#Virescit Vulnere Virtus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wyrmfedgrave · 5 months ago

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Pics: More Lovecraftian Humor - some in a holiday type of bent...

1915: HPL Output.

Intro: "The Crime of Crimes" was 1st published, as a pamphlet, by A. Harris in Wales, England!

This is considered Howard's 1st stand- alone publication - printed only on 1 side of each of the 2 sheets of paper.

Only 3 pamphlets still exist...

The Work:

Subtitle - "Lusitania¹, 1915"

Quote - "Virescit vulnere Virtus."²

Text -

Crazed with... Belgian³ blood so lately shed, The (beastly) Prussian⁴ seeks (out) the Ocean's bed.⁵

In Neptune's⁶ realm the wretched coward lurks, ...On the world his (usual) evil works.

Like slinking cur, he bites where none oppose; Victorious over babes, his valor grows.

One fateful day, may such be (no) more, A stately vessel left Columbia's⁷ shore.

Upon the wave (determined) grandeur rode, Nor feared to bear it's blameless load.

No human risk the... captain ran, Protected by the... laws of man.

...Laws of man!

What laws can curb or sway, The Prussian wolf, with manhood cast away?

His idle threat, too hideous for belief, With... truth (drove) nations into grief.

The sun was bright, the sea by wind untossed, ...The proud ship lay off Hibernia's⁸ coast.

Secure in innocence, she plowed the brine, And scorned... hostile craft or mine.⁹

Oh matchless infamy!

Could mortal brain conceive, the foe lurk(ing) along the main.¹⁰

Who eyed... the watchful band, That packed the deck... view(ing) distant land?

Stay, weeping Muse!¹¹

Dwell not upon the sight, That turned shining day to hellish night.

Sing not the missile,¹² sent with fiendish aim, It's toll of... lives to claim.

Such things... scarce belong, Nor form... theme(s) for rhymes or song.

Struck by the (coward's) dart,¹² a fated mark, Beneath the sea descends the (doomed) bark.¹³

Footnotes:

1. The Lusitania (Roman "Portugal") was a British ocean liner & 1 of the largest passenger ships in the world.

In 1908, It won an award for crossing the Atlantic in the fastest amount of time.

The Lusitania was sunk by a German submarine in May of 1915!

The liner was 11 miles off of Ireland, carrying 1,960 people aboard when it was hit.

Only 767 passengers survived.

However, some of these died later, from the trauma.

The sinking backfired on the enemy Central Powers, as it increased public support for the U.S. to enter WW1...

2. Latin for "Courage grows strong at the wound."

This is the motto of the Steward clan, who have produced several Scottish kings & queens.

They eventually ascended to the British throne - as the House of Steward!

3. Belgians are the people of the King- dom of Belgium, in Western Europe.

As this is a multinational federal state, the usual ethnic connection can be legal, residential, historical or cultural.

The 2 main groups are of Dutch & French descent.

4. Prussians come from historical regions in Germany, Poland & Russia.

Their name honors the Prussi people who lived in the Baltic area.

But, they were assimilated into the German Empire in 1871.

5. HPL means the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean...

Where he would later place the under- sea "Y'ha-nthlei ", a Deep One city.

6. Originally, Neptune was the Roman god of freshwater!

But, after he was identified with the Greek god of the sea, Neptune took on Poseidon's characteristics.

Neptune also controlled sea winds & storms...

7. In the 1800s, Columbia was seen as the goddess/personification of the U.S. & liberty itself!

She can be compared to the British Britannia & as the female version of Uncle Sam.

Later on, she would bep 'replaced' by Lady Liberty...

8. Hibernia was the name of Ireland - to ancient Roman & Greek writers.

This name comes from the Roman Hibernus, which meant "wintry."

Strangely enough, Scotland (ancient Scotia) was the 1st Roman name for Ireland!

That's some confused explorers right there...

9. A bomb mine is an explosive that can be placed underground or under- water.

The mine explodes when it's disturbed or remotely triggered.

It's name comes from the use of mining to destroy an enemy fort's or city's protective walls.

10. Main has an older meaning of "the open ocean."

This meaning arose in the 1540s, when it described "a long stretch of land or water."

Nautical usage turned it into slang for "the wide ocean."

However, the Spanish Main actually meant the "mainland" - from Panama (in Central America) to the Orinoco River (in South America).

This meaning excluded the islands of the West Indies.

11. A muse is now "an inspiration" or "to consider something thoughtfully."

Originally, these were the nine ancient Greek goddesses of science, the arts & literature.

But, Lovecraft probably meant the muse of tragic theater, Melpomene.

12. Both, "dart" & "missile" actually refer to a torpedo.

This is an underwater rocket meant to rupture ships' hulls, below the water- line!

And in doing so, sink the ship!!

Torpedo comes from the Latin torpeo, "sluggish" or "numb" & -edo, "wood- like"?

In more modern times, torpedo was 1st used to describe "electric rays."

13. Poetically, a barque, barc & bark all mean a sailing boat - with 3 or more masts (tall wooden posts, spars & "sticks" that hold sails on a ship).

In the 1700s, the British Navy used "bark" to describe any ship that didn't fit their usual vessel categories.

But, bark has had variant meanings before the British.

Like, "any small ship" & "a ship with a broad (back)" - but, the last 1 didn't have any ornamental figures on it!

These vessels needed smaller crews, were cheaper to run & outperformed many other ships.

Next: Part 2.

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angry--cucumber · 2 years ago

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I will always find you.

Part 1

Небольшая зарисовка утренней рутины. Что могло бы быть, сложись обстоятельства несколько иначе. Немного о вселенских параллелях, крепости веры и демонах.

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Теплые солнечные лучи тянутся через прорези штор, рождая в своем золотистом свечении неспешный танец пыли.

Свет мягко касается лица, щекочет нос. Но Аркин не желает открывать глаза. Ему не хочется нарушать эту странную идиллию. Кажется, что если он двинется хотя бы на дюйм, то все исчезнет. И это тепло, и эта чертова пыль, и это размеренное дыхание за его спиной.

Слова доносятся до чуткого слуха и вырывают мужчину из полудрёмы уже окончательно.

— Аркин. Ты всё ещё веришь в бога?

И чего столь немногословному человеку приспичило поговорить именно сейчас? Когда хочется просто раствориться в безмятежности светлого утра. Аркин не хочет подавать признаков жизни. А ещё больше он не хочет душевных диалогов с тяжёлой смысловой нагрузкой. Ощущать. Вот чего сейчас действительно хочется. И он ощущает. Как проминается матрац под весом тела, что лежит позади. Как это тело приподнимается на локте и вонзает свой внимательный взгляд куда-то глубоко, в самые недра его души. Заминка с ответом переросла в непростительно долгую паузу.

— Я ведь знаю, что ты не спишь, — так близко, что дыхание обожгло ухо. Каждое слово, вкрадчиво и тихо, словно засечка от ножа где-то под кожей.

— Верил, — свой собственный голос кажется чужим и безнадежно прокуренным. — Я верил в бога. Пока тебя не встретил, — Аркин изгибает уголок рта, пытаясь изобразить улыбку..

— Надпись на твоём предплечье: "Бог мой просвещает тьму мою". Псалом 18, кафизма 28.

— Откуда ты... Только не говори, что ты ходил в воскресную школу.

— До 12 лет.

Мысль о том, как юный маньяк-психопат сидит в светлом соборе и изучает священные писания, невольно заставила Аркина усмехнуться. Он знает, что его собеседник хочет услышать. И на этот раз не медлит с ответом.

— Религия заняла важное место в моей жизни под конец первой отсидки. Я был молод и... Совершенно сбился с пути. Обычный мусор, который пачками по тюрьмам набит. Библию в мои руки вложил старик, сидевший пожизненное. Одноглазый Билли. Завалил жену и сынишку четырех лет. Он часто рассказывал эту историю. Как бесы его попутали, как за нож схватился. И как встал на путь истинный, обретя веру. Он мне, кстати, первую наколку и набил. "Бог мой просвещает тьму мою", — Аркин хмыкает себе под нос, погружаясь в это воспоминание. — Вера помогла мне не рехнуться. Но выйдя на волю. Все немного изменилось. Остался только я и необходимость выживать. За старое я взялся не сразу. Но заработать парню с запятнанной репутацией честным трудом. Хэх. В общем я оказался за решеткой второй раз. И снова в моей жизни появился Бог. А вместе с ним и надежда на то, что я смогу все преодолеть. Отсюда и вторая моя наколка.

— Virescit vulnere virtus. Мужество произрастает из ран, — Аса задумчиво водит кончиками пальцев под рукавом футболки рассказчика, словно пытаясь нащупать набитые на коже буквы. Он представляет как самопальное устройство протыкает кожу Аркина и вводит разбавленные чернила, оставляя бугорки и ранки после себя, ныне ставшие ощутимыми рубцами. Представляет как сочится кровь и сукровица. Как Аркин морщится, когда струна заходит слишком глубоко в кожу.

— Порой мне кажется, что ты ненастоящий. Что тебя породило мое сознание. Ведь на самом деле такие как ты не могут существовать.

— Ты опять нюхал отбеливатель для белья? — Аркин ��меётся. Он привык, что ход мыслей его соседа отличается от мышления обычного человека. Но обескуражить собеседника не получилось, даже упоминанием случая со злосчастным отбеливателем.

— Люди теряют свою высокую мораль и принципы, стоит лезвию коснуться их. Так было всегда. Но ты. Ты словно протест моего подсознания. С каждой свежей раной ты кидал мне новый вызов. Прожигал во мне дыру своими голубыми, полными ярости, глазами. Сколько раз я готовил сосуд с формалином, чтобы вырезать их и сохранить как трофей. Но это означало бы лишь мое поражение и твой триумф. Разруби я тебя на мелкие кусочки, ты все равно продолжал бы оставаться собой. Ты ближе к Богу, чем думаешь, Аркин. Твоя жертвенность удостоит тебя занять место среди ��вятых. Каждая твоя стигмата это ключ к царствию его. Я же обращусь во тьму.

— Помнится, Бог принимал в свои объятия всех раскаявшихся. У тебя ещё есть шанс пройтись со мной по Эдемскому саду.

— Я не раскаиваюсь, Аркин. И никогда не стану, — Аса коротко касается губами шрама на щеке мужчины впереди себя, вскользь, почти невесомо, и сплетает его пальцы со своими. — Даже после смерти мы будем по разные стороны.

— Думаешь, мы и после смерти встретимся?

— Я всегда найду тебя, — он ложится рядом и крепко обнимает бывшего медвежатника, прижимая к себе. — Где бы ты ни был.

Продолжение следует...

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Ссылка на вторую часть ⤵️

#arkin o'brien #the collection #the collector #asa emory #my art #collectkin #digital fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #AC_FANFICTION #slashers

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catherinestuart · 3 years ago

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HSHQTASK046 —– FAMILY DYNAMICS feat. @effiestuart & @georgetstuart

“virescit vulnere virtus” — courage grows strong at a wound.

ah, the stuart siblings. everyone knew that queen mary had a plan even before her children were born. she will have three children: the eldest, poised to be a true ruler with all the virtue and grace afforded to their position; the middle child, a supporting act who will do their part in strengthening the monarchy and scotland’s influence; the youngest, beloved by the country and always adored — they will improve the image of the family through good deeds and an advantageous marriage. there was the vision, all the children had to do was follow and obey, which was easier said than done.

call them archaic, but the stuarts had always placed a strong emphasis on titles and influence, it existed in the older generation, and it will continue to exist further down the line. queen mary had married a good catholic prince ( honestly the stuarts and catholicism deserves a separate post ) that was respectable and non-threatening to her power at the same time, prince christian knew what was expected from him and had no problem in staying one or two steps behind his disarming wife. the late king william ( queen mary’s father ) had placed much emphasis in his heir, investing most of the education and attention towards mary, not her siblings. this idea became almost hereditary, queen mary feels the same, and so does catherine: your family members must be ranked from most to least valuable, which will be determined in how obedient and useful they were. the more valuable you are, the more freedom and trust was given.

queen mary was proud of her sister isabel for being perfectly popular and scandal-free, not to mention the valuable marriage to an important border duchy she will forever be in the queen’s good graces. prince james was a disappointment, he had partied and shunned his responsibilities, before falling in love with a non-inheriting french noble and gotten her pregnant, when he could’ve become king consort or duke in his own right! his father had punished him by not giving him his own duchy to rule and receive income from, as was customary. princess madeleine married into a staunchly catholic principality, a perfectly respectable title even though it wasn’t the most powerful. the youngest, prince robert was a somewhat celebrated economist, although still relatively foolish and unambitious by stuart standards, and could’ve suffered the same fate as his brother, but he was saved by his miraculous marriage to wiebke, the grand duchess of bavaria, and he finally became an important member of the family.

there was a reason why catherine placed so much emphasis on marrying her siblings off to the highest bidder, it was a fool-proof way to get one’s foot in the door of power even though she knows the work will begin after. marriage, a perfect tool to ignore political ideals or alliances and rope an entire country’s resources into one’s own war, all under the guise of ‘family’. the stuarts found it foolish to not take advantage of a tool that was so readily available for them. it was the very reason why catherine kept overreaching with her own matches! after england fell apart she knew that she would need to find a suitably powerful replacement that would keep her sane. it was her pride masquerading as courage and ambition. the senior members of her family are equal parts apprehensive and proud, despite so, family sentiment will always fall to support their shining heir, no matter what.

euphemia had always been an integral part of the family, after catherine, of course. naturally brilliant and effortlessly beautiful, catherine had none of the girlish softness of her sister’s features. when catherine was merely a young teenager, queen mary had shown surprising sensitivity in perceiving her eldest daughter’s mood during their annual family portrait. it was the first time that the queen told her daughter that it was a great fortune to be pretty, not beautiful. this was possibly heavily influenced by catholicism, mainly, she believes that beautiful people are innately vain, and vanity had no place in clear and sober public service. queen mary herself had been merely pretty to her sisters’ notable beauty. her sisters’ flaming red hair and startling features would only be distracting in a monarch, the same way euphemia’s soft femininity would only undermine the strong image that the scottish crown must exude. this wasn’t something that catherine believes in, necessarily, and she’s still prone to the swooping feeling of jealousy sometimes when her sister effortlessly dazzles a room.

fortunately for catherine, euphemia has the good sense of cultivating the family trait of nationalism. she would be selfless for scotland, and even though most of their conversations always ended up in tense back-and-forths, they could still count on each other to straighten their spines and be strong for family and country. they’re still a team, even though it often doesn’t seem that way. catherine certainly didn’t make it easy for effie, ordering her around without bothering to ever say thank you. only time would tell if the two sisters would stop gawking at each other and start learning how to truly compromise. it would take quite a bit of time and maturity, unfortunately.

queen mary had placed much emphasis in being a female ruler to her daughter, there were so few of them in scottish history, after all, and those that existed were largely lauded and legendary ( re: mary, queen of scots ). that inflated sense of importance was evident since their childhood, it would be impossible for george not to be touched by it in some way. catherine was mother’s favourite, and euphemia was father’s, george begged for attention through any way he could. it didn’t take him long to realise that there was absolutely no pleasing queen mary, and that his time and attention was better placed in chasing his own enjoyment instead. he was unruly on purpose at first, until he really found enjoyment in really doing his own thing.

discipline has always been demanded and expected of the stuarts, and those who refuse to abide by it were deemed useless — the absolute worst of all stuart insults. george has always been lucky to be born after catherine and euphemia, it gave him a little breathing room when their parents continue to breathe down the sisters necks instead of him. as far as they’re concerned, the elder two siblings needed to be in a better place before fully focusing their attention to their youngest. so far, the queen had been trying to push george into a placement in the army — to no avail.

the stuarts are proud, it came from centuries of rule and innate adoration of their people. no one knew any different, not since the 12th century, and it’s quite gotten to their heads. when they were younger the children were constantly reminded that they were descended from vikings, ready to kill and protect their own. they knew scotland wasn’t a world power, in the larger scope of things, but respectability, prestige, and piety were more tenets of the family’s core beliefs than hoarding power.

of course, that doesn’t stop catherine from reaching where she shouldn’t. both stuart sisters held the doors open for the younger generations’ ambitions, to eschew traditional contentment in favour of fighting for something more.

#task: task #hshqtask046 #i've been working on this for a year now #anw its a super long read i'm sry

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mirdaniaa · 4 years ago

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First Line Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors.

I was tagged by @salty-wench and @fineosaur, thank you!!

1. they all need something to hold onto - a megander multichap

Meg had known it was only a matter of time after that disastrous first Parliament for the nobles to try to overrule her, and honestly, she’s surprised she makes it three months before they do.

2. see the distant flume - a megander oneshot set in the toes universe

Christmas should be a happy occasion, but Meg is far from happy right now.

3. like a shotgun needs an outcome - a smutty megander oneshot

“And I will want you ‘til the sun goes down o’er all of time

Until that day, will you be mine?”

4. Scottish Rose - my big megander multichap

When Meg first came to Scotland, her husband handed her a flower she’d never seen before, an ugly, prickly thing with a rounded purple head.

5. meet me in the woods - a Barskins post-canon series

Renardette smiles down at him, her face bloody and bright and smiling.

6. do i wanna know - a megander modern au

The fireworks are loud and bright, the bonfire warm and roaring, and Meg is pleasantly tipsy.

7. tear you apart - a deleted scene from Scottish Rose

It has been over a year since Meg and Alexander were wedded, and Henry is still not taking it well.

8. all i ever want is just a little love - second part of the toes series

It’s been two weeks since their tryst in the woods, and Meg has been avoiding Alexander all that time.

9. crooked but upright - first part of the toes series, smutty megander in the woods

It isn’t often Meg gets to ride on her own.

10. virescit vulnere virtus - the fic where i just fixed every episode of TSP

The Duke of Albany, Meg discovers, is not a bad man at all.

11. no shortage of sordid, no protest from me - megander post-finale dungeon sex

She visits his prison cell that night, proud and regal as she looks down on him.

12. viviandum, moriendum est - catherine x stafford have sex before he’s executed

In hindsight, Stafford may have underestimated the king’s displeasure with him.

13. and the feeling coming from my bones says find a home - au where theon abandons the siege of winterfell and joins asha

“My lord prince,” Maester Luwin says softly. “You must yield.”

14. you set my soul alight - theolyn entry for theon kink bingo

“You’ve,” thwap “been” thwap “a very” thwap “naughty” thwap “boy.” thwap

15. how long before you let me go - theon/patrek/miller’s wife entry for theon kink bingo

When Patrek Mallister told him he was taking him to see an amorous miller’s wife, Theon had known he would have a good time--he just hadn’t known how good.

16. you caught me under false pretenses - theon/jeyne entry for theon kink bingo

The old gods are not Theon’s gods, but tonight, they may as well be.

17. can you hear me moan? - theon/kyra entry for theon kink bingo

They waited for the moon to go behind a cloud, then slipped from the castle and splashed across the Weeping Water, stumbling over stones, half-frozen by the icy stream.

18. don’t you know i suffer? - thramsay entry for theon kink bingo

He’s been tied to the cross for days, at least.

19. a vous my ly - a short richanne retelling

It’s snowing.

20. hand in unlovable hand - a cooke/delphine oneshot

It has been two months since the attack on Wobik.

I don’t see any patterns but maybe I’m just too close?

tagging @itslaurenmae, @aadmelioraa, @wildwren, @justadram, and I’m blanking hard so if you see this and want to participate consider yourself tagged

#fic by me

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39hearts · 5 years ago

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Stewart

Stiùbhard

Virescit vulnere virtus (Courage grows strong at a wound)

June Berry Red Cr #38

Cone 7

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catherinestuart-a · 3 years ago

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HSHQTASK046 —– FAMILY DYNAMICS feat. @effiestuart & @georgetstuart

“virescit vulnere virtus” — courage grows strong at a wound.

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andreasannatille · 3 years ago

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I Quaderni di Árchenor

Virescit vulnere virtus Andrea Sanna – I Quaderni di Árchenor POESIE 1981-1995. L’attesa Modo d’essere l’essenza Attesa filtro realtà Percezione Weltanschauung Visione Diversa-profondamente L’Attesa l’Attendere la Meraviglia Stupore gioia-terrore Essere Ebbrezza paura paralizzante Amore diffidenza nel flusso della Corrente Disperazione Coraggio guardare Vedere che è diversa…

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thecomicon · 3 years ago

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Virescit Vulnere Virtus: Previewing BOOM! Studios' 'Dark Blood' #1

Virescit Vulnere Virtus: Previewing BOOM! Studios’ ‘Dark Blood’ #1

BOOM! Studios’ Dark Blood #1 drops this week from screenwriter LaToya Morgan, artist Walt Barna, colorist A.H.G., and letterer AndWorld Design. ‘Alabama, 1955. Avery Aldridge was a decorated soldier during World War II; now he’s just an ordinary young Black man busy providing for his wife and daughter. But the wounds of the past have a way of coming back, and he’ll soon discover that he is…

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#A.H.G.#Andworld Design #Boom! Studios #comics #Dark Blood #Juni Ba #LaToya Morgan #Preview #Valentine De Landro #Walt Barna

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d-catwalkthrifting · 5 years ago

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I just added this listing on Poshmark: Nike LeBron Virescit Vulnere Virtus 6 Black & Gray.

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the-hurt-locker187 · 5 years ago

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Robbing the mind, body, and spirit of peace

This fear

Will not return to you fulfilled

Will not bring you riches or good health

What good is life, if peace is absent

What good is love, if fear supersedes and intervenes

But you eat fear at a buffet table, because it’s crowded

And you will eat pain, when fear disappears.

Jb2020

I am not like you, with you, for you. I am set apart.away from those who seek to sit on throats in order to get into the crowd.

Where are the courageous. Virescit Vulnere Virtus!

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and-dreeaa · 8 years ago

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Virescit vulnere virtus Courage grows strong at a wound Adversa Vurtute Repello I repel adversity with fortitude

#selfie #selca #red #quote #family motto #family #i spent most of my day off with my mom #and every time i get to spend time with her it helps me appreciate the relationship we have.#i feel so lucky to have this loving family.#my family are my greatest support #and my best friends #when my mother tells me how proud she is of me #it makes the 50-60 hours a week feel so much easier #thank you mom #i love you

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joshstewarttweets · 11 years ago

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I'd half-expected a photo of his shoulder tattoo when I first saw the pic link!

#Josh Stewart #@J0SHSTEWART #Stewart family motto #virescit vulnere virtus #Courage grows strong at a wound #twitter

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takethisandbefree-blog · 11 years ago

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W0LCNUM Cold Virescit Vulnere Virtus

#now playing #music #W0LCNUM #Cold #Virescit Vulnere Virtus

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mirdaniaa · 4 years ago

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virescit vulnere virtus

A slight tweak on The Spanish Princess episode 2x05: The Plague. What if Alexander Stewart had been there? And what if he didn't hate Meg as much as she thought?

thank you @itslaurenmae for encouraging me to write this and looking it over <3

read it on ao3

The Duke of Albany, Meg discovers, is not a bad man at all.

She had expected him to be as loathsome as his younger brother, as crude and rough around the edges, but she finds instead a refined man of good taste. He finds suitable clothing for her, and at a sumptuous private dinner, he serves the best wine she’s ever sampled, imported all the way from France.

“You spent a great deal of time there, didn’t you?” she asks, warming to her host.

“Most of my life. I was born there to a French mother; my father died when I was an infant, so I was raised in France. I visited my cousin from time to time, but in truth, I have always preferred France to Scotland. Have you ever been to France, Your Grace?”

“I have not,” she admits. “I had always wanted to visit, of course, but the time was never right.”

“Perhaps now that your sister is queen there, the opportunity may arise.”

“You saw her when you were there, I presume?”

“I did,” he says pleasantly. “She was most charming.”

Meg hesitates. She knows that Louis is an old man, and Mary was but a child when Meg left for Scotland. She has not seen her sister in years, but she cannot imagine that any woman would be happy married to an old man, even if he is king. “How...was she?”

The duke’s tone softens. “She was...well, Your Grace.”

“You hesitate.”

“In truth, I do not think she was wholly satisfied with her marriage,” he admits. “Her husband is...quite a bit older than her. But there are worse places to endure an old husband than the French court; she was always attired in the latest fashion, and there was a great deal of entertainment to keep her occupied.”

“Well, that is something, I suppose.”

“Were you close to your sister?”

“In truth, no,” Meg admits. “I was thirteen when I left for Scotland, and she was only six. I--”

She is interrupted, because at that moment, the door to the dining room swings open, and through it strides the last person she wants to see.

Alexander Stewart.

He and Meg regard each other with surprise for a long moment. She recovers first, turning to the duke. “I see now why you’ve been lacking for civilized companionship.”

“Alexander,” the duke says pleasantly, “we have company.”

“I see that.”

“Why are you here, Alexander Stewart?” she asks with a candor she doesn’t feel. “Come to take my children away from me again?”

His face darkens. “I didn’t--”

“Perhaps you’d like to wash up,” the duke says loudly, giving his brother a significant look.

Alexander Stewart turns on his heel, leaving the room.

Meg reaches for her glass of wine, trying to steady her trembling hands. This does not go unnoticed by the duke, who leans forward with a kindly look on his face. “You have no reason to fear my brother, Your Grace.”

“He took my children from me,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Only because Angus would have used you to become regent.”

“But he helped Angus, I saw him--”

“There was more that you did not see after you left,” John Stewart says gently. “Angus attempted to rule in your name; my brother led a siege on Holyrood, to extract the boys from Angus’s grip and bring them to Edinburgh Castle. He defended the castle and watched over them personally until I arrived from France. The boys have grown quite fond of him; they call him Uncle Alex.”

Meg cannot believe this; that not only did Alexander Stewart save and protect her boys, but that they have grown so close to him in her absence. It makes her stomach twist, the wine settling unpleasantly. “But...he hates me.”

The duke laughs loudly. “Oh, I assure you, Your Grace, my brother does not hate you. In fact, and don’t repeat this or I’m sure it’ll be the end of me, but I believe he is rather smitten with you.”

Meg gapes at him. “Smitten?”

“Oh, aye. He took it quite hard when you married Angus.”

She stares at him, uncomprehending. Does he mean to imply Alexander Stewart is jealous of Angus, and that’s why he betrayed her? “But...he…”

“I’m sure he’s done an admirable job hiding his feelings, but I assure you, he is quite fond of you. He speaks of you often. A little too often, as a matter of fact.”

Meg doesn’t know how to feel about this. Is this some trick the duke is playing on her? Some way to lower her guard? Play matchmaker between her and his brother and appease her while he rules Scotland? The duke seems a kind and honest man, but then, so had Angus. She doesn’t trust herself right now, or anyone else, for that matter.

She rises on unsteady feet. “I must beg your pardon, Your Grace; it has been a long day, and I fear it is catching up with me.”

He rises too, offering a small bow. “Of course, Your Grace.”

She makes her way up to her room--the duke was kind enough to leave her old apartments empty, which is another reason she trusts him. If he truly meant to steal from her, he would have taken the royal apartments for himself.

She pauses at the nursery, peering inside. She sees two golden heads resting soundly, eyes shut fast and chests rising and falling. She smiles, closing the door quietly and heading for her room, where she can get some rest and plan her next move in peace.

It is not to be; no sooner has she turned the corner than she nearly collides with Alexander Stewart.

“Your Grace,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes.

He took it quite hard when you married Angus.

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I should slap you or thank you.”

“Well, between you and me, I’d prefer the thanking.”

She almost smiles, and she hates herself for that. “You stood by and let Angus take my children from me.”

He looks down again. “I did.”

“And then you took my children back from Angus and protected them until your brother came from France.”

“I did,” he says again.

“Why?”

“Because I made a mistake and I wanted te fix it,” he says simply.

She takes another deep breath. “I mean, why did you let Angus take my children in the first place?”

“It wasn’t just me,” he tells her gently. “The Privy Council wouldnae let ye have the boys; if I’d said anything, I’d’ve had to flee Edinburgh with ye.”

“But you didn’t want to say anything.” She digs her fingernails into her palms, willing her hands not to tremble. “Because you were jealous of Angus.”

A flicker of fear passes over his face, and it’s all the answer she needs.

He was jealous.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks softly.

He huffs. “Why would I have? James wasn’t just my king, he was my cousin, and you were his widow. And you were the one who told us that you would be regent as long as ye did not marry. If I’d known ye were planning on marrying that fool…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “It doesnae matter now. What’s done is done.”

“And no man can put asunder,” she mutters, remembering her marriage vows.

He hesitates. “He...lives in Holyrood now. With--”

“Jane Stewart. I know.” The thought makes her weary. What a witless fool she’d married, and what a mess she’d made of things.

Alexander huffs again. “Your Grace, say the word and I will kill him, I swear it.”

Something stirs inside her at his offer. “If you kill him, all of Clan Douglas will rise up against you.”

He takes a step forward, his voice like soft thunder. “I would face all of them alone for you.”

It’s Meg who grips a fistful of his tartan, pulling him down to her level, but it’s Alexander who kisses her so forcefully she has to wrap her arms around him to stay standing. She has never, not once in her life, been kissed this way. This is not the gentle, dutiful kiss of a man making love to his wife; this is something else entirely, fiery and consuming. That something inside her stirs more insistently, urging her to let Alexander soothe the ache between her legs.

I’m married to another man.

Who’s even now with another woman. Angus betrayed me, but Alexander...

“No,” she says when she pulls back for air, and Alexander’s face falls. “I mean, no, you cannot kill Angus,” she amends quickly. “I would not have you face the wrath of the Douglases because of my stupidity. I will petition for an annulment, and deal with the Douglases civilly.”

“Death is quicker,” he grumbles.

She cannot stop the smile that spreads across her face. “You’d have me widowed twice?”

His beard scratches her cheek, but she finds she doesn’t mind. “I’d make ye mine sooner than later.”

She shivers at the thought of being his. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulls back to look him in the eye. “Will you help me take back Holyrood? From him and his...mistress?”

He nods. “Aye. I’ll take ye in the morning.” He presses his forehead to hers, and Meg cannot believe that a man she’d hated for so long can be so attractive to her now. “Though I’d sooner take ye tonight.”

She flushes, her heart beating faster. “I’m married,” she whispers.

“Hmm,” he says. “Yer right.” And he lets go of her, turning to walk down the corridor.

She gapes, righting herself. “Alexander Stewart, you pig!”

He turns around with a grin, scooping her up easily and slinging her over his shoulder. Meg, sufficiently breathless, voices no word of protest.

In the morning, Meg kisses her boys goodbye before she rides to Holyrood. The duke has given her two of his own men, but it is Alexander’s presence that truly reassures her. Whatever happens, Alexander will see that Angus leaves Holyrood--whether he leaves dead or alive remains to be seen.

Angus is outside when she reins up, and it amazes her that she once found this face handsome. It looks ugly and sniveling now. Weak.

“Meg,” he exclaims, eyes wide as dinner plates. “Blessed saints, you’re safe.”

She dismounts, too angry to speak.

“You have returned to me,” he continues, and something in her snaps.

“Returned to you? You betrayed me, ripped my boys from my arms, and stabbed me in the back!” she snarls, storming into the house.

“No!” Angus protests, tripping after her. “I knew they would kill you when we stepped out of the kitchens, so I formed a plan to save you!”

Meg isn’t listening to him; she’s searching for Jane Stewart, and she finds her in the great hall, in an ill-fitting dress and tousled hair, leaning over James’s daughters Maggie and Janet.

“Oh, Jane Stewart,” Meg says as pleasantly as she can through gritted teeth, turning on Angus. “What a shock to see you here.”

“Jane’s been helping with James’s other children,” Angus tells her, emphasizing other children. As if she didn’t know her husband had bastards from before their time together. As if he can make her forget about his very recent infidelity by reminding her of her husband’s by-blows from a time before Meg.

“And to keep them safe from plague,” he continues, seeing that Meg is not swayed. “We heard that England quivers in its sickbed with this scourge.”

Meg makes no answer, only takes off her gloves. Behind her, Alexander mutters something to the maid, who takes Maggie and Janet by the hands and leads them quickly and quietly from the room before things get ugly.

Well, uglier.

Angus clears his throat, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I, ehm...I wrote an ode for you.”

Meg’s lip curls. Does he truly think a poem will save him now?

But he goes on, moving closer to her with a hopeful look on his face.

“Long were the nights,

Hollow was my heart,

If she returns to me,

Nevermore shall we part.”

“That was terrible,” Alexander comments from behind Meg, who has been watching Angus with a stony face.

Angus’s eyes flit between Meg and Alexander, clearly uncertain of who he should be more afraid of at the moment.

The answer, of course, is Meg, who slaps him across the face with her leather gloves. “You think that I don’t know you’re bedding her?!” she shouts, her voice rising up to the rafters as she advances on him, raining down blows with her leather gloves. “You lying, cheating son of a whore!”

“Yer Grace!” one of the duke’s men calls, but Alexander says, “No, let her be.”

“You left me!” Angus defends from where he’s hunched in the corner, arms raised to shield himself. “You went to England! I thought you were never coming back!”

“And your heart broke so much that you had to dip your wick in her?!” She walks away, clenching her fists before she loses her control completely.

“Hen, please! I love you!” Angus protests, and she lets out a bitter laugh. She’s always hated being called ‘Hen.’ If he really loved me, he’d know that. If he’d known me at all, he’d know that. “I’m weak for women. I-I admit that. Jane was here, and the bed was cold. She’s nothing more than that to me.”

“You lying sod!” Jane Stewart shouts, looking almost as murderous as Meg. “He’s been bedding me since before the two of you were wed!”

Rage seizes Meg again. Seeking another woman’s company while she was in exile, she may have been able to forgive, but betraying her, taking her sons from her, forcing her to go into exile, and bringing into her house, her bed, a woman he’d been bedding since he was courting Meg…

That, she cannot forgive.

She seizes one of the plates on the table, hurling it at her husband.

“No!” Angus screams as the porcelain shatters against him. Meg hurls another plate at him, and another, forcing him to retreat. “She’s lying! She’s lying! I’ll be worthy of you, Meg! I’ll send her away!” And as if to prove his point, he turns to Jane. “Go! This is my wife!”

Meg points at the door. “Get out of here.”

“That’s right!” Angus says, taking Jane’s arm and dragging her to the door and giving her a small shove. “Just go!”

Jane wrenches free of his grip, casting back one withering look before she leaves. Angus smooths back his hair, watching.

“The pair of you,” Meg tells him, chest heaving. “Get out and do not come back.”

“But…” Angus glances at the men, who give him flat stares. He turns back to Meg, eyes wide with fear. “But I’m your husband.”

Meg lets out another bitter laugh. “No, you’re not.” She snatches a knife from the table, pointing it at him until he stumbles out of the hall. “I will find a way to end this marriage,” she promises, backing him all the way out of the house. “You had best pray I end it with divorce and not murder. Now get out!”

Backed all the way onto the path, Angus makes one last, desperate stab at maintaining his dignity. “We’re not done here. What has been joined before God, no man can put asunder.”

“How fortunate, then, that neither of us is a man,” she says coldly, knife still raised.

Angus looks as if he wants to retort, but wisely does not; instead, he turns, following Jane.

Meg watches him go, wondering what on earth made her love a man like that. Was it grief? Loneliness?

Well, she thinks, feeling Alexander stand beside her, I am not alone anymore.

“Ye alright?” Alexander asks softly.

She breathes deeply. “I will be.” She turns to head inside the house. “First I have to see what sort of mess Angus made of things while I was away.”

Thankfully, Angus’s mess is nothing that can’t be fixed. Meg has his and Jane Stewart’s things thrown out and her own things sent to Edinburgh Castle. She decides to send Maggie and Janet, too, so that they can be closer to their half-brothers. Jamie and little Alexander will like that.

The elder Alexander organizes her household guard, leaving orders not to allow Angus or his mistress back into the house under any circumstances whatsoever.

The house thus rid of all reminders of Angus and armed should he feel foolish enough as to try his luck, Meg is ready to return to Edinburgh Castle, and more importantly, her boys. She heads outside, the duke’s men following.

“That everything?” Alexander asks.

She glances back at the house. “I think so.” She bites back a bitter smile. “I hope so. I don’t think I can look at this place again for a while.”

Alexander pats her horse’s neck. “I said it once, I’ll say it again: death is quicker than divorce.”

She tries not to smile. “You can keep on saying it: I’m not going to start a clan war.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be; I’d be starting a clan war.”

“Alexander.”

His beard twitches as he grins. “Fine. Ye ready te go home?”

Home. Home to her boys, with Alexander by her side. It’s hard to believe that only yesterday she considered him her enemy; now, here he is.

“Yes,” she tells him. “I’m ready.”

He helps her up into the saddle before he mounts his own horse, and then they’re setting off for Edinburgh Castle.

For home.

#the spanish princess #tsp #meg tudor #alexander stewart #meg tudor x alexander stewart #megander #fic by me

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