#Sophie also knew what it was she's his wife and all

[nadiajustbe]

Once Howl bought himself a big flag of Wales for some purely national important holiday, so that his soul could be at ease that he did not forget his native important dates, because Wales does not love him, but he loves Wales

And he hung this flag somewhere in the Castle just for it to hang, seriously. He planned to take it down in a few days.

... But after the first visit, a very true rumor spread throughout Ingary that the horrible wizard Howl had defeated the dreadful dragon and hung its banner in his house as a trophy.

When these news reached the royal palace, wizeds Suliman laughed out of his mind.

[multifandomgirl08]

Glass Houses - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

Warning(s): Jos Verstappen (Being himself/an asshole), Mixed formatting (Story + Article), Max and Reader get into an argument about Reader going and meeting Jos, Max opens up to Reader about Jos, Max and Reader making up at the end

A/N: Although this chapter, like Stones To Throw, is pretty heavy in terms of topic. These were some of my favorites to write for this series. This is also the longest chapter of this whole series.

Words: 4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on. You and Raymond never talked much without Max around.

Max was at Milton Keynes for testing this week before the season started again, Nico was at school for the day and the sitter was taking care of Nikita for the few hours that you would be out of the house. When you showed up at the restaurant, you saw Raymond talking to someone who was sitting across from him.

As you got closer to the table you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. Raymond was sitting and talking with Max’s father. Who you had never formally met, or talked to at all. But you knew it was him, from the photos online to see the outline of the same man in your driveway 7 months ago. What was Raymond thinking inviting you to lunch with them?

You timidly walked up to the table before hearing Raymond speak, “Y/N,” He said with a slight nod.

“Hey Raymond,” You greeted him, letting your eyes sweep past Jos.

You didn’t want to look at him, mostly because of the stories that you had heard from Max and Victoria. Jos was a good grandfather to Victoria’s boys, but every time she brought it up with Max you could tell that he was getting angry about it. You always had to keep the peace between them when those conversations started.

Jos stood up from his chair reaching his hand out to take yours. You glanced at it and then at him. He was only slightly shorter than Max. Bigger in build from the fact that he wasn’t on an athletic diet like Max, who had to keep his weight down so he would be in top shape for when the season started in a few short weeks.

You didn’t want to shake his hand but did anyway. There had to be a reason as to why you were here. You just hoped it wasn’t to make a deal with the man who Max grew to despise as he grew up.

He gave you a half smile, and although it didn’t seem malicious you couldn’t help but slightly question it.

“Jos.” Max’s father said.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I know, my son’s wife.” He made a vague gesture towards you. “Where are my lovely grandsons, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You flinched internally at the word lovely. You loved the way Max said that word when he was complimenting you, or commenting on something that was going on. Hearing Max’s father say the same word and what followed after, made knots in your stomach start to form.

“I actually do.” You played with your wedding and engagement ring as you looked at him, not bothering to answer his question.

The more you looked at him, the more you could pick up the little parts of Max’s features that he got from Jos. His nose, his eyes, even though Max’s were a darker shade of blue. Max had a mix of Jos and Sophie’s hair. Luckily Max had gotten the majority of Sophie’s features.

“I was right, wasn’t I Ray?” Jos turned to Raymond. You could see his smile turn up a little more. “Max chose well.”

You had heard from Christian that Raymond and Jos were friends but never gave it much thought before now. You were sure that Max hadn’t told his father about the house, so Jos was keeping tabs on Max through Raymond.

“Is there a reason as to why I’m here?” If there wasn’t then you would like to go about the rest of your day. You still needed to get groceries before going and picking Nico up from school.

“I wanted to meet you,” Jos said before reaching for the glass that was in front of him. “Meet the woman who is going to help mold my grandson’s future in Formula 1.”

“You don’t know that, you have no idea if my son is going to keep karting.” You crossed your legs, your eyes traveling over Jos’ face trying to read into what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re son?” Jos mocked placing his glass back down onto the table.

“Yes.” You fired back. You didn’t need to hear this from him. Jos hadn’t been in Max’s life for a long time, and he had never even known Nico.

You watched as Jos’ shoulders went lax, sitting further back in his chair. His eyes studied you for a moment before he nodded.

“I’m surprised,” He crossed his arms.

“By?” You asked quizzically.

“My son finding someone… who can handle everything.” You wanted to question Jos. What did he mean by that? Everything? Did he mean Max’s career, his schedule, him being away all the time? Him having to raise a child by himself essentially for the first few years of Nico’s life?

You shook your head, “I don’t understand what you mean by everything. It’s not like my life is all that different. I’m married and I have 2 children. What’s so different about-?”

“I meant,” He said, cutting you off. “That you can love my grandson as if he’s your own.”

Your eyes hardened. Of course, you loved Nico as your own. How could you not? He was a sweet boy, who loved playing with his model cars, wanted to ride his bike around the driveway, and was always polite to those around him.

“There is no if, in that, it’s not as if he’s my own. That little boy is my son regardless of what you or other people might think.” You didn’t know Jos like Max did so you had no problem telling him how things were. “I can’t believe that you even thought it would be right to make Max give Nico up. Max is an amazing father to our children.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you felt bad for him. He would never get to see what a great dad Max was to the boys. He would just have to hear about it from other people.

Jos moved forward in his chair almost as if he wanted to lunge at you. You didn’t flinch or move away.

“You think that you have a right to tell me this.” He said defensively.

“I have every right,” You calmly replied. You weren’t going to elaborate. You didn’t need to.

You made sure to meet his eyes and could see the recognition in them. He knew deep down that you were right. But he would never admit it publicly or try to talk to Max about it. He had too much pride for that. He had raised Max to achieve everything that he did and now got to revel in it when anyone asked who pushed Max to succeed. It was like Jos fed off it.

“If you want to keep tabs on Max through Raymond, that is none of my business, but please respect that my husband doesn’t want you near our children.” You moved out of your chair pushing it in. Jos had moved his hands onto the armrest of the chair as if he were going to get up. “My children’s career, be it racing or otherwise, is none of your concern.”

You pushed up your hand to stop him from getting up from his chair. You didn’t want to be there. You should have just left when you saw that it was Jos here with Raymond.

You gave Jos one last look and you could see that whatever he was trying to accomplish by getting you here had failed. You collected your bag from the top of the table and walked away from them both.

You weren’t going to enjoy telling Max about this.

Five Days Later - Sunday

Wife of Formula 1 Driver, Max Verstappen, Y/N Verstappen seen abruptly leaving a restaurant just outside of Saint-Tropez

Anita Eriksson For DAILYMAIL.COM February 22, 2026

A few days ago one of our journalists was in Saint-Tropez and saw Y/N Verstappen, wife of 4 time World Champion Max Verstappen in a restaurant.

Verstappen's wife, Y/N was there for less than half an hour, and she was seen talking to who appeared to be Verstappen's father Jos, and his manager, Raymond Vermeulen. Over the years, people have started to notice that Jos Verstappen hasn't been present at F1 races and is never seen around the paddock anymore.

Rumors have spread that Verstappen banned his father, saying that he was too much of a distraction, making it hard for Max to compete. Verstappen's father was absent for all of Max's championship wins dating all the way back to his first in 2021. Just over a year after Verstappen's oldest son was born. Although, Jos being banned from the paddock has never been confirmed by Max or anyone from the Oracle Red Bull Racing Team.

From what the journalist saw, Y/N didn't seem all that happy to be sharing the same space with Jos. She sat down for a few minutes, didn't order anything, had what seemed to be a harsh conversation with him, and then collected her bag before getting into the navy blue Bentley Bentayga S 2026 that her husband bought her as a birthday present.

Jos Verstappen didn't look pleased after Y/N had left the table and was seen yelling at Vermeulen.

In December of last year, Y/N gave birth to Verstappen's second child, a boy named Nikita, named after racing legend Niki Lauda. Which they announced via. Y/N's Instagram. This is the first time that she has been seen out in public since the birth of her son.

One Day Later - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret

You had been in the kitchen making yourself something to eat after just having put Nikita down for his afternoon nap. Max had come storming into the room with his phone in hand, from the spare bedroom where his racing sim was set up.

"Did you have lunch with my father and Raymond while I was away last week?" 

You had stopped what you were doing and just looked at Max. You had never seen him so angry before. His expression was almost unreadable. You had only ever seen him look like this after something had gone wrong during a race.

You put down the knife that you were holding, "Yes." You started to say. You wouldn't really call the encounter that you had with Jos lunch, but to Max that would only be a minor detail. "Raymond called me and asked that I come meet him."

"You went, of course, without telling me." He stated, moving his hands a bit as he spoke.

You knew why Max was saying this. He didn't want Jos around you or Nico remembering how Max was after Jos had visited the house all those months ago. The following days after Max had been rather clingy with you and Nico, wanting to be around you as much as possible.

"I didn't know that Jos was going to be there." You hadn't but you should have assumed that it wouldn't just be a friendly lunch between you and Raymond either.

“You…” He started to say before he cut himself off. “You shouldn’t have gone. Not without me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Max.” You had always been able to handle things by yourself, that hadn’t changed. 

Max walked closer to you, leaving his phone face up on the counter. It was unlocked to show a Daily Mail article, with a photo of you from last week. It was you leaving the restaurant before you had gotten back into your car to go home.

Max didn't walk any closer to you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. You could see one of his hands slightly twitch as if he was going to reach out for you. He dropped his hand at his side and then ran it through his hair.

"Were the boys with you?" He asked. You watched as his eyes moved no doubt studying your face.

"No," You said with a sigh. You would never have taken the boys with you to meet Raymond alone. Maybe that's why you were so insistent that Sylvie stayed at the house with Nikita. Your instincts told you that it was better not to take Nikita with you. "Nico was at school and I left Nikita with Sylvie so I could go see Raymond," And your father, you thought. "And then went and got groceries before I went to pick up Nico once he got out of school for the day."

You knew better than to take Nico shopping with you, he would always put things in the shopping cart that you didn't need.

Max nodded but didn't say anything else to you. He walked out of the room, leaving his phone, not looking at you at all.

You picked it up and read through the article. There would no doubt be comments on Twitter about you with the hashtag #lionessverstappen. You had grown used to the moniker but never thought that your being protective over Max and the boys would lead to this type of reaction from Max.

You had never had to explain to Max why you did things throughout the entire time that you had been together. There had always been a reason and Max had understood that. Why couldn’t he understand this?

You didn’t follow Max out of the room because you knew if you did it would lead to both of you yelling at each other. So you just stayed in the kitchen and kept cooking. You finished making yourself food and then started the prep for dinner.

As you stared at the plate of food that you had made, you couldn’t help but push it away from you. You didn’t want to eat anything. You knew that you should since you were still breastfeeding but you couldn’t manage it. So you forgo eating and pull out your laptop to answer some work emails.

You glanced out into the backyard to see Max pacing back and forth while talking on the house phone, his hair in complete disarray from running his hand through it so many times.

As you looked at him, you wanted to tell him why you had gone to talk to Raymond.

Max didn’t talk about Jos unless he had to. He was always a sore subject. You thought that going and talking to Raymond would give you more insight into Max’s relationship with Jos. But after you had met Jos yourself, you were quick to realize that you should have waited for Max to talk to you about this when he was ready, even if he never would be.

After having only spent half an hour with Jos. You understood that Jos cared more for himself and the way he looked in the eyes of the media and F1 history than actually being a good parent/grandparent when it came down to it, or when it had anything to do with Max. He wanted people to view him as the person who helped mold a champion. It just happened to be that that Champion was his own flesh and blood.

The sound of the crackle from the baby monitor pulled you out of your thoughts. You left your computer open, rushing to Nikita’s room. Not noticing that Max had watched you leave before he sat down on the couch outside with his hands in his hair. The house phone now lying on the coffee table after he finished talking with the Red Bull team publicist.

You and Max hadn’t talked to each other all evening. Both of you paid attention to Nico at dinner and as you kept looking over at Max, there were only a few fleeting moments when you could feel him look at you.

This was the first time since you and Max had gotten married that you didn’t feel happy. After just a year of marriage, you had your first fight. Better now than later.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” He said after turning off the faucet in the kitchen after dinner.

You had sent Nico up to his room to finish his homework assignment, and Sylvie had taken Nikita to his room after his 7 pm feeding.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me.”

“What do you want me to say, Max?” You asked in urnist. “I didn’t tell you that I saw your father. I didn’t want to tell you given what we ended up talking about.” Even if you wanted to justify it by saying that you only meant to talk to Raymond that wouldn’t help.

Max gave you a pensive look, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I know.” He muttered before you saw his lips quiver. “What did he say?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” he pleaded. You shook your head not wanting to tell him before sighing.

“Something about helping mold Nico for Formula 1.” With those words, it was like you momentarily saw the color drain from Max’s face.

“He’s an asshole, and my father… and he-”

Max cut himself off with a sob. You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, holding his cheeks, and searching his eyes. Seeing the tears start to form, the storm brewing in the blues of his eyes.

You wanted to tell Max what Jos had said to you but thought it would be better for Max to get his thoughts out first.

“Jos had always pushed me to be the best when it comes to racing, and I, of course, let him because I thought it would make him proud of me.” He paused for a second as if he was trying to think of the right way to say something. “The only good thing he ever did for me was show me what it truly takes to be a father and love your children unconditionally.” He took in a sharp breath.

Max had pulled your hands away from his face. It was as if he needed the space to be able to get those final few thoughts out.

“There were always strings attached when it came to Jos being proud of me. If I wasn’t doing well, then he wasn’t proud of me. I know now, from the boys, that if you truly love your children, you put their interests first, always.”

That was why Max had such a hard time when Nico started karting. It was what Nico wanted at the time, and what he was still passionate about even now, but Max didn’t want to make Nico feel like, if he wasn’t doing well he wouldn’t be proud of him.

“I don’t want to feel as if he defines me, because I know that I’m nothing like him. But I can’t help it at times.” You didn’t want to keep telling Max that he was nothing like Jos. Being like Jos would always be Max’s biggest fear, and the only way that he would be able to get over it was for him to work through it. He would need you for that reassurance until the boys were old enough to be able to tell Max themselves that he had done the best that he could for them.

“I wanted to keep you away from him, so you wouldn’t see the parts of me that I get from him.” Max continued to say. “I can’t lose you, not when I’m grateful for all of the things that you have done for me, and our family.”

“You won’t lose me, I won’t let you.” You promised him.

Max was quick to drop his head afterward. “We don’t fight.”

It was true, you and Max didn’t have arguments. You weren’t those types of people.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t disagree on things in the future.” You said.

Max had held his hands out to you facing his palms out, inviting you to touch him. Offering himself up to you.

You moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours. “It matters that we worked it out.” He moved closer before resting his forehead against yours. “That we always find a solution, together.”

“We will.”

“I’m sorry, for getting upset with you.” He said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I went to lunch with Raymond and that Jos was there as well. I should have told you right after it happened.”

“It’s okay Schat,” Out of all of Max’s pet names for you that was the one he used the least. “I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to.”

“What did you say to him?” He asked muttering the words into your hair. Max was looking past you a little lost in thought.

You let out a small sigh, “I told him to respect that you don’t want him around the boys, and that Nico’s career wasn’t any of his concern.”

With those words, it put the conversation to rest. Max met your eyes, and you could see his shoulders relax.

Max pressed his lips to your forehead, and then your cheek. You let him hold you for a moment, running your fingers over his back as you felt his shoulders relax further. You slotted your head against his shoulder.

As you stood there in each other's arms the baby monitor crackled awake with the sound of Nikita fussing. You pulled back from Max before he stopped you.

“I’ll get him.” Max reached up and cupped your cheek before leaving you in the kitchen to calm him. You ended up pushing in the kitchen chairs that weren’t tucked under the counter. 

“Come, Nikita, come to Papa.” You heard over the baby monitor as you moved to sit in the living room. You could hear Nikita lightly fussing but it ended rather quickly.

You moved onto the couch taking the cashmere blanket that was hanging off the edge and laying it over your legs before you saw Max come back into the room with Nikita lying against his shoulder.

You didn’t move from your sport, instead you stayed there watching Max interact with the baby, as he gave him all of his attention. Nico had come into the living room, shoving the papers from his homework into his bag. He ended up climbing onto the couch before crawling over to you sitting in your lap, and laying his head on your shoulder.

Nico had gotten extra clingy with you now that Nikita was around. He wanted to always have your attention when he could even if you were trying to change Nikita’s diaper or make sure that Nikita wasn’t being fussy. It had taken a bit of time but eventually, Nico started to understand that you were paying more attention to Nikita because he was a baby, not because Nico had been replaced.

Max eventually joined you and Nico on the couch with Nikita tucked into his arms. You spend a little longer in the living room with them until Nico's head grew heavy against your shoulder after he fell asleep. You switch with Max, him taking Nico and putting him to bed and you taking Nikita, putting him in the bassinet that was in the master bedroom.

Eventuality both you and Max make it to bed, he can't seem to let you go once you’re under the covers sharing a few kisses before your eyes are too heavy to stay open. He pulled you flush against him, your head over his chest, his hands finding any bare skin that he could feel without the fabric of one of his shirts getting in his way.

“I love you.” You mutter into his chest. You need him to know that through every argument and all the time spent away from one another, you still love him and will always be there for him.

“Ik houd ook van jou, mijn leeuwin.” You can tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he’s almost asleep but not quite there yet. You feel one of his hands move out from under the shirt that you’re wearing before he reaches to take your hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand and then interlocks your fingers together placing it on the vacant part of his chest.

Translation:

Ik houd ook van jou - I love you too

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

The DM's Excerpts - Charles III: New King, New Court

Robert Hardman (who also wrote Queen of Our Times, published 2022) has written a new book about the British Royal Family. The Daily Mail is serializing parts of the book over four days, from 12 - 15 January 2024. Here are the links. If anyone has any others, feel free to share them in the comments.

If you don't want to give the DM clicks, I've included highlights below. (My browser doesn't recognize archive.vn or archive.ph as a valid domain so I can't create or access those links.)

TL;DR--

The day the Queen died, 12 Jan 2024

Secret summits over making Charles regent in Queen's last years, 13 Jan 2024

How the royals have dealt with a torrent of allegations from Harry and Meghan, 14 Jan 2024

Harmdan's intimate portrait of a woman who dances at Abba concerts, jabs the King with her handbag and 'knows when to wink at a bishop,' 15 Jan 2024

Excerpt #1, 12 Jan 2024

Highlights:

The last time most of her staff saw The Queen was at the pre-dinner cocktails the evening of September 6th. She was happy, chatty, and in a good mood. (September 6th was the Boris Johnson-Liz Truss transition.)

It was sheer luck that Anne and Peter were at Balmoral during this time. Anne was passing through for work, Peter was preparing for a shooting party he was going to host over the weekend (which ended up cancelled). Also Sarah Chatto was nearby.

On September 7th, The Queen planned to attend the Privy Council meeting as it involved new Cabinet officials being installed. She eventually cancelled on medical advice. This was the first signal to many that she wasn't doing well.

Charles and Camilla were on the western side of Scotland for a series of engagements September 7 - September 8. The morning of September 8, Anne called Charles to come to Balmoral at once. On the helicopter to Balmoral, everyone was reviewing the Operation London Bridge papers. They arrived at Birkhall around 10:30am and traveled to Balmoral in a borrowed car.

William was called around breakfast time and informed of the situation, including that was on his way to Balmoral. Charles himself called William (and Andrew, Edward, and Harry) that they should also come. After Charles's calls, Kensington Palace began coordinating with Royal Lodge (Andrew's office*) and Bagshot Park (Edward's office*) on travel to Scotland. William and KP did not reach out to the Sussexes because betrayal, and they felt the responsibility should have been on the Sussexes to make contact. (*Not really their offices, but it's the easiest way to keep them separate so you know who I'm talking about.)

Everyone was disturbed by Harry's inclusion of these events, especially the "Meghan's not coming/she's my wife/Kate's not coming either/that's all you had to say" bit, in his memoir. Harry's recollection of how he was notified of The Queen's death isn't true - he claims no one was talking to him but actually Charles and the palace had been trying to reach him repeatedly. The calls weren't going through because he was in the air. (Interesting that he'd check the BBC first as opposed to calling back after seeing a dozen of missed calls...or not springing for the wifi package...)

Liz Truss, the new PM, was in a G7 conference call on September 8th when she was notified of the situation in Scotland. She bowed out of the call early and quickly. The G7 leaders knew what was happening.

Charles was rather close to Balmoral when he received the call that The Queen had passed. William, Andrew, Edward, and Sophie were on the way to Balmoral from the Aberdeen airport. Charles called them himself to let them know.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was in France on a personal holiday. He and his wife began preparing to return home after seeing the palace's first statement about The Queen's health. They drove home overnight so Welby could make an address in the morning.

Excerpt #2, 13 Jan 2024

Highlights:

The Queen had been quite ill in her final year. She knew and was aware her time was ending that summer.

A regency would have been created had she lived as long as The Queen Mother because everyone was fearful of a health condition flaring up in public.

Planning for Charles's accession and coronation began in 2015. Sir Alderton, his private secretary, created a "training video" of the accession/transition then that Charles, Camilla, and William watched in the evening of September 8th during their private dinner at Birkhall, while Princess Anne hosted the rest of the family at Balmoral. If Harry wasn't such a dick (my word, not Hardman's), he'd have been part of the Birkhall dinner but he wasn't and there were very serious concerns he would write about it in Spare.

The announcement of The Queen's death was delayed because family members hadn't been informed yet. (I think it was Harry they were waiting on, per the events in the first article.)

The royals were very touched by the outpouring of public affection for The Queen, themselves, and their family. Camilla was struck by how supportive the crowd was of her. Anne was touched by the tractors, horses, and the crowds that lined the roads in Scotland. It was a six hour drive, and she and Tim had had snacks in their car but they both felt it would have been rude to everyone that came to see the procession and pay their respects to be seen eating.

Camilla sobbed through Charles's first speech.

The Privy Council were concerned that the political upheaval in the government would cause problems for the accession, transition, and royal mourning.

It was William's idea for him, Kate, and the Sussexes to do the Windsor walkabout together. He organized it in two hours. No one found it easy or enjoyable.

Excerpt #3, 14 Jan 2024

Highlights:

The Queen felt she had to say 'yes' when Harry contacted her about naming his daughter Lilibet and she was very angry with him for it. (Reading between the lines, it sounds like the decision was presented by the Sussexes as "fait accompli" and The Queen took offense.)

The Sussexes tried to force the palace to go along with their version (that they had asked The Queen for permission) but the palace refused to play. They also tried to intimidate the press with legal action if anyone didn't report "their" version of events, even going so far as threatening the BBC with a lawsuit.

Everyone at the palace rolled their eyes about the Sussexes getting the RFK "Ripple of Hope Award." They felt that the "legacy" the Sussexes were being rewarded for was laughable, especially when compared to Charles's work.

The Caribbean gets its news through the US media. (I believe this confirms the theory that Sussex PR influenced the Caribbean's coverage of the Royal Family)

William saw Harry's comments in the Netflix documentary that they're expected to marry someone who fits the mold as an attack on Kate and he's been furious since. He feels betrayed by Harry having discussed their relationship so freely, thinks it's an intrusion of privacy.

Neither William nor Kate have read Spare but they are aware of what's being said and their staffs have briefed them.

Harry's version of events when The Queen Mother died is totally made up. (In Spare, Harry says he was alone, it was springtime just before Easter, and he took the call himself, but actually he was in Switzerland skiing with Charles and William and all three were told together by an aide.)

It's very suspicious that Spare largely skips May 2018 - March 2020. The palace thinks it'll be covered in the second version or Meghan's memoir.

The door is open for Harry and Meghan to return but they'll have to make the first steps since Charles has given up.

Anne's seat the coronation in front of Harry was a last-minute change so she could leave more quickly after the service in the procssion. She was concerned about keeping her hat on since it was "decent-sized" but she was told to keep it on.

Excerpt #4, 15 Jan 2024 - TBD

Highlights

It's been a difficult transition to Queen for Camilla, but everyone believes she handled it well. Her family finds it surreal.

Camilla doesn't mind being second fiddle to Charles.

She still has her Wiltshire home, Ray Mill, which she bought after divorcing Andrew PB. She still visits and stays there to this day.

Everyone walks a bit on eggshells around Charles because he's a bit temperamental, but Camilla steadies him.

Camilla likes her rooms hot. Charles like his rooms cold and windows open.

Charles skips lunch. Camilla does not.

Camilla keeps Charles running on time when he gets chatty.

Camilla is hands-on with her charities and patronage.

I find her sister is overstaying her welcome. After her starring role in the coronation documentary and now her interviews with Hardman for the book, it's too much and feels like she's trying too hard.

Other stories by Hardman from his book:

Foreign Office officials 'ditched buses for dignitaries' at coronation after backlash at the Queen's funeral, 13 Jan 2024

Brigadier who helped carry Queen's coffin was at a wedding in Corfu, 13 Jan 2024

Queen's funeral rehearsal was a comedy of errors as even the band went AWOL, 13 Jan 2024

Prince Andrew could be 'far more damaging outside the loop,' 14 Jan 2024

The DM's other royal reporters - Martin Robinson, Rebecca English, Natasha Livingstone - are publishing "recaps" of Hardman's excerpts. Some of Rebecca English's stories are augmented by her own sources. Here are a few:

Insiders revewal how the Queen was so upset by Harry and Meghan's Lilibet decision that she told aides 'the only thing I own is my name. And now they've taken that': The royal row taht troubled Her Majesty in twilight of her reign, 15 Jan 2024

'For William, this was the lwoest of the low,' 15 Jan 2024

Camilla was given the affection nickname 'Lorraine' before seh became Queen, 14 Jan 2024

Harry and Meghan likely caused Queen 'distress' in her final years over naming of baby Lilibet, 15 Jan 2024

The Queen's final years were overshadowed by Harry and Meghan's hunger for publicity, 15 Jan 2024

Also, these are reminding me of some things Harry and Meghan (Harry mostly) have claimed and Hardman's articles are debunking them. I need to do a bit of research to check if the dates on what I'm remembering line up with the timeline Hardman is presenting. I'll do a separate post on that since this is already quite long.

[nesiacha]

Marie Anne Babeuf: A Largely Forgotten Revolutionary

It is true that many female revolutionaries from the French Revolution period are not well remembered. I'd like to make a post in honor of Marie Anne Victoire Babeuf, née Langlet, who was a revolutionary and a staunch supporter of Gracchus Babeuf before and after his death. I couldn't even find a drawing of her.

She was born in Amiens in 1756 and worked as a servant in a château near the Somme. There, she met her future husband, Gracchus Babeuf, who was then known as François Noël Babeuf. They married for love but unfortunately had to endure the loss of their two daughters, both named Sophie (one died from burns at age 4 in 1787, and the other from malnutrition at age 7 in 1788). They then had three sons: the most famous, Robert Babeuf, born in 1785 and later renamed Emile in honor of Rousseau, Camille Babeuf in 1790, and Caius Babeuf in 1797.

Marie Anne was one of her husband's greatest political supporters and closest collaborators. She printed his newspaper for a long time, and her activism led to her arrest for two days in February 1795.

When her husband was arrested while she was pregnant, she made almost every possible effort to secure his release. She never gave up on him. She walked from Paris to Vendôme with Buonarroti's wife to better assist in the defense of their husband. She attended the trial that sentenced her husband to death. A few months after Gracchus Babeuf's suicide, she gave birth to their last son, Caius. Félix Lepeletier acted as a protector of the family (it appears that Turreau also helped and supposedly adopted Camille Babeuf, one of his very few good deeds). She supported her children through various small jobs, including working as a market vendor, while never abandoning her activism and remaining combative.

And she needed it, because during the rue de Nicaisne attack, which had disastrous consequences for the Jacobins (I’ve already shared my thoughts on this here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/756533326215528448/the-jacobins-executed-by-bonaparte?source=share), she lost one of her most loyal allies, Félix Lepeletier, who was sentenced to deportation. She herself was arrested following this event. One can only imagine her anguish, as she was the one supporting her sons amid the violence of the repression even if it seems that she was released soon. It would not be the last time she had trouble with the Bonapartist regime. During a conspiracy of Malet , she was once again visited by the Napoleonic police, who confiscated her papers in 1808.

It seems that misfortunes continued to befall Marie Anne Babeuf, as some sources suggest that her son Caius Babeuf died during the 1814 invasion. Her son Emile Babeuf, also an activist, sided with the Hundred Days regime and, surprisingly, wrote a letter to Carnot (one of the main organizers of the Babouvist repression), although it is less surprising given that he knew what Bonaparte had done to him and his family. I’ve already given my opinion, considering that the Republicans preferred to unite, including with Bonaparte, despite their grievances, to avoid the imminent Bourbon restoration (see this post for more information: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/755017284158980096/emile-babeuf-and-the-letter-send-lazare-carnot?source=share). He was sentenced to deportation but was pardoned on August 25, 1818. In the meantime, his mother obtained a visitation permit that she often used. It also seems that her son Camille Babeuf committed suicide during the Allies’ entry into Paris in 1815. I hope Caius and Camille did not die like that, as it would add another tragedy (surviving her beloved husband and then four out of five children, not to mention all the problems she faced due to her activism and her surroundings).

We have no record of when this unjustly forgotten revolutionary died. She seemed extremely combative, and her commitment is beyond doubt.But how hard it must have been for her to see that the ideals of the revolution that she and her husband fought to achieve were defeated first by the Directory, then by Napoleon's regime and finally by the Bourbon Restoration.

Most of the sources I used are from historian Jean Marc Schiappa. While working on a project to write her biography, I finally found a biography of her on a French site called Maitron, which I invite you all to see here: https://maitron.fr/spip.php?article25533. I found it just a few days ago, and there are some of portraits of revolutionaries from different periods and countries. Too bad that it is generally only of a political branch because I have not been able to find for example portraits of the Brissottins (for the moment maybe they are in this site)

[zerozeroren]

Are there plans for the marital status? 👀

It's not all sunshine and rainbows in SophieTony kingdom

Long-ish post incoming:

Of their very few tension points, this one is definitely the worst. Sophie does not want to be married.

It's actually a very emotionally raw place for her to be in. She's very passionate about never entering marriage, because she's never seen a successful one. Her parents' marriage ended in a messy divorce that somewhat traumatised her, and then her dad remarried, and it got even nastier. He, being the bastard he is, held the marriage over his new wife's head, in a "Oh you don't like something? Well deal with it because you're not getting away from me now!" sense. And this entrapment that both her mom and stepmom went through became one of Sophie's biggest subconscious fears. So she doesn't view marriage as a happy union of loving hearts, more like a cage where dreams go to die.

Tony, on the other hand, really wants to be married. He romantisizes it like crazy and can't wait to become a husband to a wife, so after a certain point in their relationship he started dropping "hints". Sophie tried her best to turn them into a joke, like, "ha-ha, I already tie the knot on you every Saturday night, what else do you want from me", then explained about common law and that there's no need to get married to share property or whatever and that he was already in her will (that certainly was a fun conversation), but that's not what Tony wanted in the first place so it all fell on deaf ears (also, Sophie didn't really go into much detail in regards to her family life, so Tony did not make the connection until muuuuch later). Sophie's micro-rejections hurt his feelings but didn't deter him, because he can be quire stubborn at times (always getting what you wanted does that to a person sometimes).

So for quite a while the two of them were stuck in this tug of war, him pushing, her not wanting to budge, tension rising and rising every time. Eventually it all came to an open confrontation, where Sophie finally stopped sugar-coating and dragged him through the mud for pushing her towards something she didn't want. Was he really just interested in the status not the relationship itself? Did he want her to marry him under pressure, knowing she wasn't eager to do it? Would he be happy like this?

Funnily, deep down the both of them knew that if he kept at it, she'd eventually cave, because Sophie loves him and doesn't want to lose him after all, and this would be a sacrifice she'd be willing to make for his sake, but this exact realisation finally got through to Tony and made him understand what a jerk he was being to his favourite person in the world, and that he doesn't want to manipulate or pressure her into anything. So he chose being with her on her terms, because he was already happiest he's ever been with Sophie without a marriage certificate.

Safe to say Sophie got a lot of apologies.

(and they eventually did get married when they were 30-something and Sophie worked through a ton of her own issues with Tony by her side through thick and thin)

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Palace

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content Word count: 3.6k

Summary: Benedict makes Sophie’s first royal event one to remember.

Author’s Note: Happy Queen Charlotte release day! Here’s some smut to celebrate 😜 No spoilers for the show in this fic, just some royal-adjacent horny nonsense. This is also my belated birthday gift to @queen-of-the-misfit-toys Enjoy our boy and his talented hands, my dear 💙

Sophie needed a moment to breathe. Between the glare of the sun, the tightness of her stays and the dizzying array of new faces, her head was beginning to spin. Happily, the reception party was spread across both the gardens and two floors of St. James’s Palace, offering plenty of quiet corners where she could rest. Leaving Benedict in conversation with Anthony, she picked her way up to a room on the second floor. Despite its towering ceilings and the endless stretches of halls that winged away from its massive doors, the tapestries within made it feel marginally warmer than the throne and ballrooms below. A bouquet of purple blooms perched on a low table in front of the windows and she stood by it, trying to steady herself as she watched the members of court mingle in the gardens.

It was Hyacinth’s presentation day, but Benedict had wasted no opportunity to remind Sophie that it served as her presentation too. The first year of their marriage had been spent blissfully in the countryside but now she and the whole of the Bridgerton clan had agreed that it was time for her to appear in the London season. Everyone was well rehearsed in Sophie’s backstory if need be. The explanation that she was a distant cousin of the late Earl of Penwood had been carefully worded by Anthony and Violet. All members of the family were instructed to alert them if anyone probed too insistently. They all hoped it wouldn’t cause too much speculation for the second-born Bridgerton son to reemerge from a long absence with a wife in tow, but the ton were fickle and always desperate for gossip.

The morning ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Hyacinth had walked serenely to the Queen, though her family could tell she was fighting to suppress giggles the entire time. Sophie had managed to blend into the sea of ladies in ivory dresses with no one taking notice of her until the reception party began in the garden. Anthony had circled her like a hawk, glowering more than usual at each person she and Benedict spoke to and he only moved away when the attendees queued to greet the Queen. Sophie was buzzing with anxiety, her mind roaring as Benedict guided her forward and introduced her. Somehow she had remembered to curtsy properly and to smile. She had said something that made the Queen laugh but couldn’t remember what, then she had turned away, dazed. Benedict brought her back to herself with a tight squeeze of her hand and an encouraging smile before they separated to mingle.

Now the enormity of the day was weighing on her and Sophie needed this reprieve. How she found herself here, barely a year after selling her hair to a wigmaker and cleaning out chamberpots, was still a turn of events she couldn’t fully believe. As she leaned against the table and enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers, Benedict entered the room behind her. She knew it was him even before the press of warm lips against her neck. She could always sense when he was nearby, attuned to him like the change in pressure before a storm. Her skin would prickle and her mind would calm, steadied by the proximity of her anchor in this new life.

His hands banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulder. “What do you think, my love? Your first royal event.”

Sophie smiled, grateful for the familiar comfort of his arms. “It is breathtaking. I could never have dreamed I would find myself here. Introduced to the Queen of England. Do you think she believed our story? Do you think she knows I don’t really belong?”

Benedict gently turned her chin back to face him with a gloved hand. His brow was creased. “You do belong here. As much as anyone. You are my wife and the daughter of an Earl. I never want you doubting yourself.” His insistent tone reverberated into her back, leaving no space for her heart or mind to argue. “I think she believed us but even if she didn’t, she clearly doesn’t care. You fit in here. Somehow, you manage to fit perfectly everywhere.” The fingers on her chin moved to stroke her cheek. “In our little country cottage, or in these grand halls, looking like a veritable princess.”

He pressed another kiss to her lips and she sank against him, fighting the tears that his words stirred within her.

“I love you so much, Benedict,” she whispered. “You’ll never know how much.”

He tightened his hold, hands splaying across her ribs. “And I love you, darling. You are my entire heart. My whole world.” He paused and let his eyes stray across her decolletage, highly pronounced thanks to the incomparable structure of her court dress. “This may be the most striking dress I’ve ever seen you in. I can’t deny that it has sent my mind in all kinds of…enticing directions.”

The crooked grin that followed was a warning shot.

Sophie sighed, turning back to the windows. “Ben, we really can’t.”

“We won’t.” His mock indignation was completely undermined by the low pitch his voice sank into. His hands traced down to grasp her hips and he pressed himself firmly into her backside, pinning her between him and the table. His words ghosted warm next to her ear, a devastating purr. “We aren’t doing anything. We are just standing, a husband and wife, quietly taking in the view.” 

That’s when he pushed her hips forward ever so slightly, nearly imperceptible, but enough for her to realize that the table was at precisely the right height to strike her where sensation would bloom. She let out a small gasp.

Undeterred, Benedict continued. “We are surveying the grounds…” He nudged her against the table edge again. “The people.” Again.

Sophie took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her. Sometimes she wondered if she had married the devil himself. How dare he act so brazenly in public and in a royal palace no less? But she knew, of course, that it was precisely within Benedict Bridgerton’s nature to do such a thing. And God help her, it was one of the reasons she was so hopelessly in love with him. 

Perhaps they could do this undetected. The doors behind them were too heavy to close and they could be seen by anyone passing in the hall, but this corner of the upper floor seemed deserted. And if they were, as Benedict said, just a husband and wife standing by the window, rocking with such small movements, perhaps no one would know what was happening even if they were discovered. Benedict understood her body so well and was rubbing her into the table at such a precise angle, she knew she could finish quickly. A small burst of pleasure would no doubt help ease her nerves, which she surmised was part of his motivation.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure. “They are stunning.”

“Yes, they are.” He rumbled low in her ear, his hands tight on her hips, guiding her back and forth, grinding her into the sloped angle of the wood. “The peacocks in particular are an excellent touch, are they not?” With that, he surged his hips into her and Sophie groaned quietly at the stiff length she felt pressing into the cleft of her bottom. 

“Yes…” She gasped, eyes fluttering closed as all her focus narrowed to the heat between her thighs and the crush of him behind her.

“Keep your eyes on everyone out there.” Benedict tutted and she obeyed, bracing herself with palms pressed into the tabletop and gaze locked on the oblivious crowds below. 

He had found a steady rhythm, pushing her forward with his body and hands, thrusting her against the table with small movements that sent spikes of desire shooting through her blood. Over and over with mechanical precision he maneuvered her in chasing pleasure, the slight quiver of the flowers beside them the only indicator to any passersby that something untoward was happening. 

Benedict’s tone was quiet but with an undeniably gruff edge. “I want you to remember this moment. That you are in a palace, looking down on all the ton. You are regal Sophie. You were so marvelous speaking to Her Majesty. I was so proud to show her that I had married the most gorgeous woman in England. A woman that far outshines any of her Diamonds. With more strength and fortitude than they could ever muster. She may be the Queen, but I am certainly the richer of us both.”

Sophie gripped the table and stared, entranced as Benedict set her body and mind alight. His potent blend of arousal and affirmation drilled home the truth of his words. She did belong. She was special. Powerful even. A Bridgerton with a handsome husband on her arm and a formidable family to support her. She wore the same fine fabrics as the ladies in the sunlit hedgerows below and had received the same invitation to be feted by the Queen herself. Sophie Beckett the maid was no longer. Sophia Bridgerton had taken her place and was being ravished in a palace above the heads of the ton by a man they all respected and desired.

When his mouth opened hot on her neck to graze it with his teeth Sophie moaned aloud, unable to restrain herself. He had worked her into a state, humming with arousal, her womanhood engorged and soaking. She was burning and lightheaded and knew that she had more than the strictures of her dress to blame. While his movements made the wave of lust swell within her body, his words made her longing for him swell within her heart. She needed his mouth on hers, his skin on hers. It was the only way she would crest the wave and in that moment, everything else could be damned.

“Ben,” She spun around to face him and crashed her mouth to his, drinking in the taste of him as she tugged off his gloves. He let her do as she wished, sliding his tongue to map the circumference of her lips as she pulled his hand up and under her skirt. Caged though her breasts and consequently her lungs may be, her lower undergarments were still easy to bypass and Sophie was aching for her husband’s fingers.

Benedict paused, face lighting with mischief as he gave her a lopsided smile. “Anyone could see us.” 

As if confirming her commitment to impropriety, Sophie smirked and hopped backward to sit on the table, wrapping her arms across his broad shoulders. “Good. Let them watch.”

With something like a snarl, his eyes darkened and he dipped his head to suck at the delicate skin beneath her ear. The hand under her skirt began to quest through the layers of fabric. “You hoping to make them jealous?”

“Yes,” She breathed, leaning her head back and reveling in the pattern he traced with his tongue.

“You want them all to see you getting finger fucked at their stuffy soiree?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his fingers found her wet heat and brushed gently over her opening.

“Desperately,” She shuddered, breathing heavier as she shot another glance out the window. “I want them to know that I’m yours.”

With no preamble Benedict covered her throbbing center with the whole of his hand, cupping her possessively. He pulled back to meet her eyes. Gone was the sweet, gentle artist, replaced by an imposing seducer who looked about ready to devour her.

“This is mine is it then, darling?” He smiled wolfishly.

“Yes,” Sophie gaped, heart pounding. Only once she confirmed it did his hand start moving, fingers sliding through the slickness he had caused as his palm ground against her pubic bone, giving her the pressure she loved. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand gently around her neck. Not hard enough to restrict her breath, just enough to hold her in place. His thumb traced languidly over the ridges of her throat above the tiers of pearls that he had gifted her for the occasion.

“And those lips…” He bent and sucked on the lower one, nibbling it before pulling away. “They are mine?”

“Yes,” Sophie’s eyes closed, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. She was growing dizzy with the intensity of the moment. His dominating play made her giddy enough but to unleash it when they were in public and at risk of being caught…it made her lose her senses.

His hand beneath her skirts shifted, aligning the pad of his thumb on her swollen clit precisely where she had shown him she liked to be touched. Then he began rubbing in skillful circles. Two more fingers pressed inside her and slid firmly in and out, probing with clear intention. Sophie hissed, her stomach clenching like a fist, nails digging into his wrist. Her nerves began to sing, the wave rising under his ministrations. This was precisely what she needed.

Benedict trailed open-mouthed kisses over her exposed skin, licking along the neckline of her dress.

“The whole of this incredible woman. She is mine. And how she dazzles. In silks. In satins. In nothing at all. Am I not the luckiest man alive to be tasked with serving her? Pleasuring her.”  

His voice was dusky against her flesh and punctuated by her moan when he bit lightly into the swell of her breast. His long fingers continued to tease and swirl, pumping into her and coaxing her to release. Sophie felt her nipples harden as her body relented, lost to any way he wanted to command it, trusting him to bring her to heights she could never accomplish herself. She hooked her ankles around the back of his calves, pulling him closer between her thighs, needing the heat of him to mingle with the one he stoked in her. Clutching one another, they were nearly inert save for the talented movements of Benedict’s hand beneath her skirts. The only sounds in the room were the light rustle of fabric and Sophie’s small, pleasured breaths. 

Sophie clung to his wrist, the pounding blood in her ears drowning out every sense but touch. The expert flick of his thumb against her nerves that caused her stomach to knot delightfully. The glide of his reach inside her, petting the spots that made her clench and evoking memories of his cock and its steady pace that ratcheted her to delirium. All of it heightened by his hold on her neck, the ownership he claimed over the fluttering breaths he was forcing out of her. In these moments her body was his, because she knew that his heart would always be hers.

Benedict marveled at the beauty of his wife lost in the throes of pleasure, her lips swollen from kissing, her eyes hazy, fingers flexing each time he pressed against her sweetest spot, right under her clitoral hood. He reveled in her flushed skin and needy noises, the bobbing of her throat beneath his fingers. He would never tire of making her feel this way. In fact, he longed to draw it out, leave her breathless and screaming for release, soaking his hand as he made her come over and over until her knees faltered. But they didn’t have the luxury of time. So he focused his movements, small but incendiary, on the most sensitive parts of her. He grinned, noting how her hips had started to rock, pushing herself down onto his fingers as much as he was pushing up into her. He leaned to her ear and whispered. 

“That’s it. You’re beautiful, so beautiful my love.” His lips returned to her neck, nibbling around the elaborate necklace, his breath gusting hot across her skin. “I love to see you choked with my pearls.”

Her whole body stiffened, his words driving her higher. “I prefer your hands.” She rasped, managing to arch a coquettish brow. 

The responding gleam in his steely eyes was precisely what she had been hoping for. Spurred on, Benedict tightened his grip, starting to slightly constrict her windpipe as his fingers increased their speed and pressure, pounding into her and teasing her nub viciously.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.” He growled. “You are radiant with all manner of things around your neck.” He sucked at her collarbone before moving back to her lips, kissing her between each honeyed word of praise. “Priceless. My wife. My queen.”

Sophie could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his fingers was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her. She knew she was approaching the end. 

“Don’t…be treasonous…”

He chuckled darkly. “I can revere whomever I want to behind closed doors. Would you want that? For me to kneel before you tonight?”

Sophie’s eyes blazed, enticed by his offer. They had played that way before, Benedict submitting to her wishes, and it always set a fire in her belly. She envisioned him naked, kneeling before her on the floor of their bedroom, skin glowing in firelight that etched the outlines of his muscles and betrayed the leaking of his eager cock. She could hook her leg over his shoulder and command him to feast upon her until neither of them could breathe. She could sink her hands into the waves of his dark hair and press him into her body, riding him mercilessly to her bliss. 

It was this imagery that caused her to break, thighs quaking as she bucked against him. Benedict could feel her quiver inside. Throwing her head back, she started to moan his name but he cut her off quickly with a gentle squeeze of her throat.

“Shhh. Don’t scream my name or you’ll give us away.” His eyes were hungry as he continued rubbing her furiously, rocking his hand in and out of her. “Just come for me.” 

He felt her hold her breath, then the rippling spasms started to dance down the length of his fingers. She froze, rigid, gripping onto his wrist for dear life. 

“That’s it. Come all over my hand.” He goaded through gritted teeth. “Then we’re going to walk out of here as if you aren’t drenched.”

He coaxed more out of her, slowing and curling his strokes as the pulsing continued, fanning out through her body, causing her to jerk. Sophie’s mind floated as the wave washed over her, its epicenter under his fingertips.

Benedict released her throat and held her close in the breathless moments as she shuddered with aftershocks. He withdrew his other hand and Sophie opened her eyes to find him sucking decadently at his fingers, relishing her taste. Lightheaded, she gently palmed the prominent tent in his breeches.

“What about you?”

Benedict smirked. “If etiquette didn’t require me to be in breeches and hose, maybe. But I’ll show you when we get home what an ordeal they are to remove. Let’s just wait a moment, my love. I will be fine.”

She laughed, the room beginning to orient itself around her again, gravity falling back into place.

“Perhaps the dress code was established for precisely that reason.”

—

An hour later at the close of the reception, Benedict and Sophie were turning to walk out through the gardens when they halted at the sight of the Queen approaching, closely followed by her man Brimsley. Sophie’s mind began to whir. She had been so blissful in the wake of their rendezvous that guilt had not settled on her thoughts as it perhaps should have. But now, reminded of precisely whose home she had defiled, she was filled with shame and could only pray that Her Majesty didn’t know the scandalous truth.

Queen Charlotte strode to them directly and they stepped apart, inclining their heads as they bowed and curtsied deeply.

The Queen fixed her eyes on Benedict. “Mr. Bridgerton. So glad you could join us when I have seen you at so few of my events.” She pursed her lips. “Though, I’m sure you are busy with your work. My nephew Friedrich has commissioned you for his official portrait, has he not?”

A bit stunned, Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has, your Majesty. An honor that I gladly accepted.”

“Very good. I’ll wait for his assessment and then see if we cannot use another portraitist for my family.” Her eyes scanned him up and down, scrutinizing though he was not sure for what. With the quirk of a smile, she continued. “We are always looking for those with creativity and…discretion.”

Gobsmacked, Benedict’s face lit up as he bowed again. “Your Majesty.”

Before she departed, the Queen pivoted to Sophie with the same small, enigmatic smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Sophie nearly stumbled in her rush to curtsy again, overwhelmed by the entire exchange. Rising, she saw the Queen was gone but Brimsley had lingered and was staring at her pointedly. With a quick gesture he motioned toward her neckline. To her horror, she looked down to see bruising teeth marks on her breast peeking just above her bodice. She scrambled to conceal it and looked back at the Queen’s Man, blushing crimson. She did not know whether to feel relief or mortification as he shot her a wry smile, winked, then turned and caught up to the Queen, five paces behind as always.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Spirited Away

Cannon divergence of An Offer from a Gentleman #1

Synopsis: “When I come back around, will I know what to say?” Or what if Sophie became pregnant with Charlie after the couch scene? What if Sophie agreed to be Benedict’s mistress for the sake of her son? What if Benedict never resisted the rules of the ton?

The darkest timeline of AOFAG; inspired by Billy Eilish’s “CHIHIRO”.

AO3 post from here!

“I’m getting married next month.”

When Benedict murmured those words against her neck, Sophie felt nothing. Nothing at all. Perhaps Benedict thought she would start crying, or at least, emotionally disturbed, because he began to stroke her curls as if soothing her from the nonexistent pain.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Sophie listened to the ticking of the clock.

“But, nothing is going to change between us, my love. In my heart, you are already my wife,”

Staring through the half-opened window, Sophie noticed that the moon was exceptionally well-lit that night,

“Which young lady is going to be Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton?”

“Ms. Stowell.” Benedict sighed as he tightened his arms around Sophie’s small waist, feeling her soft smooth skin against his, “Dolores Stowell.”

“Please send my regards.”

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” Benedict tried to roll her to his side, wanting to look into her eyes, but her grip on the sheets was too tight, “You knew I had to marry someday,”

“I know.”

“Mother and Anthony were pinching me to marry. I thought I should get it over with,”

“I understand.”

“Aren’t you jealous, Sophie?”

“Do you want me to be jealous?”

Yes, his pathetic answer almost strumbled from his lips. He half wanted her to scream and cry in hysterics, begging him to marry her instead. If she were in fits of anger and jealousy, Benedict could hold her tight and smooth her, whispering love into her ears until she calmed down and slept peacefully in his arms.

But Sophie only lay there motionless, emotionless.

Silence crept up in the spacious townhouse on St. Johns Street. Only the peaceful sounds of Charlie snoring from the nursery could they hear.

“Do you know how much I love you, Sophie?.” Benedict covered his hands over Sophie’s clenched fists. Trailing her delicate, cold fingertips. “I love you, Sophie.”

“I know.”

“Only you.”

“I know.”

At the break of dawn, Sophie felt Benedict slip away from the covers, the gentle waves of the mattresses waking up from her doze. On any other day, Sophie would wake up and send him off with a kiss, but that day, Sophie just couldn’t bring herself to do so.

She kept her eyes shut as Benedict placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his hands lingering on her golden curls. Then, she heard a small click on the door; Benedict was so careful not to make a sound. Making sure that Sophie and Charlie would stay in their sweet dreams of their own.

Life as Benedict’s mistress wasn’t as horrible as she had imagined. It wasn’t horrible, in fact, it might be the life she had once dreamed of.

Even before Charlie was born, Benedict visited the townhouse every day with flowers in his hand, a basket of apples and pears she had craved during her pregnancy. He didn’t sleep for three days and held her hand tightly as she screamed and moaned in pain, the birth of Charlie Bridgerton had been long and painful. Both in tears and sweat, he had burst into tears of joy when the midwife handed the little baby in his arms, telling him with a smile that it was a healthy boy. Sophie had also shed tears as she watched Benedict sing lullabies while cradling little Charlie, knowing that perhaps, she had not foolishly repeated the tragedy of her mother. Unlike Sophie, Charlie was loved by his father. Unlike her mother, she was loved. Sophie knew that nothing could be better.

Almost every day, Benedict would come home from his studio at five o’clock, and Benedict would ask how her day was as she cooked supper for three, and chatted over their dinner plates. Benedict would play with Charlie as he tumbled on his lap, and after tucking in his son with a lullaby and a kiss on the forehead, Benedict would wrap Sophie in his warm arms, murmuring sweet love in her ears. Some nights were spent with cups of tea and suppressed giggles, talking and laughing away about Charlie, paintings, poems, and books. Sometimes nothing at all, talking absolute nonsense for hours and hours. Some nights were spent inside Benedict’s arms, waltzing around the room, dancing and twirling to the gentle sound of the music box. Some nights were spent with hushed voices, Benedict worshiping every part of her with his body and soul. Feeling the intense heat on her, inside her, Sophie knew that she was loved.

Sometimes, Benedict would take Sophie and Charlie to the park, and the three would have a picnic on the freshly cut grass, laughing as Charlie rolled on the grass chasing butterflies. Benedict would doze off in the armchair beside the fireplace with Charlie in his arms, Charlie snoring happily with the exact same drop of his eyebrows. It was astonishing how the two resembled each other, and Sophie had to chuckle when Charlie gave her the same crooked grin as Benedict when he was up to mischief.

Sometimes, Benedict would take the two to Wiltshire, where Sophie could roam around the village without fearing being seen by the other Bridgertons. Charlie would burst into fits of laughter as Benedict softly tickled his stomach inside their carriage. Mr. And Mrs. Crabtree would coo and cuddle Charlie without any questions, Charlie enjoying the undivided attention he was getting from the elderly couple.

Charlie giggled happily on Sophie’s lap as Benedict gently pushed her from the back, on the swings he had made on the cherry tree. The three would take walks in the countryside, Benedict carrying the snoring Charlie on his back.

“I love a good party,”

“I would hardly call this a party, Benedict.”

Sophie laughed as Benedict brought her hand to his lips,

“My most favorite party of three, my love,”

Walking arm in arm, Benedict would steal kisses from her every corner.

It was almost like the married life with Benedict she had always dreamed of. Almost.

True, Benedict missed Charlie’s first birthday because of the queen ball. True, they couldn’t spend Easter and Christmas together, he would be away in Audrey Hall with his family, and sometimes Benedict would show up at the door drunk and wasted, presumably after an opera or a ball. But even those moments were precious, sobering him up with a glass of water, and cooking chicken soup for his hangover the next morning. Softly caressing his curls as he groaned like a bear, Sophie would gently wake him up with a kiss, acting like a loving, dedicated wife. And he would playfully pull her into their beds, nuzzling his lips on her neck,

Sophie knew that she was already Benedict’s dirty secret, and with Benedict being in the sacrament of marriage; her presence, Charlie’s presence was going to become more unscrupulous than ever.

But all the abundant love that Benedict had poured into Sophie and Charlie had made her believe in the illusion of bliss and happiness.

The next day, Benedict knocked on the door at five o’clock sharp, just as usual. With a crooked smile and a bouquet of Lilly of the Valleys in his hands.

“How was your day, my love?”

“Papa!”

Charlie’s face lighted up into a cheeky smile seeing his loving father at the door, reaching his arms up for a hug. Benedict picked up Charlie from the carpet with ease and nuzzed him playfully with his nose. The identical, scrunched smiles on their faces.

“Tickles!”

“Were you being a good boy to Mama?”

A little more, Sophie thought to herself. Let me stay in this illusion a little more,

Carrying Charlie adoringly in his arms as if nothing had happened. Giving her a small kiss on the cheeks as if nothing had changed. Undoing the laces of her nightgown, whispering her name as if his fiancée had never existed.

“Sophie,”

It was barely audible, but she heard the familiar name murmured against her neck. It had happened several times in their marital bed, but no, she wasn’t going to question the integrity of her husband, her mother had taught her better than that. And somehow, his desperate tone always sent shivers down her spine; a tingling sinful sensation.

Normally, it would begin with slow practical strokes. Next, he would rub her core until her breath became more shallow and short, and he would stop when she fell apart in his hands, arching her back into a gasp. His strokes would become faster and deeper after that, and after he spilled inside her, he would neatly clean her up with a towel and gently pull the sheets over her naked body.

“Good night,” He would say, leaving a small peck on her cheeks. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

After wrapping himself in a silk robe, he would clean his hands with the basin, using a small brush to scrub his nails. The lingering smell of their sex mixed with the fresh scent of lemon and soap.

Then he would leave. Closing the door of her bedroom.

In a few minutes, she would hear her husband order a bath for one. Then she would smell the burning cigarettes from the window, her husband indulging in the filthy habit in the outside garden. Throwing the burned-out cigarette on her well-polished Italian tiles.

Then she would hear the carriage coming from the distance, and she would hear two clicks on the door. One heavy click of the entrance door. One light click of the carriage door.

Then she would be all alone in the house.

Life with Benedict Bridgerton was supposed to be a dream come true. It was a dream come true, it truly was.

Benedict Bridgerton had been listed as the most eligible bachelor for years, and she always loved the way he smiled, the way he danced, the way he talked, charming everyone in the room. With his tall broad figure and his crooked teasing smile, she always thought he was the handsomest in the prosperous Bridgerton Brothers.

Her parents had been over the moon about the courtship, and although it puzzled both her and her mother why Benedict had suddenly started to show interest in her after spending years avoiding her like a plague, she liked how he courted her with fragrant flowers and sweet chocolates, the charming smile only given exclusively for her.

In three weeks he proposed to her and they were engaged. In a month they were married, and Benedict had taken her to Italy for their honeymoon; traveling through Venice, Rome, beautiful cottage around the Amalfi Coast. She had felt rather smug walking around the city with a handsome man by her side, taking her to extravagant palaces, balls, art galleries, and beaches. And she did enjoy the intercourses at night, “the marital duties” her mother had taught her. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed it; given her sister’s comments about “utter pain and discomfort for five minutes.” Benedict was kind and gentle, showing her the newfound pleasures and sensations. She loved how he touched her, with his warm, soft hands. She wanted his hands to stay there, forever,

But after a month, they returned to Maddison Manor, a relatively large place in London, a place her father had given them for their residence. She was disappointed that he insisted on having separate bedrooms, but she knew he was a shallow sleeper, he seemed quite sleep-deprived during their honeymoon.

“Go back to bed,” He would gently say to her when she woke up in the middle of the night, feeling the cold sheets on her fingertips. Finding her newlywed husband on the couch, fervently writing something on a piece of paper. “Go back to sleep,”

“Aren’t you coming with me, dear husband?” She would ask, gently undoing the knot of her gown, but her husband would only chuckle, putting the robes back to her shoulders.

“Can’t sleep,” he would say, “I’ll join you later,”

But she would often find him snoring on the couch the next morning.

Back at the Maddison Manor, the two shared breakfast on weekdays, exchanging the plans for the day. He would normally leave for his art studio at 9:00, and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, Benedict would have dinner with her; the other days he had appointments with his other family members and the other artists in the studio.

What surprised her about Benedict was that he was a man of routine. Hearing discreet rumors about his bohemian tendencies, she thought he would be slovenly; perhaps lazy and sloppy.

But he was quite the opposite. He would diligently attend the invitations of balls, operas, and musicals, and dance two waltzes with her at every ball.

“Such a wonderful husband,” Her friends would tell her jealously*, “I haven’t seen my husband for three months.”*

He would decline her invitation to social events once in three times. He would come home every day at five-thirty in the morning. He would come to her room at ten o’clock in the evening every Tuesday and leave at eleven o’clock. Once every two months, he would go on a two-week trip with his artist friends, to an outdoor sketch in the countryside. Returning home with souvenirs; oysters from Whitstable, pottery from Middleport, and beautiful engraved signet rings from Kent.

Sweet honey from Wiltshire.

The night of his return, he would give her not one but two orgasms, and kiss her twice on the lips, but she would only taste whiskey and cigarettes. And he would wash his hands, take a bath, smoke, and leave. Like a clockwork soldier.

She should be happy. She lived in a beautiful house with a handsome husband, who fulfilled every aspect of his marital duties. She had wonderful in-laws, (although they were rather too bustling for her liking) and if she was lucky, she would be blessed with a baby sooner or later.

She wondered if Benedict would start to love her if she gave him a son. She wondered if Benedict would stop cleaning his hands if they had children together. If he would stay in her bed for a whole night. If he would open the door to her bedroom every night.

Lost in thoughts, hours and hours passed by as she sat by the windowsill.

Waiting.

She never really liked going in the servant's Kitchen. Nothing, nobody in the room was particularly familiar to her, and the smallness and the stuffiness of the room was disorienting, sometimes making her dizzy and sick. But she did have to consult the cook with the dishes for the upcoming Bridgerton Ball, she knew that the sooner she finished the conversation, the sooner she would be able to leave the awful pace.

“Excuse me, I’m afraid Mary forgot to deliver these,”

But just as she was about the room, a woman came rushing into the small kitchen, carrying a bundle of sheets. Judging from her shabby dress and ash stained face, she was probably one of the washerwomen, carrying a little child behind her back. She did look rather pretty, she thought, a certain glow within her some women often carried, but the little child was breathtaking, with almond green eyes, long eyelashes, angelic brown curls that, that, that, that, that,

“Oh, my deepest apologies,” She widened her eyes in surprise, dropping into a hastily cutusy, “Sheets, my lady, cleaned and ironed.”

“Ah, Ms. Beckett. I did wonder why Mary’s bundles were so small today,” Mrs. Lindon, the housekeeper said briskly, “Excellent quality as always.”

But just as the housekeeper shooed her off in the streets, she found herself grabbing the washerwoman’s wrists.

Because she knew those brown curls,

“Such a beautiful boy,” She said.

The mother’s puzzled look turned into a warm smile, and she gently laid her hands on the boy’s chubby cheeks, plump and reddened like a ripe autumn apple.

So well nourished, she thought.

She slightly dipped her head to look into the boy’s eyes, but he suddenly buried his head on his mother’s shoulders, hiding from her gaze.

Both the women and Mrs. Lindon chuckled.

“My apologies again, Madam. He’s quite shy around people at the first time,” “How old is he?”

“A year and five months, my lady.”

“And another one coming up, I hear?” Mrs. Lindon added with a bantering tone, and the washerwomen returned a weak smile, a slight weary look in her eyes.

She suddenly noticed that the woman was rather slim compared to the baby she carried, her cheeks slightly hollowed and her color was slightly off, her shoulders terribly delicate. Burnt marks on her thin arms, and blistered fingertips. But she had beautiful honey-colored locks, bright-colored eyes that loomed too large for her face,

“Name?”

“Pardon?”

“His name,”

“Oh, Charles, my lady.” The woman replied, “But we normally call him Charlie,”

“Charles.”

The little boy was now focused on his mother’s golden curls, giggling as he played with the bouncing ringlets,

With That crooked, charming smile,

“Don’t you have a nanny?”

“...I.”

“To look after him?”

“I do look after him, My lady.”

“Do you?”

She stared at the young toddler’s tiny palm, the little burn mark on his left hand, a little bandage wrapped around his right. She reached out to take the boy in her arms, but the washerwoman suddenly staggered back, a slight fear and guilt in her eyes.

“I must be going,” She said hastily, “Good day to you, my lady.”

And the women rushed out of the room. But the little boy turned his head softly as the mother reached the door, a crooked smile and a small wave,

The same cheeky smile that she always loved,

But she wasn’t going to let him go with just that smile.

“Opium. Benedict. Opiums. You told me you would stop,”

“Dearest, there was the Smythe-smith musical last night.” Benedict pouted his lips playfully, battering his eyebrows, and not a drop of remorse in his tone, “How do you think I could bear the night without them?”

With a crooked grin, Benedict snaked his hands around Sophie’s waist, his lips nuzzling the nape of her neck, “I wouldn’t have needed them if you were there for distraction,”

“Benedict, I’m being serious,”

“So am I, my love. So serious, ”

As Benedict’s hands traveled to the hems of her skirts, she slapped his hands off, stepping away from his clutch.

“Benedict, we need to talk,”

“But it’s been ages, my love.” He again pulled her in his arms, nibbling her earlobes, “I didn’t send Charlie to Mrs. Crabtrees for no reason,”

“So you wouldn’t have to worry about our son accidentally taking in any of your special tea?” His hands squeezing on her bosoms froze, and Sophie peeled herself away, turning around to face him with a scowl.

“I didn’t know that it was in my jacket, Sophie!” Benedict groaned weakly, flopping down in an armchair. “Sophie, I’m sorry I accidentally brought them here,”

“No, Benedict. I am not asking for apologies.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Benedict, I know what those are, what they do to you,”

With a soft sigh, Sophie gently paced herself on his lap, curing up on the armchair with him. She ran her fingers through his curls, but Benedict didn’t quite look into her eyes, wringing his hands in his lap.

“Why tea again, Benedict? Tell me,”

“The Smyth-Smith musical is more terrible than you could ever imagine, Sophie.”

“No, Benedict.”

Sophie saw him bite his lips as if he were afraid to let something wicked slip out.

“It’s just...stressful. Balls. Garden parties. Promenades. Dorl...everything.”His shoulders deflating, Benedict buried his face in her shoulders, “ I want to stay with you. Always. With Charlie. All the time.”

“Then stay,” Sophie said softly. “Stay with me.”

“I...I can not,”

“Why?”

“...I’m married,”

It was a terrible answer, Benedict knew instantly as the words lurched from his mouth unconsciously. Sophie visually grew stiff on his lap, but she quickly averted her gaze to the fireplace. Despite the cracking fire, Benedict noticed that there was no color on her face,

“I cannot cope with anymore,”

“Sophie,���

Benedict tried to grab her skirts as she stepped away from his lap, but failed miserably, almost slipping out from his chair. Sophie meaninglessly took a cloth from the table, wiping the pot Benedict had washed an hour earlier.

“What do you want from me, Benedict?”

Sophie refused to look at him, her hands working on the cool iron surface,

“Sophie, I only want you,”

“But am I not making your life miserable? You wouldn’t have gone back to your special tea if Charlie and I didn’t exist.”

“No, don’t say that Sophie,”

Benedict gently took the pot from her hands, placing it back on the upper shelf.

“I don’t understand you, Benedict.”

Sophie looked at him, the man who had been her prince charming, the man who had saved her, the man that she fell in love with, the man who poured so much love into her,

She tightened her grip on the cloth.

“You told me that you were going to get married to gain freedom. So that the eligible debutants and their mamas wouldn’t hunt you down anymore. That you could be free from the rules of the society. Yet, ever since you got married, you are more trapped than ever. Trapped in the cycle of Balls, musicals, parties, operas,”

“Sophie, I must fulfill,”

“I thought you married to escape from those duties. To be with me and Charlie.” Sophie continued softy, “I don’t understand what you are trying to do,”

Benedict suddenly stood up from his chair. But as he took steps towards her, Sophie could sense he was contemplating every step. When he finally reached her, standing by the kitchen window, He tried to put his arms around her shoulders, but Sophie brushed it off yet again.

The two stared at each other in silence, and Sophie noticed that there was cold darkness in his green-grey eyes she had never seen,

“Do you know what, Sophie?” Sophie saw Benedict clench his fists. “It’s you whom I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been working at the laundry.”

Benedict started to edge her to the wall, Sophie staggering back, a knock on the head as she reached the end. Benedict loomed over her, his tone in a hushed whisper. “I know all your secrets, Sophie. Didn’t you think I would find out where you keep your worker’s rags?”

Benedict suddenly grabbed her arms, pulling them up to her eyes, his tone was suddenly different; cold but laced with impatience.

“And didn’t you think I wouldn’t notice your hands and arms getting burnt and blistered every day?”

Sophie yanked her arms from his embrace, but he caught them again, aggressively pinning her wrists against the wall. Sophie cursed her height, no, she cursed her own body, no matter how she tried, Benedict had everything to overpower her,

The only defiance was to not look into his eyes, the ones she knew were firing up in fury,

“Sophie, what do you want me to do?”

Yet his tone turned weak, submissive, almost as if he were begging for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything you want. Everything. Everything. Why do you keep working Sophie? Making yourself suffer in service,”

“Because I don’t want to sit idly in the room only waiting for my lover to come home,” Sophie hissed, yes she was still pinned to the wall but she could still glare at him,

“Do you know how pathetic that is, Benedict? Spending the precious time of life only thinking when her lover is coming back, like some kind of mistress,”

“But you are,” Benedict said quietly.

“I had no choice,” Sophie muttered. “If it weren’t for Charles, I would have killed myself.”

“No, Don’t say that Sophie.”

His eyebrows scrunched as if in pain, Benedict softened his grip on her wrists and on that brief second, Sophie pushed him by the shoulders, away from his captivity.

Benedict just stood there as Sophie began to prepare tea rather violently, putting the kettle on the stove, and grabbing the tea-set from the cupboards. Benedict hated how the china’s clattered, even the rattling of the kettle was fuming his frustration,

“You told me not to tell lies, Benedict.”

“And this is the truth.”

“...Then just stop working at the laundry. Please, Sophie. I’m begging you. If you need more money I could give you more,”

“It’s not about the money, Benedict,”

“Then what is it about?”

“My goddamn pride, Benedict!”

Sophie realized that she was about to slam the teacup she held in her hands, smashing the fine china on the brown chipped tiles. Benedict would cut his hand cleaning out the glass splinters scattered on the floor,

Sophie took a deep breath.

Breathe, Sophie, breathe.

“Why are you suddenly condemning me, Benedict?” Sophie asked quietly. “I started working months ago, and a smart gentleman like you would have noticed much earlier. Suddenly you’re asking me why. Why Benedict? Why?”

“It’s not good for Charles.”

“I don’t understand,”

“I first thought that while you were working, Ms. Hudson was looking after Charles. But just a few days ago, when I asked her if she needed additional money for the diapers, she told me that you take Charlie to work.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. I’m his mother, Benedict, and I want to take care of him,”

“Think rationally, Sophie.” Benedict’s tone was starting to become impatient, tapping his fingers on the wall, “You possibly don’t think it’s good for Charlie,”

“Why so?”

“The environment, Sophie, the environment! Don’t you understand? There are chemicals, hot water, and other dangerous objects. It's not a place for a child, especially not for a toddler. And I’ve never gone down those parts of the city, but I don’t want Charles to be influenced by,”

“The other fallen women in the factory and their other illegitimate children?”

“Sophie, the place is dangerous,” Ignoring Sophie’s last question, Benedict’s voice changed into a desperate plea. “I don’t want you or Charlie to get hurt,”

“You’ve already hurt me enough, Benedict.”

“But I gave you everything Sophie, a flat, dresses, jewelry, ribbons,”

“Why would you think this is everything?”

“Then what do you want, Sophie?”

“Only You,” Sophie said softly. “You. And Charlie.”

Benedict shook his head in confusion and exhaustion, waving her words away. After gulping down a glass of water, he loomed over her petite figure, glaring down at her.

“I’m taking Charlie, Sophie. To Maddison Manor.”

“Oh, so is that where you live?”

Sophie scoffed, eyeing him sarcastically.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You never told me where you lived,”

“You never asked, Sophie.”

Sophie gave a low laugh, a dry, weary voice that dug nails in Benedict’s soul,

“Do you think I ever want to see the love of my life in the hands of another?”

“Sophie, you are the only one I would ever love, “

“Yet, you are trying to take my love away,” Sophie said quietly. “Taking my love away from me,”

“Charles is my son too, Sophie. He carries my name. And I don’t want him wandering alone in those streets in the future,”

“You don’t seem to find the problem with me, walking down those streets.”

“I see the problem, Sophie.” Benedict snapped, “Except that you choose to do so despite my warnings. You chose to walk down those streets. But not Charles.”

Sophie tightened her fists. God, she wanted to smack him but Benedict's words were painfully justifiable,

In the blink of an eye, while she looked away, Charlie had reached his hands on the burning iron, bursting into a painful cry,

“So, you are going to take him away? Away from his mama?”

“I’m not taking Charles away from you, Sophie. I’ll come to St. Johns with Charlie every weekend. If that’s not enough for you, I can hire you as a maid,”

“What will your wife think?” Sophie snared, his absurdity was making her veins explode, “I don’t think your Mrs. Bridgerton would be happy about having a bastard in her own house. Let alone live with her husband's mistress.”

“It’s my house, Sophie.” Benedict snapped back, “I’m the master of the house, not her. And Dolores is an intelligent woman, perhaps less foolish than you,”

“I cannot believe you just said that,”

“She will understand, Sophie.’

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you're being an absolute fool,”

With a deep sigh, Benedict ran his fingers in his hair. Why couldn’t this woman be reasonable?

“When you said you would be my mistress,” Benedict continued matter-of-factly, “You made me promise three things. I believe an intelligent women like yourself would remember,”

Sophie clutched the hems of her skirt. So tightly that her nails were biting into her skin, the striking hot pain against her skin,

“I asked you to love the baby no matter what.”

“Yes. And I have, Sophie. I love and adore Charlie with all my heart. I would give my life for him.”

“I know.”

“Tell me the second one.”

Sophie hated how Benedict’s voice was calm and reserved; as if he were trying to soothe a toddler,

“The baby would have your name,”

“And I have done that Sophie. Chares Bridgerton. Do you understand how difficult that was for me?”

Benedict peered into Sophie’s eyes, craning his lean figure, but Sophie only glared back at him, with her icy-cold green eyes,

“You said that you would give your life for him.” She tilted her head in disbelief, “Yet, you struggled to give him the legitimacy?”

“Sophie,”

Sophie cut off his words.

“And the education. Benedict. The same education as you,”

“And I plan to keep my promise, Sophie. I found him a governess. In a few years, I can get Charlie a tutor so that he can be prepared for Eaton,”

“But why do you have to take him away from me? Why? Why, Benedict, why? He could stay at St. Johns, Benedict. Get a tutor to visit there,”

“Sophie, that place is filled with whores and prostitutes,” gritting through his teeth, he said, “Do you think I can get a decent man to come to St. Johns for education,”

“Are you calling me a whore?”

“No, Sophie. Why would I call you,”

“But you did,”

Benedict twisted his lips in a mocking smile.

“Sophie, your argument is completely irrelevant to Charlie’s education,”

“Well, according to your theory, Charlie is a son of a whore,”

“Why could you say that, Sophie?”

“Because you said so!”

The two glared at each other. Sophie clenched her jaw, her forest green eyes in flames. The veins on Benedict’s neck bulging.

Fists clenched. Sweating.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,”

Benedict took his jacket from the chair, and walked up the stairs to their bedroom. Sophie followed him, desperately trying to catch up with his speed,

“No, Benedict. We have to talk about this,”

“I don’t think you’re in the right place of mind to talk reasonably,”

“Oh, you’re the one to say,”

Sophie glared at him as Benedict continued to pack his belongings, no, not packing, he was just slamming things in the leather trunk,

“I’m going to take the carriage to London. I’ll send one the first thing tomorrow morning for you and Charlie.”

“Oh, so you are going to run away from me now? Away from Charles? Away from all your problems again?”

“I just need a break, Sophie. From this mess,”

“No, Benedict. This is your mess.”

“This is our mess, Sophie.”

“No, if,”

“If, if, if, if.” Benedict muttered angrily, “You keep talking of nonexistent possibilities, Sophie. Non-existing dreams. Illusions. Can’t you see I’m trying to live the reality Sophie?”

“YOU fed me with illusions of love, Benedict. Telling me that you love me and nothing was going to change. Everything changed, Benedict. Everything. Ever since you got married. You lied to me, Benedict, making me hope that someday we could,”

“See, Sophie? See? You are talking of illusions again,”

“Because you made me believe in them,”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?”

With a violent slam of the desk, Benedict found himself screaming at her. But Benedict immediately regretted everything he said as she took two steps back, her face no longer flushed with anger or spite, it was emotionless. Blank.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

“No, Benedict,”

“Sophie, I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“I don’t know you anymore,”

Her voice was quiet.

“I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“Sophie.”

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

And she left, closing the door behind her.

“Maybe tomorrow,”

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,”

“Is it a crime to dine at my own house?”

With a mocking smile plastered across his lips, her husband played with the chicken roast on his plate, peeling off the grilled skin with a silver knife. Like a little toddler.

“Are you quite all right?”

“Splendid, my dear, quite splendid!”

Her husband gave a dark chuckle as he chugged down another glass of whiskey. It was quite unusual for him to be dining at Maddison Manor on a regular Saturday, and when she saw him arrive at the door at five o’clock, asking the butler to prepare a dinner for two, she asked her ladies maid to put on her best dress, the dark green silk she had just made at the modiste. The low neckline was a bit scandalous; but the modiste, with a teasing smile, had told her that was her husband’s taste.

But he seemed more interested in the glass of whiskey than herself. Hell, he paid more attention to the plate of roasted chicken before him. She gripped on her silver knife and fork even tighter.

“How was your day, my love?”

“Splendid.”

“How so?”

Benedict didn’t answer her question. Instead, he took another shot of whiskey, waving a hand to the servants for another.

As the butler came in with another bottle, she snatched it from his hands. Her husband’s eyes widened as she poured the liquid into her wine glass, drowning herself in the bitterness in one just swig.

She could feel the burning in her throat,

Benedict finally looked at her, eyeing her from tip to toe. He changed into a twisted smirk.

“You do look rather fetching today, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Thank you. I just had it made for you.”

“Ah,”

Benedict stretched his hands to take the bottle, but she pushed it to the corner, away from his reach. She heard him click his tongue in annoyance.

“Does it please your eye?”

She tried to sound seductive; lowering her voice, fluttering her eyelashes. She had put extra rouge on her lips before dinner, and the fragrant perfume he had bought in France. At least, that was what he had told her,

“Why did you make it green?”

He asked, abruptly.

“I thought your favorite color was green.”

“My favorite color is blue,”

“Oh,”

Husband and wife, the two dined in silence, only the sound of their plates and utensils clattering with each other audible in the Background.

The roasted chicken suddenly tasted bland. Both Benedict and Dolores thought sandpaper would taste better, feel better in their mouths,

“I can take your sons,”

“Pardon?”

“I said, I can take care of your sons.”

“How, how do you know about it,”

“I met them,”

“What?”

“She was delivering fresh sheets to the neighborhood,”

“Jesus Christ,”

She saw Benedict bury his face in his hands but she continued on,

“She looked tired. And it can’t possibly be good for your children to be around in that environment,”

“You keep saying in sons,”

“She’s pregnant.”

Benedict violently stabbed the knife into the table. A dull sound echoed through the room.

“Bloody hell.”

She glared at him.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful?”

Benedict didn’t answer. Instead, his clutch on his whiskey glass became tighter, his knuckles turning white and red at the same time.

“We can take in Charles for his wellbeing. If the baby in her belly is indeed yours,”

“Of course she’s mine,”

“Oh, so you are so sure about it?”

For the first time in their relationship, he had a sheepish look on his face. But he still didn’t answer her question.

“Go to her house tomorrow, and get Charles.” She continued emotionlessly, “As for the second one, we can talk about it after she’s born,”

“I can’t, Dolores.”

“Benedict, can’t you see how benevolent I am trying to be? How merciful as your wife? I’m doing this all for you! So that you would snap out of your misery, and be happy for god's sake,”

“I can’t.”

She noticed that her husband had stabbed the knife in his hand, the red blood dripping on the velvet carpet, staining the silk white tablecloth into a darkish black, a sharp smell of human flesh,

“She’s gone.”

“Gone, gone.”

“Gone.”

Benedict jerked awake, drenched in tears and sweat. The bright moon and the silent wind rattling the windows told him that he was at my Cottage, not the bloody Maddison Manor, not St. Johns, not Audrey Hall.

His heart was still beating rapidly, his breath still short and shallow as he grabbed a glass from a table, drinking the lukewarm liquid in one breath.

“Are you all right, my love?”

He heard a gentle soft voice from his side, soothing his beating heart, the shivers he felt from the awful dream.

“Where’s Charles?”

“In the nursery, love.”

“Why isn’t he here with us?”

“Because he always sleeps in the nursery, you silly man,”

“Oh,”

“You’re soaked in sweat,”

Her hands softly caressed his clenched shoulders, rubbing his skin reassuringly, soothing him to go back to sleep,

“It was just a dream, Benedict.”

“Just a bad dream.”

“Isn’t it?”

#Writer’s Notes

“Love is not finite,”

“Is it?”

[charmsandtealeaves]

Actually trying to catch up on fics despite having coursework/an assignment to do, because the shear number in my inbox is stressing me out to look at 😂 One good side of the family getting a cold is Mr Charms worked from home most of this week and I got a chance to read with a cup of tea. For once the list isn’t entirely Jily. @greenhouse-seven’s sexy summer behind the greenhouse fest just out here making me look horny on main.

Read This Week:

Choose your own sexy adventure by @ghostofbambifanfiction (ch.59-60)

WIP, choose your own adventure Jily, Rated E

Too many cooks can occasionally write a story.

Homebrew by @merlinsbbeard

Complete (1.3k), Hogwarts Jily, Not Rated

James Potter rushes Lily Evans to the Hospital Wing after she ingests a love potion.

4:35am by @petalsthefish

Complete (876w), Jily Western AU , Rated T

4:35am. It was almost sunup. James had been planning on leaving, thinking it was what they both wanted, until she stripped down with him and jumped into the frigid lake. Her red hair glistened with water droplets as she ran back to the bonfire, screeching about the chill of the morning air. James lingered in the cold water, letting it bite his skin until he couldn't feel it anymore. He loved her, that was all he knew now.

Kiss me by Petalsthefish

Complete (1.2K), Jily Muggle AU, Not Rated

Lily Evans hears a rumor that James Potter has been kissing someone else and feels sick at the thought. Thankfully, Peter’s a dirty liar and Regulus is a mega prick.

Figure You Out by Petalsthefish

Complete (2.4K), Canon-Divgergent AU Jily, Rated T

James could love Lily with his eyes closed, kiss her with a blindfold, and figure her out. Yeah sure, their hands might be tied, but he knows that he's the right guy, even when they didn't work out.

…Are You Ready For It? (Baby, Let The Games Begin) by @wearingaberetinparis

Complete (1.3k), Jily Olympics AU, Rated E

He was wearing his AirPods, Taylor Swift’s ‘... Ready For It?’ playing through the speakers, the combination of the bass and lyrics helping him focus. The doors of the elevators opened, a tiny redhead – also wearing AirPods, smiling at him briefly – entering the lift and standing on his other side. “Shit,” he dropped his phone, distracted as he’d been just gazing at her. “Fuck.” This is a story of croissants, lust and love at first sight between a Team GB gymnast and field hockey player at the 2024 Paris Olympics.

Electric (Blue) by @sophie-hatter-jenkins

Complete (3.4K), Behind The Greenhouse Event, married Hinny, Rated E

Ginny is contractually obliged to attend the Q.U.A.B.B.L.E.'s annual charity ball, which means that Harry is obliged to go with her. Luckily, his wife is happy to make it worth his while!

Ginny’s Sleeping Spot by Sophie-hatter-Jenkins

Complete(3.1k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, post-war hinny, Rated E

After a party, Ginny is looking for a spot to sleep and the only spot available is the other side of Harry's bed. Talking about the past makes them realise that perhaps they were not quite done with each other.

More Action Than The Western Front by Sophie-hatter-jenkins

Complete (2.4K), Behind the Greenhouse Event, bill/fleur (and many more Weasley’s), Rated M

The Burrow was a truly wonderful place to grow up - bursting at the seams with happiness, warmth, love, and family. But yeah, mostly family. People. So many people, literally everywhere. So what's a red-blooded wizard like Bill Weasley to do when he needs a little privacy?

Not Even A Little Bit, Not Even At All by Sophie-hatter-jenkins

Complete (6.8k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, Jily canon-divergent, Rated E

What was it, she raged, that was the most aggravating? Was it the way he was leaning against the wall in that infuriating, deliberately casual manner that he always affected? Maybe the fact that he had somehow (and really - how?) got there before her? Or was it that he had the temerity to look so fucking hot while she was this blisteringly angry with him? A late-night argument that spirals out of control has life-changing consequences for Lily Evans and the bane of her existence, James Potter.

We’ll Go From There by @merlinsbudgiesmugglers

Complete (9.8k) Behind The Green House Event, Tedromeda Muggle AU, Rated E

Andromeda Black's life has fallen into the same boring routine week in, week out. Argue with her parents about her choices in life, attend boring charity events at the request of her mother, fend off the even more boring dates thrust upon her by her mother.

Whisky Neat by merlinsbudgiesmugglers

Complete (4.1k), Behind The Green House Event, Remadora, Rated E

A rough day leads Tonks to a muggle bar after work, where she meets a stranger who with change her life in more ways than she knows.

Love Growing Wild by merlinsbudgiesmugglers

Complete (2.7k ), Behind The Greenhouse Event, tedromeda, Rated E

The world is full of firsts. Andromeda and Ted find out together just what that means

Hiking Detour by @nena-96

Complete (2.3k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, Jily, Rated E

James and Lily were on a date night, well they were hiking to be more specific. Both were tired from the long trails, so they decided to take a small detour in the resting area.

Their Reflection by nena-96

Complete (), Behind The Greenhouse Event, romione, Rated E

Hermione couldn't keep herself from staring at the constellation of freckles on her boyfriend's back, as she gazed at their naked bodies through the mirror.

Just a line in a song by @starlingflight

Complete (4.5k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, hinny, Rated E

When Ginny meets her celebrity crush, Harry's eyes aren't the only thing as green as a fresh pickled toad.

Secret Garden by @tedwardremus

Complete (1.7k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, Neville/Hannah, Rated M

Neville plants Hannah a secret garden on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron. She wants to show him how grateful she is for the gift.

Irresponsible by @constitutionalweasleymonarchy

Complete (4k), Behind The Greenhouse Event, Percy/Audrey, Rated E

I will not fuck my wife at work. I will not fuck my wife at work. I will not fuck my wife at work. I will not fuck my wife at work. I will not...

[adracat]

GWitch 23 thoughts

Sorry for the wait on this, I had to rewatch a few times to really drink in everything that was going on. I didn't have the best knee-jerk reaction initially ( I enjoyed it ofc but was a bit ambivalent about some things) and wanted to give it a fair shake.

First up, seeing Suletta zip around like the ace pilot she is was quite rewarding and fun! Now all those auto-pilot rumors can be laid to rest. However, the circumstances weren't the best and it broke my heart she was gasping for air the entire time. I had no doubt she'd live but it's still miserable to witness that

Ah Lauda. Your tomfoolery knows no bounds. We knew this was coming after the last ep, but it's still a bit frustrating. On a technical narrative level, it works since we're seeing two sets of siblings confront their simmering tension with one another. On a personal level, I wasn't very amused. I first saw this at 4 in the morning and had no patience for Lauda lmao. But rewatching it a few times gave me a deeper appreciation for what's going on. He's really intent on scapegoating Mio for everything wrong in his life. Fitting for her role as the Rose Bride and Lauda's demonized witch

This little aside from Chuchu is so suspicious tbh. Considering Mio's failure at piloting, this seems to imply either she does not have a permet implant of any sort or a flat intolerance. I have a sneaking suspicion it'll become a factor in the next episode.

Mio staring wistfully at Cool-san/etc memento of Suletta will always grab me by the throat. Girl wants to wife up Suletta so bad. And really, who could blame her?

Schwarzette is so pretty and cool. Unfairly so. Like, why did you make that thing so unique and cool? For dipstick Lauda?? Who is that pink permet for and why does it look like Utena??? ANSWER ME OKOUCHI

That's nice of Delling to rise from his sickbed to try and negotiate with the SAL. Unfortunately, this would be for naught because they're here to purge and replace. Not make nice. It was the thought that counts, I suppose.

Speaking of, the debut of a solar ray blindsided me. I mean, yeah it's Gundam, but I kinda thought we were skipping the big death ray lmao. After sitting on it, I think I know where it's headed. Totally on brand for SAL too in hindsight. They like to act removed, but they're just as entrenched as Benerit in the skeevy corpo politics. Allying with Ochs and now Peil cements it

Check the link above to see my Utena related thoughts on this moment btw. It might be the highlight of the episode beyond the Prospera confrontation. Stunned they finally stopped playing coy and seemingly confirm Notrette is indeed a GUND entity residing in pseudo hell, and likely a GWitch newtype like Eri

This was very sweet and I enjoy it more on a rewatch but I also understand why I and so many people had a gut-deep aversion to this subplot. The issue is entirely investment based imo, and tbh I just don't care that much about the Jeturk family dynamics. At best, I don't mind them. Guel is a bro but Lauda is SO exhausting on multiple levels. His misogyny and gross negligence of Petra in favor of revenge doesn't help.

If something came of this other than Lauda/Guel sibling closure, I'd consider it fulfilling. But if you lack investment in the conflict, it's going to feel limp or frustrating in comparison to the siblings you want to see. So while I appreciate the parallel with Suletta/Eri and the continuing subtext of witch coded Mio, that's it for me. But hey, it serves a purpose. A tragic cycle was broken after all, thanks to love and MVP Felsi!

The one big gripe I have after consideration is this man's continued existence. Kenanji doesn't deserve to play buddy buddy with the cast. He's a dirty space cop who bullies children and murdered Nadim, now he's joking with 5lan? The hell. I get the theme of the show is forgiveness and not perpetuating the cycle of revenge but... really? KENANJI gets to be happy but Norea/Sophie don't? Sigh

It was so dirty of Eri to use Suletta's love for Mio against her. She knows Suletta would panic over their mother possibly 'gaining two'. It's crafty and unrepentant, but Suletta holds fast. Her faith in Mio is greater than her idle fears

Mio scolding Prospera over her favoritism was great. We love a fiancé willing to take a stand against her shit in-laws. Speaking of, looks like Mio has fully embraced becoming a Mercury one day. 'All of us will be family' YEAH YOU WILL so suck it up Prospera. The holidays are gonna be so awkward

Btw love Mio was shouting at her while having an emotional breakthrough deciphering her mother's QZ riddle. This moment was excellent and easily superceded my minor gripes. UGH when will you reveal Notrette's whole deal GWitch? We're waiting

Such a bittersweet moment. We know from the Blessing and Cradle Planet that Eri loves her sister but it may not have been until this moment that Suletta understands her feelings. Now, I don't think she's 'dead' tbh. Or deader anyway. I suspect it's a false flag to hook you until the finale. It would be quite anti-climactic if she passed without a proper goodbye. I'm still holding out on a Tempest end where Prospera voluntarily sets her free.

The next Sunday will be our last. Hard to believe tbh. Feels like just yesterday we set out on this spectacular journey. Que sera sera! I'll see y'all in the finale~

[archduchessofnowhere]

BOOK REVIEW: Sisis Weg by Martina Winkelhofer

Empress Elisabeth took a break from court life and dared to escape her assigned role, something that no woman of her time, certainly not of her rank, was allowed to do. Until the death of her eldest daughter, Elisabeth was a product of her environment: the good daughter, the devoted wife, the submissive daughter-in-law. She tried to live up to expectations even in her darkest hours, until her body and psyche sounded the alarm. She knew that in this environment the wounds would not heal. She allowed herself long journeys and stays away from the imperial court, and it did not take long for her transformation to begin: from fragile emperor's wife to self-confident empress. From a woman determined by others to a woman determined by herself.

There are already literally dozens of books about Sisi, and most of them have nothing new to say. So when yet another book written by an author that claims they're presenting "the real story" behind the Sisi myth appears, one is naturally distrustful. But only reading the preview of this book made me realize that historian Martina Winkelhofer actually had something new to say about Elisabeth. This book has been in my TBR for the past two years, and tired of waiting for a translation I just went ahead and used an automatic translator to read it. And guess what: this is one of the best books about Empress Elisabeth that exists.

Martina Winkelhofer's biography starts with Elisabeth's birth and finishes with her return to Vienna in 1862, after being away from court for two years. Something that distinguishes her from other Sisi authors is that instead of presenting a novel-like narrative about the empress' life, she adresses on the text the different sources that we have available, and isn't afraid to state frankly that there are thing we simply lack enough information to know for certain. Speaking of sources, she draws almost entirely from primary sources, and not just letters, but also court protocol documents, which brings the Viennese court to life in a way no other book about Elisabeth I've read before achieved.

This is also the Sisi biography with the most sympathetic and balanced depiction of Archduchess Sophie I've ever read, presenting the complex relationship between mother and daughter-in-law without vilifying either woman. Not only Winkelhofer adresses the problem regarding the sources (Elisabeth's statements about her mother-in-law come from after Sophie's death, and Sophie's correspondance and diary entries avoid mentioning any conflicts or quarrels within the imperial family), but also she understands both that Elisabeth was a very young girl who lacked the skills to understand court schemes and was deeply intimidated by the hierarchy at court - and therefore, by her mother-in-law, and that Sophie ultimately had no ill intentions towards her daughter-in-law, but simply couldn't understand why Elisabeth couldn't fulfill her role as empress as tradition demanded.

Another of my favorite things about this book is the attention Winkelhofer paid to Elisabeth's staff. The working and living conditions of her servants is often highlighted. There is a whole chapter focused on Elisabeth's secretary Leopold Bayer, a bourgeois man that was responsible of controlling and organizing the empress' household and was so effective at his job that years after his retirement his system still worked perfectly. Perhaps if you want to read only about Sisi you'll find this chapter, as well as all the other instances in which Winkelhofer focuses on the staff, uninteresting and disruptive, but I loved it. So many authors seem to think that the people responsible for cleaning, cooking and keeping royal households running weren't glamorous enough to deserve even a mention, so it was very refreshing to see how here it was an important part of the text.

To be honest, my biggest complain about this book is that it ended. This biography finishes when Elisabeth returns to Vienna in 1862; Winkelhofer is going to release the second part of her biography in October, but I wish she had just released it as a single-volume book, because if there is a historical woman you can get away with writing a 600+ pages long book is Elisabeth. And while the book is well sourced (over 500 footnotes!!!), she often made more general claims about the general lives of the aristocracy with no citations. Since Winkelhofer has written books specifically about the lives of the aristocracy before I trust she knows her stuff, I just wish she had referenced further literature on the matter. Also because I'm a Queen Marie of the Two Sicilies girlie, it disappointed me that Winkelhofer didn't mention her two weeks stay in Vienna in 1859, nor how her role during the Siege of Gaeta was one of the things that stressed her sister during 1860.

Overall this is a fantastic book that paints a complex and interesting picture of how the child Elise became in the young Sisi and then in the Empress Elisabeth. Let's hope that an English translation is happening soon!

[badwritinghabit]

Chef's Kiss | Carmy x fem!OC x Luca | Chapter 7

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Ao3

Warnings: none this chapter! Let me know if you see anything you think I should add.

Word Count: 5,033

Summary: Luca invites Sophie to a night out with his chef friends where Carmy and Claire are surprise guests. And Sophie and Luca spend a day together as tourists.

As he dropped her off, Luca invited Sophie to join him for tapas with some of his chef friends later that night. He said he’d call her later when they were headed to the restaurant. Some part of her assumed he’d change his mind. This was a one night thing, surely. He’d return to Copenhagen and she’d never see him again. But even so, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

She spent the morning lazily reading and listening to music, feeling good. She was tempted to text her sister, she wanted to tell someone about what had happened. But Mallary was on vacation with her family and she didn’t want to interrupt.

Syd texted her in the early afternoon asking if she wanted to join her to get lunch at another restaurant on her list. She was on a mission to try as much new food as possible in the lead up to the opening of The Bear and Sophie had joined a few other times to keep her company and to expand her restaurant experience in Chicago. Sophie eagerly accepted her invite, knowing Syd also wanted to talk about what ended up happening with Luca.

They talked over pancit and lumpia. She filled Syd in on the date, no sordid details, but blushing enough when she talked about him inviting her back to his hotel that Syd grinned and Sophie felt she basically knew everything anyways.

“He invited me to come out with his friends tonight. It’s strange, right? It seems like a lot for something casual.”

“Maybe he likes you and wants more than casual?” Syd asked, taking a sip of water.

“He lives in Copenhagen. That seems unlikely.”

Syd shrugged. “So are you going to see him again tonight? Night two?” She was smirking at Sophie.

“Syd, I’m a little worried this is the best sex I will ever have. If he wants a night 2, I will be there.”

Syd laughed loudly and Sophie swatted her arm with a laugh of her own. “You said it had been a while right?” she asked at her nod, she shrugged. “Don’t build him up in your head too much. You have nothing to compare him to. College boyfriends are not the best measuring stick for sexual prowess.”

“You’re not wrong there,” she accepted. “I do feel a bit like a teenager. Honestly it is kind of embarrassing.”

“You’re down bad.” Syd nodded, faking understanding.

As if being summoned, Sophie’s phone started ringing. It was Luca.

“Hey,” she answered, motioning to Syd to be quiet. Syd shook her head with a silent laugh.

“Hello. I’m with some chef friends and we made our way to Boystown early, I thought I’d see if you wanted to join us early. We’re going to a bar.”

“I’m actually eating with Syd right now,” she said, biting her lip. “I’d still be up for joining afterwards though.”

“Yeah that sounds good. I’ll let you know when we are headed to the bar.”

“See you then,” she said, voice a little too excited. She hung up and looked at Syd’s grinning face.

“See you then.” Syd teased her. Sophie groaned and put her head in her hands. “Down bad.”

—

She was, she realized. As she walked into the bar lobby and felt her whole body light up when she saw Luca. She made herself walk over calmly and not call out to him or do anything embarrassing.

He greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek- the kiss surprising her a little- and then introduced her to his friends. Sebastian, Lyssie, and Carlo, all Chicago area chefs. They were intimidating and a little too much like the chefs she usually avoided. All eager to talk about their newest accomplishments.

She tried to make a good impression, be complementary and kind. But she ended up feeling most comfortable with Lyssie’s wife, Laura. She seemed equally uninterested in hearing the gossip about the chef who had added too much lemon juice in a reviewer’s dish and had never recovered. The two ended up by the bar chatting for a bit and then she stuck close to her when they rejoined the group. Laura was a science writer working on a book and the two bonded over writing.

Sophie picked a bit at the tapas and eventually wandering back over to the chefs who happened to be talking about Chef Thomas, the owner of the restaurant she worked at in San Diego.

“You worked with Johann Thomas, didn’t you?” Luca asked as she joined them, pulling her into the conversation.

“I did. Ivy Green. Fantastic restaurant.”

“He’s a handful. Very old school techniques.” Sebastian added, looking judgmental.

“He’s unbelievably talented,” she said with a warm smile, wanting to defend her friend but not wanting to get into a debate. She watched as recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Wait, you’re Sophie Miller?” Sebastian asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah?” she responded, more of a question.

“Of course. I didn’t put it together,” Sebastian said, eyes still wide. “He certainly speaks highly of you. I saw him last year. He said you and Carmen were the only chefs under the age of 50 that were worth seeking out for their food.” Sebastian explained.

Sophie squinted, unsure. “That doesn’t sound right. He was on my ass the whole time I was there. Said I julienned carrots like a fuckhead.” She laughed to herself. “Once Chef Thomas found out I worked with Carmy he constantly talked about how much worse I was than him.”

“That’s not what he says to other people.” Suddenly, Sebastian seemed much more interested in her. It annoyed her a little.

They were interrupted before she had to respond. Carmy and Claire walked in the restaurant. Sophie smiled at the two of them, trying to remain calm. She didn’t know Claire would be coming- didn’t think about it. But she realized this was a good way to get the introduction over with. Lots of other people around to help hide her nerves.

Carmy did the rounds, shaking hands. He seemed as uncomfortable as she was.

“Carmen Berzatto and Sophie Miller in one place. We were just talking about Chef Thomas’ favorites.” Sebastian said after a bit, seeming to want to get back to that conversation. Carmy just nodded.

“I still don’t know about this favorite thing. Whenever I talk to him he asks if I’ve learned how to sharpen my knives yet. One time he caught me slacking. Never gonna live that down.” She grinned, trying to get Sebastian off her case with a joke.

“He said your sister single handedly took out the best up and coming chef,” he said, curiously.

Sophie froze, drink pressed against her lips. She wanted to be flattered, she respected Chef Thomas’s opinion greatly. But she hadn’t been prepared to talk about her sister. And her heart started racing. “He has a flair for the dramatics, hasn’t he?” she asked with a shaky smile.

Carmy chimed in. “He does. Remember the year he wore a gold suit to the James Beard award ceremony?”

Sophie looked to Carmy gratefully as everyone changed direction and started talking about the James Beard awards. She was surprised he spoke up, he so rarely did in these types of conversations.

“Does anyone else need anything?” she asked, motioning towards the bar, wanting to escape for a second to catch her breath. Carmy volunteered to go with her and Claire followed.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching a hand out to shake Claire’s. She wasn’t going to get the break she wanted but it would be good to talk to Claire. She should get it over with.

“You too. Carmy has told me a lot about you.” Claire smiled, her hand sliding into Carmy’s. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I didn’t either,” Sophie said with a small smile as she sidled up to the bar. She looked at Carmy for a second with a grimace. “Luca invited me. I think I somehow convinced him I might fit in with the chef friends,” she said with a self deprecating sigh. She looked back to Claire with a shrug.

“You were fine,” Carmy encouraged, his gaze heavy on her. She smiled and ordered another drink. Carmy wasn’t drinking but Claire ordered wine.

“Have you been here before?” Claire asked, steering the conversation as she got her drink.

“I have not. Have you?” She turned to Claire.

“Yes, just once. The food here is really good.” She smiled. “At least, I think it is. You all are the chefs.”

“Our palettes are all fucked.” Sophie joked. “You’d be the better judge probably.” Carmy was grinning. “Oh Carm, did you see? Figs and goat cheese.” She raised her eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Height of cuisine tonight.”

At Claire’s confused look, Sophie explained. “I’m being mean. Carmy and I were working in New York when the fig and goat cheese fad swept the city. It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong. But it became a bit of a joke,” she tried to explain. Claire nodded politely but Sophie felt bad, she didn’t want to make a bad impression. She was still reeling from the question about her sister.

“I’ve heard you work in the emergency department at a hospital? That is so impressive. Are you one of those people who get super calm in tense situations?” she asked, trying to win her back over.

“Actually, yes! I feel like my brain thrives under the pressure. Like a puzzle. It’s really rewarding work.”

“That’s amazing. I feel like Carmy is similar. Obviously different –scales?” She faltered on the last word, not wanting to insult either person. “But I’m so jealous. Not my strong suit at all.”

“Really? But it sounds like you were quite good at cooking.”

“The yelling and the rush got to me. I ended up being a much better pastry chef. I like getting up early and prepping at 5am when no one is around and then being able to leave when things get heated.” She smiled.

She asked Claire more about herself and shared bits of her story in turn. She was lovely. Of course she was, she was Carmy’s girlfriend.

It wasn’t long before Luca wandered over with a small plate and handed it to Sophie. “I thought you might want to try one,” he said, handing the plate over before wrapping an arm around Sophie, hand warm against her lower back.

Carmy huffed out a laugh, looking away and putting a hand to his mouth. Sophie glanced to Carmy and then down at the plate and bit back a laugh as well. Luca had brought her the fig and cheese appetizer.

“What?” he asked, looking confused.

“Thanks! This is sweet. We were just joking before you walked over,” she said, leaning into him slightly since both hands were now taken up, one with a drink and the other with the plate. “Should we re-join the group? I was hoarding Claire’s time.”

As they walked back Carmy slyly grabbed the crostini from the plate and slid it into his mouth. She shook her head at him, grinning.

The rest of the night was calm. Luca and the other chefs shared stories. Unfortunately for Carmy, the chefs were all hounding him with questions. He always answered them briefly. He seemed to get more comfortable over time but still disliked the attention.

Eventually she snuck off to the bathroom and checked her phone, making sure her sister hadn’t contacted her. She felt a little panicky, worried she’d messed up somewhere. Particularly worried about her conversation with Claire. The other chef’s opinions didn’t matter too much but she wanted the night to go well. Wanted to leave Claire with a good impression.

Mallary hadn’t texted. She held her phone and took a breath.

She decided to text Chef Thomas, giving herself a little more time before she had to go back and face everyone again.

“Just met some Chicago chefs who told me how much you appreciate my julienning skills.” 

He responded right away, “They’re lying to you.” He texted again. "Just sharpen your knives, you'll be fine." And then a third time. “How’s your sister?” 

She replied quickly, letting him know Mallary was doing well. She walked out of the restroom with a smile on her face.

His reply cheered her. She could practically hear his disapproving voice in her head. Feigning annoyance with her but still always supportive. She was ready to go back. Sophie spotted Carmy at the bar as she left the restroom so she walked over to him. “Hiding at the bar, chef?” she asked.

“Getting another glass for Claire,” he responded. “And also hiding.”

She laughed. When the bartender asked if she wanted anything else, she asked for a glass of water. “How’s Luca?” he asked her, the glass of wine in his hand but he hadn’t turned to leave yet.

She bit her lip and looked at the bar. Her heart sank a little. She shrugged. “He’s lovely. Of course. But I think I messed things up.”

She met his eyes and felt the immediate pull to spill her guts to him.

“I just– fuck. I don’t know. Yesterday I pretended I could flirt and go on a date with someone and be normal. But–” she stopped, feeling selfish. “It’s stupid really. So many bigger things happening. Don’t know why I care anyways.” She forced a smile and pushed away from the bar to go back to the table but Carmy grabbed her arm. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wished he hadn’t touched her- hadn’t reminded her what his hands felt like.

He stood in front of her. “Look, Soph. I get it. But Luca is a good guy. And it really doesn’t matter what any of them think of you anyways.”

She forced herself to smile at him, ignoring the pounding of her chest. “Yeah, thanks Carm.”

---

They said goodbyes at the end of the night. Sophie felt slightly hopeful that things went better than she had feared because Claire hugged her as she left. The chefs clearly weren’t as interested in networking with her once they found out she had no immediate plans to start cooking again, but they were all cordial and she was glad she met them at the end of it all.

She and Luca stood in front of the restaurant after everyone left and she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable,” he responded, clearly looking concerned.

“No! It was fine. I’m just in a weird place with cooking and everything I guess. But they were all very nice,” she finished, realizing she was digging herself deeper.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Find another bar or something?” He ended up asking. “I haven’t really explored much.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she agreed.

He seemed to hesitate as he looked down the street. “I’ve never actually been here before,” he admitted and she grinned at him and reached over to grab his hand in hers.

“How about we go this way? There’s a tiny park and a garden we could see. It’s not far.” He nodded and followed her lead.

“Do you not like talking about your time in San Diego?” he asked, curiously. He seemed open and curious, like he just wanted to get to know her. If this were a normal date, she’d think this was lovely. But she was getting confused. They couldn’t actually date, this had to be something casual. So why was he doing all of this? Was he just a kind person? She wished she could summon the fake confidence she had in fits and bursts the previous night. But she felt drained.

“I don’t mind talking about it! It was actually really nice. Chef Thomas has a reputation of being rude but he is really very kind once you get to know him,” she said. “And I loved San Diego. Even more than New York City. Have you been to California at all?”

“Just L.A. I’d like to see San Diego someday.” He paused. “Carmy has a lot of fans, yeah?” he said when she didn’t offer more.

“Oh yeah. Poor guy. He really isn’t in it for the fame. It throws most people that he isn’t going around bragging about it.” She grinned. “For all of the jealousy that comes with being friends with someone so talented, Carmy not particularly enjoying the accolades really helps.”

Luca grinned at her. “You seem close,” he said. “He talked about you a lot when we worked at Noma.”

She nearly tripped over an uneven sidewalk section. “That doesn’t sound like Carmy,” she said, slowly, shocked.

“He did. Said you were going to be the best pâtissière in New York. Everyone in Noma heard about Sophie Miller. I was secretly hoping to meet you, if I’m being honest. Not because I thought this would happen.” He squeezed her hand, a blush dancing across his cheeks. “But because I wanted to know who could impress Carmy. He really cleared up any notions I had about being the best chef when we worked together.”

“He sees the best in people,” she said after a bit. “I don’t think I’m particularly talented but he saw how hard I worked. He actually nudged me towards becoming a pastry chef. I think he saw how bad the stress of the dinner rush got to me.” She was lost in her thoughts again, about New York. About her friend who had helped her so much. Even in ways she didn’t know.

She had impressed on Carmy the importance of trying to make a name for himself. She had dragged him to a few events and had followed to his own James Beard award ceremony. She had made it her mission to repay all of the help he gave her by getting his name out there to everyone. She knew she could be good at it, the networking thing. And she knew Carmy hated it. And to be fair, he didn’t need the help, not really. His cooking spoke for itself. But if she could get people to go try the food, she knew it would help him in the long run. She hadn’t realized he’d done it for her too.

“He absolutely thinks you’re talented, by the way. He was so happy Marcus could learn from you,” she said, realizing she had nearly walked them past the park and turned them down another block.

“Marcus is a fantastic pastry chef. Carmy knows how to pick his people.” Sophie smiled at him and blushed as she felt him run his thumb up and down the back of her hand, still held in his.

They walked through the garden, her steps loud in her ears. She didn’t know what to say. She felt like they’d gotten quite close in only a little over 24 hours. She wasn’t excited about the prospect of him leaving. “I didn’t really want to move to Chicago, to be honest.” She found herself looking at the tiny garden, surprised at how few people were around on such a peaceful night. “I was finally finding happiness in San Diego. But it has its moments”, she said. “I do love this garden.” She remembered she hadn’t told him about her sister’s cancer. Hadn’t wanted to deal with being the sad girl, and yet here she was, being sad. She turned to him with a smile.

“Do you think you’ll stay in Copenhagen? Or are you going to return to London someday?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve found a restaurant I love and it is hard to want to leave that,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully.

“I understand that.” She smiled at him. The two had started walking again, over to the tiny corner park. “Want to go on the swings?” she asked when she saw no one was using them.

He grinned at her and agreed. She started leading him over and had an idea. “Race you there,” she said, dropping his hand and rushing forward, the sound of his laughter chasing after her.

She made it there with barely a second to spare before he reached her. She beamed up at him from her place on the swing. “I thought with those long legs you’d be a little faster,” she taunted him. He chuckled and pushed her swing before sitting on his own. She watched his feet drag across the ground on the swing until he lifted his legs.

“I think you might be too tall,” she laughed at him. He reached out and shoved her swing sideways causing her to swing away and then back, nearly bumping into him. She laughed. He reached over and dragged her to him for a kiss. She melted instantly, sighing as he pulled away, his free hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

“Tomorrow’s my last full day here,” he said, quietly. His eyes burning into hers.

She didn’t know what to say. She knew their time was limited, that this was it. But she supposed she hoped they’d somehow get away without saying goodbye. That they could just have this magical moment and walk away from it with some nice memories. She didn’t want to think about how much she’d have liked it to last longer. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I have to go see the Bean.” She laughed at him and he released his grip on her swing causing her to swing the opposite way. She kicked her feet out to stabilize herself. “Hey don’t laugh at me! I’m a tourist. I never got to do the touristy things when I worked here.” He paused. “I also wanted to go to the art museum. I like going to museums while I’m traveling,” he said.

“Do you want company?”

"Only if you're willing to be a tourist with me," he said, teasing edge to his voice. She smiled. Being a tourist with Luca sounded like a whole lot of fun.

Realizing they were running low on time, she stood and walked over to him, standing between his obnoxiously long legs. She grabbed onto the chains of the swings and stood looking down at him. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” she asked, pulling the swing toward her slightly.

She pressed her lips against his in what she planned as a quick peck but turned passionate, Luca leaning up into her, his mouth opening against hers causing tingles to shoot down her spine.

She forgot that she was holding the swing in place and let go to tangle her fingers in his hair. She realized a second too late what she'd done. He started swinging back and she stumbled towards him. He grabbed her around the waist and put his feet down harder, stopping the movement.

“Sorry. I forgot I was holding the swing.” She laughed breathlessly, holding herself up against his shoulders.

“I noticed.” He smirked up at her, his hands shifting from holding her up to sliding down her waist and holding her hips, taking her breath away.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, walking him away from the park and towards her home.

---

For the second day, she awoke wrapped in Luca’s arms, head buried in his chest, feeling warm and comfortable. She felt him stir underneath her and tried to stay still, not wanting to have to wake up just yet.

“Good morning.” His grumbly morning voice sounded from above her on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” she whined, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She felt him reach over and comb his fingers through her hair.

“I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” he said, his grin clear in his voice. His hand grazed down her shoulder and back and slowly slid back up. Warmth spread through her, feeling too comfortable. She sighed and relaxed into him.

I don’t want you to leave. She slid her hand up his side and burrowed her face into him, eyes shut. Two days of waking up with a warm, soft, sweet man in bed with her. She didn’t want to go back to waking up alone. She took a breath and forced herself to keep moving. “I suppose we should get ready. We have tourist stuff to do.”

“Can I make you breakfast first?” he asked.

She lifted her head to look up at him for the first time that morning, a smile on her face. “You want to cook for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes warm and soft. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he grinned wider watching her react. He rolled onto his side and tilted his head at her. “You do realize we are both lying naked in your bed, yeah? Why are you blushing about breakfast?”

She matched his posture, lying opposite him. “It’s just–” She hesitated a second. “You’re so– wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” he asked, his grin softening. Then he leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. “That’s it. I’m making you breakfast.”

 ---

Luca stood in her kitchen in his rumpled clothes from the previous day. Coffee had just finished brewing and she was leaning against the kitchen island watching him cook for her.

She sipped her coffee and found herself watching Luca, his hands as he whipped some egg mixture in a bowl to make french toast. His hair flopped over his forehead, messy and perfect. She had the sudden urge to take a picture. She tried to be quiet, reached to the end of the counter with her phone and quietly took a picture of him. She put her phone down as he turned and he smirked at her.

“Did you take a picture of me?” He grinned and stepped over to her. She blushed. “I need a picture too then,” he said, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. He patted the island and she hopped up. He took a selfie of them, his arm wrapped around her, her cheeks still pink as she held the coffee mug between her hands. “Now let me work, yeah?” he said, before kissing her on the cheek and getting back to cooking.

---

Their afternoon was the picture of perfection. They walked around the museum, commenting on pieces of art as they went. Sophie would grab Luca’s hand and pull him to look at a painting before dropping it again. After the third time he grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go.

Sophie flexed the one Art History class she took in college, pointing out pieces and movements she recognized. They eventually turned it into a game, pretending to be art critics talking about the works. Being a tourist with Luca was fun.

They took pictures at the Bean. Sophie made sure to get a few of them together. She wished again that this wasn’t about to end. That they could have time to actually date. She pushed the thought away. They lived in different countries, after all.

As they walked around they shared pieces of their lives. Sophie told him about her nieces, how she was excited to see them since they’d been gone for the past two weeks on a family vacation. How one of them, Cecily, was in her silly joke phase. She started sharing her favorites with Luca.

“I only know 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know ‘Y’.” she said, with a wide grin at her own joke. Luca chuckled and returned with his own silly jokes. And the two spent a while trying to make each other laugh.

Luca also told her about his family. His sister had married recently and was living outside of London. He hadn’t visited in over a year but was hoping to go back home soon. She learned about Luca as a teenager, who to her surprise and delight had an emo phase similar to her own. Their easy conversation made it harder for Sophie to think about the upcoming goodbyes.

“Thanks for all of this,” he said, as they walked down the path towards the fountain.

She grinned at him and grabbed his hand again. Don’t leave. The thought wouldn’t stop spiraling through her head. She hadn’t felt this happy in so long.

She knew some of it was her just avoiding thinking about everything else, giving herself a vacation from her life for a bit. But there was something about being with Luca that made her feel so happy. It just felt easy, in a way so few things did. Like things would turn out okay as long as he was there. She knew she wasn’t putting a very convincing smile on her face by the look Luca was giving her. “I’m trying not to be sad,” she admitted quietly.

He squeezed her hand. “Me too,” he said and she looked at him. “If you’d like, you could come visit me. I’d show you around Copenhagen,” he offered, quietly.

“Yes. I’d love that,” she responded, perhaps too eagerly. The idea that he wanted to see her again cheered her up so much she didn’t think about how that would work. And her immediate reaction seemed to cheer him up too. He grinned at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him.

They said goodbye at the subway station. Sophie got on her tiptoes to kiss him. As they pulled away, she put a hand to his chest. “It was lovely meeting you, Luca.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, one more time. Slow and easy and perfect. “It was lovely meeting you, Sophie.” he said with a small grin. She smiled at him, knowing her cheeks were pink. Still feeling her heart jump the tiniest bit at the sound of him saying her name.

As she walked onto her train, she felt her phone buzz. He had sent her a joke. “I’m reading a book on anti-gravity.” 

Her phone buzzed again. “I can’t put it down.” 

She laughed and sent a text saying “loser 🤣 ”. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, sent "❤️". She put her phone back in her purse.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

FYI: Funding of the duo while royals

The financial year for the Sovereign Grant is 1 April to 31 March. The Sovereign Grant is funded from the income, after operating expenditure*, from Crown Estates (all of the income is given to the government, and the government then allocates a percentage, about 25%, to the sovereign to spend on funding the official work of the monarchy). The duo announced their engagement in November and got married in May. So, for 4 months, the monarchy was saddled with funding TBW from a budget that had not allocated any funds for her. However, her demands, via hapless, for bodyguards and transport (she was already living free from paying rent on a Crown Estate long before the engagement) preceded the engagement, and once she got the ring on her finger, she expected to have free rein to spend and spend (even once they could accommodate her with funds from the Sovereign Grant, the SG did not expand so every penny she spent took money 'away' from other working royals). This is where the ridiculous story about 'no money for her' comes from.

Charles did have income from the Duchy of Cornwall. I am not sure what the dates for the financial year are, but it would probably be a similar story other than that this income was considerable and Charles could allocate the funds as he wished among himself, his wife, and his sons. I suspect that it is these funds that the duo thought they should have unbridled access to, and when Charles tried to put the brakes on, offence was taken. They must now be filled with bitter resentment that all that income goes to William. Charles knew this would happen one day and the duo would become an Edward and Sophie (but with a much less grand home). The duo probably thought short term and wanted to loot as much as they could while they could.

They ran off to Canada in about November, did some brief appearances in January and then effectively were gone. But the SG funded them until 31 March. They effectively were given a generous 4-month paid holiday. As for Charles funding them from the Duchy of Cornwall, they were not entitled to any funding after Megxit was officially announced, but they got full funding from Charles up until then, when they were on 'paid leave' living for free in Canada with bodyguards paid for by the British public ... It also seems that Charles dipped into his personal wealth and gave them a large sum at the time of Megxit as well, sort of as a farewell gift:

"them "a substantial sum" to support their transition to financial independence.

Duchy of Cornwall accounts show that the couple - along with Prince William and Catherine - received £4.5m between April and June 2020.

"That funding [then] ceased," according to a spokesman.

From NuttyFlavor Blog

[sea-owl]

Wouldn't it be funny if the Bridgerton wives were bored one day and just decided to band together and create a black market empire? Just imagine all 4 ladies at an afternoon tea party while their husbands are away and in a moment of silence Penelope (she who has done a many illegal activities in her youth) just straight up says "You know what would really be funny..." and the others will agree because 1) they're bored af and 2) they will use and create any opportunity to raise their husband's stress levels.

Then fast forward their husbands come back and have apoleptic levels of stress because WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CREATED A BLACK MARKET EMPIRE??? WE WERE GONE FOR A WEEK!

I love this. Lmao, you know what be funnier? If it was the same year Penelope and Lucy were pregnant with Georgie and Hermione too.

Penelope will pleade innocence to her husband later and that the baby gave her those thoughts (they both know she's lying), but she's so bored right now.

She's five months pregnant with her fourth child, and her husband had to go away with his brothers for an emergency at Aubrey Hall. That left her with her sister in-laws, Kate, Sophie, and Lucy.

Lucy was also pregnant with her third child, and she also looked extremely bored. Kate and Sophie also looked bored as their assigned babysitters.

Truly Penelope could not be blamed for what happened next.

"I am bored," Penelope stated.

Kate and Sophie looked over interested. Sophie always smiled when hearing of Penelope's tales of felonies just as Penelope delighted in hearing Sophie's tales of thievery. Kate was an enabler who was not afraid to pitch in, such as when they dumped all that tea in the Thames.

"I am as well," Lucy sighed. "Do you an idea?"

"Well. . ." Penelope trailed off. "The black market always did fascinate me. I used to trade secrets for goods with some of the merchants."

With a little bit of help from Penelope's friend, Ms. Kazan, the girls set up a "Lost and Found" business. Customers in need of their services would go to either Kate or Lucy and report a lost item or knowledge they wished to be found. For a fee, half paid up front and the other half paid after, Sophie or Penelope would go find the lost thing.

Were the methods always legal when they went looking? No, but hey, they wanna do a good job.

It was a very lucrative business, so much so that there were whispers about it when their husbands returned.

Colin immediately knew it was his wife's idea. Anthony, Benedict, and Gregory also knew it was Colin's wife's idea.

Storming into the Bridgerton drawing room, the husband's were greeted by their wives having tea in the exact spot they left them.

"Did you get bored while I was away?" Colin asked Penelope.

"Yes, I did," Penelope answered.

"So you created a black market shop?"

Penelope gestured to all the wives. "We created a black market shop."

"Why," all the brothers sighed.

Kate, Sophie, and Lucy shrugged. "We were bored and it seemed fun."

"And how long were we gone before you did this?"

"Ten minutes."

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Operation Death Wish | Chapter 9

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Synopsis: Jake Seresin knew what it was like to lose people he loved, he’d been losing them his whole life. Yet in the midst of chaos as the world as he knew it ended Jake found somebody he never wanted to lose. But what if he’d already lost her. Warnings: swearing, dystopian descriptions, gore, death, violence, alien descriptions, fighting, sexual images, 18+ (minors dni), angst, some fluff at times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You couldn’t have left the medical wing faster, sprinting down the corridor and out of the emergency exit where you bent over, emptying your stomach onto the tarmac, spluttering and gagging. Your head was spinning. The doctor had done an ultrasound to check the baby and placed it at around 4 months old. He handed you a small sonogram picture which you’d immediately stuffed into your pocket, unable to look at it.

“Are you ok?” You groaned internally, this was the last person you wanted to talk to right now.

“Bradley,” you greeted him. He was leaning against the wall, his brown hair flopping over his eyes as he looked at you.

“I’m fine. Just stressed and relieved.” You told him, standing up straight and ignoring the gurgling of your stomach. Bradley just looked back at you, his head tilted to one side as if he was trying to think of something to say.

“You look good, Roo,” you used his nickname trying to create some spark of life behind those dull eyes that just stared back.

“You too,” he lied. You sighed, stepping closer to him.

“Bradley, this is stupid. You’ve moved on and so have I. Here,” you pulled the necklace that held your engagement ring around your neck and handed it to him. “There’s no point dragging this out any longer. Annie seems like a nice girl and she makes you happy. I don’t blame you for anything Roo, I never could. I’m happy for you and I hope you can be happy for me too.”

Bradley snorted, looking up from the ring to you. “I never pegged you as someone who dates assholes, but then what do I really know about you? Hell, for all I know you jumped into bed with him the first chance you got.” You went to interrupt him but he raised his hand. “I know about the baby. Mav sent me to check on you as you were taking so long and one of the nurses told me. I don’t care how it happened or whose kid it is, but I don’t want anything to do with it or you, ok? And I don’t want Annie to know about any of this, the engagement, the baby, us, none of it, ok?”

You’d never seen Bradley quite so serious and although you understood his pain you also couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes as your shoulders shook and you spluttered out an excuse to leave. You knew Bradley had his reason, he didn’t love you anymore and you didn’t love him, not in the same way at least, but you didn’t expect that reaction.

After your encounter with Bradley, you’d gone to have a hot shower, letting the water ease your aching body and you placed your hand on your nearly invisible bump, admiring it in the bathroom mirror. You could see the faces of your father, Jake and Bradley all circling your mind as you lay in bed, sleep evading you as you turned over the possibilities in your mind. Jake was still in the medical wing having his wounds properly cleaned and redressed while Natasha had gone to find her wife. You’d never met Sophie, but from what Nat said you felt like you’d get along. After a few more hours of trying to sleep with nothing you got up. There was no point lying around. You dressed hurriedly and made your way out into the sunshine, the warm rays hitting your skin, filling you with some much-needed hope. From across the housing complex, you could see Natasha and a woman chatting, they had a pram in front of them and you could only assume it was her wife. You walked over slowly, trying to decide whether to interrupt the couple's peace or just keep walking. Natasha must have spotted you because she ushered you over.

“Come meet my son,” she beckoned, dragging you towards the pram where the tiny infant was nestled inside. He had deep brown eyes and dark brown hair like Nat, he was almost the spitting image of her.

“Oh, Nat he’s perfect. What’s his name?” You leant over cooing to the baby, his little fist wiggling at you.

“His name is Adam,” Sophie chimed in and you looked up at her smiling.

“He’s beautiful.” Nat grinned proudly at her wife and son, her own little family.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sophie. You have a beautiful family.”

Sophie nodded her head in agreement. “Thank you. I hear you will have a family of your own soon.”

The air caught in your throat as you tried to reply, you hadn’t expected Nat to tell anyone about the baby yet, especially as you hadn’t told Jake.

“I am,” you replied slowly, saying each word as the realisation kicked in.

“Well congratulations, a baby is wonderful news.”

“Who’s having a baby?” An all too familiar voice said from behind you, causing you to freeze. Nat looked at you, eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe you hadn’t told him.

“Oh, Nat has… her and her wife I mean.” You stumbled over your words and Jake looked at you confused and slightly worried.

“Yeah, I know that, it’s all she’s talked about. No, I mean who's going to have a family of their own soon.” You gulped looking between Natasha and Sophie for some kind of answer. Nat took this as her sign to go, ushering her wife and son away from the awkward situation and leaving you standing next to Jake in utter silence.

“Well?” Jake asked, you hadn’t realised before but he had a lollipop sticking out the edge of his mouth and he looked like a big kid. Your heart swelled at the sight, you loved Jake so much, but you had to tell him.

“Well… Jake, it’s… complicated… umm… well.” You stuttered over your words again. How could you just blurt out this life-changing information to a man that you had known for less than a year and had been in love with for even less?

“Darlin’,” Jake came closer, resting his hands on your shoulders and holding you steady. “You can tell me anything, ok? I can handle it.”

But could he handle this? You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to calm your thoughts.

“Jake, I think you need to sit down.” He obeyed, planting himself next to you on the old wooden bench, his big blue eyes gazing down at you with all the love in the world, and for a moment you felt like everything might be alright.

“Jake, I’m pregnant, I’m sorry,” you reeled off in one breath, glancing up at him as if he could have possibly understood what you just said.

“Come again?” He asked, you knew he heard you. here’ was no way he missed it, but trying to comprehend that he was a father was going to take a little more explaining.

“I’m pregnant, 4 months actually. It’s yours of course. Look Jake I know this is a shock, I didn’t plan for this either believe me, but this is happening. Now I understand if you don’t want this and I’m giving you full permission now to walk away, to be free of all this.”

Jake looked at you as if you’d grown an extra head.

“Are you kidding me? There is no chance in hell that I’d leave the mother of my child or my child for that matter.” Jake bent down on his knees, taking your hands in his. He rubbed your knuckles lovingly, “I know this isn’t exactly an ideal time and we didn’t plan for this but I love you so so much and I know we haven’t been together long and I know you're with Bradley but…”

“I’m not with Bradley, not anymore. He’s got someone else and I’m happy for him, but I don’t love him anymore, not like I love you.”

Jake grinned widely, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I love you, (y/n) Mitchell.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.” Jake stood and embraced you tightly, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, and rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“It’s gonna be ok,” Jake whispered and you finally believed it. “I'm going to look after you both, no matter what. I promise.”

“Steady on there Lieutenant, she’s engaged.” The voice of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell carried across the courtyard as he strode towards the embracing couple. “And she’s my daughter.” You could see the smirk on your father's face, he’d always enjoyed throwing around the fact that you were his daughter anytime a man was near you, even after your engagement.

Jake stepped back awkwardly, looking between you and your father. Pete looked between you both smiling at you, “how are you holding up, love.” He gave you a quick, tight hug before stepping away.

“I’m fine, Dad, the doctors checked me over…”

“And found out you’re pregnant, I know. Bradley told me and I hear I have this asshole to blame.” He glared at Jake who looked like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t decide if he was going to stand his ground or run, and honestly you couldn’t blame him. Your father may be small but he was formidable.

“Dad, I can explain…”

“Yes, you can. In my office. Now!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @marchingicenotes7 @t-nd-rfoot @shanimallina87 @emorychase @jstarr86 @starkleila @flames-thebitch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 14: Hastings

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 2.5k

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Sophie awoke to find it mercifully still dark outside. Despite the thrilling events of the evening, she must have dozed off, lulled into comfort within Benedict’s arms. Her body wanted to stay wrapped in the soft blankets against his warm skin, but her mind knew better. She needed to be in her quarters when the rest of the house woke up to prevent any suspicion. What exactly her role was now in the house and what exactly she would say to Benedict the next day, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t sleep in his room and cause outright scandal. He breathed softly beside her, his face serene as he slept. God, how she loved this man. Loved his beauty, loved his body, loved how gentle he had been with her. 

She placed a soft kiss on his forehead and slid out of the bed as carefully as she could. She couldn’t help but notice the traces of their activities on the sheets and told herself that she must be sure to intercept and launder them herself. She dressed in silence and snuck noiselessly back to her room, undetected.

Once in her own bed she found herself grinning uncontrollably, feeling like an entirely new woman. She supposed she had grown more now, having romped with a man that she loved even though she had preserved her maidenhood. It had been overwhelming but perfect. Strange, but so wonderfully fulfilling. The ghost of Benedict’s kiss, of his body, still pressed upon her skin like a memory. It made her giddy, nearly dizzy with joy. A corner of her mind whispered that she was wanton, a loose woman, the mistress that she had sworn she would never be. But she quieted it with justifications. She wouldn’t let him ‘keep her’ in the traditional sense of a mistress. She would maintain her independence with work and simply enjoy her time with him, just as Genevieve did with her gentlemen friends. The thought gave her pause, remembering that Benedict had been just such a companion to the modiste. Sophie wondered what they had gotten up to together, but knew that her free spirited friend was unlikely to harbor any jealousy toward her for entangling with an old flame, if their paths ever crossed again at all. In truth, Sophie was grateful for Gen’s assessment of Benedict’s character, which had always made her more inclined to trust him.

Whatever she had with Benedict now, it was a gift she could give herself after a lifetime of toil. To be as close as she could with the man she loved at least for a brief time, until his heart was committed to a suitable wife. 

She had wanted him for so long, so very long. He was everything to her and now that she knew he wanted her too, she could not refuse him, she didn’t want to refuse him. She had this time, however long or short it might be, to enjoy all of him. Or his body and attentions at least, if she didn’t have his heart. Maybe it would be enough to sustain her in the future after he married and moved on. Maybe it would eventually satiate the gnawing need she felt for him at all times. Maybe her time with him would educate her in knowing what to look for in a husband when they inevitably parted ways to find spouses among their own class.

As for children, she trusted that Benedict would not make her fall pregnant. Thanks to him, she now understood enough of the process to avoid such an outcome. She also knew that a woman’s courses were integral and, though she would never tell anyone, she hadn’t had hers in over a year. Not since she had left the Cowpers and lost so much weight. Without them, she felt certain that it was even more difficult to achieve. 

Now that she had known the private acts between a man and a woman, had seen and felt all of Benedict’s body, all of her concerns felt like trifles. All she wanted was more. More of him, more of his touch, more of his moans. She was an awful, sinful woman, she supposed. But right now she didn’t care. The memories of their encounter, its sounds, sights and sensations washed over her again, a blissful smile playing across her lips as she sank quickly into sleep.

She was awoken by an uncharacteristic hum of noise outside her door. Voices were shouting down the corridor, doors were slamming, and pots were clanging so loudly she could hear them all the way from the kitchen. She half wondered if the house was on fire. Blearily, she rose from bed, straightened herself and leaned out into the hall.

She was nearly bowled over by Lizzie scurrying past with a mounded basket of vegetables. The maid skidded to a stop and they looked at each other in alarm.

“Lizzie! What’s going on?” Sophie asked.

“The Duke and Duchess are due to arrive any moment.” Came the breathless reply.

Sophie’s mind reeled. “Who?”

Lizzie’s eyes were wide. “The Duke and Duchess of Hastings.” Her tone was of someone stating the obvious. When Sophie continued to stare at her in confusion, she clarified further. “The former Miss Daphne Bridgerton.”

“Oh.” Sophie uttered, taken aback. 

Lizzie cocked her head. “You should speak to Mrs. Wiggin, we have plenty that needs doing.” Then she rushed off in the direction of the kitchen.

___

Benedict grinned when he awoke, the memories of the night still fresh in his mind. He rolled over, arms outstretched, only to find himself alone. He looked around the room but Sophie was nowhere to be found. His senses kicked in and told him she was smart enough not to be caught in his bed when the household woke up, but a small part of him also feared that maybe she had run off, feeling differently about the night’s events than he had. 

He dressed quickly and marched out of his room to find her. He didn’t have to search at all because he immediately saw her at the foot of the stairs, walking up with a laundry basket in her arms.

He practically sprinted down to meet her. “Sophie! What are you doing?”

She looked at him with a blaze of annoyance and hissed. “You failed to tell me that your sister would be arriving today!”

“Oh!” He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, chastising himself. With everything happening between them, he had forgotten entirely. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry.” He opened his eyes and looked at her apologetically. “She is coming early to help prepare the house for the ball.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and stomped further up the stairs with urgency. “They will be here at any moment!”

Benedict followed her, scrambling back up the steps until they reached the second floor hall. “Still, what are you doing?” She looked at him with utter exasperation. “I’m helping! What am I supposed to do? Sit around and behave like a guest?”

Benedict couldn't help a smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips. Sophie was adorable when she was flustered. "We should talk." He said quietly, laying a hand on her arm.

She glanced about the hall, but they were safely alone. She softened, "Yes, we'll find the time."

Benedict leaned in, magnetized toward her lips and captured them with his own, thanking her for the night before. It was all Sophie could do not to moan under his kiss, she craved him so much. He pulled back and they smiled at each other, eyes alight. Breaking through the moment, the unmistakable sound of neighing horses and crunching carriage wheels drifted from outside. They both pulled apart and looked around. There was still no one in sight, but they sensed the danger of their discovery rising.

He took a last look at Sophie, not sure when they would find their next moment alone. “I must leave. And you have one task while I go. You will hold onto this feeling, and you will stay looking like this, just like this, until I see you again. Because it breaks my heart to see any other expression on your face.”

“You won’t be able to see me,” she pointed out.

He touched her chin and shot her his lopsided grin. “I’ll know.”

And then, when her eyes were full of that enchanting combination of shock and adoration, he swept in to peck her again and then dashed off down the stairs.

Sophie practically swatted him away, the mad aristocrat who wanted to steal kisses with a maid out in the open. But she couldn't stop herself from beaming like a fool as she went on about her work.

___

Benedict was well aware that he was not dressed formally enough to greet the Duke and Duchess as was customary as their host, but he also found that he didn't care. They were family after all, and both knew him well enough to know that abiding by etiquette was one of his lesser concerns. So, a bit disheveled and still lost in his heady thoughts of Sophie, he descended the front steps of Aubrey Hall to greet his sister and her family in the cool morning sunshine.

He watched as Daphne descended from her elegant carriage dressed in a lavender velvet cloak, taking her husband's extended hand. In her other arm she cradled their third child and first daughter, Caroline. Together, the couple turned and helped their two small sons hop to the ground, both outfitted in smart burgundy outfits.

"Sister!" Benedict smiled widely. "Welcome."

She turned her brilliant blue gaze upon him and smiled back, "Benedict, lovely to see you."

They kissed each other on the cheek with a small embrace before he turned to the Duke.

"Hastings," he said with a smile and a nod.

"Bridgerton," Simon's reply was characteristically cool, but warmth lit his eyes.

Benedict then turned to his nephews and niece, looking down upon them in their mother's arms and gathered around her skirt. "Hello there, all of you!"

Daphne's second son, named Barnaby according to the family's alphabetical tradition, smiled up at him and outstretched his chubby fingers. "Uncle Benny," he squeaked, "Up, up!" Though he loved all of his siblings’ children dearly, Benedict supposed he had the softest spot for Barnaby Basset, sharing initials and birth order as they did, and he happily lifted the boy onto his shoulders.

Holding onto the little knees, he looked down at his eldest nephew Augie. "Alright then, lead the charge, everyone inside."

Augie, a gentleman to the last, took his mother's free hand and led her up the steps and into the house with the rest of the retinue in tow. The additional carriages behind them began to unload with luggage and servants. The entire air of Aubrey Hall changed when visitors or family were in residence, anyone more than just himself and a handful of servants, Benedict thought. It became a large, bustling estate, full of noise and people and goings-on, rather than the quiet and intimate hideaway it had seemed to be only the night before. He was grateful to see family. It stirred a familiar warmth within his chest that he had been without for a rather long time, he realized. But he also couldn't help longing to be alone with Sophie in Aubrey Hall, or anywhere really. As much as he loved to see his sister and her family, their arrival felt like something of an intrusion, as unfair as he knew that was.

They were quickly settled into the morning room with tea, scones and cakes, the staff of Aubrey Hall bolstered by the staff brought from Clyvedon. The two boys immediately fell to playing with toys while the adults watched from the sofas, Daphne holding small Caroline on her knee.

She turned to Benedict. "How are you feeling, brother? Mother wrote that you were here convalescing. It seems you had something of an incident while out visiting…the Cavenders, was it?"

God, there was so much his family didn't know. The last he had written to them, he had notified that he would be staying at Aubrey Hall to recover from a cold caught on the way home from Cavender's party, and that he had hired a nurse to assist him. Not a lie, especially at the time the letter was written, immediately upon his arrival. How things had progressed since then was known only to him and Sophie of course, and it felt like an age had passed since the innocent days of seeing her as a helpful nursemaid. 

"Yes, I am fully recovered." He smiled at his sister. "Feeling much better."

Daphne looked at him in that exacting way only she could. "I should say so. You look very well indeed."

Benedict didn't know the extent of what she could read in his face, so he changed the subject. "Oh, and our sisters are forbidden from marrying anyone who attended the Cavender party, is that understood?" He bit into a scone. "A nest of drunks and scoundrels, the lot of them."

Simon leaned over from his seat with a smirk. "I could have told you that."

Benedict grinned in acknowledgement, then turned back to his sister. "The Cavenders aren’t invited to the house, are they?"

"No, I don’t believe so." She shook her head.

"Good,” Benedict said bluntly, “and they never shall be." 

Daphne knew better than to probe any further. She truly didn't care to know what sort of behavior would lead both her formerly rakish husband and her wild bohemian brother to think poorly of a man. Tactfully, she changed the subject while sipping her tea. "So what have you been doing to occupy your time?"

Benedict didn't meet her eyes but waved his hand around blithely. "Reading, sleeping. Sketching."

Daphne settled her teacup. "Sketching again? That sounds promising." She gave him a gentle smile. 

She had already been married and out of London when Benedict served his stint at the Royal Academy. He also hadn't told her the reason he had left so unceremoniously, which was his discovery that their brother had bought his seat rather than allowing him to earn it on merit. Though he supposed Eloise had probably written to her about it. Nevertheless, Daphne had always been supportive of his passion for art. Particularly after she had met the Duke, her appreciation for landscapes had notably increased and she always had encouraging words for Benedict when she saw him at work with his sketchbook or easel.

“Yes,” he mused. “I suppose I have some newfound inspiration.”

He immediately regretted his reply, fearing that they would probe him as to the source but fortunately Simon cut in with a wry smile.

“Or is that just a ruse for hiding mallets and absconding with a new ball?” He leaned forward and arched a brow at his brother-in-law. 

Benedict grinned back at him. Hastings was at last catching on to the family traditions, namely that of underhanded manipulation in the run up to their impending pall mall game. Benedict wouldn’t tell him that he had managed to retrieve his ball from the lake. He would save that surprise for the playing field. It seemed he would be safeguarding many secrets while his family were in residence.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove

[silverhallow]

Part 4: Making a Motion

Summary: perhaps a Princess can have her cake and eat it...?

(this is also on AO3)

When Sophie returned to the room she felt all eyes on her, she knew she and Phillip were supposed to give some sort of speech to the guests, preparation for tomorrow, thanking people for travelling and whatever else Ann had written into her speech but she knew she wasn’t going to read it.

She walked over to Phillip who offered his arm, he had no idea about the change of heart, the thoughts that were going through Sophie’s head at that moment and he was preparing for the speech, the last thing they would do before parting for the evening and then tomorrow they would become Man and Wife.

He looked at Sophie as she walked over to him, and she took his arm but as they reached the podium where the microphone was Sophie paused, they were away from everyone, the only person near them was Edmund Bridgerton, he had a part to play in reading out a proclamation for the wedding and seeing Benedict’s father made her decision for her in an instant.

“Phillip, wait…” she said quietly. Stopping him, pausing and turning to face him and took a deep breath, “everyone deserves a chance at finding true love, right?” she said

Phillip looked confused “erm… yes?”

“Including us?” she asked as she held the ring out that she removed and held out to him.

Phillip blinked for a moment before a smile appeared on his face “thank you…” he said and Sophie looked confused “Uhhh for saving me for doing the proper thing for once in my life… Now… i just have to tell George” he grimaced knowing his brother would be giving the whole I told you so routine.

“And I need to tell everyone else” Sophie said and the both just grinned at each other before saying “Good luck”

Sophie took a deep breath, with everyone staring at her she made her way up to the podium, a brief glance around the room and she couldn’t see Benedict, but she knew he wasn’t the reason she was doing this but she was doing this for her.

She didn’t want to be forced into something against her will and she hoped she could appeal to everyone for some compassion…

“Good evening everyone…A few moments ago, I realised the only reason I was getting married was because of a law, and that didn't seem like a good enough reason so I won’t be getting married tomorrow” she started, her confidence growing as she talked

“My grandmother has ruled without a man at her side for some time now and she rocks at it so as the Granddaughter of Queen Sarah and King Reginald, I ask the members of Parliament to think about your daughters, your nieces, and sisters, and granddaughters, and ask yourselves: would you force them to do what you're trying to make me do? I believe I will be a great queen. I understand Penwood to be a land that combines the beauty of the past with all the best hope of the future. I feel in my heart and soul that I can rule Penwood. I... I love Penwood. Do you think that I would be up here at a Wedding rehearsal if I didn’t… I know I can take us forward, I know I can be the Queen the country needs… so I stand here ready to take my place as your queen. Without a husband.” she said passionately.

There was an outbreak of applause and Sophie smiled knowing she’d gotten to them but Lord Cowper, one of the eldest members of parliament, the grumpiest and stickler for the laws in Sophie's opinion said “what about the law? ”

There was a lot of muttering from the members of parliament, and someone bemoaning about Cavander when Sophie felt someone at her shoulder and when she turned she saw Edmund beaming at her and he coughed “Make a motion”

“What?” sophie whispered back to him

“Make a motion… only you can change it… make a bloody motion to change the marriage law!” he whisper shouted at her

“Oh!” Sophie said with a bright smile.

“My Lords…” Sophie said as a hush moved over the crowd “I move to abolish the marriage law in its entirety, as to how it applies to present and future Queens of our great country…”

“Does anyone second the motion?” Edmund asked, knowing that this was his role and he just hoped that Sophie’s speech and appealing for them to think of the women in their life would work.

Silence fell over the crowd and Sophie felt her stomach sink, “hold their gaze” Edmund said and seeing the stern look of Sophie’s face whispered “softer…”

Sophie felt her face loosen and tried not to let her fear and hope show on her face as she looked around the room.

Just as she was starting to lose hope Lord Ashworth, the one person Sophie did not expect to help her nodded and raised a hand “I second the motion. Change is good, we need change”

Sophie felt her heart swell as Cowper next to him nodded.

Edmund grinned “All in favour of Abolishing the Marriage Law in entirety say Aye”

Lord Cowper started with an approving “Aye”and then much to Sophie’s surprise Lord Cavander, who would have inherited the crown for his son, raised his hand and said “Aye, the country needs a strong hand and I have faith you will do a fine job your highness” as his son look outraged

Sophie blinked as there were a few gasps around the room as Phillip Cavendar protested and his father shot him a glare “shush you, you had your chance but ruined it. She is far better prospect than you ever shall be” Philip wanted to argue with his father but his mother placed a hand on his shoulder and a look made him go quiet immediately as the rest of the Lord’s all said “Aye” 

Sophie beamed as Edmund said “The Aye’s have it, Congratulations your Highness” 

Following Edmund’s words, Sophie could have sagged but looked at her Prime Minister with a curious look as there was cheers and congratulatory applause “why did you tell me of this earlier?” she shot at him quietly

“I only learned of it last week, and have not had the opportunity to pass the information on” he replied but any further conversation was cut off as well wishers and people clamouring for Sophie’s attention, including her grandmother, descended upon her and she was lost in a sea of people but she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

The full marriage law was abolished, she was free to marry whomever she chose and she was still going to be Queen!

The only thing that would have made the rest of the night perfect, was if Benedict had been there to witness it for he had disappeared whilst she was out of the room and she had not seen him since.

~*~

Benedict hadn’t been able to stay and watch, neither had Eloise. He knew his sister had a crush on Sir Phillip and that she was feeling the pain of watching the person you wanted to be with be with another as acutely as he was so they had stuck together during the early parts of the party.

He hated that he’d been forced to come but as his father was Prime Minister and his brother was married to Sophie’s eventual Chief of Staff, he knew there was no way of getting out of it.

He had it settled in his mind that once the wedding was done the following day, and the coronation in a week's time, he would be on the first flight out of the country. He had plans to go to America, to find a studio over there and paint and pour his heartache into his art.

He’d bring Eloise with him when he was settled, she could apply to a University in America so she could get away from it as well. 

It was not fair but Benedict knew Sophie had an impossible choice, and he knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to the country and that she was born to be Queen ad he could never ask her to give that up for him so he’d agreed with his mother that he would plaster a smile on his face, he would sit through the wedding ceremony that would break his heart into irreparable pieces with a fake smile on his face, he would do his duty as the Prime Minister’s son, and then leave the country and never to return home.

That was the way it had to be.

But the party was harder than he had thought it would be. He’d been around Sophie and Phillip over the last few weeks and it hadn’t hurt this much.

He had been behind a camera, able to hide his feelings but now, he had to watch them as the future Queen and Prince Consort knowing full well that if circumstances were different, if his father’s title was more than just a Lord and a Viscount, that he could have been the one on Sophie’s arm. The one who was going to marry her.

But alas, he was naught but a second, untitled, son and therefore not eligible enough for the Princess and Future Queen.

He sighed into his drink, tried not to watch her, but given the silver of her gown… his eyes were drawn towards her, she looked like an angel.

By the time she was making her way over to his father and he knew he was going to have to attempt to offer his sincere congratulations to her and Sir Phillip, he felt sick.

He had managed to keep his eyes from meeting hers all evening but as they approached her green eyes met his blue and held his gaze for a moment causing them both to freeze.

He watched as she left the room and he knew he had to do the same, with a tap to Eloise’s arm, knowing she didn’t want to be there any more than he did, he whispered “lets get out of here” and he steered her from the room.

They got in the car and got home and as he did so, he turned off his phone. He had no intention of speaking to anyone as he picked up his bottle of Whiskey and he hoped with all hope that tomorrow would never come…