#Uncrowned King’s Thursday

[thisdaysthought]

This Day's Thought-Thursday

This Day’s Thought-Thursday

Century follows century—There it stands. Empires rise and fall and are forgotten—There it stands. Dynasty succeeds dynasty—There it stands. Kings are crowned and uncrowned—There it stands. Emperors decree its extermination—There it stands. Despised and torn to pieces—There it stands. Storms of hate swirl about it—There it stands. Atheists rail against it—There it stands. Agnostics smile…

[lisinfleur]

Beyond the Reach of the Eyes...

Author’s Notes | Thank you for the request and again, dear @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ do not feel sorry for inserting yourself! This is the essence of Imagine style! NEOQAV babe! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x Girlfriend! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ Words | 1804 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of eating disorders, romance. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

You looked at the mirror for the thousandth time. It wasn't good.

Of course, it wasn't good!

If it was Margrethe dressing it, for sure the silky blue dress Sigurd gave you in your last anniversary would be perfect! But in you?

Your breasts were escaping in the cleavage. They must be. There wasn't a way for that two rounded enormous balls of meat not to be terribly big on that cleavage.

And your waist?

What waist?

All you could see was your inability to make a simple lace in the back of your body with the strands of the dress. Surely because you were too fat to fit into that piece.

It was a dress. Clothes were for humans.

Not for pigs!

You were sure you were looking like an enormous pig or one of those whales King Harald was so proud to fish in the seas of Vestfold!

Fat.

Ugly.

Fat.

Strange.

Fat.

Fat.

FAT.

You took the dress off, starting to pull the cords of your corset until you barely could breathe!

Your lungs were pressed under the dress but there it was...

A waist contour...

Of course, nothing as beautiful as the natural lines of Margrethe's body. Lines you could never forget: attracted Sigurd pretty before he was blind or needy enough to be with you.

What was a bardic beautiful prince like him doing with a woman like you?

Your thoughts were torturing you when he came in, embracing you from behind, kissing the crook of your neck and smiling.

"You look gorgeous, my love," he said, frowning when his hands touched your waist "Did you lost weight?"

You smiled, softly.

No. You didn't lose a gram!

But the corset was working and you were looking thinner.

"Of course, you did. You didn't have been eating properly in the last months... I have been noticing you're..." you lost his words.

Your eyes were looking to the mirror, seeing his hands around your waist...

Your big, round and enormous waist.

Maybe some more pulls and the corset would be tight enough...

"... and mom is waiting for us. Let's go?" his voice came back to your ears and you looked at him a little bit inattentive.

"Sorry..." you managed to say with the few breaths that corset was allowing you to take.

But your smile was a good disguise and Sigurd just smiled back.

"Silly woman... You're gorgeous, Y/N and I love you. Every single part of you" he said, softly pecking your lips before taking you out of the room towards the dining room.

To walk in his rhythm was hard with that corset pressing your body that way, but even then, you tried your best to look as natural as you could.

But when you two reached the dining room, there she was...

Gorgeous, thin, blonde and smiling Margrethe, beside Ubbe - her brand new husband - with Hvitserk's hungry eyes over her beautiful silhouette...

Who could blame him for desiring her?

Who could blame your prince for smiling at her so brightly?

"Margrethe, this is Y/N" he introduced you two and Margrethe looked at you with a frowned expression.

"Are you ok?" she asked, worrying Sigurd when you just smiled small at her.

"Yes." you mumbled, smiling bigger "I'm fine." Small words.

Sigurd never saw you so silent.

But somehow, Margrethe seemed to be really disturbed with something in you.

For sure she saw your corset. For sure she was shocked by the way it was about to explode against your enormous body!

"Are you sure you're alright, Y/N? You're... You're pale...".

Your nervousness surely was putting you into trouble.

You turned yourself to look at Sigurd, but for some reason, you lost your balance.

You felt Sigurd's hand around your waist and before your vision became strangely numb, you could remember you thought it was good: at least he was able to wrap your waist with a single arm.

You woke up in your bed. There wasn't a corset around you anymore and you could breathe freely, but your breath almost stopped when you saw Sigurd seated by your side.

Your corset was opened in his hands and he was sadly looking at it.

There it was...

Your lie was revealed.

Surely, he was completely disappointed you weren't the beautiful woman he thought you were! Surely, he was disappointed your body wasn't even close to Margrethe's.

Oh, if you were just as beautiful as she was!

If your breasts were smaller like hers. If your waist was thin and gorgeous like hers...

You felt your eyes filling with tears when he looked at you.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N?"

His ask confused your mind.

You were waiting for something different.

"Why are you hurting yourself this way? Your back... your waist... Darling, there are purple lines all over your torso! The healer told me you fainted because you couldn't breathe! Y/N why are you torturing yourself this way?”

You tried to smile as you always did, but your smile cracked like a piece of thin crystal when you saw his gaze, so sad, over yours.

"Why are you hurting what I love so bad?" he said, throwing your corset away, annoyed with the piece you were trying so hard to make fit, to make tight for him "You don't need these things! You don't need to hurt yourself this way, Y/N! I love you, the way you are!"

The tears poured from your eyes and you couldn't handle anymore.

"That's because you're blind!" you said, shocking him with your words.

With the flood of emotions that came from you following the first sentence, showing him what you had been pressing and hiding into your tight corsets for so long.

"There is no way a prince like you would stay beside a horrid woman like me, Sigurd. Not if I wasn't at least disguising the terrible body I have with these things you say I don't need! The thin waist you noticed? It was the corset, not me! The contours, the silhouette! It was the corset! I'm not gorgeous! I'm fat! I'm ugly! I'm not and I will never be like her!" you cried, hiding your face in your hands "I will never be beautiful like her..." you sobbed, allowing him to see what you tried to hide for so long.

But even then, Sigurd sat by your side at the bed, confuse.

"What are you saying, Y/N? Who are you talking about?"

"Margrethe" you cried her name, sobbing helplessly "I will never be as beautiful as she is. I will never be like her and soon you will realize it. I know you loved her... Who could blame you for that?"

Sigurd cupped your face, looking into your eyes. His thumbs softly caressing your cheeks.

"Come with me, Y/N." he said, softly helping you to leave your bed.

Taking you through a way that soon made you completely anxious: he stopped in front of your mirror with you in front of him and as soon as he did it, you looked away.

You didn't want to see that horrid body. That terrible appearance.

Fat...

Fat...

Fat...

"Look at us, my love" he asked and you nodded negatively, causing him to sigh.

Fat...

Fat...

Fat...

The voices kept repeating in your mind until you felt what was impossible: Sigurd slid his arm around your waist. Without the corset...

You opened your eyes and something shocked you in the mirror: you could see him behind you...

Your body was thin, strangely thin...

Your collarbones were visible, and he was surrounding your waist with a single arm...

But there wasn't joy in his eyes.

Instead, he looked sad, worried, hurt.

"You're killing yourself. You're hurting what I love the most. If I wanted Margrethe back all I had to do was talk to Ubbe and she would be in my bed, Y/N. I don't want her. I want you. But I want my Y/N. My baby boo, who used to share the autumn fruits with me."

You remembered you told him you have already eaten when he came with the fruits and this autumn, he ate his fruits alone.

"I want my girl who used to play with me in the lake".

Your memory flickered one more time and you remembered him calling you to the lake. The way you avoided it with your life because you were sure he would be able to feel your fat body under the wet clothes or worse: he could suggest both of you swim naked and you didn't want him to see how different you were from her.

"I want back the little girl I fell in love with. I want you Y/N. But I want you to live a life by my side. Not to starve yourself to death between my fingers" he asked, and your heart shattered into your chest when you looked at yourself in the mirror once again.

"I love you, Y/N. Please stop killing me by hurting yourself this way".

You felt him sliding his hand delicately in your skin and so all the care and sweetness started making sense.

You were hurting yourself and now, the prince who was so happy by your side, was afraid to hurt you, to break you, and this was the reason he wasn't sexually searching for you anymore. There was nothing to do with Margrethe's beautiful body.

It was all about you!

"Help me," you asked, tears pouring through your face "I don't wanna be ugly and lose you... But I don't wanna kill myself. I never wanted to hurt myself or you... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!"

You felt his soft embrace and Sigurd lifted you up to his arms.

So easy as if he was lifting a feather.

He took you back to the bed and softly laid by your side, cuddling with you, speaking into your ears.

"I'll help you, my love. We'll walk your way back together. But you must promise me you'll forget Margrethe."

You looked at him.

"She's my brother's wife and what we had was finito in the moment I knew you. I love you. You and you only. And I don't want you to look like Margrethe, my love. I want you. I want you to be yourself. Promise me you will." he asked.

It took a second for you to nod, accepting his terms.

"I love you too, Sigurd"

"I'll take care of you now, my dear Y/N and I promise you, soon, you'll be fine once again."

You felt his caresses and your bony body relaxed in his hands one more time.

All you wanted there, in the middle of your arms.

As long as Sigurd was by your side, then you could face anything. Even yourself.

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[honestsycrets]

Disappearance

Gif Credit: I think lol-haha-joke...

“Shit! Someone stole our clothes!”

Sigurd steps out of the water, looking to Ivar who was theoretically supposed to be watching them. Ivar sleeps lazily, head cushioned on his pillow when his older brother kicks enough dirt around to wake him. The three brothers stand naked over him, glaring him down as if he was the one to steal them.

“I didn’t take them.” He says.

“You were supposed to be watching them.” Sigurd looks out toward Kattegat, cursing.

“You should watch them! They were your clothes.” Ivar pouts when Ubbe goes on some tangent of Ivar fetching a thrall or some sort while they froze their asses off in the cold waters as the sun set on the horizon. But then, so suddenly, a girlish giggle. Ivar throws himself over to look out just as Ubbe covers himself with Ivar’s blanket yanked out from under his head. Sigurd is caught naked.

“Oh boys!” You wave several feet behind Ivar. His hand snaps down as if to cover his cock-- while Hvitserk well shares the blanket for god knows what reason. Clearly, you caught sight of all three of them prior to now.

“Give it back!” Sigurd speaks up, cheeks hot in his embarrassment. Usually it was Ubbe who spoke up first!

“Come get it, my prince.” She mocks. He recognizes who it is immediately! For a best friend, he has to think that you are making some pretty bad choices. She ambles down with them in her fingers, lightly pushing on Sigurd’s sternum when he lurches forward for them, twirling around on her toes and kicking up dirt into Ivar’s face. He barks out a ‘hey!’ as Hvitserk looks shyly to his favourite blue tunic in your fingers.

“Are you kidding me, (Y/N)?” Sigurd huffs. He’s never before had this issue with you! You playfully shake out his clothes, plopping his trousers over his shoulder. Before he can reach for them though, they slide onto the sandy ground.

“Go ahead.” You giggle. “Get them.”

His eyes meet yours, glittering like mischievous jewels. You raise your eyebrows at him, caressing your tongue along your upper lip. He should have known better than to assume you would behave because the second he turns down to get them. Your hand cracks upon his pasty ass so hard that Ivar bursts into his laughter-- followed by his other brothers in hot embarrassment. But if he was embarrassed as he pulled them on, he had nothing to say when you ran back toward the the line of houses, giggling softly.

“Do you think you can get them off the roof, Ubbe!”

“Go get them.” Ubbe’s hand shoves Sigurd forward, his deep voice rumbling as he tucks himself inside. As his best friend-- you were always his responsibility. As a brother… he knew he had to go get those clothes down from the roof. Now the only issue was outrunning you. In a skirt, there was no limit to your motion. The only benefit was how weighed down you were with his brother’s clothes and your tunic. His flaxen braids beat across his back as he ran back down the pathway into Kattegat’s entrance.

Finally he had you. “Come here!” Sigurd snatches you up just under your knees, flinging you over his back like a bag of heavyweight vegetables. You squeal in adorable glee as he makes his way back to the beach, clothes in hand.

“What did you think you were doing?” Sigurd says, his hand to your butt in a way that sent little butterflies down your spine.

“I was just playing!” You laugh as he bounces you a little purposefully.

“You wanted attention. Don’t I give you enough?” Sigurd grumbles, knowing that his brothers would all be teasing him later about this. You make a soft, adorable huff of a no while he thinks back to Ubbe’s words. He said-- she picks on you because she loves you! He never once had the balls to think that you did before. Maybe now though, he does.

[triumphantreturnofpies-blog]

Son of Loki, Son of Ragnar

Sigurd’s girlfriend brings home a new pet. My contribution to Uncrowned King’s Thursday! @lisinfleur @honestsycrets

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

That was how you greeted Sigurd when he’d walked in the door after a week away on tour: a big rib-crushing hug, and that sentence. “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

You took his overnight bag from him, tossing it onto the couch and tugging him gently in the direction of the kitchen. “I know we agreed to wait to get another pet, but… But, he needs me!” Your eyes met his imploringly, silently begging that he understand.

Oh gods, he thought. What had you brought home? Another cat? A baby bunny? An old dog you’d fallen in love with that would take up the entire bed?? None of the ideas flitting around his head prepared Sigurd for the modestly sized tank resting on the kitchen counter.

...Or the fact that your big, fluff-ball cat was using the tank as a lounge.

“Mjol, not again!” You cried, scooping the cheeky animal into your arms. Sigurd could hear the purrs from here. “I told you that Sleipnir’s house is not a kitty bed! You have kitty beds! You have my bed! Why do you have to sit on the fishie?” Purr, purr, purr….

“You bought a fish,” Sigurd said, dumbfounded. Mjolnir noticed him, jumping from your hold and moving to wind around Sigurd’s feet, chirping for attention.

“Yeah. C’mere, come see him.”

Sleipnir, Sigurd noticed, was not a particularly pretty fish. He was a blue color that looked a bit washed out, his fins were ragged, and his body was ridiculously thick compared to most of the betta fish Sigurd had seen on your excursions to the pet supply store. Putting his finger to the glass, as you instructed, the little creature puffed up, flaring his fins and gills to reveal something Sigurd hadn’t noticed initially. “Are those two separate tail fins?”

“Yup!” you chirped. “He’s a double-tail betta fish; that’s why I named him Sleipnir. I wasn’t ever planning on having one, they can have so many health issues because of the mutation I didn’t wanna support bad breeding by buying one. But I saw this little guy at the store when I was getting litter for Mjol’s box, and he was sick and in bad shape but he still had so much attitude. I just… I couldn’t leave him there, Sigurd.”

“He needed you,” Sigurd repeated your words to him earlier. “You said he was sick?”

“Yeah,” you nodded firmly. “See how his fins are? That’s from something called fin-rot. It’s an infection that can be deadly if it’s not treated properly. That’s why the tank water is so cloudy, I’ve been dosing fishy-meds every night. If you look at him close, you can see the edge of his fins have a transparent line around them; that’s where the tissue’s starting to grow back. He actually looked a lot worse when I first brought him home.”

“He’s lucky you chose him.” Your boyfriend pulled you to him, planting the sweetest of kisses to your lips.

“Wow. What was that for?” you teased.

He met your foreheads, gently nuzzling your nose with his. “Because,” Sigurd said, “I am a million times luckier.”

Three weeks later, Sleipnir was looking much healthier. His body was still odd-shaped, and his fins still had that bit of transparency around the edges where they were growing back, but his blue coloration was more vibrant and his attitude had grown exponentially.

Currently, Sigurd’s brothers had invited themselves over to watch the football game. How they even knew where he lived, he had no clue; he certainly hadn’t told them! You probably had, though… He hadn’t told you he didn’t want them here. If Hvitserk, Ubbe, or even Ivar had asked, you would have given the information gladly. That didn’t change the fact that you weren’t there to suffer with him, having picked up yet another shift at the grocery store though.

When it went to commercial, Hvitserk went to the kitchen to get more beer, then came back to the living room cackling. “I like your new fish, Sigurd!”

The musician frowned. “What is so funny about Sleipnir?”

“Sleipnir,” his brother wheezed, apparently finding that even funnier. Sigurd felt a headache coming on. Ubbe, apparently just as confused, went to the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. When he returned, his expression was similarly amused.

“Your girl brought it home, I’m guessing.”

“Yes…” Sigurd agreed. “It was ill, she brought it home. What is funny about that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ubbe said. “She’s a sweet woman. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Doesn’t that fish remind you of something?” Ubbe prompted. At Sigurd’s confused expression, he gestured to their youngest brother in the recliner, scowling petulantly at Mjolnir. The cat had planted his furry behind in Ivar’s lap when he’s first sat down, and refused to move since, only purring and digging his claws affectionately into his little brother’s flesh every time he would try to nudge the animal off of him. Sensing his brothers watching him, Ivar turned in their direction, blue eyes glaring sharply.

“What? I thought Hvitserk was getting beer? Why are you all looking at me?”

Hvitserk dissolved into another fit of giggles, Ubbe moving into the kitchen while mumbling things to mollify his angry brother. Sigurd looked between Ivar’s grumpy face and the feisty blue fish in the kitchen that had by now picked several fights with his own reflection.

Oh. Oh.

So that was why you thought he might be mad.

[46ten]

Ann(e) Willing Bingham and William Bingham

William Bingham was a prominent Philadelphia merchant and banker. From 1776 to 1780 he served as agent of the Continental Congress at Martinique and as consul at St. Pierre in the West Indies. He was a Federalist who various served as a member of the Continental Congress in 1787 and 1788 and a member of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives in 1790 and 1791. He served in the Pennsylvania Senate in 1794 and 1795, and from 1795 to 1801 he was a member of the United States Senate. Bingham was Founder and Director of the Bank of North America an Chairman of the committee of the board of directors of the Bank of the United States. He was also te first president of the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike Corporation. He founded Binghamton, New York, and he owned large tracts of land in Pennsylvania and the District of Maine (part of which he had purchased from Henry and Lucy Knox). (To keen AH historians, Bingham was the person entrusted - or maybe not - with the Reynolds letters.)  

Anne Willing was the daughter of Thomas Willing, a prominent Philadelphia merchant and banker who was also President of the Bank of North America and Bank of the U.S. (In 1783, John B. Church was the second largest stockholder in the Bank of North America - AH asked Willing in 1790 to serve as Church’s attorney as his shares were being sold.) Both Thomas and William are counted among the wealthiest men in America in this period. Anne married William Bingham in 1780, shortly after her sixteenth birthday. She is sometimes referred to as the “uncrowned queen of the Republican court.” 

(I get a kick that her wedding ring seems to be a gimmel ring.) The Adams family supplies some of the best descriptions of her: 

“Mrs. Bingham is a very young Lady, not more than 20, very agreeable, and very handsome: rather too much given to the foibles of the Country for the mother of two Children, which she already is.” - Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 5Sept1784

...Mrs. Bingham, who taken all together is the finest woman I ever saw. The intelligence of her countanance, or rather I ought to say animation, the Elegance of her form, and the affability of her Manners, converts you into admiration, and one has only to lament too much dissapation and frivolity of amusement, which has weand her from her Native Country; and given her a passion and thirst after all the Luxeries of Europe. - Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 30Sept1785

Mr and Mrs Bingham arrived here about 3 weeks ago with a full determination to go out to America in March, but having as usual Spaired no pains to get introduced to the families of my Lord Landsdown and my Lady Lucans, they are so supreemly blest, that poor America looks like a bugbear to them. “O! now I know mr Bingham you wont go out this Spring. Give me but ten Years, and take all the rest of my Life.” Who can withstand flattery and admiration? What female mind young beautifull rich—must she not be more than woman if vanity was not the predominate passion? I accompanied her last thursday to Court and presented her both to the King and Queen, and I own I felt not a little proud of her. St James’s did not, and could not produce an other so fine woman. Yet it was the most crouded drawing Room I ever attended, except the late Birth Day. You know this Ladies taste in dress is truly elegant. She had prepaird herself in France for this occasion, and being more fleshy than I have seen her before, she is concequently handsomer than ever.

“She Shone a Goddess, and She moved a Queen.”

The various whispers which I heard round me, and the pressing of the Ladies to get a sight of her, was really curious, and must have added an attom to the old score, for she could not but see how attractive She was. Is she an American, is she an American, I heard frequently repeated? And even the Ladies were obliged to confess that she was truly an elegant woman. You have, said an English Lord to me, but whose name I knew not, one of the finest Ladies to present, that I ever saw. The Emperers Ambassador12 Whisperd your Pappa, sir your Country produces exceeding fine women.  Abigail Adams to John Q Adams, 16Feb1786

Madame B. shone away in all her splendor, her dress was that she wore last Winter black and Pink, and I have not seen so elegant a Woman, since I have been in England. A Gentlem[an] who sat next me at table Told me I was in Love with her. O it is true that I never see her without admiration in the highest degree.Abigail “Nabby” Adams to her brother John Quincy Adams, 22 January 1786 courtesy thelittlelionofvalleyforge

Anne W. Bingham died on May 11, 1801 in Bermuda, where she had gone with her family after failing to recover from childbirth (there’s some speculation she had contracted tuberculosis)..

I may associate with the preceding, the information of another loss, which our City has sustained by the death of Mrs: Bingham; of whose illness and long confinement you may have heard. After all hope of her recovery was given over by her Physicians, the last prescription they could give with a prospect of benefit or relief, was a voyage to some Southern climate. She was accordingly embarked on board a ship, accompanied by her husband daughter & Sister and a young Physician. The first effects of a change of air were very favorable & flattered her friends, that her case was less desperate than they had imagined; she sustained the voyage, however, very poorly, and survived her arrival at Bermudas, but three days. Mr: Bingham returned with the rest, a day or two ago & was the first to announce the fatal tidings to the family of his deceased lady, who, as you will readily suppose, are plunged, by this stroke of the fell destroyer, into the abyss of woe & grief. Mrs: Bingham is said to have borne her tedious illness with uncommon fortitude, & when hope had utterly forsaken her own bosom, she displayed a perfect example of resignation.  Thomas Bolyston Adams to AA, 31May1801

I had learnt before, by the public papers, the death of mrs Bingham and many have been my reflection[s] upon it. Health presuming, Beauty Blooming, ah how dreadfull tis to dye,” Says fair Rossomond; that Mrs Bingham was one of the most Elegant, and highly accomplishd women, our Country has furnished, no one who knew her, will deny. to a fine form, was added an affability of address, and an ease of manners, which prepossesst and captivated all who approachd her. She had travelled, and obtained the high polish of the Beau Mond; but her conduct in many respects did not accord with my Ideas of female worth, delicacy and purity. She did not Sufficiently respect herself, nor the opinion of the world; particuliarly <, Start deletion,that, End,> those of her own Country.She was culpable in a latitude of Manners, and in introducing a mode of dress which as a Mother, she ought not to have permitted in her daughters—If I have any knowledge of human nature, the Stile of dress introduced by her, and copied by her daughters, has a direct tendency to seduce the unwary; to Create inflammatory passions, and call forth lose affections by unfolding to every Eye, what the veil of Modesty ought to Shield; and the mantle of fashion ought to cover; it originated with Harlots, and should not have betrayed a modest woman into the Snare; the concequences have been Seen in her own Family, and are of too recent a date, to need relating—Mrs Binghams Family, Fortune, Beauty and accomplishments gave her a lead in Society, and her influence extended far beyond the bounds of Your City: Was that influence employd in the various Services of virtue, was it excercised in confirming and prolonging the duration of virtuous affections, in a simplicity of Manners, or in a latitude which gave occasion for censure, and which approached so near the verge of crimminality, as to be evil spoken of. Chastity when founded on the firm basis of pure virtue, holds forth to the Eye of the most artfull the repulsive evidence of impregnable Security, which can awe the most dissolute into respect and admiration—and as the poet expressess it, She that hath that, is clad in compleat Steel”That Mrs Bingham had many amiable qualities I well know. her Friends, Relatives and domesticks can bear witness to them. With them I sympathize; by them her loss must be keenly felt—The worthy old Lady, whose children rise up and call her blessed, and whose remains you lately attended to the grave, has left a Character much more worthy imitation; <, Start deletion,whatsoever, End,> and an example of whatsoever things were just whatsoever things were honest, whatsoever things were pure, whatsoever things were lovely, whatsoever things were of good report, and if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Abigail Adams writing about Anne Bingham to Thomas Boylston Adams, 12June1801

After her death, William Bingham sailed for England in August 1801, with their daughter, Ann, and her husband, Alexander Baring. Baring, the son of Sir Francis Baring, was the agent for the House of Baring in the United States from 1795 to 1801.

William Jackson, that close friend of AH’s, resigned as GW’s secretary in December 1791 (see GW to Jackson, 26 Dec.), he was employed by William Bingham as his land agent. Jackson successfully courted Elizabeth Willing (1768-1858), the youngest sister of Anne’s. Elizabeth was the youngest of thirteen children of Thomas Willing. Jackson did not marry Elizabeth Willing until 11 Nov. 1795, after his return from Europe as William Bingham’s agent. GW and Martha Washington definitely attended their wedding (it’s in his diaries), and some articles say the Hamiltons did too, but that doesn’t make sense to me - AH seems to be in NYC. (Yet another of AH’s friends getting married surprisingly late.)

[negahc]

March 3rd, 2020

Our interns this semester have done great work already! We are so fortunate to have these dedicated interns, so we’d like to introduce you to them:

Carmen Villacana

“Hello! My name is Carmen Villicana. I’m from Gainesville, GA and I study history education (secondary grades) at the University of North Georgia! I plan on being a high school teacher after graduation and am super eager to learn as much history and as much about the teaching service as I can. Some of my hobbies include watching K-dramas and spending time with my dogs. Pictured is my pup Freddie and me on our way to the beach last summer.”

Ruth Moreno

“Hello! My name is Ruth Moreno, and I am a History Education major at the University of North Georgia. I am one of the Educational Programming interns. I graduated just up the road at Gainesville High School (Go Big Red!) in 2018 and will be going back to be an active volunteer at the Hub. With my degree, I plan to teach middle and high schoolers as well as advance towards earning my Master’s Degree and teaching US citizenship classes.”

We had a great group of students from Spout Springs Elementary visit us for a field trip last week. They got to meet President Abraham Lincoln in the Ivester Education Center, tour our exhibits, and participate in a hands-on corn grinding activity! It was a great example of what the History Center can offer both students and educators. 

By meeting a historic figure through Living History, the students can engage with history in a fun and memorable way. They can ask historic figures the specific questions they’re interested in and then ask an expert historian even more questions for context about the figure’s life. 

Touring our exhibits, we have new tactile-learning activities for children like building a miniature log cabin, conducting a railroad, and more. Our corn grinding activity really puts chores into perspective for the kids ;) and gives them a chance to consider how life was different in the past.

We love having students visit the History Center! The excitement that the students bring with them is contagious and makes our job so much fun. Help spread the word about our programs by telling the parents and teachers in your life about the History Center! More info on our programs at www.negahc.org.

Ida Cox was a native of Toccoa, Georgia born in 1896 who heavily contributed to the blues genre for women. As a teenager, she left her home near Rome, Georgia and toured with a minstrel show and performed at vaudeville venues in the South before becoming a blues singer.

Her repertoire includes songs like Graveyard Dream Blues, Weary Way Blues, Handy Man, and Wild Women Don’t Have the Blues. She wrote the majority of the songs and managed her own successful career. She would eventually be known as the “Uncrowned Queen of the Blues.” In 1939, she performed at Carnegie Hall which lifted her career even higher.

Ida had a stroke in 1945 which inhibited her from continuing to perform as rigorously. She lived in Knoxville, Tennessee with her daughter during this time and continued singing in the church choir. She passed away in 1967 and her legacy remains as modern singers like Francine Reed continue to sing Ida Cox’s music.

We had a Webcast every day last week in the Cottrell Digital Studio! Students of six different schools met Juliette Gordon Low, Martin Luther King Jr., Frederick Douglass, Lewis & Clark, and Harriet Tubman. These are among our most popular characters for Webcasts, and they are always a joy to present.

Libba Beaucham, our Director of Media & Communications, portrays Juliette Low from the year 1920 when Girl Scouts was rapidly growing in popularity (and just starting to consider cookie sales!) Libba loves sharing stories of Juliette’s childhood, especially her love for animals. She retells the story of when Juliette was so concerned for the family cow on a cold winter’s night that she took the guest room blanket and snuck out to tie it around the cow. Well, the next morning the cow was perfectly fine but the blanket was trampled in the mud!

Libba Beaucham portrays Juliette Gordon Low

Martin Luther King Jr. and Frederick Douglass are portrayed by Mustapha Slack. There are parallels to the stories of King and Douglass as they were both activists fighting for freedom, both gifted orators, both faced violence, and both believers in peaceful reform. Students get to hear the personal stories from these figures' lives and are always encouraged to stand up for what they think is right.

Mustapha Slack portrays MLK Jr.

Mustapha Slack portrays Frederick Douglass

Harriet Tubman is portrayed by Chiara Richardson who has a great wealth of knowledge about Tubman’s life having portrayed her for several years now! Chiara is able to answer just about any question the students have for her and truly brings this heroic figure to life for the students.

Chiara Richardson portrays Harriet Tubman

This week From the Archives is the program from the 1909 Brenau Chautauqua. Chautauquas originated in 1874 in New York at Lake Chautauqua. This event would provide lectures and music to the town and give the people a sense of community. Chautauquas first appeared in Gainesville in 1897, inspiring HJ Pearce, the founder of Brenau College, to work on his own with assistance from the college.

The 1909 Brenau Chautauqua ran for 26 days in July and included hundreds of Hall County residents that volunteered their time for the event. The program book includes a history of Gainesville, updates on town history, and interesting trivia. Some trivia includes “The Pacolet Mills, at New Holland, is supplied with pure water from the boldest spring in this section of the state,” and “The finest churches that grace any city of its size are to be seen in Gainesville.” Our book is in perfect condition and is a great piece of history in our archives!

Lunch & Learn: Girl Scouts Founder Juliette Gordon Low Thursday, March 5th, 2020 from 12:00-12:45 PM Included in General Admission

Meet the Founder of Girl Scouts, Juliette Gordon Low (or “Daisy”) during this Lunch & Learn! Daisy will tell the story of how she founded the Girl Scouts, stories from her childhood, her experiences around the world and more.

Family Day: Women’s Work March 8th, 2020 from 1-4 PM Free! Thanks to the Ada Mae Ivester Education Center

In conjunction with National Women’s History Month the History Center take a special look at the role of Women over the last 300 years as they work at home and in public. Hands-on activities and living history interpretation will bring the work of women and the path toward equality to life on this special Family Day. Family Days are free to the public thanks to the Ada Mae Ivester Education Center.

Forum: Lost Towns of North Georgia March 10th at 7 PM (doors open at 6:30 PM) Admission is $4 or Free for Members

When the bustle of a city slows, towns dissolve into abandoned buildings or return to woods and crumble into the North Georgia clay. The remains of numerous towns dot the landscape--pockets of life that were lost to fire or drowned by the water of civic works projects. Author Lisa M. Russell has unearthed the lost towns of Georgia in her latest book, and will be sharing their stories.

Our forum series is brought to you by the Ada Mae Ivester Education Center.

Doors open at 6:30 p.m., program 7-8 p.m.

Admission is FREE for members, $4 for everyone else.

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Photograph of a group on a walk at Tallulah Falls, 1888. Source: https://dlg.usg.edu/record/dlg_vang_rab022

[shakethatsassyass]

Ijust wanted to thank you this week I have had double shifts and been tired but your post give me a lot of joy!i was hoping if I can have a scenario where the g.o.m s/o is making food for the boys when their team eats it before the boys thanksヾ(*´∀｀*

This is way, way overdue. I’m sorry. （┬┬＿┬┬） I hope to continue to give you joy for as long as I can 🍑

General scenario:

Much to your boyfriend’s objection, you rarely cooked on ordinary days. However, today was not an ordinary day. Aside from the fact that it was a Thursday, it also marked his basketball team’s glorious victory that ensured them of a spot for Winter Cup championships.

It has been a tradition in the basketball team that you cook them an enormous amount of food whenever they win a major game since they’ve come to see you as practically part of the team already. Heck, if First Lady was a compulsory role in the team, you’d definitely get it.

Eyes almost goggling at the delectable appetizers and courses before them, the muscle pigs, including your boyfriend who had helped mince and slice some of the ingredients, could barely stop themselves from diving into the dining table right then and there.

“Thanks for waiting minna!~” You cheerily claimed whilst wiping your palms on your apron. “Now dig in!”

And in they dug onto your heavenly cuisine, rather monstrous in your opinion, which made you walk a few steps away from the boys…

What are table manners

Never has Rakuzan seen Akashi so vexed, not since the Winter Cup mishap with Seirin. After you served the meal on the table, the captain simultaneously received a call from his mobile phone and stepped outside to answer it. When he returned a few minutes later however, the food had nearly gone out, especially your special tofu soup he’s been craving the entire week. A dark and heavy atmosphere surrounded the room and three uncrowned kings stopped breathing.

Akashi spoke with such firmness in his voice, it gave you chills. “You’re doing ten extra laps for the entire month.” By some means, he managed to leer at the team. “Just so you could burn the calories you consumed today of course,” he condemned assured them.

“Hey!” Aomine was practically wrestling with Wakamatsu for a piece of roasted chicken leg. “__ made that! It’s for me!” Your blue-haired boyfriend also tugged on Imayoshi and Susa relentlessly, to no avail.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “Giving up already, babe?”

“Oh come on! I’m your boyfriend! Why do I have to share your cooking with these idiots!” The ace whined. When you simply began giggling louder as a response, he ran and lifted you up until your feet no longer touched the ground. In a low, husky tone, he whispered: “You owe me a special treat tonight.”

Thank God you made room for dessert ;)

Lots and lots of whining. “__-cchi!! Stop them!” Kise’s not one to back out of a fight though. “Move! Guys! Hey, s-stop pushing!” The scene looked outrageous: five boys wrestling for food, as if they haven’t eaten for days, accompanied with the sound of bickering and squeaking basketball shoes. The best part was your model boyfriend looking not-so-model-like with his face stuffed with various delicacies.

True to his title, the phantom sixth man somehow managed to scavenge some leftovers from the table, placing them in a small container that’s just enough for the both of you. Kuroko made his way to the small armchair you were sitting on from across the room and prompted to seat himself beside you. “Would you like some, __-chan?”

“Shin-chan!” You chimed from the living room, beckoning your boyfriend to return from the kitchen. Almost immediately Midorima walked back into the room you were in and his eyes widened at the horrendous sight of his teammates barbarically consuming food as if there was no tomorrow. Although he did sprint to the table so he could at least taste some of your cooking, Takao grabbed the last piece of baby back ribs, not noticing the disappointed and flushing Midorima that stared as heartily devoured it.

“Shin-chan, I’m sorry, did you want that piece?” Takao could barely muffle his giggles.

The tall man turned to your direction. “That’s the last time I’m cleaning up after your cooking, nanodayo,” and he stormed out of the room.

Not only was Murasakibara disappointed because he didn’t get to taste your cooking, he was also disappointed because he actually helped in making the meals. He was so excited to taste them all, and yet he failed — for in a split second the food was nearly gone —  considering the huge players of the Yosen basketball team. After sulking for several minutes, you finally got him to smile again when you suggested you make another batch. cutiepatootie

[totalconservative]

New Post has been published on Total Conservative News

New Post has been published on http://totalconservative.com/overconfident-much-biden-putting-together-presidential-transition-team/

Overconfident, Much? Biden Putting Together Presidential Transition Team

The higher the tower, the greater the fall, says the old proverb, and it looks like Joe Biden might be in for quite the spectacular descent in November.

Not long ago, critics were pretty much writing off his campaign as finished. But, thanks to a mass dropout on the eve of Super Tuesday, Biden pulled off the miracle of the century, ran up the delegate count, and reclaimed his position as the uncrowned king of the Democratic Party. Now he’s the presumptive nominee, and we have to put the emphasis on presumptive. As in, this guy is making a whole lot of presumptions about what’s going to happen when he goes up against Donald Trump.

Biden said Thursday that he’s been in the process of putting together a presidential transition team for “several weeks,” even though we are still more than six months out from the election.

“Discussions are underway about the prospect of elevating some White House offices to Cabinet-level positions, Biden said. Among those that will be under consideration for the Cabinet: The Office of Science and Technology Policy; the global health security pandemic office; and a separate climate change operation that ‘goes beyond the EPA,’ he said,�� reports the Washington Post.

Biden told donors that while nothing had yet been finalized, he had a pretty good mental picture of what his cabinet would look like.

“If the Lord Almighty said ‘Joe, I tell you what. You have to decide in three hours what your cabinet is or you’re going to be bounced out of the race,’ I could write down who could be in the cabinet,” Biden said. “I have had literally several hundred serious, serious players who have held positions in every department in the federal government who have said, including some Republicans, who have said if you win, I want to come back. I’m ready to serve.”

Big talk for a guy campaigning from his living room.

Well, we remember another presidential candidate who was pretty damn sure that she was going to win. She was so confident that it was only under pressure from her advisors that she canceled a planned fireworks show on the night of the election. So confident that she fitted The Javits Center in Manhattan with a special “glass ceiling” that would shatter into confetti when she claimed victory. As you’ll recall, that never happened. The next time we saw Mrs. Clinton was the next day when she showed up to the microphones looking like she spent the night weeping. Which she undoubtedly did.

Biden may want to slow his roll if he doesn’t want to repeat that sad performance. We’d hate to see the guy reduced to stumbling through the woods for a month or two after the election. The shape this guy’s mind is in, he might never find his way back.

[ao3feed-vikings]

Wrong Choices

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2BqYwc5

by lisinfleur

Special series produced for Uncrowned King's Thursday at Tumblr

You're the best omega of your generation. But it seems the gods are favoring Sigurd this time.

Words: 4264, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Vikings (TV), Vikings (TV) RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Ivar (Vikings), Sigurd (Vikings), Ubbe (Vikings), Hvitserk (Vikings), Reader

Relationships: Ivar/Sigurd (Vikings)/Reader, Beta Sigurd x Omega Reader

Additional Tags: Wolf Pack, Werewolf Mates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2BqYwc5

[ao3feed-frigga]

Var-Ten

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zJjGSS

by the_strength_of_the_storm

With Asgard destroyed, Thor made an uncrowned king, and Loki back to his usual tricks, the group must find a way to provide for the survivors of Ragnarok. That includes the mysterious planet of Var-Ten, home to the cutthroat Varanians who will do anything to keep their home world safe. Even if it means murdering a king.

  Updates Thursdays!

Words: 1414, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Thor, Loki, Odin, Frigga, Heimdall, Original Female God, Original Female Character(s), Original Female Shapeshifter

Relationships: Thor/Original Female God, Loki/Original Female Character

Additional Tags: Syn is an OC, although she came from Norse mythology, Thor is humbled but still a little cocky, Loki is sarcastic, Malendia is my friend’s OC

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zJjGSS

[christinaepilzauthor-blog]

The Queen Without a Crown

by Catherine Curzon Caroline of Brunswick lived a life of drama, scandal and excitement. From her sheltered early days in Brunswick to a disastrous marriage to George IV (at the time merely the Prince of Wales) and a fling with an Italian chamberlain, she did nothing by halves. She had already survived George's attempts to blacken her name, strip her of her titles and even divorce her, and through it all, the doughty lady emerged unscathed. Darling of the people, favourite of the radicals and rallying point for those who loathed her husband, she simply refused to bend, let alone break.

Yet even the strongest bough must eventually fall.

Caroline of Brunswick by Samuel Lane

Having survived a trial in the House of Lords that threatened to end her marriage and leave her in disgrace, without rank, title or privilege, in 1821 Caroline felt unstoppable. So unstoppable, in fact, that she decided to join the estranged husband who hated her at his Westminster Abbey coronation. Here the queen would be crowned, the crowd would cheer and Caroline would once and for all trounce George IV on his biggest of big days.

The whole of Great Britain knew that George was due to be crowned at Westminster Abbey on 19th July 1821, and it was going to be the biggest party the country had ever seen. He was determined that Caroline would not be there; she was determined that she would. Whether he liked it or not, she was set on having her moment in the spotlight.

Caroline, or rather her advisors, had always been masters of judging the public mood. Yet this time, the queen misread the atmosphere in the streets catastrophically. Though the public had always supported her in her battles with George, her victory in the Lords was old news by now. Instead, as the people of Britain weathered the long, cold winter and waited keenly for the summer to come, they were looking forward to the Coronation party, which promised to be the knees up to end all knees ups. As far as they were concerned, she had a home in Italy and with her husband's efforts to divorce her exhausted, they began to wonder why she simply didn't just go home and enjoy the £50,000 annuity Parliament had granted her. Could it be, the people wondered, that Caroline liked the limelight a little too much?

As the king's Carlton House team went on the PR offensive, Caroline's own advisors began to distance themselves from what was becoming a toxic situation. Lord Brougham, her chief advisor, told Caroline that she must not go to Westminster Abbey at any cost. He warned her that the public didn't want it, and that, if she wanted to stay in their favour, the best approach was one of humility.

Caroline was having none of it.

Instead, she wrote to George IV to tell him that she would be there for her crowning. She requested that he let her know what he would like her to wear and asked for a retinue of ladies to assist her in preparing for the big day.

"The Queen from circumstances being obliged to remain in England, she requests the King will be pleased to command those Ladies of the first Rank his Majesty may think most proper in this Realms, to attend the Queen on the day of the Coronation, of which her Majesty is informed is now fixed, and also to name such Ladies which will be required to bear her Majesty's Train on that day. 

The Queen being particularly anxious to submit to the good Taste of his Majesty most earnestly entreats the King to inform the Queen in what Dress the King wishes the Queen to appear in, on that day, at the Coronation. Caroline R."1

Needless to say, George didn't reply. Instead, he passed the letter to Lord Liverpool, the prime minster who was no fan of Caroline. He informed the hopeful lady that she wasn't welcome and should keep her distance. With Liverpool's warning echoing his own, Brougham redoubled his efforts to keep her from the Coronation. Even the press joined in the chorus of disapproval and begged Caroline to heed the words of the politician who had, so far, not failed her. Brougham's sound guidance in the Lords had saved her from divorce and disgrace, could he now save her from national embarrassment?

Alas, no.

Henry Brougham by Thomas Lawrence

Brougham knew from the start that Caroline wouldn't be dissuaded from her planned path, it meant so much to her to score a victory over George. Still, Brougham did all he could to dissuade her, yet she refused to accept that "the public feeling would not go along with her"2. Still, he wrote with an almost audible sigh, "having an order, she could not be stopt when she insisted upon it"3. So on 19th July 1821, Caroline sallied forth at six o'clock in the morning, determined to get into the Coronation.

Accompanied by the gallant and well-meaning Lord Hood, Caroline strode from door to door at Westminster Abbey attempting to gain admission. At each door she was turned away until, finally, one of the doors was literally slammed shut in her face. It was a humiliation like she had never known before, and as the crowd that had once cheered her now booed and jeered, one can only imagine what must have been going through Caroline's head. 

Still she persisted until one of the exasperated doorkeepers told her that admission was by ticket only, regardless of who she was, queen or no queen. Trying to make the best of a bad situation Lord Hood offered Caroline his own ticket so that she might at least see the procession, but she declined, unable to bear such a humiliation. When he made the kind offer Lord Hood heard, "some persons within the porch of the Abbey laughed, and uttered some expressions of disrespect."4. He was mortified and Caroline, plunged into despair, had no choice but to flee.

"She flinched," wrote Brougham, "for the first time in her life"5, and it was the beginning of a swift end for Caroline of Brunswick.

From her rooms in Brandenburgh House the crownless queen Caroline continued to stir up trouble, but to no avail. A letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury requesting "to be crowned some days after the King, and before the arrangements were done away with, so that there might be no additional expense"6 was met with a polite but firm rebuttal and one by one, her remaining allies deserted her.

George IV by Thomas Lawrence

Caroline fell ill with stomach pains in late July and her doctors diagnosed an obstruction of the bowel. Her attempts to self-medicate with opiates made matters worse and as the days passed, her condition grew ever weaker. She became convinced that her death was drawing near and requested one final meeting with Brougham, at which she told him,"I shall not recover; and I am much better dead, for I be tired of this life"7.

Caroline of Brunswick, the uncrowned queen, died just after ten o'clock on the evening of 7th August 1821.

"Yesterday evening, at twenty-five minutes after ten o'clock, the QUEEN departed this life after a short but painful illness, at Brandenburgh House, at Hammersmith."8

Her last wish was to be taken back to her homeland of Brunswick and buried alongside her family. She envisaged a coffin bearing a plate that stated this was the last resting place of the injured queen of England. George IV ordered the minimum period of mourning possible for his late wife, and though he was happy to see her body leave England for Brunswick, her coffin was notably free of the plate she had requested. Enormous crowds turned out to watch her final journey to the coast, mourning the death of the woman who had always provided them with entertainment, if nothing else.

In fact, when the party paused for a rest at Colchester Caroline's supporters succeeded in fastening the controversial plate to her coffin. The triumph was short lived, and when the procession began again, the official plate was in place once more.

Lord Brougham wrote that the crowds who gathered to watch the procession pass moved him deeply. Though her final weeks had been unhappy, Caroline had not been deserted by her public after all. Mourned, celebrated and notorious, Caroline of Brunswick might be dead, but she would never, ever be forgotten.

Footnotes

1. Melville, Lewis (1912), An Injured Queen, Caroline of Brunswick: Vol I. London: Hutchinson & Co, p.542.

2. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.422.

3. Ibid.

4. Urban, Sylvanus (1821). The Gentleman's Magazine: 1821, Volume 91, Part 2. London: John Nichols and Son, p.74.

5. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.422.

6. Nightingale, Joseph (1822). Memoirs of the Last Days of Her Late Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: J Robins & Co, p.516.

7. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.423.

8. The Morning Post (London, England), Thursday, August 09, 1821; Issue 15725, p.3.

All images courtesy Wikipedia

Further reading

Anonymous. A Brief Account of the Coronation of His Majesty, George IV. London: D Walther, 1821. 

Brougham, Henry. The Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of Henry Lord Brougham. London: Lea & Blanchard, 1841.

Brougham, Henry. The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1871.

Chapman, Frederic (trans.). A Queen of Indiscretions, The Tragedy of Caroline of Brunswick, Queen of England. London: John Lane, 1897.

Chapman, Hester W. Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark, 1751-75. London: Cape, 1971.

David, Saul. Prince of Pleasure. New York: Grove Press, 2000.

Fraser, Flora. The Unruly Queen: The Life of Queen Caroline. Edinburgh: A&C Black, 2012.

Gossip, Giles. Coronation Anecdotes. London: Robert Jennings, 1828.

Hibbert, Christopher. George IV. London: Penguin, 1998.

Huish, Robert. Memoirs of George the Fourth: Vol I. London: Thomas Kelly, 1830.

Huish, Robert. Memoirs of Her Late Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: T Kelly, 1821.

Melville, Lewis, An Injured Queen, Caroline of Brunswick: Vol I. London: Hutchinson & Co, 1912.

Nightingale, Joseph, Memoirs of Her Late Majesty Queen Caroline. London: J Robins and Company, 1821.

Nightingale, Joseph. Memoirs of the Last Days of Her Late Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain, and Consort of King George the Fourth. London: J Robins and Company, 1822.

Nightingale, Joseph. Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: J Robins & Co, 1820.

Richardson, Joanne. The Disastrous Marriage. London: Jonathan Cape, 1960.

Robins, Jane. The Trial of Queen Caroline: The Scandalous Affair that Nearly Ended a Monarchy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006.

Smith, EA. George IV. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999.

Wilkins, William Henry. The Love of an Uncrowned Queen. London: Hutchinson & Co, 1900.

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

Catherine Curzon is a royal historian. She is the author of Life in the Georgian Court, Kings of Georgian Britain, and Queens of Georgian Britain (October 2017). 

Her work has been featured online by BBC History Magazine and in Explore History, All About History, History of Royals and Jane Austen's Regency World. She has provided research for An Evening with Jane Austen at the V&A and spoken at venues including the Royal Pavilion, Lichfield Guildhall, Greenwich National Maritime Museum and Dr Johnson's House. This year she will speak at the Stamford Georgian Festival, the Jane Austen Festival, Kenwood House and Godmersham Park. 

Her novels, The Crown Spire, The Star of Versailles, and The Mistress of Blackstairs, are available now.

Catherine holds a Master's degree in Film and lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

http://www.madamegilflurt.com

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Madame-Gilflurt/583720364984695?ref=br_rs

https://twitter.com/madamegilflurt

https://plus.google.com/+MadameGilflurt

https://uk.pinterest.com/madamegilflurt/

https://www.instagram.com/catherinecurzon/

Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors

[lisinfleur]

Too Soft...

Author’s Notes | I hope you enjoy this like I enjoyed to write, cause fuck… I enjoyed it… Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x Sub! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, Dark! Sigurd, requested by anon for UKT3 Words | 1120 ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, some humiliation, Male! Dom, hardcore, oral sex (Male receiving), cursing, and dirty talk. +18+.

It was the end of a feast on the hall.

All his brothers were seated around the table, finishing the meat of the feast, sharing the mead and the laughs, high from the alcohol they had already shared for hours.

Ubbe had Margrethe seated in his lap and Hvitserk’s hand was running from her knee up to her but shamelessly. You were seated beside Sigurd, a cup of mead in your hand while watching Ivar talking about hard sex and stuff you knew he didn’t have done yet.

Sigurd rolled his eyes in one more ironic giggle. You were so tired of those two always arguing and fighting between each other, ruining good moments like that.

“You know nothing about what you’re talking, Ivar.”

Tiredness that mixed with the alcohol, forbid you to keep your mouth shut when you saw a fight about to start again.

“Neither do you…” you said, causing Sigurd to turn his face towards you at the same moment and Ivar’s frowned expression to convert in a smile almost immediately.

You were Sigurd’s woman for almost a year. And you knew he wasn’t that way. He was sweet and tender with you and it wasn’t something you disliked, but you would like some more strength sometimes and it was the truth: Sigurd could say whatever he wanted, but he also knew nothing about hard sex and stuff.

Or at least it was what you thought…

“C’ mon Sigurd, don’t look at me like that, love. You’re too soft for this. I love your softness, but this is not your game, babe” you tried.

Almost seeing the dragon in his eyes spitting fire when Ivar started laughing and Ubbe, drunk as he was, couldn’t avoid the smile.

“You drank enough for the night. We’re leaving” he said, finishing his cup and getting up.

You knew you went too far and he was mad at you because of Ivar’s laughs when you left, ignoring Hvitserk’s drunk appeal for you two to stay a little more.

“You’re too sober, Sigurd! Drink more mead or at least leave the girl!!”

Drunk, completely. Sigurd wasn’t used to share you as Ubbe shared all his girls with Hvitserk. He wasn’t used to be too harsh, to go too strong.

He was sweet, right?

Maybe that was the reason why you sighed surprised when he closed the door of your room with your back against it. His jaw clenched while his hands were running your thighs under your dress.

“Sigurd… babe I…”

“Shut your mouth!” he growled.

And for the first time in your life, you feared what was to come.

He was high from the mead, maybe drunk. Maybe not thinking…

Your eyes found his and you felt his hand in your neck, sliding slow, feeling your skin in a threatening way. For a moment, you thought he could choke you dead there and when his fingers surrounded your neck you feared he would do this.

But at the same time, you felt yourself burning…

You weren’t used to that fierce Viking in your room, and he could see it was making you horny.

“You speak too much, woman…” he said, touching your lips with his thumb, drawing it slowly. “I gonna show you better use for your pretty mouth”.

You felt his strength pushing your body down and you imposed no resistance.

He wouldn’t hurt you, you could see it in his eyes.

But you wanted things harsh…

He would give you harsh things…

“Love…” you tried to speak while he was opening his trousers, releasing the hardness you knew so well from the long nights riding your bardic prince.

“Suck.”

His voice was demanding, harsh. But you decided to impose him some resistance and discover where that intense man was able to go for your pleasure. And when you leaned your head back, you felt his heavy hand on your nape, his fingers tugging your hair, forcing your head towards his hard cock.

“I said suck it!”

He felt you melting in his fingers. Where was that amazing Viking in the last months?

Your mouth softly embraced his cock, sliding your lips through half of his length, filling your ears with a relieved moan from his mouth. And then, again, he surprised you, pushing your head against his crotch and moving his hips, rolling them into your mouth carelessly.

“You fucking like it, don’t you?” he said; his eyes on yours when both of his hands held your head, firming it into its place for he could establish a pace to literally fuck your mouth. “You fucking like things harsh… I gonna finish this pretty mouth of yours and then, I’ll fuck you until your pussy burns!”

That dirty talk, that harsh tone… You were soaking wet into your skirt, pressing your thighs one against another while that gagging sound was taking you to the edge of coming without even touch yourself.

Sigurd was right. You liked things harsh.

You liked to feel his heavy hands holding your head with that strength; you loved to feel his hard cock sliding through your tongue, senselessly fucking your mouth, not minding the little coughs he was provoking when his tip reached the bottom of your throat.

“Tonight… You gonna be my little whore!”

You felt his pace increasing, his words spreading a heating wave through your entire body while his seed filled your mouth without a warning, spurting when he pulled his cock out of your mouth, slowly coating your tongue with his flavor.

“Swallow it” he ordered.

And you did it, not questioning your master, opening your mouth clean to his eyes like a good little slave.

“You may be being a good girl now, (Y/N). But it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for tonight so easily” he said, caressing your chin with a devilish smile in the corner of his lips. “On all fours. No bed for you today. I gonna fuck you here and give you what you deserve. Now!”

You couldn’t exactly determine if he was pissed off or not. But you turned anyway, looking at him over your shoulder, seeing while he was positioning himself behind of you before filling you in a single movement.

Your moans filled the room and you felt his hand on your hair, pulling your head back, so he could speak in your ears.

“Louder…”

You would talk to him in the morning for sure, maybe apologize properly for exposing him like that. But for now? You moaned louder, obeying your master as a good pet.

It would be a hell of a night for sure. And you wanted to enjoy it completely before having your sweet bardic prince’s pride restored.

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[lisinfleur]

Imagine Sigurd catching you wearing his clothes...

Author’s Notes | I mixed the two requests in one for this supper fluffy headcanon! Hope you girls enjoy!! Info | Requested by multiple anons for UKT3  ⁑ Warnings: None

Sighs annoyed when he can’t find his favorite black and blue cloak

Is sure it was Hvitserk, this time

But he finds Hvitserk wearing his own blue cloak

“Did you see mine?”

Hvitserk raises his index with a smile, pointing towards the door where his black and blue cloak is walking by itself

Because you seem to disappear into his cloak

Can’t avoid a smile

His clothes are so bigger than you!

And even then, he loves when you steal them

His cloak for the feasts

His furs for the winter

His shirts in the morning, after sex

It looks like a way to say you’re his

And at the same time, to have him by your side all the time

He loves your excuses

“I wanna feel your scent!” or “It is warmer than mine!”

Holds you from behind

Kisses on your unprotected neck

“I think I gonna give you this cloak. You seem to love her so much…”

“No!!” you protest, causing him to giggle

“Why not?” “Because it will not be yours anymore…”

He smiles, kissing your mouth

It isn’t funny if it’s not his…

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[lisinfleur]

Imagine Sigurd celebrating his SO’s graduation...

Author’s Notes | What can I say? Girl, you rock! Congratulations on your graduation! I’m really happy for you, sweetheart! Hope you enjoy this little gift! Info | Requested by anon for UKT4 ⁑ Warnings: None

Found out about your graduation results before you because he was monitoring the site to warrant he could have everything ready on time.

"Yes!" "What? Did you call me, Sigs?" "No! No... I... I just won that card game Ivar was trying to say any of us was able to play! Isn't it marvelous?"

Tries to disguise as much as he can the calls he is making to adjust everything for the night.

"Tonight, I gonna make a..." "No! No... Tonight... Tonight we have a thing to do."

Tries, through the entire day, to prevent you from seeing your results, even disconnecting the internet to pretend an issue and avoid his plans to go out of the line.

With the night approaching, some packages start to arrive

First a box he doesn't open. - "Nothing important for now, love, let us see if the internet came back?"

Then a small box he seems to open at the door to confirm the content before bringing it in. - "Oh, this? This is... Ivar's medicine! He asked me to receive it for him because... because... the mail service is blocked in his street. Yeah."

The strange excuses cause you to finally stop him at the beginning of the night, but before you can question his behavior, the doorbells ring once again.

He smiles.

"Go open. This is for you."

A big and beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers is hiding the face of the deliveryman on the other side of the door

The card says - "Look behind you..."

Sigurd is there holding the disconnected internet cable, with a sassy smile

"Guess who graduated?"

He smirks to your surprised face - "Guess who knows this since today's morning?"

He spent the entire day preparing surprises for you

The big box he received? - a new dress

For the dinner, he prepared in a fancy restaurant for tonight

Good wine

Good food

Good music

Your favorite desserts

And the small box he received over the table, at the end of the night

"Sigurd?"

A smile on his face.

"Since you graduated, I thought you should receive a promotion"

A beautiful ring into the box

Just the one you said you loved when you two passed by the shopping jewelry store two months ago

"From my girlfriend..."

He softly slid the ring up to your finger

"...to my graduated future wife, what do you think? Uh?".

How to say no?

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[lisinfleur]

Imagine Sigurd’s daughter being born with Ivar’s OI

Author’s Notes | OI = Osteogenesis Imperfecta. In this case, the same variation of Ivar's, with bone loss, fragility, and twisted legs. Info | In cooperation with @honestsycrets for UKT1 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST

Would understand his wife's compulsion to hide the child from his eyes: after everything he said about Ivar, she wouldn't think less than he would leave her to the wolves. 

However, it was never Ivar's condition the reason he wanted him to have been left. 

There is no anger when he holds his child for the first time. 

Instead, he kisses her forehead and mumbles blesses in her ears as he would do with a healthy child. 

"It is not her fault. Or his." for the first time excluding Ivar from the guilty. "It could have happened to any of us. It is the gods' will. Their plan".

"Will you..." "Teach her how to surpass her condition? Yes. But not how my mother did with Ivar."

Doesn't allow his wife to overcare the girl or mistreat her brothers because of her condition. 

Teaches his other sons that their sister's condition is not a joke, but a challenge she must win. 

Tell them they must help her to do things, but do not allow them to do everything for her.

Takes a while to decide for sending a crow to his brother. 

Short messages... 

"She's like you. She's in pain."

Receives the crow back in short time.

Short messages as well...

"Warm her legs. Warm her body. Warm her room. Warm everything."

Night exercises to her legs when she's not in pain, trying to prevent the atrophy of her muscles. 

When she's old enough to try, its time to know uncle Ivar's blacksmith.

"Dad will make you legs like your uncle Ivar's. And he will teach you how to walk"

Even it hurts his pride, asks for Ivar's help whenever is necessary.

Everything for his little girl.

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[lisinfleur]

Uncrowned Queen

Author’s Notes | This was an idea suggested by my sweet @ivarsrideordie while we were talking to dear Ida Marie Nielsen on Instagram! After the stories where she cried talking about Margrethe’s end, me and sweet @ivarsrideordie commented and for an impulse, I said it would be good to imagine Sweet Margrethe was now in Sigurd’s arms, in Valhalla. Well… It would be good to imagine… Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x Margrethe Info | Viking Age AU, Valhalla interaction (incorrect quotes from heathenry, do not take it as study reference!), Sigurd’s POV, a “thank you” gift for Ida Marie Nielsen’s awesome work. Words | 1016 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of death, wrong heathenry quotes, romance, and some ANGST.

So much fear…

She was still sobbing, still trembling and gasping as if that knife was still cutting her throat when she came into my arms, delivered by Hella herself – not too pleased of losing one of her deserved ones.

But despite Ivar’s acid words about it, my music had pleased the gods in Valhalla and this granted me a favor with them.

A favor Hella couldn’t deny when I asked for my dear Margrethe.

As my slave, she could follow me into Valhalla and so, I used this to ask for her.

If I ever knew how much she would suffer in his hands, I would never have open hands of my love for her to allowing Ubbe to make her his wife.

If I ever knew he would tie her like an animal, I would have fought for her and make my love prevail over his right as the oldest son of my parents.

To me, who never claimed anything, it wouldn’t be denied.

And she would have been my wife. Never a queen, for I was never made a king, but a princess. My princess. A free woman as she deserved to have been.

She would have mourned my death, but what was mine would be hers and she would never be alone and helpless once again. She would be safe as my widow and no one would be able to take it from her.

No one would ever leave her behind as Ubbe did.

I would punch my brother in the face if I could. But as if it wasn't enough to break his oaths towards her for another, he was now calling himself a Christian, turning his back on us, his brothers, his father, his ancestors, his gods...

Better this way, for Hvitserk would sit by my side and I would pour his mead for his actions towards my sweet Margrethe. Among my brothers who shared her bed and the pleasures she gave to us, he was the only man enough to hold her in his arms as I was doing now and carry her under his cloak even when the madness had taken her mind and she was nothing like we used to know and love.

I would pour his mead, serve his plate and receive my brother as what he was: the blood of my blood and the flesh of my flesh. And he would ever be welcome beside me and my sweet queen.

My uncrowned queen...

So fragile in my arms, so hurt and mistreated.

I placed her in noble furs.

I cleaned her skin with a soft cloth and pure water.

I exchanged the rags she was dressing for a silky dress to cover the marked skin.

And for the marks in her wrists, armrings of gold from the treasures I had brought with me to Odin's Halls.

I braided her hair with beautiful flowers and caressed her sleeping skin.

And when her eyes opened one more time, it was my face she saw, smiling at her.

"Sigurd? Where am I? Am I dead? I'm dead... I'm dead! They killed me!" she cried, confused, scared.

But I embraced her with soft arms. I cradled her against my chest and my voice sounded sweet to her scared ears.

"Hush... Hush, sweet Margrethe. The pain is over now. The suffering is over now and so it's over the slavery. Rest, my sweet queen. You're safe now... In my heart".

She cried against my chest for a while, but soon the cry became sobs and the sobs became nothing. And when the cry was gone, I felt her arms around me one more time; her head softly resting in my shoulder.

"I made the wrong choice, didn't I?" she asked, feeling my fingers caressing her face softly.

"You made the choices you thought you have to do to survive, my love," I answered, tenderly.

"I made the wrong choice," she affirmed this time, and I felt her nose nuzzling against my skin until her forehead was touching mine.

Her delicate hands cupped my face, so long untouched by her lovely caresses. And her voice sounded like a melody to my ears.

"I should have followed my heart. I should have married you." She sobbed again, threatening to cry one more time. "But now, I'm mad. Mad, mad Margrethe. I'm dead and lost".

It was my time to cup her face and look softly in her eyes.

"You're right, you're dead. But not lost and not mad. At least, not anymore. Hvitserk was right, my dear queen. You just need to rest".

She touched my lips one more time and then touched her forehead with mine.

"Hvitserk will be so sad...".

I could feel my brother's anger. He got himself drunk and mourned for her, but Hvitserk had his own fate. And I knew the gods had something prepared for him.

"Don't weep for him, my love. He has the favor of Lady Skuld for he chose to trust his fate more than he trusts his heart. He jumped that ship and sided with Ivar, even when his heart went away with Ubbe back to Kattegat. She must reward him for his loyalty and if don't, one day he shall enter the halls of Valhalla and we'll receive him properly, my queen".

She laid softly over the furs I provided for her, and I saw her lips curving in a smile.

"You're calling me "queen"..."

I smiled back, caressing her face.

"All sons of Ragnar are kings among the warriors in Valhalla. I'm also a king, although I have no crown. Even an uncrowned king shall have his queen by his side. So from now on, you're my queen. With or without a crown, your reign is my heart."

She raised her hand and smiled when she touched my face.

"Then I shall reign with love. And care for my lands as I never cared for anything else. My sweet king..."

I leaned my head, kissing her forehead and smiling at her.

"Sleep, sweet Margrethe. And now, enjoy good dreams"

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