laughed, the soft sounds of shifting fabric filling the chamber as Nesta tied the ribbons on the Queen’s kirtle. A steady thrum of excitement hung heavy in the air, so thick it was palpable, and beyond the glass, not a single cloud marred the blue of the August sky.

There was to be a hunt, today.

A column of bright golden sunlight blazed through the chamber as the Queen angled a small Venetian mirror, its gilded frame heavy in one lithe hand as she tilted the glass to better glimpse her reflection. Her Tudor-red hair was afire in the morning light, her painted skin as pale as chalk, and glimmering she stood in the centre of her rooms, bedecked in so much wealth it was nigh on incalculable. Assessing, the sovereign let out a single contented hum.

What she saw pleased her.

And Nesta did not disagree— the dress alone could rival the work of the great Italian masters.

The fabric was light in colour, a pale cream with embroidered roses and vines picked out in such detail it was almost enough to stun. A threaded thistle sat above the Queen’s ribs, and on her left sleeve a large needlework snake was coiled, studded with pearls and gems, and from its mouth dangled a small ruby charm— heart shaped, and surrounded by golden thread, silver cloth, and shining, opalescent pearls.

The snake was Nesta’s favourite part of this particular dress.

An emerald no bigger than a fingernail served as the serpent’s eye, and its tongue was rendered in a line of golden thread darting from between embroidered silver teeth to hold that small ruby heart. A symbol of wisdom and cunning, the snake was everything that Elizabeth represented, everything she valued, and the message wasn’t lost on Nesta as she circled the Queen and brushed a hand over the jewels that made up the serpent’s curled and curving tail.

Her sovereign was as slippery and as dangerous as an adder, one that had used the sharp edges of her diamonds to carve a space of her own in a world shaped for the pleasures of men.

And that ought to have been distraction enough, but no matter how many times Nesta hauled herself back to the present…

Her dastardly eyes wandered to the window, and despite the promises she’d made to the Lord above, she damned her soul when she caught sight of the tiltyard beyond the glass, where a privateer had competed for her honourand—

“Are you looking forward to the hunt, your majesty?”

Nesta tried to not startle as Blanche, the Keeper of Her Majesty’s Jewels, stepped forward and voiced her question, bearing in her hands an oak jewellery box with the lid lifted open. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a staggering number of pearls and jewels and gems, shining in every colour.

Elizabeth was silent a moment, handing off her mirror to another of her ladies as her fingers trailed idle over the priceless objects before her, hovering above diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies. Before she answered, she plucked up a ring set with a large ruby and extended it out, holding it towards Nesta in one smooth movement.

“Ah,” she said breezily, waving her hand, and as the sunlight refracted off the myriad jewels scattered across the fabric of her dress, shards of red and silver light danced across the floorboards, “you know that I do so love to hunt.”

The Queen extended a hand as she spoke, and Nesta slid the ring the sovereign had chosen onto her waiting finger. Another of her ladies draped a necklace of pearls around her neck, and if for one brief moment they reminded Nesta of the pearl that hung customarily from Cassian’s ear…

She forced the thought away, and focused on straightening the Queen’s sleeve, her eyes returning to the snake.

But it’s spine was a line of more pearls— to symbolise wealth and purity, virginity, and it shouldn’t have reminded her of Cassian, of the one set in gold that shone amidst his dark curls. After all, Cassian could lay claim to neither wealth nor virginity, and yet the one he wore was a symbol nonetheless. Nesta brushed her hand over the Queen’s sleeve, and thought that perhaps his pearl was instead a symbol of something precious, something rare. Something plucked from the ocean and brought home to treasure.

Oh, the joust had softened her.

That was for certain.

Her conviction had already been wavering when she’d read Cassian’s letters, and seeing him race down the tiltyard yesterday had all but secured his forgiveness. The flames of her anger had burned away to nothing, and now when she thought of him—

She heard his laugh, saw his rakish smile, and felt her heart beat a little faster inside her chest. Like she were a witless maiden, borne of nothing but dreams and naïveté; like she hadn’t spent years at the royal court, growing as used to politicking as she was breathing. Cassian had made her yearn for real romance again, the way she had once as a girl, when her father had told her of Arthur and Guinevere, of Tristan and Isolde, and all those famous tales that made her heart swell. Oh, after years of ruthless pragmatism and the endless facade of courtly love, she thought her desire for the real thing had been stifled, strangled, but it had resurfaced now, more fervent than ever before. And when he’d bowed before her in the tiltyard, his helm cast aside and his face aglow with triumph…

Her hand fell away from the serpent on the Queen’s arm.

God— she needed to focus.

She pulled her awareness back in time to hear Blanche ask of Elizabeth,

“Will the Earl of Leicester be your hunting partner?”

Nesta paused.

It was a bold question— so bold that if anybody but the most favoured of her ladies had asked it, the Queen might have found reason to divorce a head from some shoulders. After all, they had all of them heard the rumours. Leicester and the Queen had been close friends since childhood— and there were whispers that perhaps it was once more than friendship, and might someday be something more again, if Leicester got his way. He had organised this entire pageant in the Queen’s honour, a gesture far grander than any he could reasonably have been expected to lay at his Queen’s feet. But as Nesta looked up, half expecting to find fury in the lines of the Queen’s face, instead she found her monarch’s mouth pulling into a coy smile, one that said Elizabeth would allow the question.

“I think perhaps he shall,” she answered.

Nesta remained silent, only rounded the Queen to stand before her. She assessed the dress, the jewels, straightening the pearl necklace that twice circled her throat before hanging down to her navel. Elizabeth merely tilted her head in the wake of Nesta’s ministrations, causing the lace of her ruff to tremble.

“And what of you, Mistress Archeron?” she asked. “Who shall be your partner?”

Nesta did not blink, did not pause, did not hesitate.

“Who should you like it to be, your majesty?” she asked, tilting her head in an echo of the monarch’s stance. Approval glimmered in Elizabeth’s eyes, a rare jewel of its own.

“Northumberland, perhaps?” the Queen ventured. “Master Vanserra seemed most determined to compete for your honour yesterday.”

Nesta’s mind flicked back once more to the joust - her soul be damned - and to the way Cassian had almost killed Eris in the tiltyard. As if the Queen could read her mind, Elizabeth snorted and said, smoothly,

“Or Master Cassian?” She tapped Nesta on the wrist with one long, thin finger. “My handsome Bat seems to have an eye on you, dove.”

Nesta forced herself to shrug.

“Perhaps he does, majesty.”

She fought a smile, and Elizabeth hummed. Mirth danced at the corners of her lips, and even though she didn’t approve of her ladies marrying, something about the joust yesterday had humoured her. Perhaps it was the way Cassian had bowed to his Queen, or the way he had cast off his helm and looked up to the stands in such a perfect display of chivalry that Nesta half thought he might have plucked it from the pages of some Arthurian romance. Either way, something had snared the Queen’s attention, but Nesta was not fool enough to say anything more. She merely took a single step back and bowed her head as the Queen smoothed a hand down her skirts one final time.

“Well,” she said, her tone one of musing. “Perhaps we shall see.”

A moment later the Queen clapped her hands, the sound sharp and cutting in the silence of her chambers. As the rest of her ladies waited for instruction, Elizabeth looked the window and allowed another serpentine smile to grace her lips. Her eyes were lit with purpose as she lifted her chin and said, with all the authority and determination only a monarch could muster,

“Let us hunt.”

***

It seemed, Nesta thought from atop her horse a half hour later, that all of England had descended upon Warwickshire to bask in the majesty of the Queen.

Riding two or three abreast in a great train behind Elizabeth, the hunting party stretched across the grounds all the way back towards the castle— all noblemen and horses, ladies and squires and hunting dogs. Trumpeters and drummers followed too, and a host of staff from the kitchens carried the baskets containing the food they would lay out at noon for dinner. Sheaths of arrows were slung across backs, crossbows stowed in saddlebags, and the drumming mirrored the footfalls of the horses as beyond the castle walls, Kenilworth’s expansive lawns began to slope before eventually giving way to lush woodland.

Grand— it was all so immeasurably grand.

Ahead, the Queen’s standard fluttered in the breeze, held aloft by a standard bearer, the embroidered lion shining golden beneath the morning sun. All the trappings of royalty gleamed— the richness of the Queen’s dress, the pearls that had been threaded through her hair; a glimmering vanguard as the trees of the forest grew closer. And at Elizabeth’s right, just as Blanche had suspected, rode the earl of Leicester.

As casually and as easily as if it were the only place in the world that suited him, Robert Dudley filled the space at the sovereign’s side, and their heads were inclined towards one another as they spoke, their horses so close their flanks almost touched. The breeze carried behind them the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter, and as Leicester glanced sideways at his Queen, Nesta saw a flash of teeth, a wide smile beneath the brim of his hat, and she knew with unerring certainty that the earl was in love— so desperately and madly in love that it warranted all of this display, all of this pageantry.

And the reminder that all of this grandeur was on the behalf of a man simply trying to turn a woman’s head…

Well, it was foolish perhaps, and more than a touch sentimental, but… charming, too.

And after all, hadn’t Cassian done something similar yesterday— something just as foolish? When he’d all but declared war on Eris, one of the richest dukes in England, because he had dared to ask her for her favour?

She shook her head, pushed the thought away, and kept her gaze straight ahead.

On the Queen’s left was Rhysand, riding silent and all but ignored. His heavy chain of office was draped over his shoulders, and the gold was bright against the deep black of his doublet. He wore a cap with a raven feather at the top too, and though from her position behind him she could not see his face, she could see his hands gripping the reins of his horse— could see, too, his velvet gloves, and the three rings he wore atop his gloves on each hand. His shoulders were stiff, and Nesta smirked.

If there was one thing Lord Rhysand did not appreciate, it was being overlooked, and with Leicester by her side, the Queen had no attention to spare for her dark-haired councillor.

The sight should not have made Nesta as smug as it did.

On Nesta’s own left rode Madge, another of the Queen’s ladies. At their backs was the Duke of Northumberland and one of his many brothers, and Nesta did not think it a coincidence that he had managed to secure such a spot in the procession trailing behind the Queen. Indeed, as she had stood in the courtyard and mounted her horse, Eris had offered her his hand, and though Nesta had not accepted his assistance, he had bowed his head anyway, before taking her own hand and placing a fleeting kiss to the back of her fingers.

She had never been so thankful to have been wearing riding gloves.

Beside her Madge was silent, as if she could tell that her riding partner was entirely preoccupied with her own thoughts. A frown almost creased Nesta’s brow, and she almost considered striking up conversation, but then her eyes fell to her gloved hands tight on her reins, and all she could think was—

I hope Cassian did not bear witness to that ridiculous kiss.

It was a thought as ridiculous in itself as the kiss Eris that had dropped on her hand, but one that persisted nonetheless. So consumed was she by it that the world and all its noise seemed to fade away, until—

“Mistress Radcliffe,” a smooth and all too familiar voice said easily from the empty space at Nesta’s right. Her heart kicked in answer as Madge turned her head, eyebrows rising as she beheld who addressed her. “My lord Azriel asks for you. He wishes to give you news of your brother in Ireland before the hunt begins.”

Cassian did not let his eyes stray to Nesta as he bowed his head; a vision of courtesy.

Madge smiled wide. It was no secret that she missed her brother, sent over to Ireland on the Queen’s orders. A lady from the north, she missed her family greatly, and it was no surprise to Nesta when she nodded her head and gave her thanks before turning around and leading her horse back along the procession that trailed them, to the space about four riders back, where the Queen’s spy had been riding beside the privateer and now sat alone.

Nesta looked behind as Cassian’s horse fell into step behind her. Quietly, she thought she heard Northumberland curse.

“Lady Nesta,” Cassian said in greeting, his voice light and airy as if this were the most ordinary of meetings.

But— merciful God, have pity on her soul.

Would she ever tire of the way her name sounded on his lips? Or the way he imbued it with something that felt like intimacy somehow? Lady Nesta, not Mistress Archeron. She thought back to his letters, how he’d penned her name with such an elaborate flourish. Even on a rocking ship, when ink and time were short for him, he’d written her name like it meant something. She glanced sidelong at him, trying to focus on the rhythm of the horse beneath her, the gentle trot of the hooves. But one look and she was at sea all over again, her sentimentality like a storm that threatened to send her under.

His doublet was the deep red of Burgundian wine, shot through with silver buttons in the centre of his broad chest, and for one foolish and ill-advised moment Nesta let her eyes wander, following that path of silver to where his doublet met his breeches.

God have pity, indeed.

Seated atop his horse, the privateer beside her cleared his throat and Nesta hauled her gaze back up— to a level far more befitting a lady of the Queen’s household. She took in, instead, the slashed sleeves of his doublet that split to reveal a crisp white shirt sitting beneath, and the dark cloak draped effortlessly over his shoulders. A delicate ruff rose from his collar and just barely grazed the edge of his jaw, and oh, lord— this man was beautiful. A velvet bonnet was balanced at a damn near rakish angle atop his curls, and as he brought his stallion into a trot beside her, the feather adorning it shivered in the breeze.

Beneath his unflinching gaze, and despite the heat, Nesta felt herself shiver too.

“Feeling cold, my lady?”

Damn him.

She cleared her throat, and refused to take note of the way several of those curls escaped his bonnet and lay tangled above his ruff, right against the bare skin of his neck.

“Master Cassian,” she said mildly, looking decidedly straight ahead to where the Queen and Leicester still spoke together in low murmurs. “Can I help you?”

He grinned. “Back to Master, are we?”

“Would you have me call you something else?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, dropping his voice so low it was almost sinful, “I’d have you call me several things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and tried to force down the blood that rose to her cheeks.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Indeed,” he said brightly, tipping his head back and inhaling deeply, drawing the summer air deep into his lungs. He tightened his grip on the reins, his gloved hands pulling as the riders ahead of them began to slow— as the line of trees at the forest edge grew nearer still.

And Nesta thought she must have lost her mind, because when she looked at those gloves, for a moment she found herself mourning the fact that she could not see the bare skin of his hands as his fist tightened.

“Tell me— did my lord Azriel really wish to speak with Madge?”

Sidelong, Cassian smirked.

“In truth, no,” he said with an easy shrug. “But it is no lie that he received reports from Ireland this morning. It is entirely possible there was something about Mistress Radcliffe’s brother in there.” He shot her a grin, before adding brightly, “I merely thought to join your hunting party, if you’ll have me.”

“I fear I am not much of a hunter,” Nesta answered with a shrug of her own, a slow lift of one shoulder. “My sister was always far better at it than I.”

He shot her a dazzling smile, one edged with mischief. “And yet I am certain we can find some creature for you to bring down.” He glanced behind him, to Eris and his brother. “A fox, perhaps.”

“Perhaps the fox was brought low enough already after yesterday’s joust.”

“The fox remains presumptuous,” Cassian shrugged. His gaze dropped, eyes turning flat as they alighted briefly on her hand, and Nesta’s heart sank a little as she realised that yes, Cassian had indeed witnessed that ridiculous little kiss. “He still thinks to take what is mine.”

“Yours?” Nesta asked incredulously, glancing once over her shoulder, ensuring Eris was still too lost in his own conversation to overhear. Looking ahead, she saw with thanks that the Queen was still too preoccupied to take note, too. “After such a long time away?”

Cassian lifted one hand from the reins and waved it. Like Rhysand, he too had rings decorating his fingers above the velvet, and they gleamed now, the gold bright.

“I thought we’d been over this, sweetheart?”

She blinked, imperious. “You’ve been over this, sir. As far as I recall, I said little on the matter.”

He snorted. “You said much,” he countered simply. “You’ve had me grovelling for days.”

“Grovelling?” she raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t mask the smile that began to spread across her face. “I haven’t seen you on your knees once.”

His eyes darkened. “And is that what it will take, my lady?” He tilted his head, the pearl in his ear brushing the lace of the ruff that peeked from the neck of his doublet. “For my forgiveness, you would have me on my knees?”

She was silent for a moment, and a wicked smirk curved his lips.

“Trust me, love, I am more than willing.”

Her breath caught, her blood raced. His meaning was obvious, and with the way that smirk turned almost devilish, she knew that the blush that rose to her cheeks had amused him— pleased him. Her treacherous heart beat a little faster - a lot faster - and she was about to reproach him for daring to speak so boldly in the presence of a lady of the royal household, but—

The horns sounded, and the dogs began to bark, and the party at last reached the tree line. With a wave of the Queen’s hand, lifted into the air, every one of them fell silent.

Cassian pressed a gloved finger to his lips and winked, and Nesta was so momentarily undone by the gesture that she almost set her horse into a straight gallop. She pulled hard on the reins, knuckles straining above the leather, and when she turned, she saw laughter dancing in those damned eyes.

She tore her gaze away, focusing forwards— on Rhysand and the Queen and Leicester.

Slowly they made their way beneath the cover of the trees, delving farther and father into the woodland. The sound grew muffled, the heavy canopy above cloaking the rest of the world from view, and all around them was birdsong and the snap of breaking branches as the great trail of courtiers and servants began to split into smaller groups.

It would have been impossible for the entire party to have remained unnoticed by their quarry, and so— in groups no larger than a dozen, the entire court slipped away, and as Nesta looked over her shoulder when the initial flurry of activity died down, she found nobody behind them now, only the greenery of the forest and the birds in the trees above.

The Queen’s personal hunting party had narrowed, leaving only Elizabeth and Leicester, flanked by Rhysand and two more ladies-in-waiting. Madge and Azriel had joined them too, along with one more member of the Queen’s council. Nesta and Cassian brought the total to ten.

Leicester retrieved a crossbow from his saddlebag, and handed it across the distance to his Queen. Elizabeth grinned.

A hush had fallen, and ahead Rhysand looked over his shoulder and scanned the members of the small group. Catching Cassian’s eye, he seemed to give an exasperated sigh before rolling his eyes and giving the privateer one brief, sharp, nod. Nesta did not much understand the silent and secret language Cassian seemed to share with his brother in arms, but it did not take a master codebreaker to decipher that particular message.

Alright, that nod seemed to say. I’ll do as you ask.

In answer, Cassian grinned.

And as Azriel manoeuvred his horse around them, leaving Nesta and Cassian at the back of the assembly, Rhysand pointed between the dense copse of trees ahead, where the light above was dim and the forest pressed in on all sides.

“There!” he said loudly, his voice startling the birds nesting in the nearest tree. “Over there, your majesty!”

Elizabeth whipped her head to the side, sharp eyes assessing the direction Rhysand’s finger still pointed. Before Nesta could blink, the Queen’s smile had widened, the hunt upon her, and she kicked in her heels and sent her horse barrelling through the trees— at a speed so reckless her other councillor cursed soundly before setting his horse to follow.

Rhysand’s black stallion charged ahead, but before Nesta could urge her own mare forwards, another hand gripped her reins.

Cassian held tight, and as the rest of the hunting party darted quickly between the trees, Cassian inclined his head to the side, nodding in the other direction. His smile grew as the sound of the racing horses faded, and when he let go of the reins at last, he did not retract his hand. Instead, he extended it further, turned his palm to the sky. A silent offer, unspoken question.

Come with me, that hand said.

And Nesta knew it was a bad idea to follow him through the wood.

Knew it was reckless, to go off with him alone.

Her reputation could end up in tatters. She could lose her position in the Queen’s household.

And yet…

His smile was somehow sweet and devilish at the same time, simultaneously the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and the harbinger of her own ruin.

She should have said no.

But God save her…

She didn’t.

Instead, she placed her hand in his, feeling her heart kick as his fingers folded over her own. He drew her closer, until he could lift her hand to his mouth, and without looking away, he kissed the glove above her knuckles. She fought a shiver, and though earlier when Eris had kissed her hand she had thanked the Lord for riding gloves, now she cursed them— abhorred them.

She felt the warmth of his hand sinking through her gloves, and oh, she only wished she could feel his touch against her bare skin, feel the smoothness of his kiss as the trees hid them from view.

At last he blinked, breaking his gaze and flicking his eyes down to the fingers he still had pressed against his lips.

A moment, an age, or a heartbeat later, he let her hand drop. And before Nesta had time to collect herself, Cassian dug in his heels and sent his horse through the trees, looking back over his shoulder, as if unwilling to draw his eyes away.

And when they were alone, with only the two of them riding almost silently, slowly, through the density of the trees, she dared to look at him again as he adjusted the crossbow that now sat across his lap, though neither of them seemed really intent on hunting anything at all.

For a long time, there was silence— as if they were both of them afraid of being overheard. The air between them shifted, growing softer, as if the quiet gave rise to vulnerability. Suddenly, there were a thousand things Nesta wanted to say, a thousand words drifting to her lips, but in truth, she had no real idea of where or how to begin. Instead she watched the forest ahead of her, studied the way the leaves above swallowed the light, and let the silence stretch. And stretch, and stretch, and stretch, until—

At last, the privateer broke it.

“You said you wanted me on my knees,” he began softly. “But what else do I need do to prove myself to you?”

He looked at her imploringly, the rogue cast aside, and Nesta’s heart suddenly began to strain, each beat laboured. Nothing— she knew she ought to tell him nothing, because no matter how much she wanted it, how much desire she carried, how could this ever end well between them?

Cassian studied her face.

“Do I need to sail to a distant land and claim it in your honour? Name a settlement after you? Bring you back a ream of treasure?”

She was silent, and his eyes were lined with a wealth of desperation that gave the lie to his bravado.

“Or shall I cast off my cloak before you and lay it over puddles, so your silk slippers may never touch the ground? Or—“

Nesta shook her head, and when she opened her mouth, his voice died to make way for hers. But her words grew tangled in her throat, and she hesitated— even though she never hesitated. She closed her mouth and sighed once more, and atop his horse Cassian smiled a little sadly, with so much longing her own heart ached, and when she looked at him…

Oh, he was the road her heart begged her to travel, even though it was one she knew in all good sense she wouldn’t be able to see through to its end. What was the point in letting herself fall, only to be hurt again when he left? Or when her father succeeded in tying her to some wealthy duke— if not Northumberland, then some other who came along? What was the point in any of it?

Love, a small and starving part of her whispered. The love the poets write about, the kind the troubadours sing about. The kind that makes you feel the way you do now, ready to cast off the world and find home in the arms of this one man.

As if he could see her battling with herself, Cassian drew his horse closer to hers— so close she could almost feel his warmth.

“You should know,” he said quietly, and whether the whisper in his voice was because of the need to stay hidden or the vulnerability of his words, she wasn’t sure, “that your letters were a greater treasure to me than anything I could take or steal from any ship on the high seas. Greater to me than any ransom any king could demand.”

A heartbeat passed, one where her heart seemed to thud so loudly in her chest that she feared the flock of deer they were pretending to hunt might hear it and flee.

Charming— did he always have to be so damned charming?

And God— would it be so bad, to tell him that he already had her forgiveness? Would it be so terrible, to tell him that despite it all she was his, if not in body but in mind and soul at least?

She was speechless for a moment, and he managed a weak sort of grin at her evident surprise.

And then—

The trees thinned, and a clearing lay spread before them, golden sunlight pooling in the centre like a small slice of Arcadia. Cassian sniffed a little, like the long grass and the wildflowers had irritated his nose, but still— there was beauty in that clearing, unspoiled and harmonious.

And— a doe.

A doe stood frozen in the middle, her ears pinned back as she caught sight of the approaching horses. The sunlight dappled across her white-spotted back, and as she slowly lifted one slim leg, ready to bolt, Nesta’s eyes drifted to the crossbow in Cassian’s lap.

She prayed he wouldn’t shoot.

But Cassian’s hand didn’t so much as twitch towards the weapon, as if he couldn’t find it in himself to hunt the creature either.

Yet on the other side of the clearing— there was the flash of auburn, the glint of an arrow.

Nesta’s heart lurched, and whether by design or divine intervention, beneath the hooves of Cassian’s horse a branch cleaved with a crack.

Readily, the deer bolted.

A curse sounded from the trees, where only a moment ago an arrow had been knocked and drawn, ready to be loosed.

“Privateer.” A snarling voice drifted from the tree line, sharp and cutting, and Nesta recognised it immediately— saw the auburn hair like burnished bronze as Eris came into view. “You just cost me my prize.”

The duke pointed to where the deer had escaped between the trees, and though the rest of his companions remained in the shadow of the forest, she thought she could make out a handful of their faces, two of them bearing that same auburn hair. His brothers. Eris’ sneer grew wider, more vicious, and as he turned his head to fix Nesta with a stare across the distance, she wondered if his prize hadn’t only been the doe, but her, too.

He brought his horse forwards into the clearing, further into the light, giving her an unrivalled view of the shining bruise that marred his temple.

He hadn’t taken his loss at the joust yesterday well, it seemed, and though he cast his eyes over Nesta once more, it was to Cassian that he returned his gaze, letting out a single, dissatisfied huff. The bruise stretched up to his hairline, a livid purple stark against his pale skin, and in everything else but that, he appeared every inch the nobleman. A ring sat on every finger, and his doublet was unbroken black. Like Rhysand, he too wore a livery collar draped across his chest and shoulders, but where the Queen’s councillor had a Tudor rose dangling from his chain of office, Eris had instead the badge of a dog, its head back, lifted as if howling at the sky.

He had a dagger out, too, presumably for slaying the deer, but the glint of the blade in the sunlight still promised bloodshed, and the way his hand flexed around the hilt said that it didn’t matter the doe had fled.

That dagger was to taste blood today, one way or another.

“Piss off, Northumberland,” Cassian said easily— but his own hand had strayed from his bow to the sword hanging at his hip, his wrist resting purposefully on the pommel.

Eris’ eyes flashed, quietly furious as his lip curled. “I will not stand to be insulted by one of such low standing.”

Cassian barked a laugh, but it was low and rough and dangerous. “You won’t stand for anything, sir, if I knock you from your horse as easily as I did yesterday.” He paused, and then added, “Shall I give you another bruise to decorate the other side of that pretty face?”

The duke sneered, but before he could let loose the insults that Nesta could see were rising to his tongue, there was a cacophony in the distance, and a hundred horns suddenly flaring loud enough to be heard all the way back at the castle.

It was a summoning— a call to arms, to usher Elizabeth’s court back to her as the sun reached its highest point in the sky and dinner was served in the great tents at the edge of the forest.

For the moment, at least, the hunt was at an end.

Eris twisted his head, looking behind him to the direction the horns had sounded. His brothers did not wait for him to make up his mind before they disappeared, following the call for food that was, apparently, of far greater worth to them than any loyalty they had for their brother.

Cassian bowed mockingly in the saddle, but his hand did not stray from easy reach of his blade, and when Eris turned back to them, his lips were a thin line.

“These woods are treacherous,” he said flatly. “It commands great skill as a rider to avoid the pitfalls that litter these grounds. You might have won the match yesterday, sir,” - the duke’s lips pulled back over his teeth - “but how about another match? Here and now?”

Nesta watched as Cassian grinned, almost feral.

“First to the Queen wins,” he said as he moved his horse forwards, drawing level with Eris’.

The duke’s face darkened, and the nod he gave was sharp before flicking his eyes to Nesta once more. As if this were another attempt at winning her, at securing her favour for a second time. Cassian’s smile fell away, leaving behind the same murderous expression that had fuelled him at the joust yesterday.

“For the lady’s honour, then,” Eris declared, every word imbued with venom.

And when Cassian nodded, looking behind him over his shoulder to give Nesta one final wink, Eris clenched his jaw before slamming his heels into his horse’s flank, sending the beast galloping through the trees.

Cassian swore, a curse so filthy she was sure he could only have picked it up at sea, and surged forwards, letting the forest swallow him.

But as Nesta followed, dipping beneath the cover of the trees, she saw that only the thinnest shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves above, leaving the forest floor just as treacherous as Eris had described. The ground was slick with mud, and even though the August heat ought to have dried it out, the summer sun had never made it to the ground here. Petrichor was thick in the air, and the long limbs of the trees snatched at the skirts of Nesta’s dress as she rode by them, wild and overgrown. Treacherous— this part of the forest was most definitely treacherous.

Indeed, Cassian could not ride as fast as he had yesterday, and neither could Eris, and it allowed Nesta to keep both the duke and the privateer in her sights as she followed behind, watching them weave through the trees in search of stable ground.

As her horse almost stumbled over the gnarled roots of a tree half concealed by fallen leaves, she wondered if stable ground even existed this far into the woodland, and as the wind brushed against her cheeks and another branch snagged on her cloak, she almost called out to stop the madness that had Cassian spurring his horse onwards, regardless of the danger.

The ground began to slope— sharp and steep, and it was madness, utter madness to continue—

Eris noted the slope, and Nesta watched as the duke swiftly studied the way the ground all but dropped away to reveal a small dell below, home to wide a stream that ran slow and idle through the undergrowth. Its banks were coated with mud, turning it slick and dangerous.

Wisely, he veered to the side, directing his horse around— to where the ground sloped more evenly. A longer path, but a safer one, and he looked back only once before disappearing into the trees, avoiding danger altogether.

But Cassian—

Irreverent, he glanced once over his shoulder. Manic, he grinned as he barrelled ahead, shooting Nesta a wink as he urged his horse faster still in Eris’ absence. The creature’s hooves slid in the mud, and Nesta called out his name, but Cassian had turned his face away, and if he heard her, he gave no indication.

Idiot.

She had no choice but to follow, and when he reached the banks of the stream, he did not stop. Instead he pressed in his heels, riding even faster, compelling the stallion to jump—

And Nesta watched as the horse made the jump, but its hooves slipped on the bank on the other side, its landing far from smooth.

And just as Eris had been thrown from his horse yesterday, now Cassian was thrown from his— but it was a fall that was far more treacherous, far more dangerous, and Nesta swore her heart stopped dead as she watched him land roughly, heard the muffled groan as the ground came up to meet him. Forgetting all notions of her own safety, she urged her horse faster, willing it to cross the stream his stallion had just jumped.

“You fool,” she hissed, feeling her horse whicker beneath her as she pushed the mare onwards. Cassian was lying on his back, a hand cast over his ribs as he looked up at the sky. “You could have broken your damned neck.”

Cassian twisted his head to look up at her as she pulled her horse to a halt.

“Got your attention though,” he muttered. “So I’d say it was worth it.”

“This was a bid for my attention?” Nesta echoed, dismounting roughly as he continued to lie there in the earth churned by his horse’s hooves. The mud was seeping through his breeches already, and the white sleeves of his fine cambric shirt were, she feared, irreparably stained.

“Well,” Cassian said lightly, as though he hadn’t just been thrown from a stallion. “You started it, sweetheart.”

“Started what?”

He looked up at her again, turning his head in the dirt. “You gave Eris your favour.”

Nesta blinked. “You had your horse make a jump like that, risking your own bloody neck, because I gave the duke of Northumberland my ribbon? Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he countered evenly. “My heart, perhaps. But my mind is still wonderfully intact.”

“Up,” Nesta said sharply. “Let me look at you.”

He grinned, as though vindicated, but as he made to raise himself, he hissed sharply, sucking in a breath as he pressed a hand to his ribs. His brow furrowed with pain, eyes darkening, and Nesta sighed heavily as she pulled off her gloves, held out her hand, and helped him to his feet.

“Take off your doublet,” she said flatly, looking at the expanse of muddied velvet.

Cassian’s brow quirked. “Well, that’s not how I imagined you asking me to undress but—“

“How else can I check to see if you’ve shattered your ribcage?” she interrupted, but Cassian only grinned again and began loosening his ties. Soon enough his doublet was parted entirely, and as he slipped it from his shoulders, he winced. He let it fall to the floor, and Nesta was about to chide him for dirtying it so, but then she caught sight of his sculpted chest showing through the thin fabric of his cambric shirt. She swallowed, letting her gaze wander across his collarbone, at the tanned skin there that had been masked by his doublet’s high neck.

“And this?” Cassian said lowly, nodding to his undershirt. “Does this need to go too?”

“I… suppose it does,” Nesta said with a sniff, trying to affect nonchalance when all she could focus on was the curve of his shoulder, the muscles lining every inch of him. “How else can I check that no ribs are broken?”

“How else indeed,” Cassian hummed, and wasted no time in pulling the shirt over his head.

And good Lord have mercy, Nesta knew that Cassian was sculpted like Italian marble but nothing could have prepared her for the bare skin of his chest, hardened with muscle. Those months on a ship definitely suited him, and as she looked, she forced herself to focus on his ribs, on the task at hand.

Innocent, she thought as she tentatively traced a finger across his ribcage, where a thin scar marred his skin. It’s all entirely proper, completely innocent. Just a lady checking a friend for injury.

He was warm beneath her, so warm, his skin softer than it had any right to be. He’d spent eight months in the sun and salt air, and he’d come back looking finer than ever. Hers— this man could be hers, and as her fingers splayed across his chest, Cassian reached up with one hand and caged her touch right above his heart.

She felt it beat— sure and steadfast.

“Will I live?” he asked softly. “Or am I doomed?”

Nesta swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his hazel ones, boring down into her with an intensity that had her feeling slightly stunned. Her lips parted, she tried to speak, but all she could feel was his heart beating beneath her fingers, his smooth skin and the warm heat of him that had her feeling breathless.

“You’ll live,” she said at last.

He nodded, his hair falling idly over his forehead. In the sunlight, the pearl that dangled from his ear winked, the gold setting glimmering.

Nesta blinked, and somehow found the strength to drag her eyes away, dropping her gaze to the floor. Where his shirt lay in a crumpled pile next to his doublet, there was a hint of pale-blue, a small flash of colour against the white. She frowned, tilting her head, unable to understand even as she knew what it was, what it must be.

“Is that— my ribbon?”

Cassian pulled back, a somewhat sheepish smile on his face as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps.”

“How did you even get it?” she asked, bending to retrieve it from the pile of his clothes.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let Eris have it.”

Silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the noise of the forest and the sounds of the horns, distant.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” he asked quietly. “About the betrothal.”

Nesta shrugged. “Because I’m trying to get out of it,” she said easily. “It was foolish of you to think I’d still be here, unwed, when you got back. You know my father—“

“Fuck your father,” he muttered. And then he softened, his eyes turning wide with something akin to pleading. “I’m here now, sweetheart. And I’m not going away again.”

“But you will,” she countered, turning her face away. He always would— he could not be tied to the court as she was, had too restless a spirit to spend his life idling away on an estate somewhere. “And I’ll be left behind, waiting for you, again.”

“You could come with me,” he offered instead, even though the both of them knew it was madness.

Elain had moved to Spain with Lucien— but that was because his place was in the Spanish court, somewhere settled. It was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, everyone knew that. No, Cassian could not take her with him, but she adored him a little for even offering in the first place.

“Or you could promise not to stay away so long,” she said instead, her voice quiet. “Come home, Cassian, as often as you are able. Don’t sail so far away from me.”

“Never again,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “How could I ever stray so far, when I love you too much to stand the distance?”

Her breath caught.

I love you.

Oh, the words were said so often at court. She’d had countless dukes and earls call her their dearest love during dances and revels, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom how many had written her poems or bowed deep and told her she held their hearts in her hands. It was part of the game they played at Elizabeth’s court— part of the realpolitik that made up their world.

But it was different when he said it.

So different Nesta might have sworn the earth beneath her shifted, that standing beneath that canopy of trees, all the riches in the world lost their value.

She blinked, and he waited— waited for her to say something, to acknowledge his declaration.

And in the end, Nesta found the strength to dip her head, to smile a little demurely before stepping forward and pressing the softest, the chastest, of kisses to his cheek. Then, she turned back to her horse and mounted, leaving him standing there, looking up at her, one hand pressed to the cheek she had just kissed.

“I suppose, then,” she said, “that you can be forgiven for ignoring my letters.”

And as she began to ride off into the forest, she looked back once— and waited for him to follow.

Taglist: @c-e-d-dreamer @andrigyn @beansidhebumbling @burningsnowleopard @asnowfern @xstarlightsupremex

#nessian #nessian fic #semper eadem #extra long authors note on ao3 as per usual this time featuring:#Elizabeth's actual surviving dress; the real Madge Ratcliffe; and a little bit about the relationship between Elizabeth and Leicester

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the-moon-says-hi · 1 year ago

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some marauders era characters headcanons just because:

lily has pmdd

remus & lily love mint flavoured things

regulus stress-bakes (usually cookies and they’re like the best cookies ever)

barty’s favourite dessert is tiramisu, his mother taught him how to make it (it’s an italian dessert)

also yes barty is half italian

still on barty he mandatorily has a shot of espresso every morning

pandora loves blueberries

evan likes to drink his coffee with milk and some chunks of chocolate (they melt at the bottom and he absolutely adores eating them afterwards)

remus likes dark chocolate because he thinks milk chocolate is too sweet

james prefers salty over sweet

peter loves cooking and sometimes stress bakes with regulus

sirius hates coffee but he likes caffeine so he drinks like 1 cup of coffee mixed with 3 cups of milk and 12 spoons of sugar (barty despises him)

remus keeps track of lily’s period so he knows when to schedule a movie / reading meet up to help her unwind

evan & regulus hate the beach (barty & james love it)

regulus had an underground homework-selling business at some point

pandora loves the transition from autumn to winter (many people think her favourite season is spring but she actually loves the earthly leaves and chilly, frozen-dew mornings more)

mary and marlene are golden jewellery girls

dorcas and pandora are silver jewellery girls

lily wears both and drives everyone mad

barty has a tongue piercing (and evan definitely does not love it. no)

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thedvilsinthedetails · 6 months ago

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day one million and ten of projecting on to BCJ so please enjoy these Barty hcs

• always considered himself unlovable because his intensely insecure ass couldn’t picture anyone ever actually loving him

• biggest ego ever

• probably has anger issues

• That man does not listen to the neighbourhood. He actively INHALES it

• he says off hand shit like ‘I biblically need to piss’ to his friends [I said that the other day💀]

• let’s be so fr he’s cringy af and chronically online

•collects can tabs and also is a master at getting any of the three types but his fav is kiss

• monster drinker. Like no red bull no other energy drinks - only monster

• playlist boy. Not albums. Playlists.

• silver and black jewellery

• big hands

• has no filter

• acts before he thinks

• sleep schedule who?

• demiromantic and graysexual but leaning towards ace most of the time

• makes intense quantities of Ur mom jokes

• gestures like an Italian

• vans or docs

• Italianoooo

• loves Måneskin

•big trousers small top man

•is disrealized most of the time - feels like he’s playing a video game of his own life but is lowkey convinced he isn’t real

• his fav colour changes all the time

•Instagram reels not tiktoks

• him and Marlene were best friends in childhood and lowkey still are

• not dead and neither is Evan. Canon is lying to you.

• master of looking ppl up and down in disgust

• he probably can hide his expressions rlly well but man just does not try at all.

#I’m actually exposing myself rn bc this is just me #harry potter marauders #marauders fandom #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #evan x barty #barty x evan #slytherin skittles #dead gay wizards #marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #the marauders #barty jr #barty being barty

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loserboyfriendrjl · 1 year ago

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emmeline vance headcanons because i am thinking about her

extremely ambitious — her drive is to succeed, her biggest fear is to not have her name known; that means she failed

is prone to blindly following, and not questioning, authority figures

was honoured when dumbledore invited her to join the order, and promised him that she would do whatever it takes in order for the greater good to be victorious

scrawly, but organised handwriting

she prefers gold jewellery to silver (she also likes making her own jewellery), and her favourite fabrics are leather and velvet. her favourite colours are black and red

her biggest flaw is her jealousy

cuts her bangs by herself, but lets her hair grow out long

half italian

has an inferiority complex hidden by arrogance

her favourite dessert is tiramisu, but she’s a fan of anything that includes chocolate or coffee

has a good relationship with both of her parents, but doesn’t really get along well with her older brother. she also has a younger sister, who idolises her to no end

has really dark coloured eyes

#thimking thoughts about her actually #haven’t really. sat down to think about her but now that i do … hm …#emmeline vance #emmeline vance headcanons #headcanons

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elsalouisa · 6 months ago

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The 20th of May was my last day in the New Palace, and on the 21st Ernst August arrived. In his last letter he had told me what arrangements he had made to keep our honeymoon location secret from prying eyes. It was planned that we should go first to the hunting lodge at Werbellinsee, then to the Hubertihaus, my father-in-law’s hunting lodge near Gmunden. He made me promise not to tell anyone at all and even in Gmunden itself our plans were kept strictly secret.

The first wedding guests to arrive were the King and Queen of England, and my parents went to the Lehrter Station in Berlin to greet them. George V had put on his Prussian General’s uniform for the occasion and, with an escort of Dragoon Guards and Cuirassiers, the Royal couple drove through Berlin. More than half a century was to pass before an English Head of State was to come to Germany again, when Queen Elizabeth II, George V’s grand-daughter, came in 1965.

Early on the following day my great-aunt Luise, Prince Max of Baden and his wife arrived, then a little later my parents-in-law and my sister-in-law, Olga. The First Guards Regiment of Foot formed the guard of honour, while the Cuirassiers again provided the escort as we travelled to the castle in three carriages. My father sat with the Duke, who wore his Austrian uniform, in the first carriage; my mother with the Duchess Thyra in the next, while Princess Olga, my fiancé and I sat together in the third.

At midday the Czar of Russia arrived and the colourful welcoming ceremonies began all over again. Wearing the uniform of the Alexander Grenadier Guards Regiment and the tall Frederick the Great cap on his head, Nicholas II’s truly imposing appearance drove the waiting Berliners into a frenzy of excitement and wonder... For me, the wedding celebrations began with the reception of deputations who had come bringing gifts. My father’s present to me was a diadem and a pearl necklace, while my mother gave me a diamond tiara. King George and Queen Mary gave me a prodigious gold goblet anda diamond brooch; Ernst August a complete jewellery outfit. The English Queen Mother, Alexandra, gave me an emerald brooch. From the Czar I received an aquamarine and diamond necklace; the Italian King and Queen sent me antique silver vessels and Queen Wilhelmina of Holland an antique pendulum clock. There were presents galore, from the Kings of Denmark and Sweden down to the various cities in Germany, and from Brunswick I received a diadem which had once belonged to the French Empress Josephine. The number of gifts was so great they required several furniture vans to carry them.

The real celebrations began on the evening of the day before the wedding, with a gala opera when the Royal Court Opera put on Richard Wagner’s Lohengrin. The Opera House, when I arrived, was bedecked with my favourite flowers, pink carnations, and as we took our places in the Royal Box with our parents, all those present rose from their seats, and Ernst August and I bowed right, left and centre. As one, the entire audience bowed back. Next day, 24 May, was my wedding day. Early in the afternoon my mother helped me on with my bridal crown and veil. Then we repaired to the Chinese Room, and we found that a unit of soldiers had formed lines throughout the castle and taken up sentry posts everywhere. There was a bodyguard from the rst Guards Regiment, the Castle Guard in their historic Frederick the Great uniforms, the Garde du Corps in ceremonial dress, and the gendarmerie. At 4 p.m. members of the staff of the Royal Privy Purse came by, carrying the bridal crown of the Princess of Prussia. Then the Mistress of the Empress’s Household, Therese, Countess von Brockdorff, picked up the crown and ceremoniously handed it to my mother who carefully placed it on my head. We then proceeded to the chamber deemed the ‘Elector’s Room’ where my father received us, and Count Eulenberg, the Minister for the Royal House, completed the formalities regarding the marriage pact and the official registration of the marriage. As Ernst August and I signed the register, we heard a loud buzzing overhead above the castle. We all rushed to the windows and there above us was the airship Hansa, all gaily decorated with colourful pennants. Suddenly, a large bouquet of flowers came floating down from the airship. It was their way of congratulating us.

After the civil ceremony, the bridal procession, led by the Corps of Pages, wound its way through the Picture Gallery and the White Hall to the castle chapel. Behind the pages walked two Heralds with the Brandenburg and Prussian Coat of Arms, then the Chief Marshal, Prince zu Fiirstenberg with his big Marshal’s staff, and finally Ernst August and me. Behind us were the Kaiser in the uniform of the 1st Guards Regiment, with the Duchess of Cumberland in a lilaccoloured gown, then the Generals and the Admirals, and then the Kaiserin in a light green robe escorted by the Duke of Cumberland in his Austrian uniform. Then the Czar of Russia, in his Hussar uniform, escorted the Queen of England. The King of England, in his Cuirassier uniform, escorted the Crown Princess. Then they were followed by a whole host of Princes, including my brothers, and Princesses, Dukes and Duchesses. It was 5 p.m. by the time we reached the chapel to be greeted by the sound of music from the organ.

Bright sunlight filtered through the chapel cupola as Ernst August and I stepped up to the altar which my mother and Crown Princess Cecilie, my sister-in-law, had decorated with roses, carnations and wreaths. Pastor Dryander then delivered his sermon, earnest and worthy words which warned me about the seriousness of life.

After that came the actual marriage ceremony. Ernst August’s ‘yes’ rang out so loudly and clearly that I had to follow suit and when we joined hands in front of the altar he clasped mine very firmly, insisting that his thumbs were on top of mine. You see, there’s an old folk-tale which says that if the husband does not have his thumbs above those of his bride at the wedding ceremony then he will have no say during his marriage. Pastor Dryander looked slightly shocked at this little demonstration, but Ernst August and I just smiled at each other. Mary, the Queen of England, however, was so overcome by the whole ceremony that she broke into a flood of tears. Later, they used to say that she had sobbed because she had at that moment foreseen the forthcoming disaster of war the following year breaking over us. That is really out of the question. Queen Mary was very attached to the Guelph family and it was understandable that the ceremony should affect her.

As soon as the vows and rings had been exchanged, the battery of the rst Guards Field Artillery Regiment fired a 36-gun salute, the chapel bells rang out in loud peals, and the wedding party made its way to the White Hall again, where we stood under the canopy of the Throne and received congratulations from the guests filing past, as the orchestra played the “Wedding March’ from Midsummer Ni ght’s Dream. My husband and I had my father standing to our ri ght together with my mother-in-law, Queen Mary and the Czar, and on our left my mother, my father-in-law, Crown Princess Cecilie and King George V.

The ceremonial banquet began at 7 p.m. and was attended by one thousand one hundred guests. The remarkable thing about it was that the food was dished up by Lieutenant-General Baron von Siisskind, the Inspector of the Militia, at one end of the table and by LieutenantGeneral von Falk, the Inspector of the War Academy, at the other. They served the food then passed the plates to the lackeys, who handed them to the Court officials, and so on to each guest. As soon as the dinner was over, the White Hall became the setting for the traditional torch-dance, a sort of polonaise which, in earlier times, was danced with senior Court officials carrying big, heavy candles ahead of the procession of dancers. For these elderly gentlemen then it was certainly no easy task, but in my time these duties were taken over by the pages, who were physically better equipped. My father gave the Chief Marshal orders for the torch-dance to begin. Prince zu Fiirstenberg came up to my husband and me, bowed, and invited us to lead the dance. The band of the Guards Cuirassiers struck up a polonaise, the Chief Marshal placed himself at the head of the procession of dancers and, with twelve pages lined up two by two behind him, signalled for Ernst August and me to lead off the dance.

The spectacle of my dancing with the King of England and the Czar of Russia absolutely fascinated everybody present. It wasn’t something that happened every day, of course, but there were the rulers of the two mightiest nations on Earth, with the daughter of the German Kaiser between them, all dancing together. At the end of the dance the Czar turned to me and said: ‘My wish is that you will be as happy as I am.’ I have never forgotten those words: they were the last I was ever to hear from Czar Nicholas. The torch-dance was over. I left the room on my father’s arm, while my husband escorted my mother. The Prussian Princess’s Crown was taken away from me and given back for safe keeping to the officials of the Privy Purse. Then my mother lifted off my bridal wreath. The hour of parting had struck. We changed our clothes and went to the station accompanied by my father and four of my brothers".

The Kaiser's daughter: Memoirs of H. R. H. Viktoria Luise, Duchess of Brunswick and Lüneburg, Princess of Prussia

youtube

#memories #victoria louise of prussia #hohenzollern #brunswick #Youtube

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