#also it was not uncommon to call your maid by her first name so I think a fem!Bertie might learn Jeeves's first name much sooner

[idanit]

thinking about fem!Jeeves in American novelist!drag

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lilly (Part 1)

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader (F)

Enemies To lovers

Summary: Y/N Frey (reader) is the youngest daughter of Walder Frey, her mother being just another woman who died in childbirth, here she learns about her union with Robb Stark, King of the North, and she’s more then displeased of the sudden arrangement, but when she looks into his eyes for the first time. Now that’s something.

warnings: alcohol consumption, forced marriage

i fear i don’t know what i’m doing ISNT PROOFREAD also switched out from “You/your “ pronouns and “She/Her”

this was all pre written in my notes w my OC’s name and without “Y/N”/ & or You so i apologise if u do see a random girls name that’s not Y/N or You lmao (unless you’re your actual name) x

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Y/N stirred awake, blotches of orange and pink sunlight spilling into the room through the curtains, she fluttered her eyelids as she made sense of her surrounds as always, this was the cold, stone room she called home. The bed was cold and stiff, much like the Twins, but the warmth of morning softened the chill in the air. She lay there for a moment, blinking up at the heavy wooden beams on the ceiling, and sighed deeply. She missed Dorne. The dusty winds and golden sands, the gardens that spilled over with sweet-scented blooms, and the warm laughter that lingered in the air, all of it was so different from the grim and graying walls of her father’s keep.

She was born in the river lands in the Twins to her mother, Lady Frey, who unfortunately passed away from childbirth, another forgotten face who lost their battle on the battlefield of the bed. As a youngling, Walder Frey sent her of to Dorne, where her mother had been born and brought up. Though, technically her mother was of Myrish descent, who just happened to be one of those descendants of immigrants who crossed the narrow sea for work. That’s how Y/N’s mothers side ended up in Dorne with no actual dorneish blood. Y/N was mixed, which was uncommon in Westeros, since Essosi’s and Westerosi’s did not mix all the well, and it was worse when Y/N’s features took favour to her mother, atleast she didn’t look as boring or unappetising as her sisters (though Roslin has always been beautiful.)

She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself as a handmaid poked her head through the door. “Good morning, my lady,” the maid greeted with a small bow. “Shall I draw your bath?”

Y/N nodded, her thoughts drifting as the maids bustled around, bringing in buckets of steaming water. The scent of lavender and rosemary filled the air, oh that was her favourite scent in the morning. Two maids helped her undress, and she sank into the tub, sighing as the warm water soothed her.

As one of the maids gently poured water over her shoulders, Irene spoke, almost to herself. “I was happier in Dorne,” she murmured, trailing her fingers through the water. “I want to go back there someday. To see my family again, to be… me again.” She looked down, smiling wistfully. “I was freer there, you know?”

One of the older maids, Meg, nodded with a sympathetic smile as she rinsed your hair. “Aye, my lady. They say Dorne has a way of bringing out the heart in people. But your father has his reasons for wanting you here.”

“He always has his reasons,” You said softly, her voice edged with resignation. She leaned back, letting the maids scrub the last traces of sleep from her limbs.

“You’re still Frey dearie. You’d never stay in Dorne for too long, though it’s built you, made you smarter.” Meg cheerily said, scrubbing and Y/N’s hair, throwing whatever ointments. Y/N hummed to this, she’s still Frey, the reason why she lingered in Dorne until her thirteenth was quite the random decision.

The other handmaiden, Nora, much younger and atleast 17 said to Y/N, “My lady, there’s talks about Lady Stark coming over here, apparently she’s looking for a bride for her son.” She spoke excitedly, washing at your arms.

“Stark? Northerner? he must be a rugged beast with no sense at all, must be another one of those brutes they breed up there.” You replied quickly, to think that a Stark would want to marry a Frey was also unbelievable, who would want to marry a big wolf?

“Your father’s picking between your sisters, then they have to be confirmed by my Lady Catelyn.” Meg continued, as you let them condition your hair and add some extra oils and essences to your bath time.

You nodded, not that you cared… well you thought it was interesting for one of them to ask for a hand in marriage, “What’s the reason for the marriage?” You asked, looking down in the soapy water.

“The crossing or something like that, they need it for the war.” Meg rattled on, scrubbing the last parts of you before preparing a towel for you.

“Of course.” You muttered, still sleepy from the terrible cold, wet night you all suffered from. “What’s the boy’s name?” You asked, less then cheery.

“Robb Stark? something like that. He’s know as the Young wolf, rides a wolf into battle, turns into one in the night. I think it’s a load of rubbish, but I do hear he’s handsome.” Nora spoke, rattling on about this Robb Stark and what good features he has and how much he resembles his Tully mother.

“Perhaps you have a chance though my lady.” Meg said calmly. As she was drying you off and wrapping yourself in a thick robe. “Lady Y/N,” she began, helping with the braid of her damp hair. “Your father could choose you, this rugged beast of a man could be your escape.”

“And leave you all behind? I doubt it.” You rolled your eyes at their failure at convincing you.

“It’s merely a suggesting. Do take it lightly.” Meg replied, trying to please you.

Y/N allowed the maids to dry her off, the steam from the bath still clinging to her skin, making the chill of the Twins feel sharper. She was dressed in a simple gown of dusky blue wool, plain but fitted, with embroidered vines of silver along the cuffs and neckline. Her hair had been braided into a crown, a few tendrils curling loose around her face, softening her expression as she wrapped herself in a fur cloak. She was ready to brave the drafts that snuck through the old stone walls.

As she made her way through the winding halls, Nora fell into step beside her. They walked slowly, their footsteps echoing off the stone, and Y/N’s voice was almost a whisper as they resumed their conversation.

“So, Lady Stark is truly searching for a wife for her son?” Y/N asked, her voice threaded with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. “Does she think it so simple to find one of us willing to move to the North? Nonetheless with this war, any one of us be part of it?”

Nora gave a soft laugh. “It seems your father thinks it’s simple enough,” she replied, glancing at Y/N. “But yes, word has it she wants a match to strengthen the ties between the North and the Riverlands. They say Robb Stark needs someone who’ll bring loyalty and strength to his cause, but also it’s an agreement for the crossing that will help him win the war”

“Loyalty and strength,” You mused, a smirk playing at your lips. “I wonder if Lady Stark knows much of the Freys.”

Nora chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Perhaps she only hears what she wishes. But you might surprise her, my lady. You’ve a spirit that could suit the North well. They say it takes a certain fire to keep warm in those freezing castles.”

You paused by an arched window, looking out over the river winding far below. The day was clear, and the wind swept in with a sharp bite, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and cold water. You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself. “I wonder if he’s anything like her, Robb Stark,” You murmured, almost to yourself. “I’ve heard Lady Stark is as proud and steadfast as the North itself.”

Perhaps,” Nora replied, leaning against the wall beside you. “But I’ve also heard he has some of his father in him. An honorable man, loyal to a fault, like Eddard Stark. A woman could do worse.”

“Could she?” You asked, turning away from the view with a sigh. “The North is distant, Nora. Cold. Unyielding. I’ve only known heat and light, gardens that stretch as far as you can see. Here, it’s all stone, and there, well, it’s ice, isn’t it?”

Nora gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could reply, a loud, impatient voice interrupted them.

“Y/N!”

They turned to see your half-brother, Merrett Frey, striding toward them, his expression bored and slightly sour. Merrett was a portly man with thin hair and a perpetually furrowed brow, looking as though everything he saw annoyed him.

“Y/N” he repeated, glancing from her to Nora, “Father wants to see you. Now.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, though you masked your annoyance quickly. “Did he say why?”

Merrett shrugged, clearly uninterested in details. “Something about a match. Said he wants you in the hall at once.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Nora, a mix of dread and resignation in her eyes. “So it begins,” she muttered under her breath before she straightened, squaring her shoulders.

“Very well, Merrett,” she replied coolly, giving a final look out the window, as though Dorne lay somewhere beyond, waiting for her. “Lead the way.”

And with that, she followed her brother down the winding corridors, a feeling like ice settling over her heart.

The great hall of the Twins was dark and drafty as Irene entered, her cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. Walder Frey sat at the high table, hunched over with age, his piercing eyes watching her approach. He gave her a thin, sly smile, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze that made her stomach twist. Around him, a few of her siblings and half-siblings lingered, pretending to be occupied with anything other than her arrival.

She stopped before him, lifting her chin defiantly.

“Y/N,” he began without ceremony, his voice as thin and cutting as the river wind. “I’ve struck a deal with Catelyn Stark, and I’ll hear no argument. You’ll be marrying Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, and doing your duty as a Frey. Our alliance with the Starks strengthens us. You should be proud.” He then took a chug out of his red wine.

You felt your throat tighten, her voice sticking as she forced herself to speak. “Father, surely… surely there’s someone else more suited to this—“

Walder’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll be good because I say so. We’ve not been offered a match like this, not in a long time. A wolf from Winterfell, boy or not, could make you a queen if you play it right. But you’re to do as I command,” he said, his tone turning as cold as steel.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but his stare silenced you. Your voice faded, her gaze lowering. You realized then, painfully, that you had no choice.

“Yes, Father,” she murmured, her voice resigned. “As you wish.”

He grunted, satisfied. “Good girl. Go on, then. I expect you’ll be a dutiful wife.”

Days later, Y/N stood in her chamber at the Twins, a quiet stillness surrounding her as she prepared for the wedding. She thought back to Lady Catelyn’s gaze when they first met sharp and cool. Catelyn had looked her over with an assessing eye, her expression revealing nothing as she took in Y/N’s every detail, from her posture to her expression. Y/N could practically feel the weight of Catelyn’s silent judgment, her assessment of whether Y/N would be fit to stand beside her son in both marriage and war. After what seemed an eternity, Lady Stark had finally given a curt nod, deeming her acceptable.

You slipped into your wedding gown, a simple yet beautiful piece the seamstresses had hurriedly prepared. It was made of silken ivory, with long, elegant sleeves that flowed to your wrists, and a fitted bodice embroidered with delicate silver leaves. The gown was free of unnecessary adornment, simple yet striking, with a modest neckline and a trailing skirt that whispered over the stone floor behind you.

Your hair, braided the southern way, with a shimmering veil falling infront of your face and behind you, covering up the meek expression you held.

“You’re shining.” Nora spoke sadly, knowing this was probably the last time they’d see eachother. Her voice soft and filled with acceptance.

Meg, the older maid who had helped raise you, stepped forward as well, her eyes misty with emotion. “Be strong, my dear. You’re braver than you think.” She reached out and gave your hands a squeeze.

“Il miss you both,” A knot in your stomach tightened, this was really it. You bid your goodbyes before making your way down the hall outside, your father taking your arm with that wretched grin he always had on, the doors opening, the Stark flag hoisted alongside your own one, you didn’t dare look up from your feet, the chill air hitting you immediately as you were clutching at your fathers arms before he let you go and you had met with what looks to be Robb Stark.

You couldn’t really see him well with the veil and you’re sure he couldn’t see your face at all. A moment later after the septa spoke, he removed the veil over your face, and his eyes.. something in it softened, they were pools of dark blue, and you swear you felt your heart thump a little faster. He was rugged yet handsome, with the wolf emblem on him, you saw him quickly look at someone else, rather this other young lady before looking back at you, that lady having a rather solemn look on her face. You knew straight away that was his lover, and this would be even more complex then you had anticipated. You said your vows and shared a kiss, your lips much softer against his chapped ones, but perhaps you felt that warmth again. Maybe this could work, or maybe you were doomed to fail.

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tags!!! (Tell me if you want to be tagged in pt2)

@samieree @maysileeewrites

[dreamescapeswriting]

Burnt With Envy ~ JJK [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.7k

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy, angst,

↬↬↬Pairing: Jungkook x Gender Neutral Reader

↬↬↬WARNINGS: Mentions of plane turbulence, house fire, smoke inhalation [PS Sucky title because M sucks at titles] 

↬↬↬ A/N: No name for the daughter as I know a lot of you like that, also I didn’t want to make it like a huge car accident or something so I went in a different way I hope this is okay for you my love! Stay Safe! Love you!

The plane ride you were on seemed to be taking forever, you were flying home after a long business meeting with your husband Jungkook who was now sitting on the phone to someone about the meeting - you didn't pay too much close attention to his side of the business as it never really interested you. Your daughter was curled up on your lap as you sat on one of the sofas inside of the private jet, one of the many joys of Jungkook being the CEO of many businesses. Never having to fly on a normal plane again.

"Look I don't care, give them whatever they want as long as they sign the papers tonight," You heard Jungkook sigh from across the plane, his eyebrows were strewn together and he was rubbing the bridge of his nose - a sure sign that he was stressing about something going on in his life.

"Yes, I'll hold." He turned around to glance at you so you gave him a small smile not wanting to bother him while he was working, as soon as his eyes landed on you and his daughter his eyes softened. Seeing the way you both looked together made him instantly relax, it was why he took you along on his business trips - that and he wanted his daughter to be able to see the world and learn from it. She was only 14 but could already speak 3 languages, Korean, English and French with the occasional bit of Japanese she had picked up on business trips.

"Everything okay?" You questioned when he hung up the phone and came over to you, he sat on the arm of the sofa next to you and nodded his head bending down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Just some more details to go through but everything's fine, how did her homework go?" He asked nodding his head down at the papers that were on the table in front of you, you scoffed leaning forward to pick up the different sheets of homework she'd been working on.

"She didn't need my help - as usual." You laughed, your daughter had always been exceptionally smart at everything she put her mind to but this homework was all about businesses. She had to create a fake brand and branch out with it, all within a fictional budget and timeline.

"She gets it from her dad," You whispered when Jungkook asked where she got it all from, you both knew it was impossible since she was adopted but you still liked to think that somehow she still got traits from both of you as her parents because that's what you were. Adopted or not she was your daughter.

"I think she'll take over everything when I die," He chuckled sliding in behind you on the sofa and wrapping his arm around your waist and snuggling his head into your neck.

Everyone saw Jungkook as a big CEO no one should mess with but deep inside he was just as soft as anybody else and wouldn't dream of hurting anyone - many people in his company knew it as well since he'd always been too scared to fire anyone, he never wanted to hurt someone's feelings which was odd. A CEO like him with a big heart was uncommon in the world, most of them didn't care for their employees but Jungkook did, he got to know most of everyone who worked for him, tried to relate to them in any way that he could and would help them if they ever needed it. The plane jolted and you gripped onto your daughter with one arm and Jungkook with the other, he hissed when he felt it do it once again.

"Sorry Sir, just a little trouble. One engine caught fire, we'll be okay until we land on your airstrip." You looked at the stewardess who had just come out of the cockpit to tell you both what was happening, luckily it was nothing major and you could both move on from it.

"Is the captain sure everything's okay?" She nodded slowly looking at all of you, she'd been working for Jungkook for the last four years and she was always pleasant when she worked on your flights.

"Everything is fine, he's assured me that we'll be fine until we land in ten minutes. After that, he'll have the engines repaired."

"Is dad okay?" Your daughter asked as you tucked her into her bed, the plane landed perfectly fine and it was being looked at by a professional but Jungkook was shaken up. Nothing had ever happened like that before, all of his planes were routinely checked by professionals, even if he wasn't flying anywhere he had them looked at to make sure nothing was wrong or could go wrong.

"He's okay baby, just a little worried about something. Don't worry about it, he loved your homework though." You soothed down the bedsheets and sat on the edge of her bed while you looked down at her, you began playing with her hair softly placing it behind her ear to make her sleepy again.

"He did? I was pretending to be him while I..." She yawned halfway through her sentence and closed her eyes - you'd learnt the hair trick from your grandmother who used to put you to sleep the same way.

"While I gave the presentation to my stuffed animals." You laughed softly as she fell to sleep almost right away, she'd always been able to do that though. One second she was awake and the next she was out like a light, it helped that she was a heavy sleeper too luckily she'd slept through the plane shaking and jittering around as you landed back on safe ground.

"Just call me when you have answers," His tone was authoritative as he hung up the phone and threw it down onto the double bed you were sitting in, you were in his favourite PJ's on you trying to convince him that everything would be fine when in reality you had no idea if it would or wouldn't be, you were just trying to make your husband relax before he had an aneurysm in front of you. He collapsed onto the bed in front of you and you began playing with his black hair, it was starting to get long enough for you to be able to put it into a man bun again - you used to do it all the time in college when you first started dating, you would put it in all sorts of styles but man buns were his favourite.

"You need a haircut," You mumbled pushing his head away as he tried to give you a kiss,

"I know, I'll fit one in tomorrow. How are you? Are you okay?" He'd been freaking out in the inside for hours about how you were feeling during the plane but you were fine, it was nothing major.

"I'm fine Kookie, I would be even better if my husband got into bed with me and stopped worrying," He sighed knowing you were right, he ran his hands through his hair before standing up from the bed,

"I'll have a shower and get into bed, will you turn the heating off? It's boiling in here." He groaned fanning himself as he tried to cool down, he was right though. The house had been exceptionally hot since the moment you got in and you were sure the heating was broken,

"I'll go shut it off at the boiler." You told him as you threw your legs off the bed and slipped into some slippers, he hummed at you from the en-suite and you made your way down the giant spiral staircase.

Most of the staff that Jungkook had working around the house were at home except for the live-in maid he had with you guys, she was tucked up in bed down by the living room and you didn't want to bother her with asking for help with the boiler. It was no big deal, you knew where it was and what you were doing, you just hated going down into the creepy basement that it was kept in.

Jungkook stirred beside you kicking off the sheets as you let out a cough,

"I thought you turned the heating down." He grumbled sitting up in the bed when his eyes widened, his nose was filled with smoke and there was smoke pouring in from underneath the door,

"Y/n! Get up!" You groaned opening your eyes to see what the big deal was when you smelt and saw the smoke as well, the smoke was starting to cloud which meant the fire was large.

"Go!" You screamed pushing him out of the door of your bedroom, you began coughing as the fire crackled from down the stairs, it was spreading its way along the living room floor, Jungkook sprinted in the direction of his daughter's bedroom while you tried to see what was starting the fire.  The house was like something from a horror movie, everything was burning way too quickly, the plastic photo frames on the walls were all twisting and melting onto the floor and nothing was going o be saved.

"Y/n?! We have to move now!" You could hear your daughter coughing heavily and it brought you back to reality,

"Fire escape in your home office!" You were yelling to one another over the sound of the fire, you could smell chemicals and burning - of course burning, your house was on fire.

"Where are you going?!" He screamed watching as you made your way to the staircase, your feet could hardly touch it thanks to the heat radiating from downstair, it made the metal barely touchable.

"The maid! Jihoo! She's downstairs Kookie!" You were tearing up at the thought of her being hurt in something like this, you ignored Jungkook's pleas for you not to go down there and sprinted down the stairs pushing through the pain in your feet,

"GO! GET OUT!" You screamed at him, he clung onto your daughter who was starting to cough harder now, he could hear the firetrucks outside so he made a run for the office going out of the window and taking his daughter down the staircase out there.

"Jihoo!" You yelled, letting out a squeal when a flame danced out of control and began spreading closer to the bedroom door where she was staying.

"JIHOO!" You knew it was an invasion of privacy but right now it didn't seem important to you, she'd been working for you and Jungkook for years and was one of your most trusted employees.

"J-Jihoo?!" You spluttered out covering your mouth as you tried not to inhale too much smoke from the fire but she wasn't there, her things were gone. The room began to build up with black smoke and you groaned trying not to inhale it but it was filling up your lungs and making it harder for you to breathe.

Sirens were blaring loudly as you woke up, your eyes fluttering open as you were blinded by a bright white light,

"Ugh what the-" You stopped talking when you heard Jungkook's voice coming out in a panic,

"They're okay Mr Jeon, we just need to run some checks on them." You turned to see a paramedic looking at you and flashing a bright light into your eyes, for a second you thought you were a goner when you saw the white light.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Jeon Y/n," He nodded and began asking you routine questions but your mind was on Jungkook and your daughter who was under one of those tinfoil blankets to help with shock. People were crowding around your house as the firefighters worked tirelessly to put it out, everything was gone. All the memories you had in the house, photographs, videos, everything was just gone and in a pile of ashes and rubble. There was a cold compress on your feet, you looked down to see what the paramedic was doing when he caught you looking,

"Your husband said you ran down metal stairs, we wanted to make sure your feet had no lasting damage. You're all okay except for a cough and some smoke inhalation. You'll be fine," He walked away as though your whole life wasn't just destroyed in one giant housefire that no one knew the cause of,

"Did you get to Jihoo?" You shook your head and went on to explain how she wasn't there and neither were her things, he frowned looking around for something.

"What's wrong?" You questioned but he wrapped the shock blanket around your daughter before walking over to a firefighter and getting into a lengthy discussion about what the fire was caused by.

It took 7 hours for them to battle the blaze and put it out, the sun had come out and a nanny had taken your daughter to a hotel to have a bath and get some rest while you and Jungkook stayed behind.

"There's nothing," You whispered looking through the rubble of what was once your house, the only thing that had lasted through the blaze was the metal staircase you'd sprinted down. Jungkook could tell you were getting upset so he stood behind you wrapping his arms around you to let you know it was okay, he was there and you weren't going through this alone.

"They think Jihoo was the one to start it all before leaving," You nodded knowing that it was probably true since she'd been the only other person in the house with extensive knowledge as to where anything was, it would have been easy for her to grab the accelerant used to make it burn faster and make it out alive with all of her things, the only real question was why she'd done it.

"Think it was because of something we did?" Your voice cracked as Jungkook walked you back onto the street, Police were combing through everything they could to find any kind of evidence they would need.

"We'll figure it out, I'm sure it was nothing we did. We loved her," He used his thumb to wipe away the tears from under your eyes and you sighed laying your head on his chest as you watched people begin to clean up what was left of your home.

"We hereby find the defendant guilty of arson, and guilty of attempted manslaughter." You looked down at your hands as the jury sat back down and the judge agreed with their verdict and began reading off the charges that Kim Jihoo was being charged with. Jungkook had his arm around your shoulder as a sign of support as she turned around to watch you both closely, her reasoning behind everything she'd done was because she'd been crazily obsessed with Jungkook for years and once she realised she could never get what she wanted, she wasn't going to let him be with anybody else.

"Take her away," The judge yelled, she turned back to the front and followed the police out while her chains rattled against the floor your eyes were downcast at your hands while Jungkook tried to comfort you. It was all over so you weren't going to have to worry about her coming to try it again but you still felt scared whenever you went to bed or hired someone new. There was a new policy being brought in to make larger background checks on everyone who worked for Jungkook, he didn't want to put his family at risk again but he was going to get you all through it.

"Let's go, we have a meeting with our daughter." He chuckled bringing you back to reality, your daughter was waiting back at the hotel you were staying in. She was going to give you her final presentation for her business project so you had something to keep you distracted for now.

"Going to be a CEO just like her daddy." You laughed walking with him in the direction of the parking lot.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ 

[reversecreek]

hi it’s me... clicks across the linoleum of the dash wearing high heels w a spray tan like i’m a member of jersey shore suddenly..... best summary of willa is that she got moira rose as her #1 chara on a What Character Are You Most Like personality test out of thousands of options.... says so much. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here 😋 like this or hmu fr plots!!

* ashley moore, cis female + she/her  | you know willa deneurve, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to watch me by the pom poms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole sticking gold stars over old polaroids until you can barely see faces, dressing as marie antoinette at your high school prom & delivering fake laughter to a bratz doll you’re pretending is a talkshow host thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 1st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

willa ws born to honestly like….. the perfect family not to honk my own tit bt……………. they were jst rly quite wholesome. her mum celeste was this larger than life person who could never b contained by the four walls of any room she was in. she hd the presence of a gold glitter chess piece on an otherwise mundane wooden board. her dad marlon used to always joke that he had absolutely NO idea how he landed her bc he was just this like. rly average guy by all accounts n purposes….. blended into the sea in high skl……. had a few close friends but was never rly Notable or made a proper impression anywhere…… he always retold it as him coasting thru life until he met her in college. kind of like he’d been half awake before. they just Clicked n no-one cld believe she’d chosen him bt she was jst. completely head over heels n didn’t care what anyone had to say bc that was That

willa always very much took after celeste…… there’s this one quote i remember reading that goes vaguely like “my mom and i would sit and listen to leonard cohen and joni mitchell lyrics together. from a young age i remember her being like "i’m playing this song and when it’s done i want u to tell me what’s happening in it” n she would give me a fake glass of wine when i was 8 and i would listen and b like. i think there was an affair.” which so much summarises their dynamic…… she ws just so like. dramatic n fun n always encouraged that in willa too. her mum was like. everything she aspired to be…… got scouted by a modelling agency in college n shot one campaign before blowing it off simply bc she was bored. starred lead in a play. spent a few weeks travelling asia selling handmade candles shaped like koi fish or curled up foxes or elegantly stretched hands. dated a parisian movie star during a break she and her father took n was featured in tabloids on his arm at the premiere. sm fun n exotic stories willa literally cldn’t get enough. whenever she’d tell them to willa as a kid her dad wld roll his eyes like ohhhhh here she goes again but it’d all b playful n he’d smile bc he honestly cldn’t get enough either. the stuff dreams are made of luv (lizzie mcguire stans rise)

(car accident & death tw) so u know when ur walking down a flight of stairs n then out of nowhere u miss a step n u get that lurch in ur stomach like ur in free fall? yeah. i won’t go into it too much but one night they were driving back from getting frozen yogurt and then suddenly they weren’t. she doesn’t rly remember much about it except for completely ignoring the doctors trying to give her the news and just saying “dad chose pecan. who chooses pecan?” n repeating that over n over n over until it didn’t rly register in her ears as english any more.

willa was uprooted from irving at 11 to go n live w her aunt in NY. this was like. a huge adjustment honestly….. her aunt blanche hd always been a little unconventional bt extremely glamorous. she lived in an old defunct theatre she’d bought out n came from a lot of money. willa’s mum’s side of the family hd always been well off bt celeste opted to live a little more Ordinarily shall we say after settling whereas blanche ws jst balls to the walls dripping w eccentric excess…. wld say she was never naked bc she ws always wearing black opium by yves saint laurent…… probably the living embodiment of la vie boheme….. she’d been admitted a yr early to a rly prestigious parisian design school n is an AMAZING seamstress. a corset she stitched a broadway star into got commissioned fr an actress’ red carpet walk at an indie film festival. rly just lived such a life rich w lots of stories n lots of talent too…… had that star quality essence tht her mum had n that was smthn willa found quite comforting everything considered.

(grief tw) u would think maybe a situation like this (one involving so much sudden change) wld cause a kid of tht age to withdraw into her shell bt willa only came out of her shell MORE. she coped w her situation by spinning it into a celebrity origin story inside her head. the tear jerker tale someone tells during their x factor audition to get the judges rooting for them. mentally streamlining things. repackaging all that hurt as a surefire ticket to success bc it had to be useful for something right? there had to b a point to it right? willa decided the point was she’s a star. KFHSGKFHGFKHGKJSFHG. get it girl….. she ws literally just like ok well clearly i’m destined to be famous n i’m the main character of this story. this story called earth. it’s all about me.

rly heavily immersed herself in her high skl theatre scene……. loved experimenting w fashion n literally wore the most outlandish things like. she treated the hallways like her milan f/w debut every new school yr…… a lot of the things she wore were actual like. costumes frm her aunt’s collection…… she has a multi-story closet u have to climb ladders to reach things in like a very rustic library…. it rly wasn’t uncommon for willa to turn up one day corsetted like a pirate with billowing sleeves or sporting the baby blue gingham of a swedish milk maid. it’s like she literally jst…… became a role. always. every day. the world ws her stage. the cameras were always rolling. her aunt only encouraged this tbh n honestly? icon. we love to see it. willa partied a bunch n rly lived a lax lifestyle where responsibility was concerned…. her aunt ws her best friend…… made rly gd friends with performers in the drag club scene n loved the glitz of that….. lots of wild nights turned grossly bright mornings

snagged an agent fresh into her first yr of college (she gt accepted to a pretty competitive theatre program at [redacted] in NY bc i haven’t looked into what that wld be yet <3 i’m merely a helpless british lass <3) n booked a few commercials n things….. when i say willa wld enter audition rooms like she owned the place i’m rly not exaggerating…. once she turned up to a casting call for MEN n just walked right to the front of the line scraping a random chair along the way n then took a seat w her legs crossed popping a bubble in her gum as they all glared at her like wtf is literally going on who are u. she received several complaints n she was just like “ur all acting so jealous of me….”

i feel like she got a pretty big role in a theatre production in her last yr at school. haven’t decided what yet. maybe smthn rocky horror or even mimi in rent. this was meant to b some like huge moment for willa like yes girl finally making it ur on ur way this is what u wanted n she WAS happy abt it but once it was wrapped she jst had this strange like Huh feeling in her chest……. n a la celeste w all her exciting stories was just like well i’ve done that so what’s next? i think she’d graduate n then jst suddenly decide to move to irving in a fit of impulse. to all her college friends she’d be like “ugh a beach retreat is so necessary honestly the city is sooooooooo toxic this place cld literally enlarge my pores if i wasn’t so rigorous with my skincare routine” bt like 🤔 what u seeking girl? results pending.

SO basically i feel like she finally moved back to irving little over a yr ago. she hd a brief stint starring on a reality tv show tht filmed in one of the larger beach houses where her dog gained a handful of fan accounts dedicated to him……. u maybe will see why in the first bullet point of her personality section………… FKGHKSHFGGKFSHKHG. honestly she ws received pretty well too (mostly bc she’s so fking dramatic n like a caricature of a person) bt it wasn’t anything to warrant actual Fame (despite what willa herself might think). she’s mostly jst like. chilling honestly. accepting scripts n flying out fr auditions still. she’ll nab the occasional part bt she’s looking for that One Thing that rly feels like her big moment….. otherwise i cn just imagine her treating irving like a little dollhouse compared to the roaring mansion of NYC n having fun playing around in it. strikes a pose w a hand on my hip…. and now to personality.

PERSONALITY:

got a very large n lithe greyhound n named him marlene dietrich bc she was a black n white hollywood starlet famously known for her affairs n ���bedroom eyes”. willa was like ugh. icon status instantly. didn’t rly foresee the responsibilities tht came w owning a dog tht loves exercise n complains abt him being like “ugh he wants to run soooooooooo much 🙄 like where are u literally going”. having said tht loves him dearly n he can often be seen wearing little clothes. a baby’s bonnet. a quilted leather waistcoat. a custom dog boa. he’s very glamorous. willa calls him a gay icon despite no evidence to support this theory. she also says he can sniff out evil in ppl so she brings him sometimes when she’s first introduced to a friend’s new bf n if his nose quivers a certain way she’s like “marlene has spoken. it’s done”. her friends r like omg? what’s done? willa gets up n walks away without elaborating. marlene’s little paws clicking along the floor w attitude.

literally dressed as marie antoinette for her high skl prom even tho there was no theme pertaining to this. jst loves the spotlight. can fake cry and WILL to get out of a parking ticket or teach someone to watch their tone or even simply for the theatrics of it all. the Most dramatic………….. rly fits being an actress like when people find out what she does it’s very like oh that makes sense.

says she doesn’t get hangovers. she’s just like “i revoked that it doesn’t happen to me”. alludes tht this is bc she’s an all powerful deity that was Chosen to be Blessed bt really she’s jst great at bouncing back n acting fine even w a blistering headache. it’s about believing the performance so much that u even convince urself.

has an extremely elevated sense of self importance bc this is kind of the equivalent of several layers of bubble wrap to cushion her frm the world. strives to b extraordinary bc ordinary honestly feels like a death sentence n there’s nothing she’d want to b seen as less. despite this weight she puts on that she rly doesn’t tend to let ppl’s opinions affect fr the most part like she’s quite firmly set in this I’m Literally The Most Gorgeous And Beautiful Angel Star Creature To Walk This Narsty Little Earth view

probably an incredibly big fan of dramatic short lived love affairs. she wants the glamour of it all. the scandal. the randomly breaking up w someone in a public place n sliding on sunglasses after delivering the words over a freshly ordered coffee (tht she’ll leave without drinking bc that’s star power babey she waits fr no man or no hot beverage)…….. has no preference gets w any n all regardless of gender……… romanticises things so they hv a better spin or story in her head n doesn’t rly take things seriously like jst has fun in her fantasy world…. she’s like ugh chuck i know u wanted to marry me but i’m a beautiful bird in a cage n u literally need to undo the latch n set me free……. the guy’s like……. my name’s chase n we’ve only been on two dates….. willa’s like…… please don’t take this so hard i can tell ur besides urself but people r starting to stare……. gets up n leaves. no-one was staring. chase is confused n honestly probably semi concerned fr her welfare.

always has to b the hottest n most glamorous person in a grocery store…. probably goes to them when she doesn’t even need anything jst holding a basket nonchalantly over her forearm glancing over at a cashier in her wizard of oz corset seamed interpretation on a dorothy dress thinking he wants me soooo bad it’s not even funny….. seduces him over the check out counter jst for him to ask her to come back to his so she can lean back scandalised n cry “IS THAT THE KIND OF WOMAN U THINK I AM, PAUL?! YOU’RE A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, YOU ARE….” with all the gusto of a telenovela. attracts the shocked glances of all surrounding elderly.

speaks fluent french. probably on her brief stint on tht reality show i mentioned earlier was like “ugh can you believe Deneurve of this guy?” n in her head was like this catchphrase is sensational it’ll catch on fast the twittersphere is abt to implode but it didn’t become a thing except for in a small isolated community. despite this she’s like “yeah it went viral….. go figure. just another day in the life.”

honestly like a lot of fun bt also a huge handful at the same time. keeps her real Serious emotions in a locked box bt is always overflowing w melodramatics n rly giving her all at the drop of a hat where Performing is concerned. probably Loves parties n sees them as another form of production in which she wants to b the lead. rly just. loves herself. except does she? 🤔 lifts my hand up like rihanna n winks. find out next time. lucky by britney plays as i slowly disintegrate in spiderman rp…..

WANTED CONNECTIONS

unrequited flame: willa burns thru people like matches. bright n fast. honestly i feel like she struggles to take romance seriously so it cld be fun to play around with someone who’s been singed by that in the past…. mayb they hd actual feelings whereas willa was just messing around n having fun…. living la vida loca so to speak…….. we can discuss a time frame or specifics to expand upon this but. sexy angst perhaps.

those she knew from childhood: willa moved to NY at 11 n i feel like it was very sudden n soon after the accident. maybe she didn’t even say goodbye. maybe they were rly close n all of a sudden she didn’t show up to school the next day n when they rode past her house on their bike the sign said sold and that was that. honestly very dramatic of her even at a young age. we love a disappearing act. houdini who?

acting rival: honestly jst feel like this cld be funny. willa’s so dramatic she���d be like i literally want them dead they’re a despicable little gremlin fr trying to steal my spotlight. cld be as simple as having auditioned a few times fr the same parts or something.

childhood sweetheart: i think it cld be rly cute n sad if there was someone that kind of echoed the dynamic her mum n dad had except she was the celeste n they were the marlon…. (open to any gender)…….. so like. willa was always very larger than life commanding attention in a room n they were more to the sidelines but they just kind of got each other n brought out the best in one another. added angst to the fact tht willa wld maybe want to avoid them as much as possible now bc it dredges up feelings she doesn’t want to confront where her parents r concerned n also in a way any possibility of them winding up together feels like sellotaping an expiration date to both of their foreheads in willa’s brain

someone who was either a fan of or also on the reality show willa was: i imagine it like a reinvention of the hills honestly except based in these irving beach houses…. probably didn’t run that long bt there was a bunch of drama on it mostly staged…… maybe they were willa’s love interest bt it was all fake fr the cameras…… it wasn’t like. a huge deal n didn’t rly catch flight so much where popularity’s concerned bt. cld be fun to play with <3

patti frands: jogs in high knees to translate that into party friends as i adjust my spectacles. willa’s very sociable bt she’s also like kind of full of herself n obnoxious so do with that what u will. KFHGKSHGKGHFSKG. she knows hw to have a gd time tho like growing up she was rly into the gay club scene n the drag scene in NY so like. let’s hear it fr the gays who know how to do it right <3

someone equally over the top: i luv the idea of willa having someone who just like runs with made up scenarios n roles she makes up on the spot n them hanging out is like a 24/7 improv session tht they reel random surrounding strangers just fr the fun thrill

the other woman: willa is quite detached n selfish so she wld easily be the other woman in a relationship n not care about it n this cld make for good spice <3

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {1}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU.Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313​All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Shoutout to @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ for helping me with chapter 1! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think & comment if you wanna be tagged. :)

Elain had always loved the rain.

It was necessary for the life cycle of her precious flowers. They had to brave the storm to embrace their beauty. She watched the thick droplets pour down, hitting the glass of the window with a soft pitter-patter.

“Miss Elain?”

Elain jumped, peering over her shoulder from where she sat near the windowpane in the library. Nesta was across the room, sitting by the fireplace with her nose in a book, as she usually was. She wasn’t sure where Feyre had gone. Their younger sister had claimed to go to bed just after supper, but they both knew she wasn’t in her bedchamber. 

Elain rose as Alis approached.

“Your father wishes to see you in his study,” she said.

Elain nodded her head in thanks before Alis curtsied and scurried away. 

She stood frozen, watching her leave. 

Nesta, eyes still on the pages before her, asked, “Well? Are you going?”

Elain nodded, unable to move. 

She knew what was coming and she surely wasn’t ready for it. Of course, it was time. It was her duty. She was of age and of a noble household.

Nesta said nothing more, but Elain knew her older sister’s eyes were now on her. 

Elain nodded, once more, and hurried out of the library and down the hall to her father’s study. He was seated behind his large mahogany desk, writing a letter by the candlelight. Elain stepped inside and gave a gentle knock against the doorframe.

He looked up and blinked a few times before smiling. “Ah. Darling, come in, please.”

Elain did as she was told, sitting across from him in one of his guest chairs.

“It’s late,” was all she said. “I was planning on going to bed soon.”

Lord Archeron smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I only wanted to say that there is a man that wishes to court you. He has written, saying that he saw you at the Hale’s ball last month and thought you were of the utmost beauty. He will join us here, on Friday, to introduce himself.”

Elain was not surprised. She cleared her throat before asking, “And may I ask his name?”

“Lucien Vanserra,” Lord Archeron replied. “The Vanserra’s are well known for their business. Perhaps you’ve heard of his father, Beron.”

Elain had. She had heard many things about Beron Vanserra, none of them pleasant. 

He must have seen the change in her features, because he then said, “Do not worry, my dear. Lucien is a great man with a great reputation. He will be a good match for you.”

Elain nodded, nibbling on her lip - a habit in which her mother would have instantly chastised, if she were still alive. 

“That’s all, dear,” Lord Archeron said, dipping his quill back into his ink. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, father,” Elain said, rising to her feet, although it was hardly more than a whisper. Once she turned, she soon halted, finding who stood just inside the doorway. She hadn’t even heard him come in. He must’ve heard every word.

Elain’s heart sank even further into the pit of her stomach. 

“Ah, Azriel, come in,” Lord Archeron said from behind Elain. 

“Sorry to interrupt, my Lord,” Azriel said, voice low as he approached his Lord’s desk. “A letter arrived for you.”

Azriel handed her father a sealed envelope with his white-gloved hand before bowing to him, then to Elain, and excusing himself. 

Elain watched him walk away before she collected herself. “Goodnight, father,” she said, once more, before excusing herself.

Lord Archeron mumbled a goodnight after she had walked out of the door. 

The house was quiet as Elain made her way down the hallway. She passed the library, where Nesta was still sitting by the fire with her novel, and toward the proper sitting room that remained lifeless.

Since her mother’s passing, their house seemed smaller. It was one thing when they had guests over, but when they didn’t, it was only the four of them. Her father spent most of his time in his study, Nesta spent most of hers in the library, and no one truly knew what Feyre spent her time doing.

Elain couldn’t scold her younger sister, though. She had a secret of her own.

He was standing in the corner of the room, close to a floor-length window covered in heavy gold-trimmed curtains. She approached him, quietly, and when she stood within a breaths-width, she reached up to place her palm gently against his smooth cheek.

He melted into her touch, eyes closing.

Neither of them said a word. 

There was not much to say.

They knew their love affair couldn’t last, if it could even be called that. It had been mild flirtations, sneaking innocent kisses, and attempting to meet one another’s eyes from across the room for nearly a year.

But she was crazy about him, although no one would ever, could ever, know. 

And now she was of the age in which she would have to be married.

To a rich man, of course. Anyone else would be considered shameful.

“I have to go,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. “Alis is expecting me downstairs.”

Elain nodded, attempting a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel,” she said, in return.

He slipped away, out of her embrace and through the doorway before she could form another thought. 

She didn’t watch him go.

Every time he left, it hurt too much.

For every time he walked away, it could be the last time.

~~~~~~

Nesta hated brushing her own hair.

Her mother brushed it for her when she was young, then her lady’s maid before they had to let the ladies’ maids go after their father’s gambling addiction had caused them to reevaluate their household budget.

But as her hair grew long, as she was able to braid into more beautiful and elegant twists and knots, it’s constant upkeep frustrated her to no limits.

After she finally was able to pull the brush through with no snags or tangles, she left it to hang loose around her shoulders and opened her balcony doors, letting the cool night air sweep in. The rain had recently subsided, but the scent lingered. She stepped out, breathing in the smell of their manor house, though her room, unfortunately, was above the stables.

It wasn’t overwhelming, thanks to the mild summer they were having, but it still was a smell she had taken years to become accustomed to. She looked out into the dark expanse of their land, trying to find a bit of movement she wasn’t sure if she should be expecting.

There was a lantern still lit in the stables and Nesta could see a form of a shadow moving against the wall, but she paid the stable boy no mind. He often worked late hours, and it wasn’t uncommon for his lantern to be lit well after Nesta fell asleep.

She heard the rustling of leaves and twigs and turned to the south side of the manor, seeing him emerge from a small garden Elain had planted by the fountains.

Her stomach both dropped and tightened in anticipation. Anticipation of the pleasure she would soon be feeling, but also of the pain. There was almost certainly always a little bit of pain. But after she endured the pain, she got to bask in the numbness, relish in the glorious in between of sleep and consciousness.

Tomas Mandray had been claiming for almost two years that at the next ball he attended, he’d make the proclamation for her hand. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was frustrated by the fact that he’d been dragging his feet or relieved. But as he climbed the lattice beneath her window, crushing Elain’s gorgeous roses she’d painstakingly tended to, she had to wonder if his delay was a curse or if it were secretly a blessing.

Nesta wasn’t even sure if she wanted to be married, she had never met anyone who made her excited at the thought. The idea of spending the rest of your life with the same man, a man who thought you were nothing more than a pretty face or an arm ornament…

No, Nesta wasn’t sure about marriage, but it was expected of her. 

Although, everyone knew Elain would be the one to marry first. She was charming and beautiful, kind and welcoming...and had always wanted to be a wife.

Nesta loved her sisters, but they were all so different she had no idea how they had been born to the same set of parents. 

Tomas crept along the shadows of the garden until he reached the side of the house. He kept along it until he reached the spot he was able to climb. She watched as he climbed, watched to make sure no one was around to witness. The stable boy didn’t seem to notice, thankfully. 

He hopped down onto her balcony with a thud before examining Nesta in her nightdress. She didn’t back down from his hungry gaze. 

~~~~~~

Cassian was exhausted.

He had been working as a stable boy for a week, but it felt like much longer. He liked it, though. He liked being outside, working with the horses. They were beautiful creatures. He admired them. 

“Goodnight, Marigold,” he said, locking up the mare’s gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

The horse huffed in reply, making Cassian chuckle. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

He grabbed his lantern from where it hung and walked out of the stable for the night. The night was foggy, the air brisk. Cassian loved this weather. He loved it even more at night. 

As he was about to head back around to the servant’s entrance, Cassian halted. He could see directly into Lady Nesta’s bedchamber, and she wasn’t alone.

A man, probably around Cassian’s age, had his hands wandering up her thighs, and his mouth pressed roughly against hers. Cassian wasn’t familiar with living the noble life, but he was pretty sure she was doing it wrong. 

He didn’t realize he was staring until a set of gray-blue eyes met his own.

Cassian hurried away, hoping she didn’t catch him, but knowing full well that she did. 

~~~~~~

Feyre felt invincible with a handful of cards. Especially as she sat at a table full of men.

Women shouldn’t gamble. They claimed it was because it was “unladylike”, but Feyre knew it was because women were smarter than men. If women began to gamble, men would be out of the sport.

Which is why she always wore trousers and a loose tunic when she visited the gambling den, why she always wore a cap, with her hair tied back.

She mostly observed, not speaking, not playing her hand. Every once in a while, she’d make a play, only betting when she knew she’d win. Only upping the pot by a little at a time, so she could stay under the radar.

She’d just won a hand, taking the pot of over $600, and began scraping it into her pouch. She nodded to the rest of the men at her table and slunk back into the darkness, ready to disappear into the night. She slipped out the side door, as she always did, and paused, weighing the heft of her bag on her hip.

She had done well.

She suddenly wished she had someone to brag to.

As she took a step toward the street, the door swung open behind her and a tall brute came stumbling out.

His green eyes grazed over her, a wicked smile contorting his lips.

“You are no man,” he said in way of greeting, his voice deep and slurred and coated with rum.

Feyre turned her back to him, taking another step toward the street. She didn’t want to run, didn’t want to seem panicked, but there was one thing she knew - drunk men who followed ladies into allies were not to be trusted.

“Nor are you,” she said, her chin lifted high. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As soon as she began to move, his hand grasped hers, pulling her back.

Feyre was strong, intelligent. But, she was no match for a man twice her size and built with pure muscle.

He held her close to him, his head bent down, lips close to her neck. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

“Let me go,” she demanded, hoping her voice sounded as intimidating as she wanted it to.

“But I haven’t had my fun yet,” he whispered, pushing her up against the brick wall of the gambling den. She could hear the ruckus from inside, could hear the laughter of those winning and the regret of those who have lost.

Feyre tried to move, tried to lift her knee to his balls, but couldn’t move a muscle as his giant body pinned hers into stillness. 

“You’re quite lovely,” he slurred, lips soft on her neck. “Even in men’s clothing.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes closed. She prayed to whoever was listening that he’d drop dead before his hands could explore any further. 

“I promise this will all be worth your while,” he said, his tongue grazing her neck.

“Is this how you get all your women?”

Feyre’s eyes shot open as her attacker released his grip. Those green eyes were infuriated as they shot toward the end of the alley. 

The newcomer wore a fine suit. His dark hair was swept back, his lavender eyes bright in the shadows of the lanterns. 

“I have to admit, Tamlin,” he began, his hands shoved into his pockets as he meandered closer to the pair. “Your standards in women seemed to have lowered.”

He was close enough now that when Feyre spat, it landed directly on his expensive shoes.

He blinked, lifting his brows, humored. “He’s the one that tries to take a bite of you and I’m the one you spit on?”

“Get out, Rhysand,” her attacker, Tamlin, hissed. “This do-doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m sure your father will be pleased to find you’ve spent your night out drinking and whoring around,” Rhysand grinned, “again. Now, if you’ll move, I’ll be escorting this lovely woman, with an interesting fashion sense, home.”

As he reached his hand toward her, Feyre took a step back toward the door. “I can take care of myself. Thanks.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tamlin scowled, then looked to Rhysand. “You, however-”

Rhysand’s fist made contact with Tamlin’s jaw, instantly knocking him down, unconscious. 

“I hate that guy,” he muttered, bright eyes reconnecting with Feyre’s own. “Now, where were we?”

“I was going home,” Feyre said, brushing past him. 

“You know, it’s not safe for a woman out here, alone, at night,” Rhysand crooned, following her, hands back into his pockets. 

“Ah,” Feyre sighed, “you’ve cracked the code of why I’m dressed as a man.”

Rhysand snorted. “More like a boy.”

Feyre spun around as she reached the street. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Rhysand took a moment to think about it. “No… No, not really.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Feyre continued on, back toward the way of her home. 

“I believe a ‘thank you’ is in order,” Rhysand said, jogging until he was in front of her, walking backward so that he could watch her reaction.

“Thank you? For what?”

“For saving you from that prick,” he said, grinning. “Oh, sorry, your clothing made me forget I was talking to a woman. How dare I use such language?”

“You talk too much,” Feyre scowled. 

His grin widened. “Come on. Let me take you home. Live nearby?”

Feyre had to admit the thought was tempting. She was exhausted. “No.”

“All the more reason for me to take you home,” he said, suddenly coming to a halt next to a horse. He patted the brown mare’s side. “Come on.”

“You wear a suit that fine to ride a horse into town?” Feyre asked, lifting a brow.

“I’m not so self-entitled that I would ask my driver to stay awake for half the night to take me into town when I’m perfectly capable of riding my horse,” he said, hauling himself up onto the saddle. “Now, are you going to walk or join me?”

Feyre hesitated, which only seemed to please him. 

“That’s what I thought.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite.”

The walk back to the manor was long and all Feyre longed for was to quickly be back home in her bed before the servants woke up for their early morning chores.

She sighed, taking his hand. He helped her onto the horse, and when the mare slowly began to walk, he grinned as her arms went flying around his waist. 

“I don’t know where I’m taking you,” he said.

“Archeron Manor,” she replied.

“Whoaaa,” he said, bringing his horse to a halt. “You’re a Lady? One of Lord Isaac’s daughters?”

“Feyre,” was all she said.

He kicked the horse in her sides, moving once more. 

He cursed under his breath. “What the hell are you doing out here? Gambling? Are you insane?”

Feyre lifted a brow. “I can’t give you all my secrets, can I? We’ve only just met and I don’t trust you for a second.”

A soft laugh shook his sturdy frame. “Fair enough. Don’t worry. I’ll ask again on Friday.”

“Friday?”

“Isn’t your family hosting a ball on Friday? I was invited.” Feyre’s mind went blank at his words, as she tried to quickly run through the guest list she’d glanced at weeks ago, when the invitations were going out. All the names she’d recognized were insignificant men she’d known for years and the ones she didn’t were mostly older lords from surrounding lands.

This man, who exuded grace and danger in such a simple gesture as slipping his hand into his pocket, there was no way he was some lowly lord from her territory.

He confirmed exactly that as he glanced at her over his shoulder, lavender eyes locking with hers, and said, “I’m Lord of Velaris, but you, Feyre, darling, can call me Rhysand.”

_________________________________________________

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ @mariamuses​ @a-happybird​ @amusicalbookworm​ @manoncrochanblackbeak​ @alifletcher2012​ @candid-confetti​ @fandoms-everywhere-united​ @mis-lil-red​ @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces​ @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ @awesomelena555​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @tswaney17​ @jemma-nessian-and-elriel​ @rhysandsrightknee​ @gendryaforthemasses​ @dayanna-hatter​ @thebluemartini​ @welcometothespeaknowworldtour​ @julemmaes​ @christiashadows​ @sleeping-and-books​ @itsme-malin​ @agnez312 @cat5313​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed​ @islamonna​ @illyrianbeauty​ 

[lewdladylily]

You've mentioned this kink club you frequent a few times, what's the place like generally? Like what kinda stuff do they have going on in a place like that?

There are about 4 within reasonable driving distance of where I live (salt lake city, Utah) but I have only gone to two of them due to time and distance constraints. Though you do get kink nights at a couple local dance clubs, I know Area 51 (local dance club) does them here and there, and they are generally kink friendly any time. The local drag queens really like Area 51.

Anyway, the kink clubs are community run and non commercial. The two I am familiar with are actually built in a residential area - from the outside it just looks like someone’s house, you would never know unless you knew. Someone owns the place and it is technically their home, but I don’t know who. They don’t like to let people know who they are and we all respect their privacy. My understanding is not even the neighbors know. As a side note, the cops all know where these clubs are, it isn’t a problem.

My personal favorite was founded around 60 years ago by the gay leather community but it’s always been open to the larger kink community, we all want somewhere to meet and do our thing so we support each other. Also there is a lot of cross over between different groups.

The one I go to most often has a large living room area that has been converted into a dance floor, which acts as the main play area, area for meetings and classes, and occasionally as an actual dance floor when events call for it. There is a sound system, dance club style lighting, padded benches along the walls, and lots of bondage furniture (also scattered around the rest of the clubhouse). There are several other rooms, 3 additional smaller play rooms, a rest area, a kitchen area (Free water bottles all the time, snacks most nights, as well as a soda machine).

Outside of the main clubhouse they built a small bar, maybe 15 feet by 30. You can smoke there, some nights they serve drinks, tables, stools, etc. You get it. It is a good hangout place, cozy and comfortable feel. I’ve spent a lot of hours there just chatting with people.

They have a consensual non consent area set up in the back half of the bar. The idea is that there is a hazard line on the floor that indicates a “danger” area, as well as a stop light they got somewhere. If it is green, all normal rules apply. If it is red then past the line cnc rules are in place - if you are past the line then it is an invitation for someone to come and do what they want with you without asking permission first (unless you safe word, safe words are always in effect). Generally people are not confident enough to do anything though, unless they already know you. I’ve never had the nerve to try it myself on either side. There is this one lady that is a really good belly dancer that likes to go hang out and dance in the CNC area. I’ve never been around for anyone doing more than groping her, but I understand sometimes people will tie her up, maybe use a vibrator on her.

There are also two chairs with built in restraints set up in the CNC area if that is your thing. 

There is also a pretty good size patio area. Generally we just sit and chat on warm evenings out there. It is technically open for scenes, and that does happen sometimes. I once saw a girl and her dominant doing a water torture scene, basically she was tied up arms behind her back, on her knees in front of a plastic tub filled with water. Her dominant shoved her head under the water, holding her in place while she tried to resist and break free. Pulled up and allowed to breathe before she was unexpectedly pushed back under. Very hot to watch.

For the more general things we get up to there, generally things are set up as events that you can attend. The entry fee was $15 last time I checked, just to cover minimal expenses. You can also donate to improve the clubhouse. It gets a good amount of donations, everyone wants a good place to hang out, but no one is getting any real amount of money out of it. All the donations go into things like buying furniture or cleaning supplies. All events are invitation only, basically any member of the clubhouse can sponsor someone for their first event, after that they have a standing invitation to any open event.

The events themselves vary greatly. The most popular events are the general play parties, where people just show up, hang out, meet people, and sometimes do some play. It is not uncommon at all for people to come without any intention of sexual play at all, it is a very comfortable, queer friendly environment. We’re all weirdos here, no one is going to judge you for whatever you do.

Generally speaking at any given time someone will be doing something though. All scenes and play being done in the clubhouse is open for anyone to watch. So if some hot girl is being tied up, or two attractive people are having sex, or if there is just a really sexy woman half naked across the room, you are free to watch the show and it is not considered impolite to stare.

At any given party you are going to see a wide variety of people. Lots of people in street clothes hanging out, chatting, and watching whatever is going on. You’ll see several people in anything they find sexy such as lingerie, corsets, formal wear, or even just straight up naked. I have seen two submissive friends come handcuffed together and only in panties. One of my friends likes to wear maid outfits with cat ears and a tail. All that good stuff. You’ll see people on leashes or other obvious signs of dominant/submissive dynamics too.

The events are 18+, and I’ve seen people in their 70s there. Most people are 25+. You’ll also find a wide variety of body types, including fat or otherwise not traditionally attractive people, trans people, you name it. That isn’t a real barrier to joining in on the fun or finding partners.

For an example of a more exclusive event, there is a gender queer play group that used to meet regularly, I am not sure if they still do. Open for trans people and cross dressers plus established allies. Strictly invitation only because this can be an extremely frightening thing for people.

I was a regular of the gender queer group, it was an easy place for me to start as a trans women. I felt more comfortable there than at a general play party until I got my bearings in the community, and I was friends with all the cross dressers by that point. Generally the idea was we would get together to hang out and chat, give all the cross dressers a night to dress up, some of the more experienced CDs would put on a workshop for how to do makeup. That sort of thing. These were more casual parties without much heavy play. You wont find people fucking in the basement, but you might see a light spanking scene.

They also do a weekly class on some kink subject. Someone in the community puts together a presentation on something they like in kink - for example, pony play, or dollification, or leather working - and you can come learn about it. I went to a leather class once where the presenter showed off these black leather angel wings she made, they were stunning.

These classes are strictly no play, with the exception of any demonstrations the presenter does, and the donation drive, in which a female volunteer brings around a donation box (it is actually a wooden duck, a lighthearted tradition that I don’t know the origin of) while stripped down to her panties in order to “encourage” donations. It’s a tongue in cheek tradition, we are all perverts so we might as well have some perverted fun and let an exhibitionist whore herself around a bit. No one is expected to donate, but it is encouraged.

The thing that might not get across easily is that this is a very comfortable atmosphere and basically one of the safest places you could go. Everything is built around safety and consent, and everyone is looking out for everyone else. I’ve done intense bdsm scenes before that left me so fucked up that I couldn’t even walk on my own. People helped me to the couch so I could rest, got me a blanket, and then got me a sealed water bottle so I could rehydrate and checked in on me regularly until I was able to properly take care of myself. I felt completely safe the entire time. I’ve watched over people like this myself before. It is just what you do.

If I had to pick a personal favorite thing, it would have to be the cages.

The clubhouse has a large standup cage, usually one occupant, but you can fairly comfortably fit two. Often someone gets locked in there and basically put on display. One time a cute girl was locked in the standing cage, her arms bound to the top of the cage, with it sitting in the middle of the room. People were encouraged to reach in and grope and touch her as they passed. I’ve locked people in there before, including heavy bondage to the bars of the cage while I groped and teased them with a vibrator. That was a ton of fun.

There is also a horizontal, long cage big enough for one person, or if you are willing to get very close and personal two people. It is comfortable enough for long periods of time. You often see a submissive or two locked in that cage, sometimes left there while their dominant goes off and plays with someone else. I met one of my good friends while she was locked in that cage. It has a padded top so it doubles as a bench for an added level of humiliation.

[chinchuqui]

A Tale of a Diamond: Beautia

Month 1: Turqui 19th, 251

(November 18th, 731 CE)

The morning struck Sunar in such a manner, for it was Winter. The snow painted the ground just like the artists painted the heiress, Princess Beautia Diamond.

A princess who should’ve been up already. She was still lying in bed, taking in all of the heat that her sheets brought her. She was the prettiest maiden, or woman, in all the land. (Some still have yet to know she is no longer a maiden)

Her eye-captivating blue hair and eyes, both inherited from her parents. Her figure that of a Goddess as some would say. Some would also call her a servant of evil considering her attitude towards her beauty.

It was about 9:00 AM, and the child was feeling miserable. She would be turning 18 soon enough, come next Varoth (January), and she was not looking forward to it.

Why? Well, it’s simple. It’s due to the fact she would most likely be forced to find a suitable husband, and she would most likely be crowned Queen in the next three years.

Why could she not be 14 forever? That was a great year. For it was the first year she got into the idea of “indulging in the bowl of delectable fruits.” Yes, she was 14, and way too young in everyone’s eyes. But did she care? No.

Why should she? It seemed as though everyone was against her anyway. She was always irritated, and she had no idea why. So the Princess decided to try and block out that irritation by participating in intimate activities.

But nothing seemed to work, she was always irritated. Beautia used this irritation to boost her already massive ego, and put down her sister who she saw as “ugly.”

The castle was already bustling with servants and nobles. Princess Pretia Diamond and Prince Hando Diamond were already up and doing their duties as royals.

Princess Lalaola Diamond was reading her books with her tutor, and old man. He had taught Beautia way back when, and now he was old and gray. Beautia had taken an interest in him when she was around the age of 10, but lost it as soon as she met a noble boy.

The two young Princes, Prince Corrow, and Prince Bendressed Diamond, were in the nursery, playing the day away. Beautia sometimes found herself envying the boys, wishing for her simpler days to return as well.

But it was 9 AM, and the Princess had yet to rise from her chambers. So a maid was sent by her mother, the Queen, to go and wake her. The maid looked at the wooden door, afraid to find out how the dearest Princess would react.

She gathered up her courage and lightly knocked on the door.

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Nothing.

She tried again.

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Nothing once again.

The woman sighed in defeat and opened the door. The lights were out, curtains over the windows, and darkness overcame the room. Grabbing a torch, she marched into the darkness.

The child slept in her bed, which her ancestors have used before her. This bedframe has lasted a while. Though, it was getting quite old, very old. Could break at any moment.

The maid looked over and saw her, the Crown Princess. Her hair covered her face, skin glowing with the light of the torch, and a blanket covering her most likely nude body.

The woman placed her hand lightly on the child’s back, whispering, “Princess Beautia, your Highness.”

Beautia groaned and rolled away from her humble servant. She knew exactly what she was here for, and she didn’t want to open her eyes.

The maid sat there for a good while, not knowing exactly what to do. She let the sounds of chattering people fill her ears as she thought.

Her Highness seems to be a bit more tired than usual. Did something happen? Is she alright?

Beautia groaned as the maid walked over to face her. The torch seemed to have been hurting the girl’s eyes since she squeezed them shut. The maid looked at the girl, trying to see if there were any love marks on her neck.

This maid had known Beautia for basically all of her adolescence. The maid had blonde hair that resembled the sun, fair skin, emerald green eyes, and a pointed nose.

The maid shook the Princess again. Beautia mumbled and her eyes fluttered open. She looked at the woman who had been serving her for the past seven years. She had to be at least 37 by now.

As soon as the blew orbs spotted the woman, all the Princess could think was, Fantastic, the witch is here again. Beautia judged people based on their appearance. So she thought all were below her.

The maid continued, “Your Highness, it is now 9:15 AM, her Majesty requests your presence.”

Beautia groggily responded, “Yes, yes, send in my servants to dress such a lady as myself. Go on now.”

The maid bowed, “As you wish your highness. May Sunar prosper in your hands.” She then proceeded to walk out.

Beautia sighed as she looked at the ceiling. The events that occurred the previous night seemed to have tired her out. She brushed her hand through her soft, silky, cornflower shaded hair.

She slowly sat up and looked at her surroundings. The blanket fell off to reveal she did indeed have sleepwear on, something uncommon for Her Highness.

As she took her first step, a sharp pain emitted from her lower regions. Beautia stumbled back into her bed, the pain continuing. What was this? This definitely wasn’t normal for a Sunarian.

The sheets surrounded the Princess, those soft sheets. They almost knocked her out, but another wave of sharp pains washed over her. Beautia groaned as she gripped her stomach, rolling over.

The maids soon arrived, causing Beautia to force herself to act as if everything was alright.

Perhaps this was from last night. Lord Tino was a bit rougher than most of the men. Yes, that is it. Nothing I myself haven’t endured.

She decided that is what it would be and continued on with her day, wearing her usual scandalous attire. She proceeded to walk to her office, the office in which she stared at a portrait of Sunria.

Violaina did all of her work, only because she didn’t want to upset her daughter and cause her to hate her. So there she was, the future Queen just starring at the same Portrait.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Beautia’s attention was soon directed towards the door. She instructed, “You may enter.”

The door opened and Pretia walked in. She was wearing a simple outfit, very simple. The base color was light blue, with white as a side color. The dress was a long-sleeved turtle neck, white ruffles at the neck, sleeves, and bottom. Her brown hair was tied up into braids, and her eyes shone, as usual.

Beautia sharply asked, “May I help you?”

Pretia rolled her eyes as she bowed. “Greetings dearest sister of mine. I have brought you papers for the New Years’ Ball.”

Beautia looked at her little sister, confused. “The New Years’ Ball,” she questioned. The Princess nodded her head in affirmation. Beautia stood up and continued, “Why are these papers here?”

“Her Majesty, Queen Violaina Diamond, our mother, has asked that you organize the festival. The people don’t trust you enough to govern this country,” the girl responded.

Beautia groaned as she sat back down in her chair. And here she thought that this would be a dress choosing. She wanted to help her sister who seemed to lack a sense of style.

She didn’t want to do this, she wanted to meet new boys from other countries, taste their fruits. But no, she is stuck in royal business.  Why her of all the poor women?

Beautia was about to march on down to meet her mother, but she looked to her sister. She was 15 now and was more than capable of planning parties. Beautia smirked.

“Sister,” she started. Pretia’s eyes widened a bit. Beautia had rarely ever addressed her as “sister,” so this was a first.

She stammered, “Y-Yes Beautia?”

Beautia pleaded, “Oh Pretia, my dearest sister! I am too busy doing work and am ever so tired! Can you please plan the party for me?”

Pretia was caught off guard by her sister. Her voice was sweet as honey and could convince anyone. Figures as to why she gets so many men, but that makes it difficult to find herself a man that hasn’t indulged in pleasures with her elder sister.

Pretia grumbled, “You want me to plan it in your name?” Beautia nodded. The brunette shook her head, “No, not this time Beautia. You always have manipulated me into doing your dirty work. I have had about enough!”

Beautia’s smile turned into a frown. She rubbed her head which seemed to be aching. “You may not have any beauty, but you seem to have brains,” she griped.

Pretia snapped, “Why are you so cruel Beautia? Just because I don’t look like you? I am well aware of the fact, it haunts me every night! And you have the audacity to sit here and call me ugly?”

“What? I only speak the truth,” Beautia said in a monotone voice.

Just as Pretia was about to go off on her sister, Beautia felt the sharp pains again. This one was worse. Beautia flinched, noticeably. It caught Pretia’s attention, which directed towards the girl.

The green orbs stared at her elder sister, cautious to see what was going on. Beautia tried to brush it off, but another pain arrived and the girl stumbled onto the hard, cold, stone floor.

“Sister,” Pretia fretted. She tossed the papers aside as rushed to meet her sister’s gaze. She asked, “Sister! What is wrong?”

Beautia blinked for a few seconds before turning to her younger sister. She had never seen Pretia worry so much for her. She never had any reason, Beautia had always been so cruel.

Just as Beautia could feel her heart warm, her head began to ache and the resentment came back. The heiress glared at her younger sister and slapped her hand away.

She spat, “It’s nothing, I’m fine. See to it that the party is organized.”

Pretia felt her heart ache as she bowed and left. Her sister had no need to be cold, but she always was. Why did she even try to help the hopeless case? But as the Princess roamed the halls of her home, she felt a slight discomfort in her chest.

It felt refreshing, but at the same time painful. This feeling felt so familiar but exotic at the same time. Like it had abandoned her long ago, but just now was returning.

As she entered her office, she couldn’t help but smile. What was this feeling? Why isn’t she mad at Beautia? Nonetheless, all the girl thought was forgiveness.

I shall forgive you Beautia.

Month 1:

Turqui 24th, 251

(November 23rd, 731 CE)

It was a very busy day for the royal family, only a little more than a month until the new year. Everyone was bustling. All except for Beautia. The child sat in her chambers, feeling very ill. Maybe it was a simple cold?

Beautia looked out the window and down at her village. The snow lighting everything up, the sun shining the fields brightly, and little dots scurrying around. So pitiful.

The world could end right here and now, and they’re all happy? All happy. Happy families, happy sisters, happy brothers, and happy parents. Beautia envied them all. For they had something even a girl who seemed to have it all lacked, the feeling of love.

Beautia couldn’t decipher when she stopped feeling joy and love. Maybe around the time her Aunt was beheaded. So long ago. It was so long ago. She was 13 at the time. She remembered their faces of pain and fear. But she felt nothing.

She felt like something was forcing her to make the love submit to her. Something like magic. Nonetheless, she continued to feel like nothing. The only time she felt an ounce of love or joy was in the bedroom, with the men.

But even then it felt so fake. They only were after her body, not for who she was. But who was she? She was rude and narcissistic, but she felt like she was kind inside.

Beautia chuckled. How silly. She was the most beautiful girl in all of the land, and deserved all. How hard was that? Nothing worth questioning.

Soon a maid arrived. “Princess, her majesty has asked for your audience,” she announced. The child grumbled as she stood up. The pains continued, but she could bear them now.

The girl followed the servant to the office in which the Queen stood. Violaina Diamond was a curious case. She is known for beheading her siblings but is a well-loved Queen. Much like her mother. She is recognized for her fire-red hair and sky blue eyes.

There beside her stood the nobles, those rats as Beautia referred to them. She huffed as she took her seat next to her mother. She blankly stared as they discussed plans for 252.

Fatigue began to sweep over the Princess’s eyelids. Why was she so tired all of the sudden? She tried to not think of that and focus on the old voices that echoed throughout the room.

“Beautia?”

The blue-haired girl was snapped out of her daze and looked at her mother. Her eyes were filled with concern, as was her voice. The nobles looked at the two royals in confusion.

Beautia and Violaina looked nothing alike. The only thing they shared was their skin tone and the color of their eyes. But their attitude was similar. They both looked like they were planning something. But one can always question, “What is it exactly that they are planning?”

“What,” the girl asked, looking at them all. She just wanted to plop down in her warm bed.

“Are you alright,” the Queen asked.

Thinking for only a moment, Beautia slowly nodded. Her head began to ache immensely with each shake of her head. She almost passed out. But she did blackout for a good second.

The colors appeared before the imperial Princess. She spotted many in front of her, asking if she was alright. Looking around, she realized she wasn’t in her chair, but on the floor.

Violaina pushed through and brought herself on her daughter’s level. Her mouth was moving, but Beautia heard nothing. Nothing was coming out. Only ringing, sweet ringing.

The air was cold. Was she dead? Did the fates finally show the girl mercy and end her suffering? Was this it? It was very much painless. So painless. Why didn’t she try dying sooner? It would’ve been a weight lifted off her shoulders.

Violaina screamed, or it seemed like it. Soon enough, Beautia’s eyes shut.

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“~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~”

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“~~~~~~~~~~~~”

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“H~~~~~”

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“~~~~~~n”

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“Your Highness!”

Beautia’s eyes shot open. Her head felt like someone whacked her with a book full of a thousand words. Her lower regions ached even more. And she had about a dozen people around her bed.

Groggily, she asked, “Wh-what has happened?”

The maids cried out in joy as they paraded around the girl. Why were they so happy? Did they not hate the Princess with a passion? The doors burst open, and there stood a tear-filled eye Violaina.

“Beautia my dear,” she cried. Beautia froze as she felt her mother’s arms wrap around her. It felt comforting and soothing. She hadn’t felt this warmth since her father was banished.

But that feeling, the feeling of putting up a front formed. Beautia scoffed, “Let me go your Majesty.” Violaina’s eyes widened as she looked at her daughter. Why was she so cold?

Beautia looked around the chambers she had grown so familiar with. The gray stone walls, each delicately placed. The shadows painting them in such a perfect tone. So beautiful.

Still looking around, she asked, “What happened?”

Violaina sighed seeing her daughter show no interest. “You passes out in the meeting room dear. You were too tired. You’ve been out for an hour now,” explained the Queen.

Beautia looked at all the maids, she then smirked, “Ah! Of course. The most beautiful woman would only earn such great treatment from those who are below her.”

The maids were hurt. Many sighed and left in defeat. Violaina glared at her daughter but said nothing. No words came out of her mouth. She didn’t want a strained relationship that she and Salvia had.

Beautia sighed and looked out the window again. It was difficult to see from her position, but it seemed to have snowed once again. Made sense. The New Year shall soon come to an end.

Month 3:

Modia 12th, 251

(December 31st, 731 CE)

The castle was bustling with the arrival of nobles from Sunar and other nations. Many royals would also be arriving. Beautia happily skipped through the hallways of the castle.

She had been going through quite a couple of mood swings. And it irritated her younger sister, the Princess Pretia Diamond. Lalaola thought of it as funny.

The maids were trying to hunt her down, she needed to get dressed. Tomorrow was the mark of a New Year! The maids finally caught their bubbly Princess.

But something strange was definitely going on with the girl. She had been vomiting all morning, and feeling madly ill. But she still wanted to run around like a child. Many of the maids already figured out what was the cause of this strange behavior.

Violaina had heard of this behavior and wanted to see if it was true. Maybe her daughter was just deathly ill? But that in itself was worse. The physician soon arrived.

Beautia wore a dark green sleeveless dress. It was skin-tight, and the skirt was poofy. Her hair was curled and her face painted with lipstick and blush. She flat out looked like a prostitute.

Beautia looked at the old man, she scoffed at his disgusting appearance. He bowed, “Your Highness, I am here to examine you.”

“What for,” Beautia asked in a concerned tone. She thought she was just fine. She had to be. Pretia’s head popped out of the corner, she wanted to see what was wrong with her sister.

She was a bit shocked to see Beautia in such a good mood. She was so agitated yesterday. Pretia looked behind her to see her mother. Violaina had a suspicion but decided to have the old man confirm it.

Pretia felt worried. She didn’t know why, but something had changed within her heart. Like a horrible spell had been broken after years of its horror.

After a good thirty minutes, the old man approached the Queen and her second daughter. He bowed down to the two. Pretia knew the worse had to have happened, for his face was that of a stone.

He began, “Y-your Majesty, it seems that Her Highness is with child.” He proceeded to look down. Pretia’s eyes widened. She was going to be an aunt! But so soon?

When a smiling Pretia looked to her mother, the smile shrieked away. Her mother was angry. Her teeth were gritted and her eye glowed with that alarming glow. She barged into the room, Pretia close behind.

She only found a Beautia relaxing on the bed, smiling. Did she not care that she was with child? Beautia spotted her mother and sister and sighed, “Oh Mother! Did you hear the news? I don’t have to work for the next few months!”

The Queen almost gagged with her daughter’s sudden attitude. She questioned, “Beautia, who is the father?”

Beautia shrugged, “Beats me, it’s been what? Four months? So many men Mother, so many. We shall see shall we not?” Violaina’s rage only grew as her daughter stated, “No matter, more sleep for me!”

Violaina screamed as she threw a chair at the wall, everyone in the room fell silent. Beautia went wide-eyed as her mother stormed over to her. The Crown Princess hid under her covers as a last-minute escape only to have them ripped away from her. The girl shrieked as she was grabbed by the hair to face the Queen.

“I should’ve known this would happen! How did I raise such a wench,” she sneered. She slapped Beautia, leaving a small mark. Beautia met her mother’s eyes, and they were not filled with kindness.

The red-head looked to her servants and announced, “I now abdicate my crown to my eldest daughter, Her Highness the Crown Princess Beautia Diamond, heiress to the throne of the kingdom Sunar!”

Pretia and everyone else gasped. Beautia’s face went pale as she looked around. She tried to think. She smirked as a thought arose, “Ha! Good luck with that! Coronations take weeks of planning. I shall not be Queen until I have a crown set on my head!”

Violaina glared at the woman who she called daughter. “I figured a wench such as yourself would say something so dull. Which is why you are being coronated tonight.”

Beautia stayed silent in her shock. Being coronated, tonight? Something like this has never been heard in the kingdom!

The Queen continued, “I figured you were pregnant, so I planned a coronation ceremony for this ball! It only takes a few days when you are attentive to such matters.”

Beautia felt her whole world being torn apart bit by bit. She wasn’t ready! She was only but a child! How could she be a Queen?

As Violaina approached the door, she faced her daughter for a final time. “Consider this a final punishment. You are bearing the weight of the crown. I shall never accept your child as my own flesh and blood, for they are a bastard. I shall leave to Flutia’s mansion after tonight.”

The door shut, leaving the air cold. The servants all looked at each other, confusion in their whispers. Beautia felt her face heat up, eyes sting, and stomach ache. She screamed as she tore her bedroom apart.

Pretia began to shake a bit. Beautia, a queen? Was this the downfall for Sunar? And what of the child? If it is a boy, then the line of succession will pass to her. But if it is a girl, her name would be shamed and she would be called a bastard throughout the kingdom.

Pretia’s eyes widened as she saw her sister’s eyes glow. The glow in the family only happens when one has strong magical energy and strong emotion, but it only occurs to the true Queen and heiress. So this was the first time Pretia had witnessed the glow.

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The crowd fell silent as the trumpets played. The ball had been splendid, and all were annoying themselves. The night shone brightly. The stars glowed as the snow fell. What a great way to welcome 252! Or so it seemed.

The Lords and Ladies gasped to find their Queen, or Queen  Mother, walk down and place her crown on the throne. They were even more surprised to find Beauia walking down in an extravagant gown.

She looked angry, very angry. The MHC stood there, not knowing what to say. They thought this was truly the end of their kingdom. Pretia and Hando watched from afar, judging their mother and her harsh actions.

As Violaina spoke, Hando chided, “How could she give the crown to her? She is an inept snake who shall be the end of us all.” Pretia eyed her brother, telling him to hush. But he didn’t hush, he only continued, “And that child. If it is a girl, she shall be the next Queen! The first bastard on the throne. Our names and generation shall be shamed.”

“No matter, she is now our Queen. And if the child is our next Queen, I shall bow down, as should you,” muttered the brunette maiden.

Hando scowled, “Do you not understand? We will be shamed for being the siblings of the wench!”

Pretia snapped her head to her brother. “Hando! Watch your tongue! You are only a boy, and you should not shame the crown!” Hando glared at his elder sister.

He was only 12 but was very smart. Much like the second Princess. He hesitated, “Mother is leaving to Aunt Flutia’s residence for a while. She ordered for our belongings to be sent to the palace in the countryside. I assume we shall be living there from now on.”

Pretia stared at the two royals, stone-faced. “I heard that you rejected mother’s offer and told her that you are staying here,” he cautioned. Pretia looked at her brother.  He was her height, and he was still growing. “You know what Mother can do when she is rejected,” he warned.

“She cannot harm me if Beautia requests me to stay,” the girl bluntly stated.

Hando chuckled, “You are foolish. You think now Beautia will be kind?”

“She is a naïve girl, only goes after what will make her happy. She will gladly accept me when I accept her child as my flesh and blood,” she explained.

The redhead’s eyes went wide as he whispered, “You what?”

She looked at him. “You heard me, I am accepting the child as my flesh and blood.”

“Why? It is a bastard! I don’t want to be related to that. It is a shame upon me and my future children,” he scowled.

“You may be laughing at me now, but that child is a girl. I can tell. We’ll see who has the last laugh when I am in the future Queen’s favor.”

“Tch, you are crazy.”

“I present Queen Beautia Diamond,” announced Violaina. All clapped and bowed to the new Queen. The clock struck midnight. Beautia was crowned in the last minute of 251.

All the girl could hear was ringing and whispering. The people would never accept her as Queen. Her and her bastard child.

Month 5:

Nathiov 12th, 252

(January 12th, 732 CE)

The castle was silent, as usual. Maids began to whisper about the arrival of the new baby. The new Queen was still pregnant with her child, and the nursery was being prepared for it.

Beautia looked pregnant now. Her belly stuck out like a sore thumb. Many were excited that there would be another young one. Ever since the other royals’ departure, the castle has been so silent.

Pretia offered to stay behind and Beautia allowed it. Violaina could not object since the Queen had approved of it. Pretia had been in charge of a lot of things. So much now that she worked for a Queen.

Doing things for the Crown Princess wasn’t too difficult. It wasn’t this much work. But now it felt as if she was a Queen. She looked at the crumpled papers that the nobles gave her.

A tax needed to be implemented because there weren’t as many guards as Sunar once had. So the Kingdom needed more. And that required money, which required a tax to be placed.

Looking at the door, the Princess nervously knocked. She waited for Beautia’s response. A few moments later, a soft reply, “Enter.”

Pretia opened the door to see a very dark room. Only one candle sat on the wooden desk. And it was very cold as well. Beautia stared at the floor. She was still in her sleepwear, with only a small light green jacket to warm herself. Her baby bump showed through the dress.

Her face emotionless, just blank. Her eyes shone strangely, and the black bags were very evident. She hadn’t been getting the proper amount of rest needed.

Pretia sighed as she as in the chair across from her sister. She began, “Your Majesty, I-”

“Beautia,” the Queen cut her off.

“Pardon?”

“You shall address me as Beautia. We are sisters are we not?”

Pretia nodded, “Yes, Your Majesty-er Beautia. We are. I just never expected you to ask me to address you in such a kind manner.”

The Queen stayed silent as the young maiden pulled out sheets of paper. Pretia began to read them off and explain the situation. Beautia looked at the green eyes and then at what they were reading. The blue-haired woman chuckled.

Pretia looked up to see her sister staring at the side. “Is there something wrong,” asked the girl.

Beautia’s eyes soon met her sisters. “The nobles just want money,” she bluntly stated.

Pretia’s eyes widened a bit.

The Queen continued, “They are using you as a method to get me to sign things off. They believe that I am unable to rule.” Her voice was so empty. It was filled with grief and anger all at once.

“We will not implement taxes. I’ve seen the way they treat young squires. Improve the conditions of the guardsmen. Use some of our money, 15,000 should be good. We will ensure the safety of those boys and girls. Taxes would only cause a riot.”

Pretia was in shock. For someone who acts so crudely, she sure was smart. Pretia bowed, “Yes Beautia, I will see that it is done.”

Just as the brunette placed her hand on the metal handle, Beautia spoke up, “Should I just die?”

Pretia looked back to see her sister glaring at her. “Wh-what?”

“Don’t what me,” spat the woman. “Everyone wants me gone already. Do you think I don’t hear the whispers? My child is already called a bastard and they have done nothing wrong!” Her voice was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“B-Beautia, they are just rumors,” shivered the girl.

SLAM

“Rumors!? Rumors haunt and damage,” Beautia shouted. The desk slam had scared Pretia into dropping the papers. She stood there, paralyzed. She looked like Violaina when Harpaina was still alive.

Beautia’s eyes widened a bit as she slumped back down into her chair. “They are planning on killing me you know,” she whispered.

“W-What,” asked Pretia.

“The nobles. Once my baby is born, they will kill me. If the child is a boy, then he will be slain too. Boys aren’t preferred on the throne. If she is a girl, they will most likely raise her to hate me. Lie about me.”

Pretia felt rage build up inside her chest. Kill the Queen? Even thinking about that was treason! Why does she not care that she is going to die!?

Beautia began to laugh, “Ha! I should just die now so that Sunar doesn’t have to deal with me! And the child won’t grow in despair!”

Beautia heard a shift in the room and she was soon lifted up from her chair. Pretia had brought her to stand up, her hands tightly gripping her shoulders.

Just as Beautia’s mouth opened, Pretia cried, “Don’t you ever speak like that again!” Beautia’s eyes widened a bit to see her sister so upset. She didn’t even insult her, so why was she crying?

“You mustn’t let the nobles get to you! Please,” her voice began to slightly break. Beautia was soon pulled into a tight hug. It hurt a bit with the baby bump.

Pretia began to shake as warm tears fell from her eyes. Some of it landed on the jacked the Queen wore. Beautia hesitated before lightly placing her left hand on Pretia’s head.

The Queen sighed as Pretia pulled away. “I’m s-s-sorry,” stammered the royal. Pretia smiled. It had been a while since her sister had apologized.

Pretia whipped her tears away as she beamed, “I will inform the guards about your decision! And I shall hire some to keep an eye on the nobles and you!”

The door shut leaving Beautia alone with her thought once again. She smiled as anger built up in her mind again. This anger felt so much like magic like it was forcing her to be angry.

For someone so ugly, she sure does have a beautiful smile.

Month 7:

Agioni 5th, 252

(April 19th, 732 CE)

The party boomed with people as many chattered away. This was a last-minute party since the baby would be due in about two months. The due date being Kioligo 20th.

Beautia stared at all the nobles who were most likely making fun of the baby. She sat on her throne, not bothering to enter the party. She did try to have fun and flirt with a man.

“Sorry my Queen, you are a bit too big,” he stated.

Beautia wanted to hate the baby, she wanted to hate it so much. It took everything from her. Her family, freedom, and happiness. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate it, only resent it.

This child would come into the world not knowing all of the pains, free from the evils. Beautia wished she could be an infant again, start over. Maybe she would be able to mend the relationship between her mother and aunt.

It seems like that’s when everything went downhill. Harpaiana’s death caused the downfall of Beautia. The singing, conversing, and music soon got all too loud for Her Majesty to handle.

She looked around and decided to take her leave. Many bowed and mocked her as she walked by. Beautia scoffed as she walked the empty halls. The physician two days ago predicted the baby was a girl. Beautia was just showing all of the signs such as glowing cheekmarks.

Servants passed and bowed her. Oddly enough, the plebs and commoners seemed to have respect for Beautia. She figured it was due to the fact she didn’t place a tax on them. The number of new squires has doubled since that day.

The castle echoed with the footsteps of servants. Beautia felt her anger build up again. She wanted to cry, but a Queen cannot cry. The crown weighs, and this was her punishment.

Beautia entered the nursery in which her baby would lay. It was a nice spot. It had a beautiful view of a river and village. The child would be able to see their people from there.

The cradle was made of some sort of blackwood. She had read that in another dimension it is known as “African Blackwood.” It had diamonds encrusted in it to represent the child’s position. The cushion was magenta with a nice, silk, pink blanket. The blanket had golden designs.

Next to the cradle was a toy castle. And inside lay Beautia as a doll. The Queen picked it up to feel it’s material. The doll was smiling. It made the child seem even more pitiful than it already was.

Beautia looked out the window and down at her people. She felt her stomach ache a bit as the baby began to kick. The blue-eyed woman smiled as the baby continued to kick.

Perhaps this won’t be so bad.

Month 9:

Kioligo 18th, 252

(May 27th, 732 CE)

“Gahh,” cried the Queen as she gripped the bedsheets. Maids scurried around the castle and room, hurrying for the baby was coming!

About a day before Beautia’s water broke and she began to get contractions. The maids had informed her that the baby would most likely not arrive for another day, so she should just relax.

Beautia continued to scream out in agony throughout the day. She couldn’t relax and got only three hours of rest. This morning her contractions began to get less spread out. And the physician was called in.

The news spread throughout the castle, their Queen’s baby would arrive within the next hour! Pretia rushed to be by her sister’s side as soon as she heard the news.

The nobles began to prepare orders for their gifts to the new addition to the royal family. And the people planned festivals for every neighborhood.

The doors burst open and Pretia entered the room. She flinched as Beautia began to scream even louder. Pretia looked at her sister and was a bit upset.

Beautia’s hair had been tied up in a bun to prevent it from getting in her hair. Her face was very sweaty and her eyes were full of tears. She looked very tired and like she wanted to give up.

Pretia walked to her side, avoiding maids who held water and towels. Beautia’s screams soon morphed into choked out sobs as she continued to push.

Pretia gripped her sister’s hand. Beautia slowly more and more got tired, she looked as if she was going to faint. Her face went pale as her sobs began to quiet down.

Pretia soon began to feel herself cry. Nothing else mattered at that moment. If Beautia fainted she had a chance to die, and so did the baby! Pretia begged, “Beautia! Please stay awake! Please! If not for yourself, for your child that is still in your womb! Please!”

Beautia’s eye slowly opened again as she began to scream again. She was overworking herself too much. Pretia began to pray and sob. Was this the end for her sister?

.

.

.

.

.

“Ehhwahhh!”

Pretia’s eyes shot open with the cry of an infant. She looked up to see the maids cry with joy. She barely saw a little head, but the cries of the child showed it’s health.

Beautia gasped as she set her head down. Her body exhausted from two days in labor. Pretia began to nervously laugh as she looked at her sister. Beautia’s eyes closed as she smiled in relief. It was over. That was a nightmare.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Pretia stood outside the door speaking to Duchess Quofer. She was one of the few that had supported Beautia and her bastard. Beautia sat on her bed in the stone room.

She heard her child make little noises. Many awaited the gender reveal. Finally, a maid walked over with the little child in her arms. She handed the Queen the baby as she softly whispered, “The baby is a girl Your Majesty. You have given birth to a healthy baby girl.”

Beautia felt very nervous as she slowly looked down. The first thing that caught her eye was the girl’s cheekmarks. They were clocks with wings at the sides.

The woman looked at the girl and saw big blue orbs starring at her. The girl looked at peace. Her hair was cotton-candy pink, and Beautia recognized who her father was. A man named Coòo. He was the short one from that night all those months ago.

The baby girl blinked a couple of times before smiling. Beautia’s eyes widened as tears fell down from her cheeks. The girl’s eyes fluttered closed as she began to sleep.

She is so beautiful, even more than me.

Beautia’s head experienced a shock as all the memories came back to her. All this time, she was under her mother’s spell. The spell that excused the execution of Harpaina.

Had she been under it all these years? If so, was the pregnancy taking her out of it? Is that why she despised the thought of being with men and was so agitated all of the time? All these thoughts raced through the Queen’s mind.

Pretia soon entered and walked over to meet the new baby. “So,” she began, “What gender is it?”

Beautia mumbled, “It is a girl.”

Pretia chirped, “That is wonderful! Sunar’s future right here in this room!”

Beautia bit her lip as more tears began to fall down her cheeks. Pretia noticed and her expression went soft.

“What is it? Are you not happy,” she asked.

Beautia shook her head, “No, that’s not it. I am filled with joy. But, Pretia. Look at her.” Pretia observed the baby a bit more. “She’s the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life,” Beautia stated.

Pretia’s eyes widened. Her head too began to ache as more memories flooded in.

Beautia sniffed, “You remember, don’t you? Mother’s spell?”

Pretia looked at her sister and slowly nodded. How could she forget? It’s been so long. Perhaps that was the reason why.

“But this child, she has taken us out of that spell. She saved us,” Beautia explained.

“What are you going to do,” asked the maiden.

Beautia thought for a moment. She let the noise of maids laughing, birds chirping, and leaves blowing take up her mind.

“She can’t be like me,” she fretted. Pretia tilted her head seeing her sister’s eyes begin to widen even more.

“Pretia, I mustn’t let her be like me. A disgrace! She shall be the best Queen to come by Sunar! She has to be,” wept Beautia.

The woman looked at the clocks that decorated her daughter’s face, her soft hair that could make anyone smile.

“I shall name her Pala Diamond,” Beautia said determinedly.

“Pala!? That’s an awful name for one so beautiful,” Pretia objected.

Beautia nodded her head, “Yes I know, it pains me to do this. But she needs to hate me. She needs to. She needs to grow up to not want to be me.” Pulling her daughter closer, the Queen planted a dozen kisses on the Princess’s face.

“This is the only time I will be able to hold her like this and lover her so,” quivered the Queen. Pretia felt tears fall down her cheeks. “I shall watch her from afar, and ensure she gets the best education. All of those who will not accept her as their blood will regret it the day she is crowned Queen.”

Pretia admired Pala’s features as Beautia spoke. The Queen looked to her sister.

“I cannot atone for the sins that I have committed, and I know you may never forgive me Pretia. But can I ask you to protect my daughter and your niece? I cannot hush the rumors that shall arise, but you can!”

Pretia looked at the two relatives sitting before her. A Queen and a future Queen. She nodded, “Yes, I will watch over and protect the Princess. I will remain in the castle, but on the far side. I will ensure that all rumors will be hushed while she is under the impression that I hate her.”

Beautia cried, “Thank you.” The three hugged one another that night. All taking in this last moment of affection that would be shared between them.

Beautia asked for a maid to take Pala to her chambers. The Queen watched as her daughter was taken away from her. She wished things could be different. But this was for the best.

Queen Beautia gave birth to her heiress on Kioligo 18th at 8:43 AM. The baby girl was healthy and strong. Many gave gifts as congratulations to Her Highness and Majesty.

The baby was named Princess Pala Diamond.

[daydreamindollie]

+idea/teaser ⏤ bts ot7 | seven cursed princes

⇢ hi there :3

⇢ sooo...i have another idea based on yet another manga that I am currently obsessed with

⇢ I recommend you all to check it out, it’s currently on a hiatus for season 2 but after only reading season 1, I’ve been struck with inspiration! 

⇢ the manga is called ‘Sincerely: I Became a Duke’s Maid’ by Jooara/Juara

⇢ give it a read, you won’t regret it! 

⇢ ANYWAYYYYY! 

⇢ lemme give you all a rundown on what I have in mind for my fanfic based on this amazing piece of art! 

⇢ be warned, there will be spoilers/hints on the general plot of the manga so if you would like to read the first 45 chapters aka season 1 of the manga first then feel free! 

⇢ this 👏🏼 is 👏🏼 going 👏🏼 to 👏🏼 be 👏🏼 a 👏🏼 reincarnation au 👏🏼 people! 👏🏼 - something i never thought i’d play around with in this lifetime but here i am, inspired and ready to write an entire multichapter fic on this

⇢ 👏🏼 LETS 👏🏼 GET 👏🏼 IT!

⇢ to start with, reader is reading a novel about BTS ⏤ all of whom were cursed and, therefore, ridiculed by society despite being a part of the royal bloodline, in fact, they were going to be the crown prince of their kingdom

⇢ note: all of them come from different kingdoms (all of which i do not yet know the names of) that are under massive tension around each other - their relationship with each other isn’t very good, lets just keep it at that, no trust, no solid alliences, no nothing.

⇢ their (bts’s) curse was the only thing that brought the kingdom’s leaders/kings and queens together for only a breif moment

⇢ The princes were born at different times and since the curse was the same for all of them, they were all forced to live in the same secluded mansion deep in the woods, owned by some insignigicant and greedy count/baron (clearly i need to research these terms of heirarchy so ignore me for now)

⇢ after each new prince of a different kingdom was born with the same curse, they were immediately sent away to live in the same unkempt mansion, however, most of them never knew of each other’s existence as no grand welcoming ceremony/party was hosted for their arrival

⇢ lemme give you some details of the curse, this is going to be fairly similar to how the curse affects the host in the manga i read so be warned : 

⇢ the curse makes the princes look younger in terms of their body size as they can’t stomach any food ⏤ this stunts their growth and makes them look half their age so jinnie who would be 20 years old at first meeting actually looks like a 10 year old instead

⇢ they have constant bags under their eyes, unhealthy pale skin bc they can bearly walk outside for their daily dose of vitamin D

⇢ one hald of their skin is slowly rotting off corresponding to the side that has the curse marks circling their wrist, kinda like a singular hand cuff

⇢ they are always weak, dizzy and just really really unhealthy, as a result, they can’t ever bring themselves to look in the mirror from how hideous they look ⏤ their appearnce makes the maids and servants vomit

⇢ their eyes are dull and faded in colour because of the lack of nutrients and their hair is spindly thin too 

⇢ sometimes, they can’t even drink water and puke it up despite how incredibly thirsty they are 

⇢ because they were ostrasised to such an extent, they never knew love or were showed any affection when growing up ⏤ this seemed to make the effect of their curse worse

⇢ not only that but the maids and staff never approached them willingly or treated them well because of how disgusted their appearance made them feel

⇢ this only made our beloved bts princes feel worse about themselves

⇢ an untimely storm, thankfully, was able to give them hope because it made them realise that they weren’t the only people in the world that had the horrible curse inflicted onto them

⇢ the storm forced the count/baron to renovate the mansion as the roof fell through and the princes were sent to another one of his properties where the count’s niece was visiting

⇢ i am naming her Areum, okie? (don’t blame me if your name is Areum, blame on of the many korean birthname websites out there)

⇢ upon seeing the princes, she screams and calls them disgusting monsters, this helps the princes lean on each other for the support and love that they were deprived of since young

⇢ this ultimately leads to them developing an open/poly relationship with one another

⇢ note: poly relationships weren’t uncommon during these times as many royals had concubines and such, it was only uncommon that the partners were all the same gender

⇢ the knowledge of no longer being alone helped them recover from the curse. They also gave and recieved love from each other which vanquished the curse enough so that they grew healthy and finally looked their age

⇢ their recovery was only to an extent however, as they still felt weak and still had the curse marks as well as some rotting skin on areas they were able to easily hide

⇢ eventually, word of their recovery from the curse came out and they were welcomed back into their kingdoms and invited to the annual celebration in worship of the holy beings

⇢ in this celebration, they meet Areum once again, who they had long since forgotten because of their love for each other 

⇢ in this meeting, Areum actually acknowledges them as ‘human’ bc their curse wasn’t as bad. she shows them an act of kindness that was never shown to them before so they instantly fall in love with her

⇢ since falling for her, they strieve to win her heart as well but were rejected as she was already engaged to the crown prince

⇢ this crown prince is taehyung’s younger brother, who had ‘replaced’ him because he was cursed and the kingdom still needed an heir to the throne ⏤ this was the same case for all of the princes as they could no longer be the crown prince of their kingdom due to their curse

⇢ when the new crown prince (taehyung’s younger brother) found out that tae was actually his brother all along, he was overjoyed and tried to get close to him but was treated bitterly by tae and the rest of bts bc of Areum

⇢ despite taehyung projecting hate onto his younger brother, his younger brother only admired him and wanted to get to know him as he grew up lonely and craving an older sibling

⇢ bts ended up leading a rebellion in order to win Areum’s heart but their attempts failed and led to their execution

⇢ while reader was reading this novel, she cried and felt only pity and a want to help the fictional cursed princes bc she was able to see how truly sweet they were and reasoned that they deserved so much better than how they were treated

⇢ however, reader knew that she couldn’t do anything as they were just characters in a fictional world

⇢ thankfully, there was a sequel that was published just as reader finished reading the first novel. in this sequel, some type of redemption was given for the accursed princes

⇢ unfortunately, just as she finished the prologue and was midway through reading this first chapter, reader got caught up in an accident (maybe i’ll make it a car accident but that’s too cliche for me so i don’t know...)

⇢ and when reader wakes up she is in bed being nursed by a character from the novel ⏤ the kind hearted chef of the baron/count’s manor who hoped and wished her cooking helped the boys recover somewhat from their curse

⇢ the chef told her that she found her out in the forest in the heavy rain and was about to shout to her when she collapsed

⇢ to thank the chef for saving her life, reader became a maid of the manor as they were fairly understaffed. after stumbling into one of the prince’s rooms she realised that she was reincarnated into the novel

⇢ it was strange though bc she doesn’t remember a maid being called (Y/N) in the novel  ⏤ she was possibly a new side character or another insignificant role of the plot...

⇢ that didn’t matter though bc no matter who she was or what she did, she wouldn’t be able to return to her original life as Charlotte the aspiring singer and musician that had yet to make it big 

⇢ since she had died as Charlotte in the real, modern world, there’s no way she could ever even think of going back

⇢ instead, she’ll become the best maid and best companion the princes had ever had 

⇢ she’ll change their pitiful fate and give them the happy ending they deserve

A/N: NOWWWW THEN! If you’ll all excuse me, I’ve got some major planning to do!

masterlist

[thehollowprince]

Penny Dreadful: City of Angels

Episode 1: Santa Muerte - Recap and Review

SPOILER WARNINGS ARE IN EFFECT BELOW THE CUT

The episode opens with a Mexican standoff (ba dum tsh) between Santa Muerte (Lorenza Izzo) and her “sister” Magda (Natalie Dormer), who seriously has to be roasting under the Southern California sun in that black leather outfit.  (Sidenote, how does a Mexican folk spirit/deity have a British woman as a sister?  Guess she was adopted.)  Anyway, Magda is monologuing, as villains tend to do, saying “All mankind needs to become the monster he truly is, is being told he can.”  They go back and forth for a minute, and I was eerily reminded of the movie Constantine that came out many moons ago.  Y’know the one, right?  Loosely (and I mean loosely) based on the comic character?  Played by Keanu Reeves?  That was the vibe I go here, with Santa Muerte and Magda making some kind of bet about the “worthiness” of mankind.  (I also got strong jealous ex vibes from Magda in this scene, but we’ll see how that goes).

So we start the action by showing a field of Mexican-American laborers working the fields with a little boy sitting on the truck, picking the music they listen to.  His father jokes about his choice of music before getting back to work.  Now I’ll be the first to admit that everything that played out next was just this side of tone deaf.  I understand that Magda is the villain here, and wants to see humanity burn, but having a white woman set fire to a field full of brown people, resulting in several deaths kind of defeats the message they’re trying to send with this show, but I will suspend my disbelief for a little while to see how all of this plays out.

All in all, it was a beautiful shot, as gruesome as it was, with the flames, and then seeing Santa Muerte cradling the boy’s father as he died in the flames all while La Llorona played in the background.  The boy tries to save his father, but Santa Muerte uses the Force to push him away, despite not even two minutes earlier claiming she “had no heart for the living”.  Must be something special about this boy.

Cut to 1938 and the boy is all grown up.  Tiago Vega (Daniel Zovatto) just passed his exam to become a detective, the first Chicano detective in Los Angeles.  His Mamá (Adrianna Barraza) prepared him a cake to celebrate the occasion, and we get to meet the rest of La Familia Vega.  First there’s Mateo (Johnathan Nieves), who is seriously adorable.  Next is Josefina (Jessica Garza), who is the baby of the family.  And then finally we get the big brother, Raul (Adam Rodriguez), who “mysteriously” isn’t a part of the main cast.

Anyway, Raul is not happy about his baby brother being a detective, given the Mexican and Mexican-American relations with law enforcement, which... valid.  He has a point.  But Mamá quickly shuts Raul down when he tries to be a Negative Nancy and they celebrate as a family.  Cut to later, and Mamá is walking Tiago to the bus, and they remark about the construction equipment at the end of the street.  Here we’re introduced to the main conflict of the story.  Their neighborhood is set to be demolished to make way for construction for the Arroyo Seco Parkway, the first of the LA freeways.  Mamá remarks about the machines, likening them to animals baring their teeth at her, before Tiago gets on the bus to go to his apartment, because he’s the only member of the family to move away from home.

By the way, I will never complain about the size of my apartment again after seeing how tiny Tiago’s is.

Cut to the next morning, where the phone rings, waking Tiago up, and it’s his new partner on the phone.  Congratulations!  You get to start two days early with no prep time.  Said partner, Detective Lewis Michener, is played by Nathan Lane like you’ve never seen him before.  And as an aside, just hearing him drop the F-bomb made my day.  The reason they’re starting early is because their was a homicide, and the captain himself called them specifically.  The murder is a family of four, dropped in the Los Angeles river bed, their faces painted in Dia De Muertos makeup.  Also, there’s a message scrawled nearby in blood (or red paint)

TE LLEVAS NEUSTRO CORAZON TOMAMOS EL TUYO 

“You take our heart, we take yours.”  If you haven’t guessed it by now, the hearts of the four victims had been removed.  This all ties back to the Arroyo Seco Parkway and how it’s planned to cut through the heart of the Chicano community.  Michener makes the connection as to why they were called, “It’s a spick thing.”  (Fair warning, that kind of language, while not super common in this show, isn’t exactly uncommon.)

Elsewhere, Mamá is getting off the bus in a fancy part of town, because she’s a maid to Peter Craft (alum Rory Kinnear), who is a German immigrant with two sons and a wife that looks a little strung out.  This scene is pretty filler, but it establishes the dynamic of Craft’s household, with him talking to Mamá before his own wife.  He leaves for work, listening to tape recordings in his car as a way to practice on getting rid of his accent to blend in and “be more American”  It was kind of adorable.

Back at the police precinct, Tiago got blood on his cuff from the crime scene and MIchener tells him to just throw the shirt out.  Que the racist cops who harass Tiago, because the audience needs to understand just how unwelcome a Chicano detective is among his all white peers.  The two visit their captain and discover that their four victims are a wealthy family from Beverly Hills, which judging by everyone’s reactions in the scene is a pretty big deal for some reason.  There was a horrible moment where the captain says “You have no idea how much I wished those bodies were Mexican” before he realizes who is in the room and adds a halfhearted “No Offense.”  I have to say, Tiago has way more patience than I do for shrugging it off.  The captain decides that it’s obviously Mexicans behind the murders and Michener suggests pachucos. 

Now we’re back with Craft, who is a pediatrician, and his current patient is the son of... Natalie Dormer... but now she’s blonde?  Elsa is concerned about her son Frank’s breathing problems and talks with the doctor privately about it, revealing that she’s also a German immigrant, originally from Berlin, “but now we’re in Boyle Heights, with the Jews” (seriously not a fan of how she said that, which I’m guessing is the point, but only time will tell).  There’s a moment between the two, with him offering her his handkerchief when she starts crying.  

After she leaves, we get one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve ever seen.  It takes a lot to unnerve me, but this scene unnerved me.  If you’re going into this show blind, let this be the moment when you find out that all the characters played by Natalie Dormer are all Magda, who shapeshifts into other people to further influence the negative emotions of those around her, bringing out the worst in humanity.  Well, “Elsa” enters the elevator with her “son” and unbuttons her blouse before placing his head against her stomach.  She absorbs him back into herself like some sort of weird reverse-birth, taking him “back to the womb” as it were.  It wasn’t overly graphic, but it unnerved me nonetheless. 

Back at the doctor’s office, one of his nurses asks what he wants for lunch and he says he’ll be going out.  He walks over to his closet and opens it, revealing a Nazi flag and uniform.  Abort!  

Abort!

At the city hall there is a meeting of the City Council, or some division of it involving transportation.  Its a meeting to discuss the Arroyo Seco Parkway, with almost everyone in attendance being Mexican, led, of course, by Tiago’s older brother Raul.  Gotta have that brother-against-brother angle.  The guy leading the meeting is some douchebag named Townsend (Michael Gladis).There’s a standoff between him and Raul over this parkway, with Townsend telling them to “go back where they came from”, which Raul responds rather cheekily to the fact that he was born in the Los Angeles County Hospital, same as him.

Raul: “When progress becomes barbarity, it ceases to be in the public interest.  We are the public, sir, no matter the color of our skin, and we will not be moved.”

Townsend: “Then you will be pushed.”

Naturally from there it ends in police brutality, with the cops on scene beating Raul with their clubs as they drag him from the city hall, despite it being open to the public.  And people wonder why no one likes the police? Although, I do love the fact that they made Raul so well-spoken.  Given how they’re presented as poorer, it would have been so easy to fall back on that illiterate Mexican trope, but they shied away from that, and I’m grateful.

After the meeting, Townsend is walking down the hall with Natalie Dormer by his side, this time as a gray-haired, middle-aged woman?  Man?  It’s unclear at first, until we get a wide shot and we see that she’s wearing a skirt with her masculine suit and tie combo, so definitely a woman.  Personally, I would have been okay if this persona - Alex - had been a man, but that’s just me.  Anyway, Alex is just feeding this blowhard’s ego, and he equates himself to Mussolini, and then Hitler (ABORT!).  The topic turns to more motorways, stuff to keep Townsend in the papers for some unknown purpose.

And we’re back to the Michener and Vega hour, where the two detectives are enjoying their lunch break when we hear drums and look up to see Nazis - I’m sorry, the German-American Bund - walking down the street in full regalia with Craft at their head.  Craft gives a big speech about staying out of foreign affairs (it’s 1938 and WWII is just about to start), saying “America First”.  Michener is giving them the stink eye and it’s at this point I remembered that he’s Jewish, so odds are he knows full well what the ideology behind the Nazi Party, even if their worst crimes are still ahead of them.

Michener insists they go, with the two heading over to Beverly Hills to investigate the home of the murder victims.  Inside there’s a portrait of who I thought was Joseph Smith above the fireplace, which I guess means these people were Mormons.  The radio, when turned on, is playing some Radio Evangelist (this is before Televangelism became a thing), and I think the woman preaching is the last member of our cast, Sister Molly (Kerry Bishé).  The two investigate the house and determine that the family wasn’t murdered there, though they do discover that the father was one of the guys behind the Arroyo Seco Parkway.

The plot thickens.

Cut to a shadowy meeting at the bluffs between Townsend and Baron von Strucker from the MCU.  Ugh, more Nazis.  The new Nazi talks to Townsend about getting him the position of Mayor of Los Angeles, to further their own agenda, and warns him that his driver is a Gestapo agent and has been told to shoot Townsend if the meeting does not go their way.

Later that night, we’re in downtown L.A., presumably in a Mexican-American neighborhood where Mateo works.  There’s some hanky panky going on in the store where he’s stocking shelves where some random dude and his sister, Josefina, are getting to second base.  Mateo puts the kibosh on that quickly, chasing the boy from the store while shouting obscenities, before arguing with this sister, until Mamá shows up and sets them both straight.  There’s a poignant moment between mother and son where he remarks about how as a Chicano, his options for the future are limited, that Tiago was the exception, not the rule.

Speaking of Tiago, he shows up to ask about Santa Muerte and if his mother had heard anything about something going on, as he recognized the face paint on the murder victims.  It’s revealed that he doesn’t believe in Santa Muerte, though his mother does and remarks about him being “marked”, revealing that he was the little boy from the beginning.  We all know that something bigger is going on, but Tiago is unconvinced, and this is the one time we see him and Mamá butt heads.  There’s a moment where the two calm down before we get a really cute scene of Tiago dancing with his mother.

That moment slides into a moment between Los Hermanos Vega, which starts nicely but ends up tense and serious, as they talk about the construction of the parkway to begin on Monday, which requires Tiago to be with the police but his brothers will be with the neighborhood.  I think they’re taking this brother-against-brother thing a little far.

Mamá is praying to Santa Muerte, begging for help, and Santa Muerte actually shows up, calling Mamá “Old Coyote” (I think).  The two argue, with the former mentioning a prophecy and the Vega matriarch begging for any kind of help because she wants to protect her children.  After Santa Muerte leaves, Mamá goes to Tiago’s apartment and implores him to try and stop the protest the next day, before chugging his whiskey.

As the episode started, that’s how we end it, with a Mexican standoff, this time between the police and the residents of Belvidere Heights.  Tiago hands his gun to Michener and tries to talk down his neighborhood, to avoid bloodshed, facing off directly with his brothers who are at the front of the opposing crowd, but unbeknownst to all of them, Magda is there (in her “true” form) pacing in front of the police.  She finds one officer and we see her whispering in his ear, which leads to him firing his gun, killing one of the protesters.  Gunfire erupts and chaos ensues, leading to a full blown riot.  Magda ends up whispering to Raul next and he takes a gun and starts shooting police officers, eventually aiming his gun at Michener.  In a heartbreaking moment, Tiago shoots his own brother to stop him from killing his partner, all while La Llorona is once again playing in the background.

All in all, I’d give the episode an 8/10.  It was a great start, introducing most of the key players involved and getting the conflict started right away, but there are still a lot of questions.  Also, there were too many Nazis in this for my liking.  I understand the point they’re trying to make, being a parallel to today, with Nazis being everywhere and no one batting an eye about it, but it’s still unsettling.

Can’t wait to see how this all turns out.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 1/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: When Lord Maurice is unable to pay the King’s taxes, his debts begin to pile up, and the only recourse is to accept an arranged marriage for his daughter, the Lady Belle. After a failed betrothal to Sir Gaston, broken by the reveal of a personal secret of Belle’s, the enigmatic and powerful Lord Gold swoops in to solve all their problems. He will marry Lady Belle and pay off Maurice’s debts. The only catch is that Gold doesn’t seem to want a wife at all.

Notes: YES I KNOW I NEED ANOTHER WIP LIKE I NEED SEVENTEEN MORE HOLES IN MY HEAD I’M FUCKING HORRIBLE. So this is an idea I had literally years ago. This is a weird quasi-period romance fantasy. Like imagine Jane Austen but in the Enchanted Forest. IDK. I’m tagging some things I know are coming, and just going right ahead and putting the rating where it’s going to be so that everyone is informed up front. I’m sorry I’m like this. For the Writer’s Month prompt #26: wedding.

[AO3]

Belle winced and pulled the comb through the ends of her hair.

She worked out the last few tangles before twisting it into a thick braid that ran from the base of her skull to the small of her back. Tomorrow it would fall in fat, loose curls, perfect for being woven with some of the delicate white flowers that grew along the south side of the house. Angel’s Lace they were called, supposedly good luck for a bride to wear on her wedding day. Her dress hung on a form by her armoire, creamy white silk and light blue ribbons, ready for her to don in the morning.

She sighed and pushed away from the vanity, casting a longing look at her bed. This would be her last night in it, and her last night in her father’s home, the only one she’d ever known, forever. She wandered to the window and leaned out into the cool evening air. The sky was a swirl of purple and pink as the sun sank behind the treeline. The next time she saw the sunset, it would have a different view, and she would belong to someone else.

The thought made her stomach turn and she moved to the small table across the room to pour some water. After two gulps of cool water and a few deep breaths, she felt only marginally better. The last thing she wanted was to be married, but the state of her father’s affairs necessitated such extremes.

Belle had often dreamed of what her future might be like, her wedding and her husband. She pictured something like in her books or in the stories told by her old governess. Reality was nothing like that. In her fantasies she had a choice, she wasn’t bid out like cattle to pay debts that weren’t her family’s fault.

King George taxed his lord’s highly. Years of war had worn the people down, and as her father’s lands began to fail, the fields sallow from overuse, there just wasn’t enough to cover the King’s demands. Only a marriage to a wealthy lord could save them. Her father’s debts would become her debts, and her debts her new husband’s.

Lord Gold, she was told, could easily afford them. He was also a favorite of the King, sitting on the Council of Lord’s and helping to organize and run the kingdom. She hoped this would go better than the first time.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of her first betrothal. Sir Gaston was noble, but demanding, conventionally handsome, but ugly on the inside. He’d found out her secret and immediately broke off the engagement. It was just as well, a marriage to such a man would have been more of a punishment than losing everything her family owned.

Strangely, upon hearing of the disillusion of her betrothal, Lord Gold had sent a letter to her father, asking for her hand. They had never met, but of course her father agreed. He was only worried for himself and their family name, and the possibility of losing their standing. The fate of his daughter was secondary.

Belle startled at the knock on her door, and hurried to cover her nightgown with her robe.

“Enter,” she called out, still tying the belt around her waist.

The maid, Astrid, poked her head around the door and smiled. “Sorry to disturb, my Lady.”

Belle shook her head and waved the woman in. “It’s no matter, Astrid.”

“I - I brought you a letter,” she said, holding out a silver tray containing a folded parchment, sealed with red wax. “It’s - it’s from Lord Gold, my Lady.”

Belle’s eyes went wide and pulled back the hand that had been reaching for the letter. “Oh…”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Should I put it on the desk, my Lady?”

Belle nodded, and watched with trepidation as Astrid cross to the small writing desk by the window and set the tray down. A moment later, Astrid was giving her a curtsy from the doorway and bidding her a goodnight.

She stared at the tray and the paper for a long moment before tracing the wax seal pressed to the front. The symbol in the middle was odd, a spinning wheel surrounded on the outside by the usual laurel wreath of the merchant lords. She wondered what the significance of it was.

Sitting down at the desk, she took a steadying breath and broke the seal, brushing the bits of wax aside as she opened the folded paper. It wasn’t uncommon for those with longer betrothals to write each other letters, but she hardly expected a man she’d never met and who was at least ten years her senior, to be sending her affectionate missives the next before their very arranged wedding.

Lady Belle,

I will dispatch with the usual, odious pleasantries of hoping this letter finds you well, and asking after your father’s health, though I do hope you are not too distressed over the upcoming ceremony. I know that this arrangement is not what you might have desired -

She let out a light snort at his understatement, and continued.

- but I wish to alleviate some of your fears, that we may enter into our partnership without misunderstandings.

Partnership. The word made her frown. She had never known anyone to refer to a marriage as such. Arrangement, agreement, joining. Those were common among those who had their futures decided on the basis of beneficial political or social alignments, but partnership seemed like something more, like they were forming a business or some such. She thought perhaps he was more used to that word given his background as a merchant.

Beyond the covenant we will enter into in the eyes of church and family, I will make a promise to you that I shall never ask for more than you are willing to give, in all things.

Belle sat back in her chair, her lips parting as she read the line again. She hoped that it meant what she wanted it to, but she was very aware that men, especially Lords and knights, where capable of eschewing all honor to get what they wanted.

Allow me to be clear, in a manner which I pray you do not find offensive. I will make no demands upon you for your time, your companionship, or your presence in my bed. I have no need for more friends, though I hope, in time, we may come to appreciate each other’s company, and you may approve of spending time together. I also require no heirs, as I already have been blessed with a son from my marriage to my late wife. (Incidentally, his name is Baeden - Bae - and he will be eleven just before the solstice.)

She gasped out loud, and her heart began to pound in her chest. She read the paragraph again, as she had the sentence before it, in utter disbelief. Lord Gold was marrying her, and apparently had no intention of requiring her to do any of the things that everyone expected wives to do. And he’d been married before. That was not something her father had mentioned, nor that Gold had a son. The way he added the sliver of knowledge, both about the boy’s name and his birthday, felt oddly intimate, like he was allowing her a peek into his life ahead of her joining it.

Giving her head a shake, she continued reading to the end.

I’m sure you are curious as to my reasons for agreeing to this arrangement, and in time I may be willing to explain, but please trust that they are my own, and that I do not bear you, your father, or your family any ill will. I will make one small request of you, if I may, and that is simply to be yourself. I find there are enough airs put on at court, and I do not wish there to be any illusions or deceptions in my home.

Yours,

Cameron Gold

She let out the breath she’d been holding and her hands dropped to her lap. The letter was nothing she’d expected, but then, apparently, neither was Lord Gold.

Cameron.

Knowing her future husband’s first name made her smile. She hadn’t known anything about him before today, other than that he was older, and rich enough to afford her father’s debts. Now she felt like they had spent an afternoon together, talking over tea. It was strange, yet comforting.

Though he might change his mind in the future, for now it seemed her terrible secret would remain as such. It was possible than if it were revealed to him that they might have come to understand each other enough that he wouldn’t be as angry as Gaston had been.

A shudder washed over her and she reached for her shawl, pulling it tight around her shoulders. Then she folded the letter and placed inside her favorite book, right in the middle to keep it pressed flat by the heavy sides. She poured herself another cup of water and carried it to her bedside table before laying her robe and shawl over the end of the bed. She took her time smoothing her hands over the soft knitting, remembering how her mother used to sit by the fire in the evenings with a basket of yarn and an idle plan of what she might create.

Her chest tightened and she pushed the memory away as she climbed onto the mattress, kicking off her slippers before wiggling beneath the covers. She looked over at her wedding gown, relieved that her earlier terror had calmed to more of a light apprehension. Perhaps, she thought, an arranged marriage to a man who didn’t seem to want a wife at all, was the best she could have hoped for.

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn't know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn't care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #a lie #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo

Canon-Compliance: Follows the New Earth continuity, with elements of New 52 (ie the ones that don’t completely contradict everything that happened pre-Flashpoint). Ignores Rebirth completely. So, up to about 2016 in terms of publication dates? Robins War happened, but Red Hood hasn’t met Artemis or Bizarro, and nothing bad has happened to Roy ffs! 

Beta Reader: I'll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

“Three cheers for the happy couple!”

The south wing ballroom of Wayne Manor erupts with the raucous shouts and applause of a hundred and twenty reception attendees. Tim’s congratulations get lost in the din, but he does catch Dick’s eye and flash him a thumbs up.

Seated at the high table, his older brother leans in and kisses his bride, which causes more cheering and catcalls from the guests, and makes the normally unflappable and newly named Barbara Gordon-Grayson blush.

Tim turns away and pastes a smile on his face as the Davenports, a senior couple and two of Wayne Enterprises' most influential shareholders, approach him.

Time to be ‘on’ again…

A generous mix of family friends (most of whom are vigilantes or heroes), and GCPD officers, fill the ballroom. These are interspersed with a few Haly’s Circus performers, and the requisite number of elite guests required by the Society pages of the Gotham Gazette.

Bride and bridegroom sit at the head table with their respective entourages, engaged in animated chatter. Babs and her maid of honor Alysia dissolve into laughter as Dick says something to Damian, who scowls and turns redder by the minute. The Gordon family is there, the Commissioner conversing in stiff politeness with his ex-wife Barbara, and Bruce is in full “Brucie” mode. In the background, Alfred directs the hired staff with his usual decorum and efficiency.

Across the room, Cassandra drags Stephanie over to the dance floor. At a smaller round table near the bride and groom, Duke just misses being speared with a fork by his girlfriend when he tries to sneak a piece of Izzy’s cake. Helena flirts with both Luke and Kate and Tim’s sure Selina is somewhere in the house stealing something to lure Bruce over to her place later.

It’s rare to have so many members of the family together in one room, and so Tim does his best to ignore the lingering dismay at the glaring absence in their numbers.

Dick and Babs look at each other now and again, like they’re the only ones in the world, and he makes an effort to find it adorable. He bolsters the jovial front he’s been wearing all night, reminding himself that his happiness for his brother and new sister-in-law isn’t something that needs faking. It took so long for them to sort everything out between them; it goes to show that being soulmates doesn’t equal an automatic perfect relationship.

I know that better than anyone.

It’s just getting more difficult with every passing hour to maintain the graceful Timothy Drake-Wayne façade.

“It will be your turn next,” Mrs. Davenport informs him, while her husband nods along. “Since Richard and dear Cassandra have found their matches, you’re the only one left.”

Tim’s smile becomes a little more forced. “Well, there is Damian.”

The demon brat looks as if he swallowed a mouthful of peppercorns as Brucie leans over and ruffles his hair, laughing his raucous fake laugh.

Now I’m glad Dick didn’t ask me to be his best man, or I’d be the chump stuck up there.

Not that he was that upset when he heard the news.

Tim’s distanced himself enough from the loss of Robin to accept Damian needs as much help as they can offer if he is ever to be a ‘real boy’. Little gestures like this from Dick are part of a larger plan. And it was endearing, in a way, to see the kid stomping around in the weeks leading up to the wedding, trying to check off a list of best man duties he’d printed off the internet.

And dissolving into teenaged fury when innocent things went wrong or when the groom teased him by flouting what Damian considered ‘according to convention’.

And then there was that bachelor party he organized…

It would seem extreme trampoline parks were a thing; also, getting banned from said parks within an hour for trampolining while drunk was a thing.

“Yes, but he’s still so…young,” Mrs. Davenport says, bringing him back to the present. Tim perceives how she hesitates on the best word to describe the youngest member of the Wayne family.

“It’s fine, you can call him a prepubescent terror. I always do.”

“Oh, Timothy!” Garish laughter as if he told the most hilarious joke of the season. “You are such a character. Why haven’t you found your someone yet?”

Tim catches sight of Steph once again, dancing with Cass and looking carefree and blissful and in love. And this time it’s a bit harder to experience only joy for his siblings, more of a struggle to fight the pang of hurt and jealousy that rears its head.

“You’re almost eighteen,” her husband remarks, interrupting his thoughts. “Most people find their matches much younger. Eleanor and I met when we were fourteen.”

“Oh, it was a beautiful summer in the Hamptons.”

“And it seems like youth today are finding each other earlier every year.”

“My sister and Stephanie didn’t,” Tim points out, only somewhat strained because that one still stings.

He and Steph had been together for most of their teenage years. She hadn’t possessed a soulmark, and Tim’s…would lead nowhere. He truly loved her, and if things were different, he knows they would have had a happy future. Lots of people whose marks don’t match are.

But then the day Spoiler and Black Bat met, they’d shaken hands, and everything fell into place. He’ll never forget either of their eyes—Steph bemused as her mark appeared for the first time and then exploded into color across her forearms; Cass puzzled until she realized what was happening. Then her face became an open book of joy rivaled only by how she looked when Bruce told her he intended to adopt her.

Faced with their happiness, it was only natural that Tim took a step back, much as it hurt to do.

“Perhaps your soulmate lives in another country,” Mr. Davenport suggests; it is clear he is not picking up on Tim’s reluctance.

“Oh!” his wife cries. “You should go on that television show they have now! You know, the one where they try to help you track down your match? I can’t remember the name, but it’s something like The Amazing Race or the Bachelorette.”

“Perhaps yours is younger than you. That happens sometimes.”

“Yes! May-December relationships aren’t that uncommon with your generation, I hear.”

“Or maybe they’re dead,” Tim suggests, and though his tone is light and friendly, his words shut them up in an instant.

Because if very well could be true.

Tim’s never shown off his mark in public, and he told Steph that exact story when she asked all those years ago. At the time, he wasn’t even lying.

Soulmarks develop around puberty and last the duration of the lifespan of the shorter-lived partner. Some people are born with several, the way Dick was, and some only share platonic or familial bonds, like Alfred and Bruce. Others have none at all. When a soulmate dies, the mark associated with them vanishes.

That’s because most don’t come back from the dead.

Still smiling at the now cringing couple, Tim takes his leave, letting them stew in their faux pas as he wanders toward the bride and groom’s table. He’s reached his limit.

Not wanting to crouch down in the middle of their group, he gestures until his brother sees him and makes an excuse to Babs. She’s following his gaze, offering Tim a worried look, but he smiles and shakes his head, trying to telegraph ‘It’s nothing. Go back to your celebration.’

Dick is red-faced and his eyes brighter than usual when he gets to Tim; people been plying him with generous amounts of alcohol all day. “Hey, Timmy, what’s up?”

“I think I‘ll make my way out,” he replies. “Do a bit of patrolling and then turn in.”

“Tim…”

Dick’s expression becomes concerned, and Tim shifts in discomfort.

“Someone has to be on the streets while you guys are slacking,” he jokes. “You know it took an Act of Alfred to get Bruce to take the night off, right?”

(It was also pointed out that if any of big players had planned anything tonight, probability and precedent suggested they would try it at the Gordon-Grayson reception.)

“You don’t have to do that! I’ve already got one brother missing.”

“Consider this my wedding present. You get to stay and enjoy your party with the rest of the family.”

“You’re just trying to worm your way of giving us a real gift,” Dick accuses, but the words lack malice. With a surreptitious glance around to ensure they aren’t being overheard, he lowers his voice and asks, “Are things getting bad again? Do you need to talk? Because Babs won’t mind if I duck out for a bit.”

And he’s always doing this, checking in with Tim, even years after it’s been an issue.

There’s a distinct possibility Dick has noticed how uncomfortable the atmosphere is making him, despite him doing his utmost to hide it, to keep from casting a dark cloud over the festivities.

And Tim should be okay.

Bruce is back from having lost his memories, Damian’s stopped his determined attempts to sabotage or kill him, his relationship with Dick is almost normal again, he has his team and place with the Titans, and there hasn’t been a major crisis in Gotham for about a month which is a record.

Yet he still feels raw and exposed, ill at ease in his skin.

Bruce has been questioning him a lot more, criticizing the way he handles not only cases but projects at WE. Tim worries there’s less time for him to recover between being Tim Wayne, CEO, and Red Robin. And the Titans are getting to the age where many of them want to strike out on their own or pursue more civilian interests—jobs and schools and a normal life. He respects that, even if he doesn’t understand it.

He has never had a normal life, and never will.

But he does have more and more days now where he looks at himself in the mirror and wonders how he’s supposed to keep doing this forever. Can’t figure out how Bruce has managed it for so long. Tim suspects he’s becoming little more than his daytime public persona and his nighttime alter ego.

Who exactly is Tim Drake?

Instead of voicing any of this, though, he musters up a comforting smile for his brother and assures him, “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s like every day. Just one step at a time, right?”

Dick’s expression clears then, and he nods, relieved. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“And Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats.”

“Aw, thanks, Timmy.”

A bone-crushing hug later, and Tim’s car peels out of the estate parking garage, still ignoring the growing pit in his stomach.

He returns to his apartment in the Theater District, shedding his suit and tie in a pile that Alfred would have a coronary over if he were there to see it. Jumping in the shower, he scrubs himself of any traces of his cologne or other identifying scents he might have picked up at the reception and tries to get himself back into a clearer headspace.

He pauses for a moment at the sink, trying to shake off the lingering, bone-deep exhaustion. Several prescription bottles line the mirror—various sleeping aids, most of which don’t help anymore (but the rebound insomnia of stopping them isn’t worth the trouble). These days it’s only the heavy-duty sleep narcotics that work when he needs to turn his brain off for a few hours.

Among the personal pharmacy are several combinations of anti-depressants he tried in the past few months. Most of the time he powers through it, the way he’s done his whole life, but in recent weeks Tim’s noticed things getting hard again. The helpful alerts he sets on his phone don’t always convince him to leave his bed and even video games lack the usual draw. He sometimes gets lost in his head for hours; on bad nights, he hesitates a second longer before shooting a grapple line or dodging a knife. In rare moments, he considers his sleeping pills a little too much consideration, at which point he calls Dick or Connor. Talks to someone so he isn’t so alone.

As he dries off, Tim stares down at his right wrist, examining the complicated knotwork design emblazoned there. Swirls of crimson and gold loop in and out of each other, before cutting off along his forearm.

Everyone has a soulmark, an arrangement of swirling shapes across their skin; each is distinctive to the individuals bonded by them. They first appear when a person is in the general vicinity of their soulmate, manifesting as a colorless pattern of darker and lighter shades of melanin. Those patterns fill with bright, rich colors upon physical touching one’s mate. When pressed together, they interlock in only one way and retreat when contact stops.

Soulmates who have reciprocated bonds sport their marks in full and everlasting display. The sight is both beautiful and frustrating to see, even on his family, as he’ll never experience that himself.

His mark might be a stunning amalgamation of scarlet and gold, twisted into a mandala upon his wrist, but it will never be permanent. While it’s been a while since Jason’s made any energetic attempts to kill him, Tim’s resigned himself to living without a completed bond; tolerance is about the only thing he can hope for from his predecessor.

Finding Steph when they were younger had been a joy and a relief. Her not having a mark meant they both had a chance for a fulfilling connection. Until Cass.

Tim forces himself to stop dwelling on it and shoves the bleak thoughts down behind the wall he puts everything uncomfortable and not cohesive to whatever task he’s given himself. Instead, he busies himself with covering up his mark using the spray-on cover that doesn’t fade with water or perspiration, only coming off when scrubbed with a special soap. One of Bruce’s earliest and more practical inventions, since Brucie Wayne and Batman couldn’t have a soulmark in common.

Bruce covers his pretty much all the time, but Tim’s only been covering his when he suits up. He lives his life in disguise, he doesn’t want to hide such an important part of himself when he’s off the clock.

He heads down to the lower levels of his Nest, gets dressed while having the computer scan for trouble. The program calculates probabilities for where violence will crop up, where he should begin his patrol. He hopes for a busy night, something to distract him from his convoluted thoughts.

As usual, he intends to start his rounds off in Tricorner, and then go through Chinatown—which is when he notices movement on a camera that concerns him.

A familiar gleaming scarlet helmet.

Red Hood.

He debates with himself for several minutes.

On the one hand, it’s his regular patrol territory; on the other, seeing the other vigilante tonight, while his mood is already so low, isn’t something he wishes to contend with.

He clenches his fist.

He knew of Jason Todd for a year before discovering the second Robin was his soulmate. By the time he wanted to do anything about it, the older boy was dead, and Tim consigned to grieving in secret.

Then Jason came back, but it was almost worse than him being gone because he hated him. Without having ever met him.

Even now that he’s mellowed out (sort of), Jason appears to reserve more dislike for his successor than anyone else in the family, not counting Bruce and Dick for obvious reasons. Red Hood and Red Robin have run into each other enough in and out of costume that there have been ample opportunities for Jason’s soulmark to make itself known. That Tim has seen nothing close to resembling it means one of two things: either the other man hasn’t developed his mark yet, which is possible albeit rare, or he has, and like Batman, always keeps it covered.

Which says more than enough about his sentiments on the matter.

Between Jason refusing to acknowledge their connection, or just not being aware of it, Tim prefers to believe the latter, if only to make himself feel better. There’s no point in bringing up the soulmate thing at this juncture. He decided years ago to respect the status quo, for the simple reason it’s less painful than the alternative.

All that being said, he doesn’t enjoy watching Jason get in trouble, even more so when the situation is avoidable and he’s near enough to help. At the moment the big idiot is courting a potential gang war.

Sometimes protecting someone means protecting them from themselves and their bad choices, I guess.

Static crackles through the comm in his ear, and then he hears Batman’s low growl. “What’s going on in Chinatown?”

“Why am I not surprised you’re still listening to the comms at your son’s wedding,” Tim sighs. “Nothing. I’m handling it.”

“Are you sure?”

“B, I’ll help A drug you every day for a week,” he threatens. “And you know we both can and will find new and interesting ways of doing it.”

There’s a huff on the other side of the line. “…Noted. Reach out if you need backup.”

“You’ll be the first.”

“You’re lying.”

“Wow, you must be a detective or something,” he deadpans. “Red Robin out.”

Jason is the last person he wants to run into right now, but Tim’s also been cultivating a few informants there and he can’t have that jeopardized.

Looks like I’m going to Chinatown. Hope Lynx is in a good mood…

He wonders if tonight he’ll end up getting beaten up, or just insulted. He’s not even sure which would hurt more.

⁂

Jason goes flying out of the upper story of the restaurant, followed closely by a very tiny woman wielding a very big sword. She reminds him of Cheshire, with a shade less lethality.

Actually, if it were Jade, he would end up critically injured when she lands on him, using him as a cushion against the pavement. He manages to turn his body to land in a way that won’t break his back—though his right side will be a giant bruise tomorrow—and scrambles to his feet.

This is one of the reasons I avoid Chinatown.

Things never go well for him here, especially not since that thing with the Su family. It’s just better to avoid the place. But before that, he and the Ghost Dragons at least used to get along—professional courtesy and all that, along with an unspoken agreement not to step on each other’s toes. 

That’s over, apparently.

All he’d wanted to do was ask some questions. One of his stool pigeons passed him some information on a human trafficking ring; according to him, it was based on Chinatown. It would seem sex slavers were luring young women over to the United States with the premise of work and accommodations.  Then, upon arrival, the girls were hauled into a life of sexual servitude.

Jason didn’t even go in guns blazing this time or wearing the helmet. Just a domino and a hankering for some barbecue pork bun.

So, either someone tipped them off what I was coming around for, or this kid in the mask has something to prove.

There’s a slow curl of heat moving up the back of his left wrist and up his arm, and his first thought is he’s been cut. Except while the sensation is familiar, it isn’t the liquid warmth of blood.

The woman moves fast, and a beat later her sword is swinging downward. Jason’s hands fly to his holsters, thinking he’s going to have to break out the guns after all when there’s a clang.

Suddenly there’s a bō staff in front of his face, catching the sword inches before it slams into Jason’s nose.

Ah. And there’s the other reason I avoid Chinatown.

Because in the past year or so, it’s been part of the patrol route for a certain Timothy Drake.

A.k.a. his replacement.

A.k.a. Red Robin.

A.k.a. his soulmate.

No wonder that warmth in his hand was familiar; the soulmark must have reacted to the younger man’s approach.

After a brief tussle, there’s the sound of a grapple line firing, and then Tim flies upward, ridiculous cape fluttering, still holding the struggling woman.

Her sword stays on the ground.

“Oh, hell no,” Jason growls, because this is his business, damn it!

When he reaches the roof where Tim’s carried off Jason’s would-be-murderer, he notes they are standing close together, conversing in rapid Cantonese. Jason’s rustier at that than he’d like, but he gets the gist when the woman stalks right up to him and begins yelling and gesturing.

Then she shoves him and pushes away; a smoke bomb goes off, and then she’s gone.

Tim makes no move to go after her.

Which, seriously?

Jason stalks over, looming over the shorter man and touching his hand to the still holstered gun in his belt in an implicit (and mostly baseless) threat. He’s always amused at just how much of a height difference there is between him and his replacement, and tonight he makes a point of lording it over him.

“You guys looked awfully cozy there, Timbers.” Which shouldn’t bother him, but he can’t fight a twinge of irritation. “Care to share with the class what your little tête-à-tête was about?”

The cowl covers Tim’s face, but Jason can imagine the judgemental stare.

“She said your poking around her territory will jeopardize her investigation into the sex traffickers.”

“Her investigation? She’s the damn head of the Ghost Dragons!”

“Yeah, and she’s also an undercover operative sent by Hong Kong PD, which I’m only telling you, so you don’t decide to go and kill her for apparent crimes.”

And that was not what he was expecting.

“How do you know this?”

“She told me. She’s one of my CIs.”

“And you believed her?”

“Cass looked into her for me. She’s legit, even if she’s a little…unorthodox.” Tim’s head tilts to one side, considering; with the cowl it makes him look like his avian namesake. “You’d think you’d appreciate that.”

“On the list of things I don’t appreciate, you showin’ up while I’m chasin’ a lead is one of them,” Jason growls. “Don’t you have a party to be at?”

“I ducked out early.”

“Well, that’s lame.”

“Not as lame as someone who ignores the fifteen invitations he was sent.”

Ah, and now they’re back on familiar ground.

“Pfft, I’ve seen enough Brucie to last me several lifetimes.”

“Yeah, but it was for Dick. All you had to do was show up—” his mouth twitches here; Jason can’t tell if it’s amusement or irritation, “—in jeans, even.”

“I’ve been dead once; I don’t need Alfie murderin’ me for that big a faux pas. And somehow I doubt Barbie would appreciate if her wedding photos included Dickiebird sporting a swollen eye.”

Tim sighs. “What are you fighting about this time?”

“Other than the usual stuff? We’re not. But I’m sure he’d put his foot in it at some point and need a nice bit of cognitive recalibration.”

“And you, the perfectly innocent party in all this, would happily provide that?”

“Call it a civic duty.”

Tim shakes his head, but Jason thinks it’s done in amusement this time, instead of exasperation.

“I don’t know how she can settle for that birdbrain,” he continues. “How does she stand bein’ around him so often without wantin’ to punch him in the face every time he opens his mouth?”

“Maybe not every time.”

“Point still stands.”

“Well, they’re soulmates,” Tim says vaguely, distant like he’s not paying attention to what he’s saying. He fiddles with his wrist computer, giving no indication that he is aware of anything else.

Jason’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

After all, he’s practiced in the art of pretending not to feel how his soulmark warms the closer he stands to Tim. There’s no question Tim’s learned to do the same.

It might be hypocritical of him, but that makes him angry somehow.

“As if that explains it all,” Jason sneers. “Come on, Replacement, I thought out of all of them, your whole logical-scientific-question-everything-Klingon-mind wouldn’t go for that hokey soulmate crap.”

“Vulcan.”

That brings him up short. “What?”

“It’s Vulcan culture that’s more focussed on logicality and empirical data-gathering. Klingons are more combat-oriented and tend toward more aggressive means of…” He trails off when he realizes Jason staring at him. “What?”

“You complete nerd,” Jason tells him. “No wonder you left the wedding early. I bet socializin’ with normal people probably stressed you right the fuck out, didn’t it?”

Tim gives a noncommittal shrug.

“Havin’ a soulmate doesn’t mean people should be together,” Jason goes on, filled with the sudden need to hammer home this point. “Look at all the examples from history—Cleopatra and Antony, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Bonnie and Clyde—” He ticks the couples off his finger. “They were all soulmates and they all either made each other miserable or got each other killed.”

“You can’t apply a few historical anomalies to every soulmate pair,” Tim counters. “Life circumstances skew the data.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that fate shouldn’t decide if people will magically work out!”

“That’s not…” Tim appears frustrated, at last, putting down his wrist computer and clenching his jaw. “It’s not supposed to work out magically. It’s about finding the person who completes you. You still need to work at it. It’s not all magically going to fall in place, and you’ll be happy forever right away. Even soulmates don’t get to live perfect lives.”

Ain’t that the truth, Jason muses, considering Tim.

“Sounds like you want a soulmate,” he points out, a little stiffly, and what the hell possessed him to say that?

He wonders what the kid is going to say now, or if this is the day their careful pretense, the lie of not knowing gets shattered.

Luckily, though, Tim avoids opening that can of worms.

He takes a step back from Jason, looks away and mutters, “It’s not relevant to the Mission.” Which is a total cop-out, but Jason will take it. “Anyway, if you’re done causing trouble here and riling up the gangs, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wish you would.”

Tim shoots him an unimpressed glare—or at least, that’s what it seems like to Jason. “Don’t make me come back here. And for god’s sake, at least call and congratulate the happy couple.”

He grapples away rather than allow a witty retort; Jason watches him go with a scowl. Once he’s sure the other vigilante is gone, he tugs the glove off his left hand, frowning at the whorls of crimson and yellow retreating down his forearm and back to his wrist.

His soulmark appeared one night a few evenings before the Garzonas incident. Jason vaguely remembers swinging through an alley to escape yet another argument with Bruce and knocking out a bunch of thugs threatening a kid. He’d been so buzzed on adrenaline and fury he hadn’t noticed the warmth in his wrist. He only caught sight of the mark itself when he returned to the Cave.

And then he spent the night wondering if one of the assholes he knocked around was his soulmate. It wasn’t a comforting idea, and he’d decided then and there to cover up the mark and forget about it. The disappointment about his potential soulmate had been a contributing factor in a long line of shit the universe decided to dump on him that sent him to Ethiopia. If he was linked to scum like that, he wanted to be as far as possible from Gotham.

It never even occurred to him to imagine the kid in the alley was his match. Hell, it didn’t even register when he discovered that Tim Drake had been following Batman and Robin around for years.

Only that day at the Tower, when Jason made his first move against Batman and attacked his replacement, did he finally make the connection.

His mark reacted the minute they were in the same room, spreading across his skin and swirling about seeking its partner. Jason had been so far gone with rage that the sight of it had made him angrier, made him hit harder—because if he didn’t meet Tim before, it meant their bond hadn’t been strong enough to keep him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

It meant he was supposed to meet him after being ripped apart and rebuilt as a weapon.

Luckily, or not, Tim was unconscious before the manifested completed, sneaking out from beneath the long green gauntlets of Jason’s fake Robin suit.

And if he did happen to notice before passing out, the kid hasn’t said anything about it.

Probably hates me and doesn’t want to acknowledge the universe’s idea of a shit joke.

Jason doesn’t blame him. Soulmates are a crock of shit anyway, and Tim’s better off without being tethered to him, and vice versa. They should keep pretending.

Because Jason doesn’t get to be happy.

And Tim deserves better than him because Tim—as much as he’s a pain in the ass—is good.

“And on that note,” Jason murmurs to himself, putting his gauntlet back on, “time to play the villain.”

The tip he received put him in the Ghost Dragons’ crosshairs—which means someone on his payroll is making a move, either against him or against someone else.

Time to find out for sure.

And no more moping over this soulmate crap.

Johnny Lino is the head of an investment company that’s just a front for his money laundering. He’s been passing the Red Hood information about his clients for the better part of a year now, ever since Jason put the fear of Hood in him. Quite a feat, considering the man’s a few inches taller and broader.

Jason finds him in a condo off the Diamond District, watching the Knights game and stuffing his face with pretzels.

Ponzi schemes don’t buy manners, I guess.

“Johnny,” he greets in a clear, would-be friendly manner that has the older man choking up his most recent handful. “Long time no see. Got a bone to pick with you.”

He expects there to be some mumbling and groveling, a few bald-faced lies that require the generous application of foot to face and the reassurance that everything in Jason’s sandbox is back to the way it should be.

So, it surprises him when Johnny scrambles for something that Jason notes too late is a panic button. All of a sudden, half a dozen masked men in combat gear and carrying assault rifles are busting through the door.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction to some conversation, don’t ya think?” Jason asks, throwing himself into action to deal with the interlopers. Bullets fly and knives slice toward him, but in five minutes he’s standing in the ruins of the room with six unconscious men.

And one dead one.

Johnny’s got a neat hole in the side of his head, from one of his hired muscle’s guns, Jason presumes.

“And doesn’t that say a lot about the quality of hired muscle in Gotham these days?” he grumbles, kicking at the body. “Can’t even trust your own people not to shoot you by accident.”

He can hear sirens, knows a neighbor or someone has called in the noise and heads for the fire exit before anyone can link him to the scene. That’s all he needs is the big Bat thinking he pulled the trigger in there.

And damn it, the giant bastard was one of my best sources. Now I’ve got to find someone else.

The encounter bothers him.

He’s had people on his payroll get shifty before, but it’s been his experience that there’s more of a prelude before the attempt to stab him in the back. They try to run or talk their way out of it; it seems Johnny went all out, trying to take out the Red Hood, all because of a bit of questionable information.

If he was so desperate to hire a kill squad rather than answer some well-deserved questions…

Maybe it’s not me that spooked him.

He thinks back to the shot that killed Johnny, remembers the angle it hit the head, and where the exit wound was. The opposite direction from where the thugs entered—from the window.

“There was another shooter,” he realizes.

A quick visit to the building opposite confirms his suspicion: the scrape where someone set up a tripod, bullet casing rolled to one side.

It wasn’t Johnny afraid to talk to the Red Hood—someone else feared he would.

Question is, were they worried he’d talk or worried he’d talk to me?

⁂⁂⁂ 

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

[ofbrightauroras]

Hello, my name is Katie and I play Ches and Balo! There’s a 99.9999% chance I’m currently my grandparents for Thanksgiving Dinner right now because #holidays so this is scheduled BUT I’ll be around on mobile most likely on and off until I get home. I’m always willing to offer my Discord tag to plot if that’s easier for anyone, just dm me for it! Otherwise feel free to like this (or Ches’s) and I’ll dm you! That or, slide into my dms. I love plotting a lot. Anyway, I’ve rambled enough, without further ado, the intro:

TWs: Child Abuse, Eating Disorders

romee strijd. female. she/hers /  did i hear you say paint covered jeans, an ever-present smile, and strawberry scented shampoo ? then you must be talking about aurora, i’d recognize them anywhere. i’ve heard that the 20 year old maid is a aquarus and honestly, i see it. they’re known for being naive and sensitive, but their bubby and imaginitive tendencies make up for it. they’ve been working at du lac for one year and i think that their real name is balian "balo" driskell, but don’t spill.

Quick Facts:

Codename: Aurora Legal Name: Balian Grace Driskell Preferred Name when not using her codename: Balo, Balian is really only when she’s in trouble. Age: 20 Gender:  Female Sexuality: Bisexual Date of Birth: February 7th Place of Birth: Saratoga Springs, New York Hometown: Saratoga Springs, New York Nationality: American

Languages: English Occupation: Maid at Hotel Dulac

Father’s Full Name: Lance Driskell Father’s Status: Alive Father’s Occupation: Restaurant Owner Mother’s Full Name: Cassandra “Cass” Driskell Mother’s Status: Alive Mother’s Occupation: Waitress Driskell Siblings Oldest to Youngest:

Grace (25)

Zander (24)

Balo

Relationship Status: Single Health Issues: Anoxeria Nerovsa

Quick History:

• Balo hasn’t ever had an easy life. Her father, Lance - is an abusive alcoholic, and while her mother tried her best to protect her children - she also covered things up without hesitation. It wasn’t uncommon to see a Driskell in the ER with a lie and people willing to back up the story. • She loves art, painting especially, and she always dreamed of being some sort of artist. While her mother encouraged it every chance she got, her father hated every piece of the idea. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to lash out over it. • While she tries to see the best in everyone, no matter what. She truly can’t see it in her father, a fact she feels extremely guilty over it. This trait of hers also makes her very easy to manipulate. • She truly just wants to love and befriend everyone, while it’s not really too hard to make her cry, usually you’ll see Balo running around with a smile trying to brighten everyone’s day. This is an issue because she’ll put everyone around her before herself every time, your happiness is a priority before hers. Again, making her easy to manipulate. (So I welcome manipulating Balo and love it when it occurs, please feel free to do so at any point) • The lack of control in her life is what led to her eating disorder, she was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa in her early teens. It’s a condition she still struggles to maintain, although she is trying. • After graduating high school, she had been planning on attending college at the closest community college and getting a job at the art supply store as she slowly tried to make her way towards a degree her father disapproved of. • Moving to Iceland was something she had never imagined doing, but when her older brother Zander decided to move, he took her with him. Grace was in California, he was leaving, she would have been alone with her parents otherwise. • She got a job at Hotel Dulac not long after they moved to work as a maid. She’s been living in Iceland for a year now and she loves it. Sometimes she misses the states but she’s safe and she’s happy, that’s the most important thing. • Aurora was chosen for multiple reasons, at first Balo struggled with picking a city and looked at lists to help her decide, however when she saw Aurora in one it stuck. Perhaps it was her love of Disney or her awe of the lights above her head at night but the city’s name called to her.

[kurtty-drabbles]

"Here's a penny for your thoughts and a quarter to keep them to yourself." (AoA)

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead

N/A: I´ll use this for my Emissary au and hope this can explain a bit more why this Victorian au is so different from the books. Also, yeah...I can´t help by putting a bit of Pride and Prejudice here because I still love that movie.

Ariel is invited by the Darkhlmes to accompany her as in their meeting with the Queen, and of course, Ariel can be a progressive woman as much she wishes, but, no one can act like a fool in front of the Queen of England and Ariel is certainly happy and nervous with such occasion and opportunity to meet such amazing woman as close as her human eyes can allow.

The carriage left Ariel in the guest entrance as the Darkholmes are getting ready, as they are nobility and from another country, they have to make sure to look more than presentable for the Queen, while, Ariel has the small luxury of being able to wear a good dress and know she will be outshined by the Darkholmes as they are the focus of the Queen´s gaze (she envies them a little, to be honest)

And the maid, a silent woman making a jarring contrast with the butler from Canada ("I think you´re from Toronto" "...Hey, aren´t you Sherlock Holmes? People say, oh Wade is Canadian but few ever put more details in this line, so, kudos to you, Miss Sherlock Holmes" "Not sure if comparing me with a dog is good, but, at least I got the answer right, by the way...you have a typical accent from Toronto" "Elementary, my dear") who guides Kitty to the waiting room as in her minimum words. "The master is being difficult" and leaves making Ariel wonder what kind of household the Darkholme run.

And Ariel not wanting to be idle manages to scape the comfy couch she was put and look around to see what style it is being used here. She notices, once leaving the waiting room, to the small museum of the house.

Not uncommon for nobles to support artists and have arts on their proprieties, the Braddocks for example, are a big fan of painting and support the local artists as well the international.

The Darkholme seems to like sculptures and all of them, even if Ariel is no specialist, can say how well done they all are almost look like real people.

She notices the last one in the collection. A bust of Dr Darkholme. The man is not smiling even here and the artist captured the essence of Kurt Darkholme. A man full of secrets that dares you to try to solve any of them or die trying.

Her finger, to be more exact, her pinky, gentle touches the thin line that forms his lips amused and in reverence. "What do you hide?" she asks to herself and someone replies anyway.

"Right now, my total disdain with humanity" and this jolt Ariel back to reality as the Dr Darkholme is there, as should be expected, with a bemused look on his face. "I don´t like your Queen and I don´t want to go...but I have no choice"

"Our Queen, Dr Darkholme, and well...we don´t have a choice because when she says come to the palace...you go, no matter what"

____________________________________________________________________________

The Queen´s renovations are as glorious as one could imagine from someone that calls herself Gloriana, no, that´s not her real name and no mortal could ever hope to say the real name and remain sane. Queen Gloriana (as she likes to be called) is a daughter of Zaorva that won countless wars in the space and other dimensions and settle in this dimension.

She has no problem in setting humanity´s mistakes right as women rights, workers rights and many other revolutionary ideas that would be taken years to be accepted ...are in working just fine thanks to Queen Gloriana.

Queen Gloriana is also married to Prince Albert, from Germany, and this union united England and Germany (along with the execution of anyone who dared to opposed the Gloriana and Albert´s vision. Anti-semitism and traffic of people are crimes worth making the couple open their mouths and eat people...suffice to say, everyone can pretend to get along to avoid such fate) even through Prince Albert is not human in any sense of the word.

Ariel meets Raven Darkholme, a woman like her son who shares few words, but, so far the azzure woman has not shown any displeasure with Ariel so far. His sister neither and somehow that´s enough.

Gloriana aka Meggan Braddock is with her husband as her eyes weep and her mouth speaks so freely about the beauty of Queen Gloriana, Ariel can hate Betsy for the solidarity of Kwanon (those two women have bad blood involved) but she can´t hate Meggan for speak what Ariel is thinking.

"She got even more beautiful each year" Meggan wipes her tears as her husband seems to share the same opinion as Dr Darkholme on the matters of the Queen. "Aren´t we the lucky ones?"

Ariel suspect Brian and Kurt will never be friends but in this brief moment, they can share the pain in silence. Meggan, notice the two, and waves friendly at them.

(She´s an empathic and Queen Gloriana affect them the most)

Meggan is now carrying Ariel as if she´s a literal cat and the woman is not pleased with the gesture but can speak loving towards Queen Gloriana. "Long live the Queen"

Brian and Kurt are speechless and Dr Darkholme is dreading going to see the Queen. "Is the prince there with her?" Kurt asked closing his eyes and Brian confirms the inevitable. "fantastic, fucking fantastic"

______________________________________________________________________

The Queen is beautiful as Meggan told Ariel and she can´t help by crying a little in the pure image of the Queen who does not seem to mind, no, far from it, she loves the attention and wants to talk with Dr Darkholme and Ariel alone now. The other Darkholme are excused and Dr Darkholme is about to say something dumb when Ariel holds his hand tightly.

Prince Albert is not the same as the Queen, far from it, he´s a real Eldritibch abomination(only uses a human mask when in Germany and is a way to show his preference to the country) and both are using tentacles to communicate with each other. Again, Dr Darkholme wants to say something here but Ariel is almost crashing his hand.

"Dr Darkholme, a count of Bavaria, is indeed a great honour to have you in my domains..." she pauses as Albert picks a somewhat humanoid mask, but, still speaks in a language no human could get it. "and I heard you..." she pauses smiling as if she knows everything and Dr Darkholmes wants to doubt that "searching for a wife and that fills my heart with joy, isn´t right, love?"

Albert speaks and now Dr Darkholme feels as if an invisible force is making him bow and he hates it. Again, he wanted to say something about this couple, but, Ariel is holding his arm so tight as a boa would.

(Ok, she´s tiny but stronger)

"What intimacy display I see here" Queen speaks more amused than anything. "Dr Darkholme shows a great sensation of lust towards this woman, not a noble, but, that hardly matters...uhm," now she frowns "I hope you will take the marriage procedures accordingly"

And it takes a minute to Dr Darkholme to register what she implies. "Of course, if the Queen and ..." Kurt really wants to say something stupid and Ariel is almost slapping his face "Prince Consort Albert gave us the blessing I would be happy to make the request"

The Queen seems happy with this choice of words and Prince Albert has no complaints. "She´s a good soul, one Mother Celestial would be proud ...to collect, but, You two have my blessing but I´m not here to say only that...I was wondering when your cousin, Niles, will be returning to my domains"

Prince Albert speaks in a German language and Queen Gloriana translate to Kitty. "Oh, he wants to know if Niles can play the piano for my dear Albert...it soothes his soul listening to such song"

"My cousin...will be back from Scotland as soon as he can...Queen Mary" another abomination as Queen Gloriana but Kurt knows what Ariel thinks of such words, "asked for his talent first, she wanted a painting of....her kids" at this moment Dr Darkholme pities Niles very much.

"Oh...do speak to him when you see him...I know you´ll, that Prince Albert wishes to listen to his lovely song again"

"Will do that"

______________________________________________________________________

Ariel is now holding his hands as if still fearing he can say something dumb, even if not in front of the Queen (she has eyes and ears in many ways in the palace) and guides him to a safer spot outside the palace and from...anyone listening.

"Don´t!" she warms him as Dr Darkholme does not need words to say anything right now.

"Ok, I won´t...for now" he grits his teeth for a moment. "As you know...I´m looking for a wife"

"Oh, yes, I´m sorry for the confusion...I´m sure that as long you marry someone else within a year the Queen won´t mind this day"

"You don´t want to marry me?"

"Do you? We´re friends very recently and ...I´m not from a noble background nor I have money...I would be Cinderella here and I know you hate any notion of Prince Charming"

"Yes, I do, but, honestly your background means nothing to me. You´re smart, polite, witty, brave, not afraid of me or want my money and you´re pretty and...I wouldn´t mind being married to you"

"The greatest love declaration I ever heard"

"And it is true"

Marriage for love is extremely rare, even Gloriana and Albert´s love story begins because Mother Celestial orders them to be married (No one dares to question Zaorva´s will here) so, why Ariel should expect something different. "Ok, I accept to be engaged to you, Mr Darkholme, you´re a total enigma to everyone included to me"

"So romantic"

"Thanks, Dr Darkholme, I try"

[lady-plantagenet]

A Bygone Era - Chapter 1

A fictionalised account of Isabel Neville’s life from the point of view of her and those close to her.

So far told through the points of view of: Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick.

5th September 1451

As each gust of wind veered and swooped around the pointed turrets of Warwick castle, it would not surrender its strength before first claiming a tawny leaf from the hazel trees. The emerald blush of the castle grounds: the summer green that made the tableaux of the landscape ever more poignant just a few months ago, was now fading into a browner more lifeless hue.

Having seen twenty-five summers, the countess was hardly a young lass at the cusp of womanhood. Her half-sister Margaret was six years younger than she when she bore her first child, Elizabeth even more so. Labour was harder for those years past their first flowering. The pain in her back and hips seemed to sting her everytime she drew breath, her head felt uneasy on her shoulders as the exertion of the birth seemed to have pushed all the air out of her. However, there were none to pity her or lay at her feet praising her for the beautiful daughter she had just provided - the Earl of Warwick needed a son.

Even my wretched ladies seem less eager to attend to me. Especially Martha. She thinks herself above me now, for the whelp she bore her minor knight of a husband was a boy.

‘Jesus wept’ snapped Anne ‘may I not be washed and given a morsel of food or even the child?’

A tremble hit Martha and Agnes before they bound down the castle stairs, one with a washbasin nestled under an arm and the other clutching at a gilded platter. Not since she was a little girl had Anne raised her voice beyond a ladylike drone. Those two did not know that, hence the agitation.

‘Begging your pardon milady’ said a breathless Agnes while handing her some bread and salt and Isabel, rosy and clean from the nursemaid’s scrubbing.

Anne tilted her head letting her long auburn tresses fall over into the silver washbowl that Martha brought. While the labour of childbirth was scrubbed off her, she looked at the babe before her. Isabel slowly opened her eyes with a lack of enthusiasm so uncommon to a newborn babe. They were the phantasmagorical green of the turbulent sea.

A beauty that would rally the men of the field to pick up swords and fight god himself it was not.

Though not even an hour unto this world, Isabel’s fair face had no suggestion of roundness, but was a slender oval. The small mouth had a suggestion of full lips and the thin tuft of hair on her head appeared flaxen - though Anne knew it would darken to Richard’s chestnut brown in little time.

A beauty of ice instead maybe. A Despenser, Montacute, Beauchamp and Neville fit for a king or at least a duke who would be immensely drawn to those features, so like those of a statue. Let the golden haired, sky-eyed buxom jezebels catch the eyes of peasant boys and mercenaries. My Isabel shall rouse the very rose of Plantagenet with a face that only generations of careful breeding since the age of the conquest could produce. Because with these she shows herself a daughter of Warwick - and what man would not rally behind that?

At first Anne thought she could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops, but the sound grew sharper resembling a thundercloud heralding a Warwickshire late summer storm.

As the sound of the bailey’s gravel amplified the countess’ entire body shot up so fast that she could feel a surging pain through her spine. The kingmaker had arrived.

The years have proven that the lack of a heir did nothing to dull the earl’s affections for his wife. As he leaped from his horse in one refined movement and took Anne into his arms, she once more felt like a newly wed bride greeting her betrothed outside Bisham Abbey.

She winced as he roughly pulled her into a arduous kiss marvelling at how deliciously crude this gesture was in contrast to his previous elegant one. He may be an earl but he is also a soldier, and above that a man quenching his thirst after months on dry land. And how could he not? At just a couple of inches below his height and still lithe and thin after just moments of childbirth, Anne had the elegance of a water nymph. As Richard was stroking her cheeks he could not help but gaze in awe at the bonny eyes whose colour so much resembled the burnished emerald of her ancestral land.

‘My son how fare he?’ He asked with impatient excitement ‘A strong lad is he not?’

Anne’s chest tightened as if the gusts of wind from a few hours ago were filling her lungs like saltwater would a drowning sailor’s. It is my entire fault. I should never have told him I knew I was carrying a son. All mothers share the same musings about their firstborn, they can not all be right.

‘My Lord husband’ she began adopting a more formal tone ‘It is a girl and I have decided to call her Isabel after mother’

To her relief his smile reappeared. ‘How fitting. The second Lady Isabel Neville’

Anne looked noticeably confused.

‘Ah you do not know then? Isabel de Neville was the daughter and sole heiress of the Norman Geoffrey de Neville and wife of Robert Ritzmaldred a son of the Earls of Northumbria and Etheldred II’ he grinned ‘By the time Lionheart was crowned and fighting his wars in the foreign lands of the east, no one could then gainsay the Plantagenet dynasty so Geoffrey took the Neville name as his own to sit at the high tables of the Norman nobility’

Her husband was so taken up with his tales of Saxon princes and Gospatric of Northumbria that she had to lead him through the great hall and up the winding staircase like a mother hen guiding a sleep-heavy child to its bed. I have done this before she started to remember I was nine and he seven, and we were right here on those stairs. If truth be told my mother had invited Lady Alice to introduce her son as my betrothed in guise of a St Crispin’s day luncheon invitation. By then I have perfected my curtsey and broke the nasty habit of handling my skirts, so I was finally considered worthy of social presentation. They bid me go show him all around the castle grounds and I played hostess thinking I had merely gained another playmate - though he might not have been so easily duped. To think where we are now.

In her apartments Isabel lay satisfied in her cot having just received her milk and with Margaret and the nursemaid hovering over her dotingly.

‘Ah dear wife’ proclaimed Richard ‘it seems her and Margaret would make splendid companions - she had always wanted a sister’. With one small step he picks her up and kisses her on the forehead. The little girl giggled at that, her wide smile squeezing her cornflower blue eyes in satisfied lines.

Ah yes the bastard daughter. Richard’s little indiscretion. The newborn girl that greeted me at Middleham where we first appeared as man and wife, before all our sisters, John and dear Henry- could it really have been eight years past? It feels like just yesterday I buried my dear brother.

Anne became a stone statue as Agnes was at work binding her straight auburn strands into a china blue crespine whose cauls were covered in wide copper netting to complement her Burgundian gown. The dress’ saffron skirts were piercing beams of summer against the burnished autumn hue of the kirtle that latched tightly against her pert chest. The image of his darling wife rushing past the stony keep and into the courtyard seeming more woman than countess with her hair tumbling about her, must have made the earl’s heart wrench with delight for this sun goddess of a woman that he now possessed. I chose his favourite dress, but for that remark I shall choose the most matronly headdress - the one he hates. I shall take it off when he begs my pardon for all this inappropriate cooing over the bastard.

With the classic lack of concern customary of a pre-occupied magnate, Richard did not notice his wife’s minuscule act of defiance. Ever since the death of little Anne two years past, one of England’s greatest earldoms had burdened her husband with its great expectations. Ever since parliament declared her sole heiress over her half-sisters, Richard’s mind was constantly operating in tandem between the world before him and the world next morrow.

Thankfully he eventually sensed the tension surrounding him soon enough to act swiftly and pick up Isabel. The baby’s eyes that only moments ago seemed to lay frozen in her face, lit up with an excitement spreading throughout her whole expression, culminating in a joyful squirm as her father cradled her. Anne started to worry that the disappointment surrounding her sex had started to be rescepted by Isabel. She was now relieved to see the prevention of that.

‘Dear god Anne’ said Richard not tearing his eyes off Isabel ‘What a jewel you have given me’

The heartfelt display thawed the ice that previously had a hold over Anne’s heart as she let out a smiling sigh of relief that after months enraptured in the gripping power plays and intrigues of a royal court, Isabel did not disappoint.

‘As beautiful as her lady mother’ he continued before flashing a knight’s dazzling smile. A smile devoid of vulgarity and void of mummery. A smile so chivalrous that it belonged in Camelot.

He knows to appeal to my vanity the wicked man. Shame on him and his courtier’s tricks.

Before she could damn him further he gently tugged at the hem of her sleeves, bringing her close enough to folder her in his arms with Isabel. She made her peace. ‘Remind me, my sweet, what is the meaning of her Christian name?’ He asked

‘Pledged to God’ Anne smiled ‘As we all are’

‘As we all must be. The war against France has weakened our king. That shrew of a maid of Orleans has marked the demise of any chance we may ever have to hold true power in France’ he started complaining vociferously. And now he recommences. I find it passing incredible how nearly everything I say he takes as a prompt to indulge himself into one of his soliloquies. Today he bemoans England’s fortunes in “the useless war.” ‘... with any luck our recapturing of Bordeaux would at least render this war not a complete loss.’

‘I hear Talbot shall be leading the command. If Gascony were taken back that would bring glory to-’

‘The glory of the Lancastrian rose is of no concern to me Anne’ Richard interrupted suddenly ‘I need this wasteful war to cease so that my father may regain his men and deal with Percy once and for all.’

‘For shame my Lord husband! You mean to tell me you’re heart does not yearn for the chivalry of defeating the lily of France?’ teased Anne playfully ‘Does your heart not beat red for Lancaster and the quest of justice to fulfill their ancestral claims?’

Any other day Richard would respond to Anne’s coyness the way she liked. It was one of their oldest customs. A couple of japes would be passed back and forth always leading to him jokingly proclaiming her a disobedient woman while slowly lifting her skirts and punishing her as if she were an unruly wench eagerly accepting what punishment her lord sees fit. Today something was different and Anne admittedly felt a little more than hurt.

‘Nay wife. Red for the bear and ragged staff. The only cause I believe in. My father was right; this simpleton of a King is incapable of responding to our petitions. We are of royal blood and wardenship of the West March does make us far more capable of keeping Percy tenants in good support. If the Lancastrians of Westminster choose to preoccupy themselves with the lost cause which is the French crown I see no reason to continue blindly serving this line of usurpers.’

Anne froze. Though far from an emotional man, Richard usually delighted in being the cause of his own flights of fury. She would sit on the ledge by the solar windowpanes attentively as he would in his lectures damn half a dozen men and complain endlessly about anything between Beaufort’s incompetence and the treacherous Percys. The series after the Scottish wars was the most heartfelt.

Today’s sermon was delivered in a frigid manner devoid of any of the four humours nor spite. It was the discourse of a man already deep in planning

Choleric or not, Richard was ravenous, downing one slice of capon dipped in melted spiced butter after the other. His return was especially rejoiced by Cook Royce whose pregnant mistress’ cravings for the mundane poussin and squab had left him with no opportunity for great culinary creative expression.

The Goyart tapestries on the soot grey walls of the great hall have been changed for the richer and more sombre Flemish tapestries. Her favourite depicted a fair haired maiden lying sombrely on the juniper grass guarded by maned lions. She pointed her mirror towards the unicorn as if to reveal to him his own magic, though his horn did not reflect in the mirror like the rest of his comely face. Ah the scintillating nature of magic. God reveals himself in ways that elude most. She thought back to all the miracles she thought she had witnessed in her girlhood. Blue roses appearing in winter, the butterfly with transparent wings, even the draft and light from the glass window working in conjunction, turning her to the appropriate page and shining blue light upon the bible passage so her governess would not realise she was not attentive...

‘Ah yes, do you like them Anne? They were part of the Dowager Duchess of Bedford’s dowry, given to the crown in part payment for the dishonour that was her illicit marriage’ Richard said after finally lifting his head from the plate

‘The lady Jacquetta led quite a scandal’ started Anne ‘How is she fareing shacked up with her squire?’

‘Last I heard he was made Baron Rivers’

‘A fanciful title���

‘Still not one a mere country squire merits. I highly doubt it will ever bring in the income to sufficiently maintain the widow of Prince John in the luxury to which she grew accustomed.’

‘The luxury she grew accustomed to as the daughter of Peter of Luxembourg would prove to be the more insurmountable standard for Woodville to reach.’

‘What are you trying to say my lady?’ Richard began teasing ‘Do our English comforts no longer satisfy yours or the Duchess’ lofty needs?’

‘I only say, husband, that just as the Italian duchies are rife with classical art, bards singing dulcet tones and those technologies - whatever they would be, Duke Philip has his own cohort of artists and inventors. The ‘Burgundian School’ is so accomplished our very own John Dunstaple has joined their ranks...’ Richard’s fatigue was waning his attention until his wife stood up from the oak long table and spun around. The flashes of the yellow silk at the skirts extending out with each movement and encircling the amber coloured kirtle as if she were the sun itself come down from the heavens to grace and bring calm to her particularly agitated earl. ‘...and this.’ Anne finished referring to the Burgundian fashions. For dramatic effect she pointed her elbows high to present the same pomegranate pattern adornishing the trimmings of the long jagged sleeves - and as he later noticed - the lining of the deep v-neckline of the dress.

‘Jesus wept’ Richard exclaimed ‘What could have possibly possessed me and drawn me away from noticing the beauty of your gown, for so long?’

By then all the food was dispensed with and the hall was clear of servants. In the privacy of the ancient great hall and enraptured with the smell of fresh rushes the Earl of Warwick drew his wife onto his lap. Anne happily obliged as eagerly as a moth to a flame and threw her arms around his neck tangling her long fingers in his shoulder-length woodland brown hair as she kissed him. Improper public displays like this were a rarity and almost never passed between the Earl and Countess of Warwick, but betwixt the lengthy separation, a wife’s adoration and splendid supper neither could help themselves.

I see Isabel’s birth has not made him wroth at me. Perchance he will one day grow to love her as much as I do.

As if capable of reading her mind Richard drew her in even closer for a longer more ardent kiss. Not the polite type a knight would give his elusive ladylove.

‘No verbalisation of mine could ever express my gratitude for your birthing of such a perfect babe, I shall love Isabel as dearly as others love their sons’

‘God will give us a son soon my love, I promise you that....’ Anne started

‘Even if he does not, lest we forget the running tradition of female heiresses in both our lines’ Richard gently said while his fingers traced the hem marking the end of Anne’s kirtle and the tender skin above her breasts. It was no secret that her vast inheritance served as a point of pride for her husband; few knew it was also an aphrodisiac. ‘The finest men in the kingdom will vie for her hand in marriage’.

Anne nestled her weary head in the crook of his neck adjusting so the sharp corners of her caul do not dig into his neck before saying ‘She is too young to even contemplate such a thing.’ She was playing the doting mother. I would not admit to anyone that just hours after her birth I had been lining up a list of names in my head. Most women would think that only shrews and wicked mothers work in that way. But these women were not born to be heiresses like I was and Isabel is. Her and I are of a different breed.

‘Margaret of Anjou is taking very young girls into her service nowadays. Jacquetta Rivers’ eldest Elizabeth had been appointed lady-in-Waiting since she was just ten and three’

‘It never ceases to amaze me how many lives those Woodvilles have’ Anne chortled ‘not even the biggest scandal of Christendom could bar them from the court or king’s favour.’

‘For all of Lady Rivers’ ambitions this is the highest her or any of her brats could ever rise to. For all her fabled beauty, last I heard Elizabeth is pre-contracted to marry a modest Leicester knight like her father. Now just imagine the great marriages Isabel will have to choose from, when the time comes for her to be brought to court’ said Richard

‘Just imagine’ replied Anne wistfully ‘the greatest lady of the land - second only to the Rose of Anjou herself.’

Read the other 4 Chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268239/chapters/53175664

[gatesofember]

The Whitethorn Hearth: Chapter 4

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU Part 9

Rating: M | Pairing: Solangelo

Prev | Next | AU directory | Read it on AO3 (Recommended) | Arranged Marriage AU Masterpage

Summary: The long-awaited celebration of Prince Nico’s wedding to William of Solace has finally arrived.  Between all the wedding duties, keeping Octavian as far from the royal family as possible, and dealing with the occasional fiasco, the grooms still manage to find plenty of time to themselves.  But as they enter the new chapter of their life, they will encounter new challenges.  Will must say goodbye to his family and move to a new home.  Nico remains unpopular among his own people and sometimes still struggles to express himself to his husband-to-be.  And what will happen between Nico’s guard and the pretty maid who works for Will’s family?

When Nico woke up the next morning, he was alone.  It took him a moment to realize that something was wrong; with Asterion getting older, it wasn’t uncommon for him to get up to relieve himself while Nico was still sleeping.  Once Nico recalled Will staying with him the night before, he bolted upright and looked around his room for any sign of him.  The space beside him in the bed had been slept in, but Will himself was nowhere to be seen.  Had he left?  Where was he?  Had he gone to his own bed?  What was he doing?  Why...?

A sudden memory flashed through Nico’s mind—a terrible morning in the Lotussium, years ago, when he woke up to find Asterion missing from his bed.  They’d stolen Asterion away while Nico was sleeping, and by the time Nico finally found him—

Nico shook his head to banish the thought.  That would not happen.  Nico had been promised that Asterion would never be taken from him again.  Asterion was safe and Will would be safe, too.  No one would come to steal Will away.

There was a quiet knock on the door to his bedroom before it opened and Will’s blond head poked in.  Nico let out a breath in relief, like he hadn’t quite managed to convince himself that everything was fine until that moment.

Will smiled and asked, “May I come in, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” Nico answered.  

Will stepped inside and shut the door behind him, then stood in front of it with a lost, shy expression.  “I...uh...good morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning,” Nico answered, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear.  More memories flashed through his head, this time of what had occurred the night before—the hands, the kisses, the flushed cheeks, and the mess of their arousal....

Nico swallowed and gathered his courage before continuing to speak.  “I was surprised when I woke to find you missing.”

Will nodded and stepped inside a bit further.  “I’m usually an early riser.  I didn’t want to wake you, so I sorted through my belongings and then I sat down in the common room to read for a while.”

“How long have you been awake?” Nico asked.

“Dawn, I think.”

“So early?” Nico asked.  “Why, Will, you must be a lark.”

Will laughed softly and moved towards the bed, but stopped at the edge without joining Nico in it.  “I can be your lark.”

“My lark?  Then will you sing for me every morning?”

Will carefully sat on Nico’s bed, like he wasn’t sure if he should be there or not.  “I’m afraid that I’m not very good at it, but if that is what my husband desires, then I will.”

“What your husband desires is to be greeted with a kiss each day.”

Will shifted closer and said, “If a kiss is your wish, then I shall gladly grant it.”  He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Nico’s forehead.

“I didn’t mean there,” Nico mumbled.

“Oh?” Will asked.  He brushed his lips against Nico’s cheek.  “Then you mean here?”

“No, not there, either,” Nico said, trying to keep a smile out of his voice.

“Then surely you mean here.”  Will pecked Nico’s nose.

“Will!” Nico laughed.

“Not there?” Will asked.  “Then I’m afraid I must continue kissing you until I guess correctly.”

And he did.  He kissed Nico’s chin, his jaw, his cheeks, and his temple, and all the while Nico laughed.  Eventually, Nico put his arms around Will’s neck and stopped him by planting a long kiss on his lips.

“Nico,” Will whispered, and the simple sound of his own name sent a shiver down Nico’s spine.  “I wanted to tell you that I...um...I enjoyed last night.”

Nico felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment.  Will continued speaking before Nico could compose himself enough to think of what to say.

“You...uh...you made me feel good,” Will said.  He took one of Nico’s arms from around his neck and laced their fingers together.  “Very good.”

“You made me feel good, too,” Nico said.  “And I liked talking to you and spending time with you.”

“I felt the same,” Will said.

“Perhaps, if you’d like, you could stay with me again tonight?”

“Yes,” Will answered.  “I would like that very much.”

They kissed again, and again, and just when Nico started to wonder if they had time to fall back in bed together and repeat the previous night’s activities, Will pulled away.  “Before I find myself more distracted, I must report that I came in here with the goal of informing you that your manservant brought our meal.  The tea is probably cold by now.”

Nico sighed, but got out of bed without feeling too regretful about it.  They only needed to suffer through one last day of the wedding, and then he could whisk Will away for a romantic week-long excursion at the Privilla.

*   *   *

The most stressful part of any wedding was gift-giving day.  Scattered through history were tales of bloody battles and political scandals that occurred as the result of a simple mishap during a gifting ceremony.  A present had to perfectly balance lavishness and modesty; simple and inexpensive gifts made their givers seem greedy, selfish, and uncaring, while the most extravagant ones threatened to outshine the receiver’s wealth.  Fortunately, barbaric wedding catastrophes were mostly a thing of the past, but lesser disasters were still known to occur.  Cecil must have been counting on his friendship with Will to prevent serious insult, because he and his husband gifted Will and Nico with a hog, saying that they hoped it would remind Nico of them.  Will had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing.  Nico pursed his lips and thanked them through gritted teeth, then said that he was sure it would provide him with a nice dinner.

The remaining presents were substantially less dangerous.  Precious stones from local mines were especially popular among Plutons.  One of Will’s favorite gifts was from Piper of Venus, who offered them fine Neptunian cocoa beans.  Another was part of the Royal family’s gift to Will and Nico; a week-long stay in the Privilla, which would begin at the end of the evening.  However, the most important part of the gifting ceremony was the conclusion of Will’s dowry payments, in which Apollo presented a specimen of the herd of black cattle he was giving the royal family.

Aside from Lee, Michael, and Lou Ellen teasing Will and subtly alluding to his recently lost virginity, the rest of the day passed in a blur for Will.  His body still felt light and airy after his night with Nico, and once the gifting ceremony and the dinner banquet finally ended, he spent the next several hours dancing with his new husband.  But in spite of the celebrations, a gnawing sense of sorrow hung over Will the whole day.  His family intended to leave Pluto the next morning, so when he and Nico left for their trip to the Privilla that evening, Will would have to say goodbye.

Will had been preparing for their separation since his family departed for the wedding, but nothing could have made him ready to see them go.  Having studied abroad every summer since he was seven, Will was accustomed to not seeing them for months at a time, but they always parted knowing exactly how long it would be before they’d meet again.  Even while in Venadica, Will had been around family; he’d been with his aunt and friends that he’d known since childhood.  Living with Pluto’s royal family promised none of that security.  Will loved Nico and he was optimistic about forming a good relationship with the royal family, but his future was still clouded by unknowns.  How long would it be until he saw his siblings again?  Would they be able to keep regular contact?  What about Will’s medical studies and his friends in Venadica?  Without the Duke of Diana’s patronage, how often would the royal family’s budget allow Will to return to the City of Enlightenment?  Whenever he wasn’t busy basking in the glow of his happy new marriage, Will felt afraid.

Late that evening, Lee found Will as he was making his way through the guests to personally thank them again for their gifts.

“Have you come to tease me more?” Will asked.

“Alas, not this time,” Lee answered.  “I wanted to tell you that Austin took Kayla to bed.  I thought you might like to go see her before you leave for the Privilla.  She’s probably not asleep yet.”

“Ah, thank you,” Will said.  “I’ll do that.”

“Also, I thought you should know that Michael and Austin are having a hard time today.  I’d like you to talk to them if you can.”

Will nodded.  “Where are they?”

“Austin never came back after taking Kayla to bed.  I left him alone because I didn’t want to crowd him, but...check on him for me?”

“I’ll see if I can get him to talk to me.  And Michael?”

“He’s around here somewhere.  I was trying to keep track of his wine, but I lost him at some point.  I’ll try to find him while you’re with Kayla and Austin.”

Will thanked Lee and left the Chamber of Ouranos for the suite where his family had been staying in the palace.  The door the room Will had shared with Austin was closed, but Will went to Kayla’s room first to see her before she fell asleep.  When he opened the door, Kayla sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.  “Will?” she called sleepily.

“Did I wake you?” Will asked.

Kayla shook her head.  “I can’t sleep,” she said.  “Not if you’ll be gone when I wake up.”

“Oh, Kayla,” Will said.  He quietly closed the door behind him at set the candle on the table beside the bed.  When Kayla’s arms reached out for him, Will sat next to her and hugged her tightly.  “Kayla, I’m going to miss you so much.”

Kayla hid her face against Will’s shoulder and sniffled.  “I don’t like it when you go.”  Her voice cracked even before she finished her sentence, then she sobbed into Will’s jacket.  “You always go, every year.  I hate it so much.”

Will felt a painful throb in his chest.  Kayla had always been the hardest to leave behind summer after summer.  Every time he returned home in the fall, Kayla had grown so much during his absence that she seemed like an entirely different person.  He’d missed so much of her childhood already.

Will squeezed his burning eyes shut.  If he cried, too, it would only make it harder on Kayla.  “I know,” he whispered.  “I hate going, too.”

“And this time, you won’t come back.”

“Of course I’ll come back,” Will said.  “I’ll visit you and I’ll write to you every month.”

“It’s not the same!”

“No,” Will agreed.  “It’s not.”  He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair.  “Maybe you can come visit me.”

Kayla sniffed.  “I can’t do that by myself.”

“Why not?” Will asked.  “I was younger than you when I started going to Venadica.  If you want, you can bring a few brothers along with you.  How does that sound?”

Kayla wiped her nose on her sleeve.  “Good.”

“You’ll need to bring Mellie, too.  She’s quite taken with the Prince’s guard.”

“Really?” Kayla asked.

“They are completely smitten and they’ve been exchanging secret love letters for about a year,” Will said.  “It would be cruel for us to separate them, so I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.  Perhaps there will even be another wedding soon.  And after that, you and I will find plenty of new excuses to meet each other.  My getting married doesn’t mean that we won’t see each other anymore.”

“I’m still going to miss you,” she said.  Her voice cracked again and fresh tears stained her cheeks.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Will said, squeezing her tightly.  “Do you promise to be good for Chiron while I’m gone?”

Kayla sniffed.  “No.”

Will sighed.  “It was silly of me to ask.”

“I’ll be terrible.”

“I know,” Will said as he coaxed her to lie back down.

“I won’t listen to him at all,” Kayla continued.  “I’ll break everything I can get my hands on.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said, then he tucked her into bed again.

“I’ll let the pigs inside again,” Kayla added.  “And I’ll burn those ugly orange draperies in the library.”

“Just be careful not to hurt the books.”  Will listened to Kayla until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, then he held her hand until her breathing became even and she fell asleep.  He kissed her forehead and wished her goodnight before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind himself.

Will closed his eyes and leaned against the wood.  The door to Austin’s room was still shut, but Will knew he couldn’t face him until he composed himself.  Later, when he was on his own, Will could allow himself to mourn, but he wouldn’t make the separation harder on his family by crying in front of them.

After taking a deep breath, Will left the family’s suite to clear his head.  He took a tray of sesame cakes from a server to lure Austin out into talking and requested a jar of honey to sweeten them.  Once he’d calmed himself, Will went back and knocked on Austin’s door before letting himself in.  He found Austin lying in bed with his face mashed into the pillow.

“Austin?” he called.  “I came to check on you.”

Austin glanced up.  “I’m alright.”

He’d been crying.  Will could tell.

“I brought you sesame cakes,” said Will.

Austin pouted.  “I don’t like the way Plutons make them.  They taste like sawdust.”

“I know,” Will said.  “But they tastes much better if you add a bit of honey.”

Austin eyed the tray in Will’s hands for a moment, then he sat up, still clutching his pillow, and nodded.

Will smiled at sat down next to him.  “If we’re being honest, I’ve never liked Plutonian food much,” Will said as he lathered a few cakes in honey.  “I’ll have to go back home to get my fill of good southern Juvian cuisine every so often.”

Austin didn’t answer, but he did accept the sesame cake Will offered him.

“Do you want to talk?” Will asked.

Austin shook his head.  “That’ll only make me more upset.”

“Alright,” Will said.  He took a bite of his own cake and Austin followed suit.

After a moment, Austin said, “You’re right.  Honey does make it better.”

“Honey makes everything better,” Will answered.

“Not as much as butter.”

“Gods, yes,” Will agreed.  “Plutons just don’t understand how good butter is.”

“It’s a good thing that we’re giving you so many cattle.  Surely you’ll get some butter from them.”

“I hope so.  Otherwise, I’m not certain this marriage will work.”

Austin didn’t laugh, but he did smile at Will appreciatively.  “I think I’ll be alright on my own now.  You can go back to your party.  Thank you for the cakes.”

“I’d rather stay and eat cakes with you for a while.  What about you?”

Austin nodded.  “That sounds good.”

Aside from the occasional jab at Pluto’s bland cuisine or Octavian’s existence, they mostly ate in silence.  When the fireworks started, they quietly watched them together through the window.  By the time they finished their cakes, Austin seemed to be feeling better.

“I have to talk to Michael before I leave,” Will said.  “Would you like to go with me now, or would you rather stay here for a while come later to see me off?”

“I’ll go with you now,” Austin said.  He got out of bed and Will helped him fix his hair and clothes.  Before they left, Will poked his head back into Kayla’s room to find her still fast asleep in bed.  He kissed her forehead and whispered that he loved her, then he led Austin back to the Chamber of Ouranos.

Lee caught them soon after they entered, looking delighted to see that Austin had emerged from his room.  He informed Will that he’d seen Michael walking to the gardens by himself, and then offered to help Austin find a few pretty dance partners.  Austin eagerly accepted.  He had quickly grown popular among the wedding guests his age, which was unsurprising; Austin was kind, charming, empathetic, and Will suspected that he’d soon challenge Lee’s claim to the title of best-looking brother.  Austin, like their father, had always been a romantic at heart and he’d enjoyed being wooed over the past few days.

Will left Austin in Lee’s care and went outside to search for Michael.  He spotted several guests that had broken off in pairs or small groups to tour the gardens together, but most were socializing in the courtyard.  The wedding hearth was still burning strongly into the evening sky, but once the wedding was over, it would be allowed to die out on its own.

After asking around and searching on his own, Will eventually located Michael in the Grove of Nyx.  He was alone with a glass of white wine, glaring over the gardens in annoyance.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Will asked.

If Will had surprised him, Michael didn’t show it.  He looked over his shoulder and scowled at Will.  “What are you doing out here?  Go back to your party.”

Will sighed.  Michael’s mood always went sour when he drank, or perhaps it was that he drank when his mood was sour.  “How many glasses have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” Michael muttered.

“You know that’s not good for you.”

“Really?  Because it feels good.”

“Michael.  Give me your glass.”

Michael glared at him, but relinquished the wine and didn’t bother to fight when Will poured it into the dirt.

“No more,” Will said.  “If you cause problems, I can and will have the servers cut you off.”

“Since when have you been so bossy?” Michael demanded.  He glowered, but the effect was lost on Will.  Beneath his rough exterior, Michael was harmless.

“Don’t take your frustration out on me,” Will answered calmly.

“I’m not—”  Michael stopped like he’d caught himself raising his voice, then he pursed his lips and averted his eyes.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Will said.  “It’s alright.  The whole family is having a difficult time, especially with Octavian threatening to break loose.”

The scowl reappeared on Michael’s face.  “Gods, I hate that useless jackass.”

“It’s good to hear some healthy self-expression from you,” Will encouraged.  “Tell me how you feel about him.”

“He’s an absolute shithead.”

“Let it out, Michael.”

“A complete blunderfuck.”

“Oh, you’re getting creative now.”

Michael tilted his head back and laughed loudly.  Will considered it a success; Michael had barely even smiled over the past few days, much less laughed.

“Where did you learn to be so snarky?” Michael asked.

“My older brothers were good models.”

Michael snorted, but Will thought he saw him smile just a little bit.

“I’m going to miss you, Michael.”

“You should.  I’m a gift from the gods.”

Will laughed and bumped his shoulder good-naturedly.  “I’m serious.”

“I suppose I’ll miss you too,” Michael answered.  He bumped Will’s shoulder back, harder than Will had.  “I should take you back inside.  They’ll start looking for you soon.”

Will nodded and they got up to leave, but took their time walking through the gardens on the way back to the palace.  Will spotted a flower in the bushes and broke it off to give to Nico later on.  “For the Prince,” Will explained as he tucked it inside his coat.

Michael smiled ruefully.  “You’ve become a disgusting, love-struck fool, just like Lee,” he said.  “At least I know you’ll be happy here.”

“And what about you, Michael?” Will asked.  “Are you going to be happy?”

Michael sighed.  Will expected him to avoid answering and change the conversation, but then Michael said, “Listen, Will, I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Can you promise me that you’ll take care of yourself back home?”

“I’m not going to suddenly destroy myself just because you left and got married, if that’s what you’re asking,” Michael said.  “I’ll still have Lee and Lou Ellen fussing over me and Chiron telling me what to do.  If I don’t take care of myself, you can trust them to take care of me.”  Michael paused, then aggressively added, “But at the same point, you’re still part of the family and I expect you to act like it.  Write to us every month.”

“I promise.”

“You’ll have to come back home to visit every now and then.  You’d better be there when I...if I ever get married.  For Kayla and Austin, too.”

Will tried not to show his surprise.  Michael hardly ever referred to the possibility of his own marriage.  “I will,” he said without pressing further.

“And when Lee and Lou Ellen start having children,” Michael added.  “I want you to see the baby.”

If they had children, Will almost corrected, but he didn’t want to express his doubts out loud.  He suspected that Michael also knew that there was a possibility they’d never conceive, but neither of them wanted to face that yet.  “Yes,” Will said instead.  “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll never forgive you if you break that promise,” Michael growled.

“I know,” Will said.

“Good,” Michael said.  “As long as we understand each other.”

If Michael seemed just a little bit brighter after that, Will didn’t comment.

When they reached the palace again and went back to the Chamber of Ouranos, they found that the whole family—minus Kayla, who was sleeping, and Octavian, who was conspicuously absent—had gathered to prepare for their goodbyes.

Will tried to have a normal conversation with them, but he didn’t succeed before Reyna and Nico arrived, signalling that it was time to leave.  Nico took Will’s arm as they walked out of the chamber.  When Will looked over his shoulder at his family following behind them, a sense of dread knotted in his stomach.  How could Will leave them behind?  How he leave Lee and Lou Ellen while they were struggling to start a family?  How could he leave Austin as he was just beginning his transition to adulthood, or little Kayla, who was still so young that Will worried she’d forget the memories they’d made together?  And most of all, how could he leave Michael as he was trying to drown himself in a bottle, struggling with emotions he wouldn’t share, and fighting a maybe-engagement in a battle that no one understood?

“I’m going to walk with my brother and sister-in-law,” Will whispered to Nico, and Nico nodded in understanding before releasing his arm.  Will motioned for his family to keep following Reyna outside as he approached Lee and Lou Ellen.  Although Apollo and Daphne were the Duke and Duchess of Diana by title, Lee and Lou Ellen had grown to be the unofficial heads of the family since they’d married. Aside from Lee’s occasional spats with Michael, he and Lou Ellen were the ones who held the family together.  When Will asked if he could speak to them privately, Lee and Lou Ellen slowed their pace to trail behind the others.  

“Where’s Octavian?” Will asked first.

Lou Ellen beamed.  “He may or may not have eaten something unpleasant while I was on duty and he may or may not be confined to the toilet for the rest of the evening,” she answered proudly.  “Why, did you want to say goodbye?”

Will sighed.  Lee and Lou Ellen may have been the ones holding the family together, but that didn’t mean they always behaved with decorum.

“I couldn’t care less about Octavian,” Will mumbled.  “I need you to promise to watch over Michael.”

Lee raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t we already?”

“I don’t think that you realize how dangerous his...pastimes can be,” Will whispered.  “His mood, too—something is wrong with him.  I’m scared for him.”

“Michael is upset about losing you right now,” Lee said.  

“It’s not just that,” Will insisted.

“And alcohol isn’t evil,” said Lou Ellen.  “I’ll admit that I think he drinks too much, but having a little bit is alright.”

“For us, maybe,” Will replied.  “But I’m afraid that it’s something else for Michael.  Please, believe me—I know what I’m talking about.  I’ve studied the way things like alcohol affect the body.  I want you to write to keep me updated on his progress.  Try to stop him from drinking.”

“Alright,” Lee relented.  “We’ll watch him and I promise we’ll keep you informed.  But what do you expect to do about it from all the way in Pluto?”

“You are mistaken if you think I wouldn’t run across the Romanus Terris on foot for my family,” Will said.  “Listen, before I go, I want you to promise to look after Austin and Kayla, too.  Lee, try not to antagonize Michael.  And Papa—he’s absolutely useless without Hyacinthus.  Mama gets lonely sometimes, so make sure to keep her company.  Pay attention to Chiron’s health.  And take care of each other.”

“We will,” Lee said.  “But don’t worry so much.  Losing you is going to be hard on us, but we have a strong family and we will recover from this.”

“I know that leaving home is scary,” said Lou Ellen.  “I’ve been through it, too.  For now, I want you to focus on settling in here.  Lee and I will watch over the family for you.”

Will sighed and nodded.  “Thank you,” he said.

By the time the three of them exited the Hall of Gold at the entrance to the palace, the rest of the family had already assembled to say goodbye.  Nico was waiting for him and Reyna stood nearby.  Mellie and Hedge were off to the side, holding hands as they bid each other a tearful, heartbroken farewell.  Hedge was going to to accompany Nico to the Privilla and Mellie would leave in the morning to return to Diana with Will’s family.

When Will joined him, Nico looked at Will’s family and said, “You’re always welcome in Divitia.  Until me again, may Aether light your way.”  To someone else, his voice might have sounded awkward and stiff, but Will knew his words were genuine.

Will’s family echoed the response to Nico’s farewell, then Nico turned to Will and said, “I’ll meet you in the carriage.”  With a squeeze to his hand and a smile, Nico left Will to say goodbye alone.

“We’re going to miss you, Will,” Apollo said.

“Be sure to write,” added Daphne.

Lee and Lou Ellen kissed Will’s cheeks.  Daphne embraced him and whispered a few kind words in farewell, along with a short prayer for his happiness.  Austin hugged Will so tightly that he couldn’t breathe, and then he started to cry and wouldn’t let go.  Eventually, Lee and Lou Ellen disentangled him and took him aside to comfort him.  Chiron wished Will good fortune, and gave a hug when Will insisted upon it.  Apollo recited a haiku:

I’m miserable. Will’s exiled in tundra. I’m far too gorgeous.

And then he started to cry.  Even Michael, who typically avoided physical affection, hugged Will.  When everyone had said their goodbyes, Will stepped back and took a deep breath.  “When Kayla wakes up, tell her that I love her and I miss her already,” he said.  “I promise to visit Diana.  And the Prince meant it when he said that you’re welcome here.”

“Then until next time, Will,” Lee said.  “May Aether light your way.”

“And may Ouranos look on you kindly.”

*   *   *

Nico nearly jumped in surprise when the door to the carriage opened and Will climbed inside.  He smiled at Nico, but his eyes were red.  “Ready?” Will asked as he sat down next to him.

The carriage jerked and started to move.  “How do you feel?” Nico asked.  “I know saying goodbye was hard for you.”

Will hesitated and his smile faltered.  After a moment, he sighed.  “I may have lied last night when I said thing only thing that concerned me about marriage was Plutonian weather.”  He attempted to smile again, but it looked flat and lifeless.  He didn’t hold Nico’s gaze for long before he looked away.  “I’m going to miss them so much.”

Nico chewed his lip.  What could he say to comfort Will?  What did Will need from him?  Nico had never been good at figuring out that sort of thing on his own.  “I know it’ll be difficult for you,” he said slowly.  “But I...I don’t know what I can say or do to help you.  I’d like to help, though.”

Will looked up at Nico again.  That time, his smile was still small, but seemed a bit more genuine.  “Thank you—that’s all I need to hear.  For now, I don’t want think about it.  Anyway, I have a gift for you.”  He reached into his coat and pulled a flower from the inner pocket.

“A purple rose?” Nico asked.  The flower still had a few thorns on the stem and the petals were slightly bent.

“The flower of lovers in the color of royalty,” Will explained.  “Only the best for my beloved prince.”

Nico lightly poked one of the thorns with the top of his finger.  “Did you take this from my mother’s garden?”

Will smiled sheepishly.  “Yes, well, I was pressed for time.”

Nico laughed and threw his arms around Will’s neck to pull him in for a kiss.  “I love it,” he said.  “And I have a gift for you, too.”

“Oh?” Will asked.  “What is it?”

“Patience, Will.  You’ll have to wait until we get to the Privilla.”  Nico put a finger under Will’s chin and pulled him closer to kiss him a few times, then he pulled back and asked,  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Will sighed.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “This is going to be hard for me, but right now, I’m on my way to spend a wonderful week alone with my new husband.  I don’t want to think about anything else.  I want you to distract me with reminders of why I’m so happy be married.”

“Such as?” Nico asked.

“Such as, we’re able to do things like this whenever we want.”  Will picked up Nico’s hand and kissed his knuckles.  “Or because I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Nico smiled.  “How about, ‘because I want to spend the rest of my life with you’?”

“Yes,” Will said.  “Or because of the way I feel when you touch me, or because I want to wake up next to you every morning.”

“And what about things like this?” Nico asked, leaning forward to kiss Will’s lips.

“Just like that,” Will replied in a deep, pleased purr, then he kissed Nico back.

Nico swung his leg over Will’s lap and straddled his thighs, then put his hands on either side of Will’s head.  “And this?” he asked.

He felt Will’s hands on his hips with a barely-there touch, then his fingers slid up to Nico’s waist and helped him balance against the carriage’s jerky movements.  “Exactly this,” Will said.

Nico didn’t wait another moment.  He kissed Will until he couldn’t breathe and started to feel dizzy.  Will’s arms wrapped tightly around Nico’s waist, holding their bodies firmly together, and he gasped beautifully when Nico nipped at his lip.

“Nico,” Will mumbled in a soft, husky voice that sent a shiver of delight through Nico’s body.  Nico.  Will had called him Nico.  Will said it with a tone that was so intimate, so scandalous, and Nico wanted to swallow it and keep it all to himself.  Nico kissed him again, but then Will suddenly pushed Nico’s hips away, turned his head to the side, and said, “Actually, perhaps this is not the place—”

Nico pulled back and blinked at him.  “I don’t understand,” Nico said slowly.  “I thought you liked this.”

“I do like it,” Will assured.  “I like it too much.  If we keep doing this, it’ll only become more difficult to stop.  The ride won’t last much longer.”

Nico frowned.  He wanted to touch Will immediately.  He wanted to touch him right there in the carriage, barely hidden from the outside, where they could be so easily discovered if they weren’t careful—

Nico stopped himself before his imagination ran even more wild.

“Yes, we will wait,” Nico agreed.  “But until we get there...perhaps we could kiss a little bit?”

Will laughed.  “Just keep your tongue to yourself for now,” he said, then he pecked Nico’s lips.  Nico was careful to be more gentle that time, grazing his teeth on Will’s lip instead of biting and twirling Will’s hair around his finger instead of clawing at his back.  

When they arrived at the Privilla, their rooms were already prepared and their belongings had been brought ahead of them.  Reyna escorted them to their apartment, and then Nico informed her that he didn’t expect to require any assistance that evening or the next morning, so he wanted to remain undisturbed unless he called for someone.  Reyna eyed their tousled hair and interlocked fingers.  She muttered a prayer of thanks that she no longer had to be a chaperone, then opened the door for them and left them alone.

Asterion was already resting on a couch in the apartment’s common room.  He quietly raised his head in greeting, but didn’t get up when they entered.  The puppy, however....

“Who is this?” Will asked as a white and brown spaniel bounded up to them.  She yipped loudly and excitedly until Will bent down to pick her up and pet her curly coat.

“Your wedding gift,” Nico answered.  “She’s a land-hunting spaniel, about six months old.  I have documentation of her lineage if you’d like to view it.  She comes from a strong line of dogs, and with your permission, she’ll start training with the rest of her litter.”

“Wait,” Will said, still holding the puppy and scratching behind her long ears.  “You are giving me a dog to celebrate our wedding?”

“I know it’s frightening for you to come to Divitia without your friends and family,” Nico explained.  “You have me, of course, and you know Reyna and Hedge, and I think you’ll get along well with Hazel, but I thought it might be good for you to have a companion.  Several of our dogs had puppies recently and I observed them for months to find the one that suited you best.  I chose her.”

Will frowned.  “I gave you a flower that I stole from your mother’s garden.  You gave me a dog.”

“Well, you did also bring my family several hundred heads of cattle,” Nico pointed out.  “And I like the flower.  Do you like her?”

“I love her,” Will said as the puppy nibbled on his fingers.  “She’s so...gods, she’s so soft.  Look at her face!  She has the sweetest face I’ve ever seen.”  Nico’s heart swelled with affection as he watched Will pepper kisses on the puppy’s head.  “What’s her name?” Will asked.

“I was going to let you choose.”

Will looked back down at the puppy’s face.  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.  “I wasn’t expecting to need to pick a name.  Did you really mean what you said about wanting me to have a companion?  You thought that through?”

“Of course I did,” Nico answered.  “I want you to be happy here.”

“I love her so much,” Will said.  “I love you so much.  I can’t believe you did this because...gods, Nico, I really do feel much less afraid now.”

Nico smiled proudly.  He’d worried that he should have asked Will before making the decision on his own, but it seemed that he’d made a good choice after all.

“But,” Will continued, and for a moment Nico was afraid that he’d done something wrong.  Then Will set the puppy back down on the ground and said, “It still doesn’t feel right that I only gave you a flower.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Nico said.  “I’m just happy you like her.”

“Even so, I feel like I’m indebted to you,” Will said, reaching out to touch Nico’s waist.  “I should thank you.”

Nico’s face burned when he realized what Will was saying.  “Oh.  Right.  I see.”  He cleared his throat.  “You know, that rose you gave me still has thorns, if you want to factor that detail in while you’re calculating your, um, debt.”

“How careless of me,” Will agreed.  His hands slid to Nico’s hips, then he pulled Nico closer and kissed him.

When their lips separated, Nico whispered, “You know you don’t actually owe me anything, don’t you?”

“I know,” Will said.  “But I would like a continuation of what we started in the carriage, if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested,” Nico said.  “Very interested.”

They kissed again and Nico pulled Will into his bedroom, leaving the dogs locked outside.  Will helped Nico disrobe—Nico had always struggled with buttons, as he had very little practice dressing himself—and once they had gotten rid of their clothing, they stumbled their way towards the bed.  Nico thought about bringing up the topic of consummation again, but abandoned the idea in favor of surrendering to the way their touches naturally progressed.

They spent their second night together exploring and learning each other’s bodies.  Nico asked Will to show him how he pleased himself, then Nico showed Will how he did it.  They taught each other what felt good and started to discover how their bodies worked when they brought them together.

Afterwards, they stayed in each other’s arms, bare under the blankets and whispering nonsense in the afterglow.  Will’s skin felt soft and warm against Nico’s and the press of their bodies against each other seemed intimate in a way that wasn’t merely physical.  Nico felt like he was touching more than naked skin—he was touching Will’s mind, his heart, and his soul.

The puppy eventually started to cry outside the door, so Will borrowed Nico’s dressing gown and let the dogs in the room.  At Nico’s request, Will undressed again before he slipped back into bed with him.  Like the night before, they fell asleep wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, but that time they had an additional companion snuggled next to them.

Next

[poison-rat]

My Kingdom for a Flower Crown, Chapter 1

Anonymous asked: 2 and 7,+ Egobang? Please and thank you!

2 + 7 = Royal AU + Florist AU (via this)

I love this combo. Shout out to my gf for helping me with ideas on the drive. I already have a second chapter written so this will actually be updated soon.

♡♡♡

The prince watched as his sister was given a woven crown of daisies and soft green limbs cut from a young tree. The child that handed it over was more than ecstatic to place it atop the princess's head. The child and her companions squealed with delight as it fit perfectly. His sister began complimenting their work and admiring their cute outfits. It was with that the prince took his leave to go back inside.

It wasn't that he was jealous, per se, but he didn't enjoy being left out. He sat just inside a bit, watching and wondering if anyone would call him back. They didn't even notice. He sighed and adjusted his boots where they had begun to slip. It was not uncommon for visitors to claim to be here for both royal children and really only be here for the princess. He was the younger sibling. He was not in line for the throne here. He would most likely never ascend the throne unless his sister went elsewhere, which in itself seemed unlikely as she was adored, so why pay any mind to the second sibling? He turned away from the front door once again with his guard on his heels.

The princess sat with the children for awhile, listening to them talk about whatever was on their minds, until she finally noticed her brother's absence. "Daniel?" She glanced around the courtyard, hoping to see the mass of curls bobbing among the soldiers as usual. She saw none. Pursing her lips, she apologised to the children as she stood and went back inside. "Where has he gone?"

The doors remained open but the children knew better than to follow. They simply watched from the stairs the princess's beautiful gown swishing across the carpet. Finally they turned and linked hands to go back into the town outside of the gates.

The princess huffed as she saw no sign of her brother right away and asked a butler as she passed him if he had seen him. He pointed her towards the main hall before wishing her well and continuing his tasks. She thanked him quietly, almost a second thought to do so.

She followed his lead and found her brother sitting at the large feast table, eating the lunch they had abandoned when told they had visitors. Or, well, that Dana had visitors.

"What are you doing back here already?"

Daniel watched her step up the stairs and move around the table. "Finally done with your little buddies?" He chewed his piece of chicken, sulking behind his following glass of water. He avoided her gaze.

"Not quite, but I noticed you weren't there. Is something the matter?" She sat beside him, holding her arms up for the maid to place a cloth across her lap. "They did come to visit the both of us, you know."

"No, they came to visit you. They looked confused I was there." His sister placed her hand on his, making him pause. Finally, he looked at her. Dana could see something behind his eyes, but he looked away before she could decide what it was. He shook his head and resumed eating, saying, "Forget it, sister," between bites.

Dana watched her brother for a moment more before nodding and turning back to her food. They sat in quiet, Daniel eventually waving a lute player to fill the room. The princess tried to initiate a few small conversations about his studies with the soldiers or his academics. She knew he struggled with some subjects she excelled in and thought if she could get the conversation to such a point, she could offer to tutor him. He did not seem to want to say much more than a sentence or two and Dana eventually dropped it.

The prince finished first and excused himself to go for a walk. He thanked the lute player but asked him to remain for his sister, left his things for the staff to clean up, and trudged down the hall. Dana watched as his guard followed swiftly and her brother turned down a corner, out of her sight. She returned to her own meal with the lute player orchestrating her quiet thoughts.

---

"Brian, why do they like Dana so much more?" he asked as he slowed his pace. He knew Dana couldn't see him now and wasn't worried she would come after him. He smashed down a small bump in the hall carpet, chasing it down a few feet before it finally vanished to the edge.

"Who exactly are you referring to, sir?" His guard watched carefully to ensure Daniel didn't fall. He had a tendency to trip, as he typically walked with the legs of a new deer. "Those children who met you and Princess Dana?"

"Yeah. And everyone else. No one wants to see me. Or if they do they're... guided into being interested in me." His slow pace halted. Brian watched as Daniel looked to the tapestries bearing the family sigil. The young prince was silent before turning on his heel to go another way. "I want a fucking flower crown." Daniel wove through halls with determination to find the special gardens.

"Sir? Why do you-"

"Because I want one, Brian! It can't be that hard to make a flower crown." He found the heavy door that led into the gardens and pushed it open. Brian helped him push it the rest of the way. He made his way past the main garden, past the hedge maze, and to the rose bushes on the outskirts.

The pink rose bushes had been planted to celebrate Dana's birth and were large and beautiful by this point in time. When Daniel had been born, they had chosen a lavender one instead. While it showed love from his parents, the size of the bushes were fairly smaller. Perhaps it was due to the gap in years, but Daniel had begun to think even the gardeners favored his sister.

The prince looked around the bush for a good pink flower to rip off. Brian could see the anger rising in his eyes at the sight and began, "Sir, might I suggest-"

"No! I'm going to use these and I'm gonna... I don't know. Make a great crown, I guess." He huffed as he found his target. Daniel scowled and shoved his hand into the bush, only to jolt back and screech in pain. "Ffff-Fuck!" He looked at the multitude of tiny cuts on his palm and the back of his hand. He then heard the laughter from his guard. "Brian!!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but you know roses have thorns." He held his stomach the more he laughed. "Shall I go fetch a medic?"

"Yes! Go! God, damn it all." He looked at his hand a moment before he watched Brian leave. He looked back at the bush. The green beast hulked over him like a mountain despite his own great height, mocking him almost.

With the slight stinging of his wounds, Daniel felt his anger dissipate. He found a bench and took a seat. "Stupid roses... Stupid Dana... Stupid... me." He hunched over without any fear of anyone reprimanding him on his posture. Daniel was allowed to wallow now in his thoughts, in his shame, in everything plaguing him.

Suddenly there was a rustle of the bush behind him. The prince leapt up and turned to look at the plant. "Who's there?" He ignored his hand a moment to draw the small dagger from his boot. Briefly, he wondered why he didn't use said blade on the rose bushes. More movement drew his mind back to the matter at hand. "Show yourself or I'll be forced to attack!"

From within the bush, a head slowly popped up. Brunet, with a streak of blond on one side. Dark eyes gazed at the prince. The intruder stood slowly, gloved hands up to show he was unarmed at the moment. He wore slightly dusty clothes with an apron with deep pockets. A print of a rose adorned the apron. "I'll leave. Don't attack."

Daniel studied the young man. "Who... are you? How did you get in here?"

The intruder looked past the prince on sudden fear. Brian stepped behind him and said, "Answer him. How did you get in here?" A sword extended towards the teen. "Now!"

"I-I came around the back. There's a gap in the stone, hidden by a pile of crates." He stepped back, tripping over his own foot and stumbling. Brian watched carefully. "I promise, I'll leave!"

"Brian, wait." Daniel had his guard lower his hand. "You're here, unarmed, in a garden. Are you a flower shopkeep?"

"Yes! I-I came here for some clippings. I wanted to try and grow my own roses but mine aren't growing. So I thought I would try the royal variety and see if they work better." Daniel smiled as he realised the florist was nervous. He was just word vomiting and hoping to get away soon. "I didn't intend on being stuck here. You just showed up and frightened me. I thought you had left after hurting your hand."

"No, I sent my guard to get someone. But I take it he heard me yell at you and came running." He gave Brian a look and turned back to the florist. "What is your name?"

"Arin." He lowered his hands finally, sensing he wasn't in as grave danger. "And you're Prince Daniel."

"I am." He studied Arin even more. "Brian, give him an escort back to his shop. And Arin, if you need a flower, from now on you're allowed to call on me. I'll bring you here." He gave him a smile and extended his hand. "In exchange, I would like to come by your shop later and see if you can help me with a project."

Arin looked at his hand, at Daniel's face, at Brian's scowl, and back at the hand. Firmly but still a bit meek, he took it and shook once. "Agreed.

♡♡♡

Author's Note: I know Dan is the eldest but I changed it for this story. Also, Dan would be around 16 in this chapter. Dana would be just turning 19.

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