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queenmarytudor · 4 years ago

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MARY: SERIES ONE

When King Henry VIII announces his daughter unable to inherit the crown of England, Princess Mary Tudor and her friends at court rebel and conspire against him.

An imagined six episode psychological drama series, focusing on Princess Mary Tudor and the intrigues, secrets and lies of Henry VIII’s court...

THE KING’S PEARL

Princess Mary Tudor, Princess of Wales and heir to the throne of England, is at her court in the Welsh Marches. Rhys ap Gruffydd kneels in irons before her; he has been arrested for inciting rebellion and is on the way to the Tower of London. Rhys petitions Mary for help in getting his grandfather’s lands and titles restored to him, as they are his by right and not her stewards, who has been gifted them by the king. Rhys says surely Mary knows what it is like to have an inheritance threatened. Mary promises to help him when she returns to court. Rhys thanks his princess, stating that though his wife is related to the king’s mistress, Anne Boleyn will never be Rhys’ queen.

Mary returns to court for Christmas. All along the streets nobles and peasants alike cheer for their princess before she is welcomed lovingly by her parents King Henry VIII and Queen Katherine of Aragon.

There is a grand feast; Mary reunites with her father’s cousin Henry Courtenay and his wife Gertrude, one of Katherine’s ladies. She dances with the courtier Nicholas Carew while her parents watch proudly.

Mary petitions her father to release Rhys from imprisonment in the Tower. The king, delighted to have his pearl back, agrees, but refuses to grant him his grandfather’s lands and titles. The pair decide to go riding together.

On their return, Gertrude escorts Mary to see her mother. She tells Mary her father’s mistress, Anne Boleyn, has just arrived back at court. Katherine introduces Mary to Eustace Chapuys, ambassador to Mary’s cousin Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor. Chapuys promises he will do his best to help her and her mother. Katherine and Chapuys reveal Pope Clement has forbidden the king from marrying Anne, threatening him with excommunication from the church if he does.

After Mass, where the royal family pray together, a freed Rhys seeks out Mary. He thanks her for his release and attempting to get his inheritance back.

Mary goes to her father’s chambers, where Thomas Cromwell introduces himself as King Henry’s new minister. Mary asks where her father is. When Cromwell replies he is with Anne Boleyn, Mary leaves for the sanctuary of her mother’s rooms.

Henry Courtenay arrives from parliament, telling Katherine, Mary and Gertrude that the king has now declared himself the Supreme Head of the Church of England. Gertrude tells them she heard of a nun in Kent who can predict the future. Katherine warns her not to do anything foolish.

On Saint David’s Day, the patron saint of Wales, Mary is given a Welsh leek by the king’s gentlemen pensioners in a grand ceremony. She is watched by a crowd of courtiers and Chapuys, who compliments her. They talk for a while before she leaves.

Exiting, Mary comes across Anne Boleyn. They glare at each other before Anne reluctantly sinks into a curtsey. Mary ignores her.

Mary plays the virginals for her parents. Despite their praise, there is obvious tension between the pair.

At nightfall Mary and her father talk. Mary is confused how he has declared himself the head of a church that doesn’t exist. Henry says she is clever; one day his pearl will understand. After he has left, Mary tells her governess, Margaret Pole, that she doesn’t think she will ever understand.

Katherine worries when Margaret wakes her in the night to inform her Mary is ill. Gertrude brings up the Nun of Kent again, but Maria Willoughby and Jane Seymour shush her. Katherine goes to help Margaret care for Mary. As Mary continues to vomit, Katherine strokes her daughter’s hair, clutching her necklace which she believes contains a piece of the True Cross. She prays her daughter will get better, comforting her with old stories of her and King Henry when they were younger.

In the morning a recovered Mary wakes to six luxurious new dresses, a gift from her father. She immediately puts one on.

At breakfast, the queen is sat at the table alone. The king left them earlier in the morning to go on summer progress with Anne Boleyn, forcing most of the courtiers to go with them, including the Courtenay’s. Katherine smiles and tells Mary they can still have a good time, just the two of them and their households.

Reginald, the son of Margaret, is sent money by the king to study in Padua. Katherine and Margaret are hopeful Reginald will convince King Henry to recant his decision to break from Rome and marry a heretic. Reginald promises he will. Mary hugs her cousin goodbye, wishing him well.

At court, Chapuys watches on with Nicholas Carew and an incensed Gertrude and Henry as Anne Boleyn takes the queen’s role at a feast. While talking, Rhys Gruffydd is publicly re-arrested for encouraging Wales to rebel against the king, and supposedly taking the title of Prince of Wales. The group disbelieve this after what Mary did for him.

Katherine hears from Maria that Rhys has been beheaded, but she is determined to protect her daughter and keeps the news a secret.

Mary and Katherine go hawking, but on their return are sent orders to separate. Katherine promises she will see Mary soon, encouraging her to stay strong. Any bastard born of Anne Boleyn will never rule; Mary is the heir and future queen of England.

PRINCESS OF WALES

Mary and her tutor Richard Featherstone are having a Latin lesson on Utopia by Sir Thomas More. In the book women are encouraged to fight in battle; Mary tells the priest she would if she could.

Mary is walking in the fields with her ladies, Susan Clarencius and Anne Hussey, and her cousin Margaret Douglas. Her and Margaret’s cousin Frances Brandon has recently married Henry Grey. Mary is betrothed to the French Dauphin, but she has heard no news lately of a marriage... she is surprised to come across her father, riding with Nicholas. He asks how she is and Mary replies she is well, but missing her mother now she has seen him. The king is going to Calais with Anne Boleyn, now the marquess of Pembroke, but promises to see her more often when he returns.

Gertrude sees the Nun of Kent in disguise, switching clothes with her maid. Amazed at her trance, she invites the woman, Elizabeth Barton, to her house.

Mary is having her breakfast served by her friend Henry Jerningham when she is informed by her chamberlain that her father has, with the blessing of the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, married Anne Boleyn. John Hussey asks for a verbal response to the news for the king, but Mary ignores him entirely, continuing to talk with Henry and her ladies. Uncomfortable, he carries on with his orders; Mary is forbidden from writing to her mother and he must take Mary’s jewels. Margaret refuses to give them up to John unless she has a direct order from the king.

Gertrude welcomes Elizabeth warmly, asking about her prophecies. The nun says there may be war now the king has married Anne Boleyn; Gertrude asks her to pray her husband will remain safe. It grieves him that men of noble blood are being dismissed from the privy chamber, with the king ruled by Cromwell who is the son of a blacksmith.

That night, Gertrude tells Henry about the nun’s visit, telling him the king will flee the realm one day. Henry is horrified at her listening to the prophecies, potentially earning the wrath of his cousin when he finds out. He demands she tell the king.

Mary and Margaret Douglas are informed by Margaret that their aunt Mary has died. The pair worry over Frances, but Margaret tells them she has a husband to comfort her now. Mary fears the French accepting Anne Boleyn as queen means her betrothal will be void. The three are interrupted by Mary’s servant Randall Dodd, who delivers a letter passed on by her mother’s servant Anthony. Katherine writes she has “heard such tidings today that I do perceive if it be true, the time is come that Almighty God will prove you; and I am very glad of it, for I trust He doth handle you with a good love [...] But one thing I especially desire you, for the love that you do owe unto God and unto me, to keep your heart with a chaste mind, and your body from all ill and wanton company, not thinking or desiring any husband for Christ’s passion; neither determine yourself to any manner of living till this troublesome time be past.”

Shortly after there is an official command from King Henry to take Mary’s jewels. Her personal arms are stripped from her and her household is to be reduced, with some servants, including Randall Dodd, sent to wait on her new sister Elizabeth, whose christening John Hussey must attend.

King Henry confronts Gertrude, informing her that he knows she has visited the Nun of Kent. She petitions King Henry to forgive her, blaming her womanly foolishness. He does, and orders his cousin to as well. To show his goodwill towards her, Gertrude is bestowed the honour of becoming Princess Elizabeth’s godmother, but an annoyed Gertrude sees it as an insult.

Mary is playing a card game with her ladies and Henry Jerningham when John returns from the christening and tells Mary she is longer a princess. Mary refuses to accept it and writes to her father, believing he was “not privy to it, not doubting but you take me for your lawful daughter, born in true matrimony.”

In response to her letter the Duke of Norfolk comes to dissemble all her household; Mary is to go to Hatfield to serve her sister Elizabeth, the Princess of Wales. Mary says that title belongs to her by right, and no one else.

Mary is only allowed to take one lady in waiting with her and chooses Susan. Her cousin Margaret Douglas is to serve the new queen. Margaret offers to serve Mary at her own expense, but Norfolk refuses. Mary has an emotional goodbye with her staff. Margaret urges her to remember her grandmother had been declared a bastard before becoming queen of England.

On the way to Hatfield, one of the men escorting Mary whispers she must hold firm, for the sake of England.

Arriving, Norfolk asks if she will pay her respects to the Princess of Wales. Mary replies she knows of no other princess in England except herself. The daughter of the marquess of Pembroke has no such title - but if her father acknowledges her as his own, she will call her sister as she calls Henry Fitzroy brother.

As he leaves, Norfolk asks if can take a message to the king. Mary says to tell him his daughter, the Princess of Wales, begs for his blessing. When Norfolk refuses, Mary tells him curtly he might leave it then, and to go away and leave her alone. She retires to her bedchamber to cry.

UNBRIDLED BLOOD

Mary refuses to pay court to Elizabeth unless made to by force. When walking, she is always far in front or far behind the newborn, never at her side. She eats in her own rooms with food Susan steals from the kitchens, avoiding the public table. She has outgrown the ornate dresses her father gave her.

An outraged Gertrude shows Chapuys the letter she has received from the king, telling his subjects that they ought to thank God for giving them a lawful heir. Chapuys reveals he has already sent a Latin declaration for Katherine to sign and pass along to her daughter.

The king arrives to visit his youngest daughter. Mary is desperate to see her father, but is visited by Norfolk and Cromwell. They urge her to renounce her title, but Mary says it is labour wasted to press her; they are deceived if they think bad treatment, rudeness, or even the chance of death would make her change her determination. She asks to see her father and kiss his hand, but is refused. When they leave, she runs to the terrace at the top of the house and kneels in mercy. The king bows and doffs his cap, as do the men with him, before leaving.

The Oath of Supremacy and 1534 Act of Succession are both implemented, making Henry VIII Head of the Church of England, and Elizabeth and any other children of Anne Boleyn his heirs. The Courtenay’s are annoyed as queen Anne flaunts her belly; she is pregnant again.

Mary receives a letter from her mother, which comforts and encourages her, along with the Latin declaration Chapuys spoke of that denies her illegitimacy. She signs it and Susan smuggles it out of Hatfield back to Chapuys.

John Hussey and his wife Anne are returning home now Mary’s household has been dissolved, but before they go John talks with the Courtenay’s and Chapuys about the possibility of the emperor invading in support of his cousin’s rights. Chapuys says he is trying hard to convince his master. Henry says he wishes he had the opportunity to shed blood in the service of Katherine and Mary. John replies he could easily rise the north of England to help Princess Mary, and “the insurrection of the people would be joined immediately by the nobility and the clergy”. Gertrude reminds them of the prophecies of the Nun of Kent; perhaps there will be war over this...

When moving households, Mary refuses to share a litter with Elizabeth and is forcibly put in by guards. Roughly manhandled, she shouts a public protest to some peasants who salute and cheer her as princess. Her new caretaker, Anne Shelton, warns Mary her niece queen Anne has ordered her to box Mary’s ears as a cursed bastard when she uses the title of Princess.

After Gertrude informs him of Mary’s abuse, Nicholas pays the king’s fool to insult queen Anne and princess Elizabeth. The king is furious, banishing the jester from court, but Nicholas shelters him in his own home.

A badly bruised Mary hears of Nicholas’ actions and sends a letter of thanks to him via Susan. Shelton summons Mary to visit her, questioning why she has received a letter from Elizabeth Carew, Nicholas’ wife. Elizabeth urges her to submit to the king for the passion of Christ, otherwise she will be undone. Mary pleads ignorance and throws the letter in the fireplace.

As they watch queen Anne and her uncle Norfolk prepare to visit Elizabeth, Jane Seymour tells the Courtenay’s that the queen has had a miscarriage. They fear how she will treat Mary.

As punishment for the litter incident, Norfolk takes Mary’s remaining jewels. He mocks a brooch from her childhood spelling out the Emperor. Mary is furious, even more so when Anne visits her, urging her to honour her as queen and she will reconcile her to her father. Mary says she knows of no queen of England but her mother - but if her father’s mistress would intercede on her behalf, she would be much obliged. An enraged Anne storms out, swearing to bring down her unbridled Spanish blood.

Shelton tells Mary if she were the king she would kick her out of the house for disobedience, and that the king said she will lose her head for breaking the law and not renouncing her title. Seeing Richard Featherstone preparing to leave in the retinue of queen Anne, a quick witted Mary asks him if she can practise her Latin. The people around them do not understand as she asks if the rumours are true and she is to be killed. Richard is shocked, saying it is not good Latin before leaving with the rest of Anne’s entourage. Returning to London, he immediately informs Chapuys of the danger Mary is in. The ambassador is determined to find a way to see her.

The Nun of Kent is publicly executed, with her head put on a spike on London Bridge. After, the king tells Henry the trust his daughter has in the emperor makes her obstinate, but he fears no one if his vassals stay loyal. He warns his cousin not to trip lest he lose his head.

WORST ENEMY IN THE WORLD

After she was forced into a litter, Mary asks to ride on her horse when moving households. As soon as she is mounted, she races ahead of her sister’s litter, riding across the countryside to the waiting river barge. Exhilarated by the freedom of her ride, she beats the rest of the household there and takes the place of honour. On the riverbank, Chapuys watches on as Mary sails past. They smile at each other, reassured.

Shelton wonders how the ambassador knew they would be there. Suspecting Susan of sending messages in and out of the household, she dismisses Mary’s last lady. Mary is completely alone.

Months have passed; it is now winter. King Henry remains furious at his daughter’s continued defiance, telling his cousin Mary will be an example to show that no one ought to disobey the laws; at the beginning of his reign he was as gentle as a lamb, and by the end he will be worse than a lion. Henry tells his wife.

Gertrude disguises herself to visit Chapuys, saying after the next parliament Mary and Katherine will die. She swears it is as true as the Gospel. Gertrude is adamant they must do something to help save their princess. Chapuys says Katherine spoke to him of Mary marrying Reginald Pole and uniting their claims to the throne. The emperor is busy taking Tunis, but Chapuys believes only a small army sent by Charles V with Reginald amongst the troops would be enough to make people declare for Mary. Gertrude pledges the support of her relatives, but says they need a quicker solution.

Mary is no longer allowed to eat in her room, but she refuses to eat at the main table and submit to a lower rank then her sister Elizabeth, now a toddler at the head of the table. She is slowly starving.

After seeing the king talking with Jane Seymour, Gertrude has an idea. She tries to convince Jane to attract the king’s attentions in the hope of getting better treatment for Mary but a haughty Jane refuses.

Mary is constantly belittled by servants, who say the world will be at peace when they are discharged of the pain and trouble she gives them. She is incensed to hear the French ambassadors are to visit Elizabeth in the hopes of a betrothal. She declares she is the Dauphin’s future wife, not her bastard sister. Shelton orders her to her room, and when Mary refuses she is locked in by force.

The next morning, a weak Mary discovers she has started her period. Disoriented, she calls out for her mother and Margaret. While getting up, she collapses.

Shelton weeps, fearing people will think she has poisoned Mary. She tells a bedridden Mary the king will not see her until she admits to being a bastard. He believes she is his worst enemy in the world. Mary sobs but refuses to give in, saying God has not blinded her to confess her father and mother had lived in adultery and made her a bastard.

Chapuys talks to Cromwell and then the king, trying to convince them to let Katherine tend to her daughter. Henry refuses; if mother and daughter are together, Katherine might “raise a number of men and make war, as boldly as did queen Isabella her mother.” He also refuses to send Margaret Pole, who Chapuys calls Mary’s second mother, as she is a fool of no experience. If Mary had been in her care she would have died, but Shelton is an expert in female complaints.

After queen Anne shows no sympathy for a grievously ill Mary, Jane agrees to help Gertrude.

Mary is examined by a doctor. She fainted due to her heavy period, in addition to not eating or drinking enough. She is suffering from sorrow. The doctor orders her to eat more and recommends being moved closer to her mother to improve her spirits. Mary knows it will never happen.

Shelton reveals Sir Thomas More and several monks have been executed for refusing to take the Oath of Supremacy, and Richard Featherstone is now imprisoned in the Tower. She tells Mary to take warning by their fate. Servants openly desire her death, especially now the queen is pregnant again with what is sure to be a son. Mary notices her old servant Randall Dodd does not join in their bullying. Cornering him in private, she convinces him to deliver a letter to Chapuys.

Gertrude leads Jane to Nicholas, and the pair coach her on how to act. Nicholas tell Jane she must by no means comply with any of the King's wishes, except marriage.

Mary watches out of the window as armed guards are stationed at the gates. Randall walks through them, carrying a letter for Charles V urging the emperor to invade. Mary tells him “In the name of the Queen, my mother, and mine, for the honour of God take this matter in hand, and provide a remedy for the affairs of this country; begging you in the meantime not to forget to solicit permission for me to live with my mother.”

MONSTER IN NATURE

Chapuys visits a mortally ill Katherine. She worries over her daughter, but he promises to look after her. After Maria Willoughby arrives she is no longer alone and begs Chapuys to go and protect Mary.

Mary is summoned to see Shelton, who informs her of her mother’s death. She is devastated. Shelton implores her to submit, saying she will not receive the necklace her mother left her in her will. Mary replies she would rather die a hundred times than change her opinion, before going to her bedchamber to cry.

Randall gives a letter to Mary from Chapuys, making plans for her to escape England. The emperor cannot spare any troops, but there is a ship waiting 40 miles away if she can get there. Chapuys says he will write with a plan soon but Mary is convinced she must go at once lest she be killed.

Chapuys holds a dinner party with the Courtenay’s, Nicholas and Jane. Nicholas has been inducted into the Order of the Garter over George Boleyn. They discuss queen Anne having a quarrel with Cromwell, and rumours of the king wanting a new wife. Gertrude advises Jane to tell the king his subjects hate his marriage, and no one considers it legitimate. A messenger arrives for Jane from the king, with a letter and a purse of money. All watch on with approval as Jane sends it back, saying she can only accept a gift of money from the king when he makes her an honourable match. Chapuys hopes the progress of their scheme will mean Mary will not need to flee - he tells them “she is so eager to escape from all her troubles and dangers that if he were to advise her to cross the Channel in a sieve she would do it.”

In turmoil, a grieving Mary takes matters into her own hands. While playing with Elizabeth she tests the strength of the garden gate, noting where Shelton’s window looks out. Returning to the house, she tells the doctor she can’t sleep. He says he will get her some pills to help.

On the same day Katherine is buried, queen Anne has a miscarriage. The king tells Henry he has been seduced by witchcraft into his marriage, which is null because God has not granted him a son.

Mary laces some wine with the sleeping pills, and prepares to give it to Shelton and her maids. Only a letter from Nicholas delivered by Randall dissuades her. He begs her to “be of good cheer, for shortly the opposite party will put water in their wine as the King is already sick and tired of the concubine as could be.” Mary replies telling them to do everything possible to remove the mistress.

At queen Anne’s trial for adultery against the king, Henry votes guilty. He, Gertrude, Nicholas and Chapuys watch on as Anne is beheaded and Jane marries the king.

Mary is astonished to receive a visit from her old lady, Anne Hussey. They have returned from the north as John has to attend parliament, where Elizabeth will be declared a bastard now queen Anne is dead. While talking to Mary, Anne calls for a drink for the princess, and is arrested. Mary is in shock and writes a letter to her father, hoping to reconcile with him now her enemy is dead.

After being presented as the new queen, Jane tells the Courtenay’s, Nicholas and Chapuys that Henry has received his daughter’s letter but is not happy. She promises to help Mary, and Chapuys christens her the peacemaker.

Margaret Pole returns to court, attracting hundreds of people on the way who think Mary is with her. She carries a scathing letter from her son Reginald. King Henry is outraged that Reginald accuses him of tearing true defenders of religion to pieces, as well as likening him to the tyrant emperor Nero.

A group of nobles headed by Norfolk arrive to harass Mary into signing the acts, calling her a monster of nature and a traitress for continuing to defy her father. When she argues with them they say if she were their daughter they would beat her to death, or bash her head against a wall until it was a soft as a boiled apple.

Mary is locked in her bedchamber and not allowed to talk to anyone. She is to be watched over day and night. Hours pass and she refuses to back down. The guards are changed - this time Randall is on duty. Mary creates a distraction for the other guard and passes a scribbled letter to Randall for Chapuys.

Jane pleads for mercy, but the king calls her a fool for interfering; she ought to think of the children they will have together and not any others. King Henry swears that not only will Mary suffer, but also his cousin, Cromwell and others.

Anne is interrogated in the Tower for calling Mary a princess, but she insists it was merely due to habit. Henry is kicked off the privy council, and Nicholas is questioned about his relationship with Mary. Legal papers are drawn up to put Mary on trial for treason.

Randall returns, detailing what has happened to her friends and giving Mary a letter from Chapuys. Chapuys points out she now has a better opportunity of becoming heir to the crown than when Anne Boleyn was alive. He urges her to save her life for the tranquillity of the kingdom, and comforts her with the knowledge that “God looks more into the intentions than into the deeds of men.”

Fearing for her and her friends lives, a broken Mary finally submits to her father and signs the document before her without reading the contents.

GRACE

Mary lies awake in the night crying before being disturbed by a knock at the door - Susan has returned. She is to resume her duties as the king is riding to see Mary.

A nervous Mary sees her father for the first time in years, along with his new wife Jane who gives her a diamond. King Henry says he regrets their long separation, giving Mary some money and the necklace Katherine left her daughter in her will. He promises she can soon return to court.

Freed from the Tower, Anne returns north with her husband John, where the people mutter about the king being ruled by evil ministers who have closed the monasteries and forced Princess Mary to sign acts labelling her a bastard.

Mary returns to court, where the king pats Jane’s stomach, insinuating she is with child. He tells Mary some of his councillors were desirous of her death and she swoons in fear, but her father assures her all will be well now. She sits beside the queen at the high table while Gertrude serves them.

Cromwell welcomes Mary back, congratulating her on finally signing the acts and calling her “the most obstinate woman that ever was.”

Mary reunites with Henry Jerningham and Margaret Pole, along with Margaret’s sons Henry and Geoffrey. She tells Mary Reginald, who has just been made a cardinal, will not stop supporting her cause abroad.

Mary thanks Nicholas, Henry, Gertrude and Chapuys for their help. She begs the ambassador to get her absolution from the Pope for signing the acts under duress. Seeing them talk, King Henry tells his daughter he hates dissemblers. There is talk of an uprising in the north where people believe her able to inherit after him. He forces her to write to the pope, the emperor and his family confirming she sees herself as a bastard.

In Lincolnshire rebels threaten to burn the Hussey’s house down. Anne promises her husband will join them. John calls her a fool to make such a promise; Anne argues he wanted to rise the north for princess Mary and the true faith. John says that was with the emperor’s help and before she submitted to the king. He writes to him protesting his innocence in the affair.

At court the king is enraged at the rebels, tearing up John’s letter. Jane goes on her knees and petitions him to reopen the monasteries, but is rebuffed by the king who tells her not to meddle. He talks about the rebellion with Mary, making sure to mention her old chamberlain’s letter, and the vast expense of the army he is sending to suppress it.

Henry is sent north at the head of the army to prove his loyalty. Gertrude worries over his safety, remembering the Nun of Kent’s prophecies of war. Courtier Edward Neville asks Gertrude if she is merry and she replies "How can I be merry? My lord is gone to battle." He tells her not to fear this one or the second battle, but beware the third. She warns him prophecies will turn him to displeasure one day.

Anne gives the rebels food, wine and money, encouraging them further. As the army approaches and rebels still camp outside his house, John flees.

A terrified Jane tells Mary she was mistaken about being with child. Mary reassures her, thanking her new mother for all her help. When he hears, King Henry says he will clearly have no children by his wife, and that if he will have no son to succeed him he hopes for a grandson.

Henry meets up with John. He pleads innocence, and joins him to deliver an invitation to the rebel leader, lawyer Robert Aske. At the king’s request he is to attend court for Christmas.

At court Aske and Mary are kept separated. The king questions Aske on the rebels demands. They want the monasteries to reopen, and see no reason why Mary could not be queen. People think the king’s divorce made by Thomas Cranmer was not legal and “Lady Mary ought to be favoured for her great virtues [...] for she is marvellously beloved by the whole people.” He worries with her being ruled illegitimate the emperor has a reason to wage war against the realm. The king tells him he has nothing to fear from the emperor.

Mary asks Chapuys to distract the king while Gertrude takes her to Robert Aske. Chapuys talks with King Henry about Prince Luis of Portugal being a possible husband for Mary now the French Dauphin has died.

In secret, Aske tells Mary she will always be the Princess of Wales and heir, no matter what the king decrees, as the law deems her legitimate. The people of England look to her for hope in such faithless times.

She keeps his words close to her heart as Aske and John Hussey are beheaded for treason. The king says their bodies are to be sent back north as a message for all those against his rule. Mary approves, and King Henry delights at his pearl finally understanding his authority.

A traumatised Mary stares at the bloodstained scaffold, silently vowing to avenge the deaths of her loving supporters.

#as historically accurate as possible :)#because when it's not a reality you have to make it yourself #mary tudor #mary i #mary i of england #tudors

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city-of-ladies · 4 years ago

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Caterina Sforza - The tigress of Forli

Caterina Sforza (1463-1509) was the granddaughter of Bianca Maria Visconti. Like her, she was a great warrior and a powerful ruling lady.

The illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo Sforza, duke of Milan, Caterina was raised in her father’s household alongside his legitimate children and benefited from an excellent education. The Sforza gave the same education to male and female children, including in physical domains. Caterina was thus taught to hunt, ride and use weapons.

At the age of 10, she was married to 29 years old Girolamo Riario, a nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. She afterward stayed in her father’s household until she turned 14 and then joined her husband. She was welcomed fondly by the inhabitants of her husband’s lands of Imola. Caterina also helped Girolamo in gathering men and arms and soon won her soldiers’ respect through her strict temperament.

On August 12, 1484, Pope Sixtus IV died, which meant that Girolamo lost an important protector and patron. Though she was seven months pregnant, Caterina rode to Rome. She managed to seize the Castel Sant'Angelo and announced that she would stay there until a new pope was elected. A contemporary observer gave the following description of her:

“Wise, brave, tall, fine-complected, well-made, speaking little, she wore a dress of satin a with train of two-arms' length, a black velvet hat in the French fashion, a man's belt and a purse full of gold ducats, a curved falchion at her side; and among the footsoldiers and the horsemen she was much feared because, when she had a weapon in her hand, she was fierce and cruel.”

Caterina didn’t surrender the place until she had been assured that her husband could retain his possessions of Imola and Forlì.

In 1487, the fortress of Ravaldino was captured by conspirators. The pregnant Caterina rode to the fortress and obtained its surrender. She then went back to Imola on horseback and gave birth to her seventh child.

In 1488, her husband was assassinated. Caterina was first taken prisoner, but managed to enter Ravaldino. Her children were brought in front of the fortress and the rebels threatened to kill them. According to the most well-known version of the story, Caterina stood on the ramparts and shouted: “Do it then, you fools! I am already pregnant with another child by Count Riario and I have the means to make more!”. She then walked back into the castle. Other versions simply state that Caterina didn’t come out, even as her children were threatened.

She held to her position and had occasional blasts of artillery shot at the houses of her enemy. She held out till forces from Milan arrived. Caterina was safe and her children were saved. She brutally punished the conspirators to show that she was in control. Caterina refused to remarry and was officially named regent until her son came of age.

In late 1499, Caterina found herself targeted by the Pope Alexander VI, who declared that she was a usurper and sent his son, Cesare Borgia, to seize her lands. The cities of Imola and Forlì surrendered, but Caterina held on to Ravaldino. Clad in armor, Caterina announced to Cesare Borgia that she wasn’t going to surrender and was prepared to die fighting.

(Armor attributed to Caterina)

Caterina made a skillful defense, expertly positioning her artillery. News of her determination spread in Italy, however, her defense was breached. Caterina then went out at the head of her most loyal men. She fought in the front ranks, sword in hand. The Venetian mercenary Sanuto was amazed by her skills and wrote that she “wounded many men”. Caterina fought for two hours as her soldiers fell one after another. She wasn’t going to admit defeat, but was betrayed from inside the castle and captured.

Caterina endured 18 months of imprisonment before being released in 1501. Since she couldn’t reclaim her lands, she focused on protecting her children. Caterina also dedicated herself to her interests in botany, alchemy and beauty aids. She wrote a manuscript titled Experimenti on this topic. She died in 1509.

Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi if you want to support me.

Bibliography:

Jansen Sharon L., The Monstrous Regiment of Women: Female Rulers in Early Modern Europe

Jordan Emily Anne, Jordan Jonathan W., The War Queens: Extraordinary Women Who Ruled the Battlefield

Lev Elizabeth, Tigress of Forli: The Life of Caterina Sforza

#historyedit #Caterina sforza #history #women in history #15th century #warrior women #italy #italian history #renaissance #italian renaissance #moodboard #aesthetic #history moodboard #women's history month #armor #women in armor #war #badass women #historyblr

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thunyielding · 2 years ago

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Anne’s influence upon her daughter would surely not grow ripe till Elizabeth herself had been given the opportunities to make the same mistakes as her mother. But, even at twenty-five, hadn’t she already made one that would murk her incoming days? Dudley remained on her mind like a thorn in her side, the pain of where he was at all moments a constant ache behind her eyes that left her gaze dull and uninterested with anything else. To Elizabeth, his wife was not worth her jealousy, and though she knew this on a theoretical level, she could not help the overwhelming need to yell, thrash and howl. Though, it was by the benefit of forever being warned of showing such strong emotions that Elizabeth held herself thus before her Lady Mother, her hands cupping the other’s in some sign of fealty that had been entrusted to the daughter of Anne Boleyn from a very early age.

Her smile presented itself in a lick of satisfaction, as if drunk on honeyed wine she pressed her lips to her mother’s silk cheek — perhaps the best of conversations to have with the Queen was upon the vices of her brother, of whom she surely loved with every inch of her but in turn, was also the very object of her deep rooted envy.

After all, something burned within the Princess, something that seemed to yell that the crown of her father and his father before then was instead meant for her own merry head. Holding Anne’s hand, Elizabeth dropped into the chair by her side, a pose thus re-created in well meaning portraits of the infamous pair who in one lifetime perhaps, were separated by the tricks of the Seymours and temper of her father.

With a cherished smile that slowly shifted into a well meaning laugh, Elizabeth shook her head, rolling her eyes as her auburn hair loomed around her in a kind of halo when presented before candlelight. “Yes, but I do think most of my male relatives have unfortunately inherited the ill-luck of vanity… apart from perhaps my grandfather who struck his fate on the field of Bosworth,” Elizabeth then mused, her hand within Anne’s within that moment of innocent thought, the repetition of old stories a comfort to a mind prone to wandering.

But she could not mean to mention her own wishes for coronation? A day dreamed beneath red-headed curls of high-strung hymn of angels, golden shimmering flags alongside her visage pressed into minted coins. As her smile wavered, Elizabeth turned her head from Anne’s in a moment’s thought, her chest rising and then falling with every breath before taking her fingers into her own lap. “Mother, you are a testament to every living woman. But I must remind you that to talk of such things is to invoke a certain kind of mischief. So, I will only smile and wave my head, but do know that you provide such a scrumptious dream,” Elizabeth smirked, before absently running her fingers through her long red hair as Anne thought to introduce the Spanish and what had come before.

“They are stubborn, they will always be as such. Why William has thought to invite them is beyond me… Surely they have their own reasons to stay in Spain,” Elizabeth moaned, rolling her gaze back towards her mother, leaning upon her shoulder in a moment’s rare intimacy as the room fell quiet with their equal breaths. “Do you miss him? His Majesty, my father?” She then asked, the question slowly dripping from her tongue with a pinch of hesitation due to her own weariness over the detail — did she miss him in turn? No. Yes. Sometimes. Mostly, she missed the time from before, when she could come and go to Hampton when asked for, when she could go to Richmond whenever the need for her mother arose. When she could mind her own business beneath Hatfield’s roof.

Elizabeth met her with penetrating eyes - any passionate young man would have surely loved them in their valance. An acquaintance was blind to whatever they kept in store; Anne knew it to be the steadied shine of faith; for whatever sentiment met Elizabeth in its form too facile, her lips menaced, beautifully but surely, caprice and light esteem. Searching in those bonny wells of eyes, whose glance under their golden-red lashes seemed like a penciled laugh; the expression of her mouth, the colour of her cheek, even the most ignorant knew that both were supremely beautiful. A vague obligation of pride wished to be fulfilled; Anne wished all to gaze upon her child and be struck by notions of love. Who had given Elizabeth such power? Did it lay all in her beauty - titan haired, her white and rosey cheeked completion? Was it this, that bound a mans soul to her feet, and bid him to bend his neck at her yoke? And would it purchase for her, his affection, his tenderness, noble and cordial love - or would it reap a dissembling love, as it had for Anne? But her daughter beamed upon her from a higher sphere; she believed in all Elizabeth was. In the steadiness of her virtues, lay the power of her passions.

Dear William and Elizabeth were to Anne; dear they were to her this day in their remembered benevolence. Little knew they of the racks of brain their futures had brought Anne, sending her almost into fever - bringing her reckless, urged and aimless to the brink of frenzy. In the that guarded estate, her heart, she kept a little place beneath skylights, where Elizabeth may find solace, should she wish to call. It was not a handsome place where she stored her enemies; all life long she had carried love, and it was motherhood, which released it from that hold and constriction. Of an artistic temperament, like her dear Thomas, she was not; yet she must have possessed something of the artist's faculty, in rendering a singular person, her muse.

She prized Elizabeth as a best friend; from her, she received a deep delight - she brought into her heart, a warm and beautiful light. "Vanity is an affliction ill-born by his sex; we must dutifully instruct him in the implementation of its powers. Your uncle has has known its touch from his earliest years." A sunny sheen flashed in her own eyes; the spirit of her gaze, awarded to her child in voltaic eyes. Out of mens defections and affections were forged the depths of their servitude; kings were overwrought by penance and took up a cross, monstrous in its weight, so that they may serve god, confirm his power, and spread the reign of his tyrant church. "Should William's head either collapse or explode, your coronation shall be of a greatness England has never witnessed before. It shall be a glory, and a tragedy of minuscule proportions; for I believe no man worthy of you now, and thus with the crown, the pool evermore plagued by draught." Her fingers settled upon Elizabeth's, claiming her presence as entirely her own; in her children, Anne renewed the love of her life. "The Spanish steal themselves away from residing near la concubina - do you find that I am as offensive and salacious, as I was in the time of the late King? I would have believed being a dower, dowager of only maternal glory, would have pleased them."

#boleyn.#semperanneboleyn

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years ago

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Music is so good for the soul, and during these hard times we must all help each other to find moments of joy.

- Dame Vera Lynn (1917-2020)

Dame Vera Lynn, the beloved British singer, died 103 years old on 18 June 2020. Surprise at her death is swiftly replaced by the sad realisation that it marks the end of a chapter in British history. Many of those who grew up with her music have died during the Covid-19 pandemic. How poignant that her death should come on the day that President Macron arrived in the UK to mark the 80th anniversary of General De Gaulle’s rallying cry to the Free French and to give the Légion d’Honneur to London, the city that weathered the blitz in 1940.

From the battlefields of France, the Netherlands, Italy and North Africa to the Far East, whenever soldiers gathered around a radio set or gramophone, the smooth vocal tones of Vera Lynn were sure to be heard.

It is impossible to gauge whether the outcome of the war was swayed by songs like ‘There'll Always Be an England’, ‘We'll Meet Again’, ‘(There'll Be Bluebirds Over) The White Cliffs of Dover"‘ and ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’.

But for countless men in uniform, the lyrics and the slim, wholesome young blonde woman who sang them seemed to offer a vision of what they were fighting for.

To modern ears, the words might sound corny but at a time when Britain stood proudly against the Germans, their patriotic appeal was irresistible.

Vera Lynn epitomised an archetypical, essentially decent Britishness, practical and fair-minded - notions which shone through the songs she sang.

Even her version of the German soldiers' favourite song, ‘Lili Marlene,’ managed to sound like a patriotic lament, a far cry from the darker sexual undercurrents implicit in the versions by Marlene Dietrich and Lale Andersen - ironically both of them anti-Nazis who became the German forces' sweethearts.

Vera Lynn's most famous song remains We'll Meet Again, recorded in 1939.

Lynn’s wartime popularity was boosted because of the song. The song’s appeal to love and stoicism - "Keep smiling through/Just like you always do/ Till the blue skies/Drive the black clouds far away" -- made it the perfect war-time anthem. It proved powerfully uplifting for departing soldiers, and it has endured as the defining song of the British campaign. The song re-entered the UK charts at No 55 amid the 75th anniversary celebrations of VE Day.

As she wrote later in her 1975 memoir, Vocal Refrain: “Ordinary English people don’t, on the whole, find it easy to expose their feelings even to those closest to them.” We’ll Meet Again would go “at least a little way towards doing it for them”.

In later years, the song, with its reminders of home and exhortations of courage, has become an indispensable part of national commemorations. And, with its swooping and strangely haunting melody, it has entered into popular culture. It forms an ironic accompaniment to the explosion of atom bombs in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964); it is deployed with alienating effect in the Pink Floyd song Vera (The Wall, 1982); and it provides the eerie aural backdrop to the Tower of Terror ride in Walt Disney World, California.

But when Lynn began singing it at the age of 22, she had little idea that she would be singing it for the rest of her life.

Indeed the song found favour again this year when Queen Elizabeth II, in a rare public address to the nation, urged Britons to remain strong during the coronavirus lockdown.

"We should take comfort that while we may have more still to endure, better days will return: we will be with our friends again; we will be with our families again; we will meet again," the monarch said.

Vera Lynn was born in London's East End on March 20, 1917 as Vera Margaret Welch.

She began singing in local clubs at age seven and joined a child dance troupe, Madame Harris' Kracker Cabaret Kids, at 11. By 15, she was a teenage sensation as a vocalist with the Howard Baker Orchestra.

She adopted her grandmother's maiden name Lynn as her stage name, making her first radio broadcast in 1935 with the Joe Loss Orchestra.

She worked with another of the great names of the pre-war period, Ambrose, whose clarinettist and tenor sax player, Harry Lewis, she was to marry. The couple had one child, a daughter.

In war-time, Vera Lynn came into her own, hosting a BBC radio programme, "Sincerely Yours", appearing in a forces stage revue, and making three films.

So what did Vera Lynn have that propelled her to stardom during the war, when she became the “forces’ sweetheart”? Youth primarily. She was in her early 20s when war broke out – Elsie Carlisle, the iconic singer at this time, was in her 40s and recorded very little during the war, while Gracie Fields, who was astonishingly popular in the 1930s, had the temerity to marry an Italian and sat most of the war out in North America.

The country was aching for a new female singing star and Vera Lynn – youthful, toothily wholesome rather than glamorous, and with an innate modesty that suited an austere and dangerous age that had no time for displays of ego – fitted the bill. She had a powerful, bell-like voice – at times she almost recites the words and employs oodles of vibrato to underscore the emotion of her songs – that was perfect for a singalong. It is when the audience joins in with her songs that you get a lump in the throat.

She came to represent so much, especially to the service personnel she entertained tirelessly during the second world war. She visited Burma, Egypt and India to give concerts for troops stationed there, an act of courage that should not be underestimated. These were difficult, dangerous journeys and not for nothing was she later awarded the Burma Star. She symbolised resilience and indefatigability, embodying a strength of character that transcended mere art. Nazism had no chance against this winsome, optimistic, joyful yet tender young woman.

Lynn gave up singing after the war but was persuaded out of retirement in 1947 and began a whole new international career, with appearances in the United States in 1948.

She became the first British artiste to have a US number one with "Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart", her most successful record, in 1952. However Vera Lynn's career foundered in the rock and roll era and she cut back on public appearances.

Artistically, it must have been infuriating to be forever associated with the wartime struggle and she did attempt to move on, recording a few Beatles numbers in the 1960s and even making a country disc in 1977. But nothing could shift the way she was seen by the public: a symbol, quintessentially British, of that unimaginably long, bleak, ultimately triumphant wartime struggle; an icon frozen in time.

She accepted her status as a living museum of wartime music and culture with customary good grace. “I never thought the ‘forces’ sweetheart’ tag would stay with me,” she told the Radio Times in 2014, “but it has, hasn’t it? I thought it would last for the war period, then I’d just be another singer. Of course I’ve never minded that everybody always connects me with that time. It was so important.”

For decades, she was a beloved figure at celebrations to mark the anniversaries of the June 6, 1944, D-Day landings in France or VE Day, the end of the war in Europe on May 8, 1945.

Her last public performance came in 2005, at the 60th anniversary celebrations for VE Day in Trafalgar Square. She performed a snatch of We’ll Meet Again, and told the crowd: “These boys gave their lives and some came home badly injured and for some families life would never be the same. We should always remember, we should never forget and we should teach the children to remember.”

She was awarded an OBE in 1969, and made a dame in 1975, for her charity work. She has given her name to her own breast cancer and child cerebral palsy charities, and has also worked with charities for military servicepeople, including Forces Literary Organisation Worldwide (Flow)

In 2009, at the age of 92, she became the oldest living artist to make it to No 1 on the British album charts, with a greatest hits compilation outselling the Arctic Monkeys.

During the build-up to her 100th birthday in 2017, Dame Vera said she found it "humbling" that people still enjoyed her songs.

The Queen wrote to her: "You cheered and uplifted us all in the war and after the war, and I am sure that this evening the blue birds of Dover will be flying over to wish you a happy anniversary."

Her songs spoke to people caught up in war, trying to respond to its emotional extremes as best they could. They encapsulate fellowship and battling through, not jingoism, for all the flag-waving that accompanied her appearances at commemorative events. “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.” The lyrics could not be more banal, yet her genuine spirit invested them with deep humanity. As HM Queen Elizabeth II herself understood, what keeps us going in times of war and pandemic is the thought that we will be reunited with our loved ones, when the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.

RIP Dame Vera Lynn

We’ll meet again....

#vera lynn #quote #life and death #second world war #music #singer #britain #femme #icon #history #forces sweetheart

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roseprincessarts · 3 years ago

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Maria

Maria, one of the Victorian women, as a child, her parents put on too much pressure on her with chores and trying to make her be like them as a noble Victorian family from the bloodline, despite their cruel behavior towards her. While growing up, Maria dreams of playing music, making her feel like she could be free of her own life with serenation. Her parents, however, wanted her to follow their footsteps as they call her dream "silly nonsense. Playing music is only for men! Women don't have time for those nonsense."

Maria felt like she was punched in the stomach after hearing her parents' lecture. Their behavior towards her went on until her 17th birthday. Until then, her father died from a terminal illness. Her mother was on her way back to their hometown, until she was killed in a carriage accident. Maria felt the grief that is growing strong and hard inside her body. However, she still loved them, and she wanted to continue to follow her dream. Until she started lessons on recorder music, she practiced for days, even weeks! Until the dinner party, after eating, Maria plays her recorder, serenading everyone. A calming flute music echoes through the mansion. Everyone applaused, and she knew what her career in her life as a true Victorian is music.

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

Here's the idea I have come up with with a Victorian woman Maria playing the recorder as she dreamed of playing music, despite her rough childhood. The time period for this artwork would be the French Revolution ^^; The recorder.... probably didn't exist during that time. However, it's my creative, yet Maria is my own character (not to be confuse from probably other Victorian women xD) to even do this, and learn that anybody can follow their dreams, whether they succeeded or trying hard (like I'm trying for entertainment for films and music x3) Wouldn't King Louis be impressed with her music? xD

So want to know what happened at school? There was smoke, probably might be a real fire. Fire trucks came and got it situated. So I'm safe and have all my stuff 😊

I like Victorians, they are beautiful as (if so) Queen Elizabeth I xD

I was doing a fandom fanart, but I want to wait till Friday to do that :). What y'all think?

The recorder was not as bad to draw, but Maria's fingers were God awful >_<

Maria and artwork ©SuperShadowSilver

Used: mechanical pencil

#french revolution #maria #victorian #victorian lady #original art #original character #recorder #music #traditional drawing #artwork

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

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I Like Boys Too

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER (MALE)

RATING SMUT AF!!

I sat at the hotel bar sipping at a beer, I knew I had a headache coming on but maybe the beer would numb it.

"Hey watts" I heard a voice behind me smile I turned and saw townes with a whiskey he came over sitting at the bar beside me a still between us

"Hey towens" I nodded

"Haven't seen you around much"

"I haven't been around much"

"Last I spoke to you-" he joked

"You were in Moscow, With Beth."

"I was," he says sipping his drink "I know you wanted to be there with her"

"I wanted a lot of things…" I answered having a long sip of my drink finishing the bottle

"You'd think you hate her" he laughs

"I don't hate her, I'm incredibly happy for her, world championship… been a long time since any american held that, let alone someone as good as her, I'm happy for her, and… the small help I supplied in getting her there" I explain I was going to get another but he had finished his whiskey so he bought a round

"Too miss Elizabeth harmon, World Chess Champion" he laughs I laughed to clicking his glass with my bottle "I miss her being around"

"Yeah… I do too"

"She brought an elegance, a beauty to these things, without her these places are one big, boring, grey-"

"Sausage fest?"

"You could say so" he laughs

"She did, she always made these places seem more glamorous"

"Where is she nowadays anyway?"

"Kentucky." I answered "with Beltik"

"With Beltik." He laughs "That girl could have any boy in the world"

"And she takes him" I sighed having almost half my beer

"Oh all the boys in the world right" he laughs

"Yeah," I nodded

"Hey hun? Are you coming to dinner?" I heard another voice say, I looked and saw another guy in a little red suit jacket

"Yeah just a sec" he winked giving this guy a kiss and he Wandered off "sorry, date night" he laughs

"Yeah, you uhh you go" I told him "have fun"

"I am… sorry about it all watts" he says I tried to force the memory away, I didn't want to think about it "it's Alright you'll find a pretty girl" he says tapping my shoulder as he went off with his boyfriend, I sighed having more beer, I didn't want to think about it. I looked around the bar and small restaurant thinking my mind wandering to strange places. Of everything I've done… I'd never had a boyfriend, I couldn't imagine what it would be like, going to dinner with another man, or kissing another man, or… being intimate with another man. I had nothing against honest towens and his boyfriend are adorable, they work so well together and they're happy so who cares.

I wonder what it would be like having a boyfriend….

We could share clothes. I wouldn't have to deal with make up in my house. We could sit and drink beer while discussing sports. Wait, I hate sports. We could discuss chess! We could go to the movies and not watch romcoms. I had never really thought about it as an option for me but then again why not? It's not like I don't understand how a dick works, I mean I have one. By that logic I should be a good damn fucking expert! I understand a dick way better than I understand a Virgina or atleast I think I do.

I looked around the bar area, I have no idea how to do this. Then again to be fair I don't completely know how to do it for girls either, I don't think I've ever tried that hard to pick up a girl they just sort of… come to me. I saw a guy standing with a beer. He looked at me so I waved and he looked confused and wandered off.

Well, that didn't work.

"Hey give me a beer man" a guy said to the bar man as he sat down on that still where towens had been he reached for his wallet but

"No it's okay, I got it" I said paying for his and for another myself luckily this stuff isn't exactly strong

"Cheers" he laughs, fixing a cuff of his blue button down, he was strong much more so than me, his pants rather tight given what I had been thinking about I found I was looking much more, his glittering silver watch, his hair styled interestingly enough but nothing to distracting.

"No problem" I smiled "Benny watts" I said offering my hand

"Y/n y/l/n" he says giving my hand a shake

"You play? I've not seen you around?'

"I don't, always wanted to but I'm shit" he laughs sipping his beer "reporter. Pays the bills" he shrugs

"Yeah, I see why you mean" I laughed "what are you working on?"

"Just an update peice, scores and ranks. If it ain't the girl readers aren't interested" he says

"Sorry you haven't got anything more interested to report on" I laughed

"It's alright, I'm use to it" he shrugs "so you play?'

"Yeah" I nodded "when I can"

"You got your girlfriend upstairs?" He says making me jump a little at the sudden question

"No, single as always" I shrug "you got your girlfriend here helping you out?"

"No, not my kinda thing" he shrugs

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"You know I uhh I have a little extra time. I do head back to New York till the morning. If you want I could… give you something interesting to write about" I suggested

"I'd like that, Mr Watts" he smirked "ten O'clock, five nine two" he winked finishing up his beer "I'll be waiting"

"Ten it is" I smirked as he got up and headed off into the hotel, I smirked to myself. This is an odd night I wouldn't have expected it to go this way but fuck it I'm rolling with it. I finished my beer and headed up to my room having a quick shower and standing by my hotel mirror trying to do something… with my hair. I don't know. I haven't had a date in forever. If this is even a date. I haven't had sex in a while, but I suppose it's not like I'm going to forget how to do it. I hope he's done this before because… I haven't got any Ideas, you'd think as a guy I would know but, I really don't. Maybe I should talk with towens and his boyfriend more often.

I got dressed into my jeans and my green button down only doing half of it up as usual, and heading out to his room. I tried to walk confidently even if I didn't feel it, why am I so nervous it's just a hookup? Nothing I haven't done before, just not...like this. I knocked and stood trying not to look nervous when he opened the door his blue button down almost completely undone his jeans even tighter then before, he leant on the doorframe smirking as he looked me up and down

"Hey"

"Hey" I answered

"You wanna come in for a cup of coffee?' he asks

"Uhh yeah," I nodded so he let me inside his room much like my own "I'll make it" I said Heading to the side where a cheap electric kettle sat with some little coffee and tea packets from the hotel I clicked the kettle on and started making the coffee until I felt his strong body press against me I could feel his jeans buckle in my back his hands snaked around me his fingers playing with the button strips on my shirt inches from my exposed skin, I gasped and held my breath feeling his hands so close to my skin

"That's not the kinda coffee I meant Benny"

"Isn't it? I uhh I thought it was"

"No, it wasn't" he smirked gently grinding his hips against me I could feel his erection against my arse, I didn't know what to think for a moment until I turned to face him, "what's wrong?" He asks

"Nothing, nothing" I answered unable to tear my eyes away from his exposed chest, only ever glancing up to his plump lips, he smiled wickedly at me

"Ohh I get it" he smirked before I could say anything his hands grabbed behind my thighs and he lifted me up to sit on the counter moving me like I was nothing to him, like he could have done it one handed or that to him I was as light as anything else. "Your one of those boys" he smirked moving forward giving my neck a few gentle kisses, I couldn't deny ever kiss drove me crazy

"One of those boys?" I asked

"The ones who need a little…" he smirked moving his hands to sit one each on my knees "attention to get them going" he growled pushing on my knees making my legs open as wide as possible he moved quickly before I had time to react standing between my legs "you like this? Don't you benny?" He smirked grinding himself against me feeling his stiff long cock against my hardering erection, I couldn't stop staring at him

"Yes.." I gasped so I grabbed his neck and pulled his lips to my own partly to stop me moaning, I tasted his aftershave, I tasted his beer, I tasted him, and I loved it. I could feel his smooth skin as he kissed be back it turning fast into hot and heavy make outs my hands playing and toying with his hair as he undid my shirt buttons pushing it off me I tried to do the same to him but I only did two buttons before he picked me up again. I grabbed onto his neck a little scared of dropping to the floor but he pushed us over so I landed on my back on his bed he smirked as he still stood, over me between my legs still, I sat up on my elbows slightly trying to shuffle up the bed with my nerves, he smirked down at me egarly, I gulped beyond nervous he leant down to kiss me but I pushed him back "wait, wait, wait" I said quickly

"What's up? You uhh don't look so great? Are you okay benny?"

"I uhhhhh I have to be honest y/n" I told him as I sat up rubbing my arm a little "I uhhh I've never done this before"

"Never?"

"Never."

"Humm… pretty dirty for a little virgin boy then" he smirked

"What, no. I'm not a Virgin"

".... I'm confused"

"I've had sex before just… not with a guy."

"Oohh." He nods "did you.. want to?"

"I uhh I think I do"

"You think or you do Benny? I don't wanna do this is you don't want to"

"No no I want to, just a little confused and nervous and all" I explain

"I'll be gentle, I promise" he reassured "so you a top or a bottom?"

"Uuuuhhhhh…. I do not have a bunk bed"

"Ohhh my god you can tell you're straight" he sighed "when your with a girl Benny? Would you rather… push her on the bed face first and fuck her hard or would you rather her pin your arms to the bed and ride your cock?" He smirked pressing kisses down my jaw, my neck and down my chest towards my belt

"Uhhh depends on the girl" I answered

"Well I guess you should be top as… your not really ready for.. me inside you"

"Aren't I?"

"No, your not Benny," he laughs "don't worry I'll give you a little confidence first" he winked moving and undoing my belt before I could say another word my jeans where on the floor, I bit my mouth hard trying not to see his reaction as my now fully hard cock sat tall in my boxers "big boy I see Benny" he smirked "lay down, and get comfy" he says pushing my stomach so I did as he asked and laid back down staring at the molded pattern in the ceiling he pulled back my boxers and I hissed feeling my erection against the cold air of the room "excitable tonight" he smirked blowing a little warm air across my head, he pushed my up and apart which freaked me out a little so my feet sat on the edge of the bed, my first thought was. This is a weird position and the secondly I feel… very exposed, I think I get why boyfriends are so close, you really can't hide anything like this. I focused on the ceiling unsure what it would be like, I heard him lick his lips and within seconds he took every inch or my cock in his mouth, it was wet, an warm, and heavenly, I kept my eyes on the ceiling best I could even if I wanted to roll them back in pleasure, my mouth hung open tiny almost squeaky kind of moans leaking from my throat, he gently sucked my complete length which made me throb into his sucks, his lips clamped around my shaft, he moved back as he bobbed his head whenever he pulled back it didn't feel as good so my hands quickly went to his head to push him down where I needed him.

"Uuhhh UGHHH!" I groaned feeling so close, it felt so good, he pushed my hands off and moved away I tried not to whine even if I wanted too

"Bossy little thing aren't you" he smirked "keep them there, unless you wanna be inside me" he smirked pinning my arms to the bed either side of my head I nodded and he smirked returning back to the heavenly sucking, I couldn't help but groan rolling my head against the bed starting at the ceiling gripping the covers hard when it felt good, I couldn't help pushing his head down when I felt I was about to cum but he pushed me away

"No no no please" I begged "y/n… I was about to-"

"I know" he smirked offering his hand so I took it and he picked me up wrapping his arms around my waist resting his hand on my hip so I stood pulled into his side when if my legs barely wanted to stand I couldn't help my hand playing with the little line of chest hair between his pecks resting my head on his shoulder he smirked at me and used his other hand to move the bed around moving pillows and things around the bed almost like he was making a ramp or wedge, I gave his neck some little kisses as he worked until he took my hand from his chest giving it a kiss "cute little thing aren't you? Never imagined you'd be… such a bottom" he smirked

"Am I?"

"Ohh Benny baby your the most bottom boy over ever met" he smirked "that's fine, I like being a top" he growled

"What does that mean?"

"You understand Dom and sub right?"

"Yeah"

"Bottom is more sub"

"Oohh… yeah that's probably more me. Mostly because I am way to lazy"

"Your a cute little bottom" he smiled kissing me gently "and you tickle when you kiss" he smirked gently playing with my chin

"Did you uh want me to?" I suggested moving my hand from his down under his jeans but he quickly took my hand away

"I'm hard enough Benny. I know I said you weren't ready but… I'll deal with it." He smirked "I wanna fuck you"

"Uhh okay" I nodded nervous but excited

"Lay down" he smirked guiding me to lay down this wedge of pillows me had made so my ass was in the air "comfy?'

"Yeah"

"Good, you wanna help me?" He smirked standing at the foot of the bed right in front of my face I smirked a little undoing his jeans and tugging them down to his knees I was in shock and a little… I don't know, jealous, he was bigger then me he didn't have underwear so I was faced with his hard cock precum slowly dripping down his shaft he got a condom from his pocket so I took it ripping it open with my teeth gently slipping it on for him he smirked playing with my hair as I did, I was so tempted to suck him but he forced my head away "whoa… slow down there Benny," he smirked getting something from his bag "where gonna need this" he smirked showing me the familiar bottle, "you know this stuff?"

"Yeah, I have a bottle in my bag too" I blushed

"Yeah? For what?" He smirked

"Jerking off mostly"

"Well we need it," he smirked getting on the bus behind me, I could feel the bed creak and my heart race "your tight little virgin ass won't take my cock if I don't" he smirked slapping my ass hard with his left hand

"Whoa!" I said in shock feeling my cock throb as my ass stung with pain "uhh y/n?"

"Yeah Benny?" He smirked

"Could you uhh… do that again?" I asked

"Again? Like this?" He smirked doing it again slightly harder I could feel the lube on his fingers that time as he has been using that hand to lube himself up I smirked slightly biting my bottom lip

"Ummmm Humm" I mummbled nodding quickly

"Aww? You are such a subby bottom" he smirked "you like getting spanked Benny?"

"Yes…" I gasped

"Then be a good boy, and don't cum all over yourself, or I'll spank your sexy ass red raw Benny" he earned

I couldn't even reply as his hands gripped my ass hard, I stared at the hotel carpet unsure what else to focus on as I felt his throbbing erection press against me I held my breath before, it was a simple little push.

My eyes rolled back feeling like I was being stretched, feeling him throb inside me, my own cock twitching in desperation against the pillows, his hands gripped me tight likely would have nail marks by morning, I gripped the pillows tight, my mouth hung open, it hurt I couldn't deny, but it also felt Soo good, a pleasure I had never felt before and I never wanted it to stop

"Fuck! Your so tight! Fuck you feel so good" he groans starting to move fast and hard

I was in another world each thrust sending me deeper into this unexplainable world of pleasure I wanted to scream but not a word came out of my mouth.

"You okay benny?" He asks as he gently slowed

"No! No no! Don't stop y/n!" I begged "please, don't stop"

"Somebodies Happy. You like it Benny?"

"I love it" I groaned

"Yeah I do too" he smirked getting faster, the bed creaking and sqeeking with his every movement, I was so close feeling so an amazing feeling inside me he slapped my ass hard every chance he got, and as he did one hard time I hit a brick wall, my cum spurting across the pillows and my stomach, feeling like a firecracker got set off in my cock, and then a whole new sensation erupting inside of me the two sensations hitting at the same time

#benny imagine #benny x reader #benny smut #benny #benny watts #bennywattssmut #benny watts smut #benny watts imagine #bennywatts #tbs #thomas sangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster smut #tbs smutty

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

When the Weight Comes Down - 3

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Here’s part three. Hope you enjoy the subtle escalation of dark! Steve. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Three: Everytime You Go

Said, "My girl don't just walk, she unfurls" With motorcycle language He stumbled through his slang pledge Then he dragged the mud for wedding pearls

💀💀💀

Your days passed at the bakery as if nothing had changed. Babs didn’t ask about Steve but you could tell she wanted to. You could tell she was reassured as he hadn’t made a second appearance. And your mother. She barely spoke to you at all now and when she did, she accused you of foolishness. She didn’t believe that you had tried to say no. That you had tried to avoid the leather-clad man.

He lingered at the back of your mind but you tried not to think about him too much. Only when you walked by the bar that was throne to the ancient Egyptian queen. You wondered why they had chosen her for their moniker. The doomed queen and her many, alleged, lovers.

On Tuesday, you went the other way. You stood outside Lloyd’s and stared in at the new fantasy novel. You never shopped much from the bestsellers, you stuck to the used shelves; often you kept to the library. That was free.

You stepped inside and found the old man bent over his desk. He held a long pair of tweezers as he put together a ship in a bottle. He barely looked at you as he said hello. You smiled and mumbled your response before you dipped down your usual aisle; historical fiction and centuries old fantasy.

You didn’t see anything interesting so you moved along. You neared the shelf of biographies and found the woman from the bar; the new bartender. She didn’t seem to notice you as she read the back of a book about Katherine Hepburn. You stepped up beside her and pulled out a biography of Elizabeth Taylor. As you did, another fell and you bent to pick it up. The woman jumped as you stood and held both the books.

“I didn’t see you there,” She turned to you and glanced at the books in your hands. “Take the bottom one. The top one is… mere gossip.”

“Oh?” You looked down. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” She turned over the book in her hand and slapped it against her other palm. “Do I know you?”

“Um, I’ve seen you at the diner… but the other night you were at the bar,” You put the first book back and kept the second.

She thought for a moment then nodded.

“You left with Steve.” She said.

“Well, he helped me with my pa,” You stammered. “I didn’t leave with him.”

“Helped you?” Her expression turned stony. “Well, that was nice of him.”

You turned back to the shelf and read the titles quietly. She glanced over a few more herself but only held onto the one.

“Right. See ya around, maybe.” She said.

You nodded and she slowly stepped around you. She was halfway down the aisle before you found your courage.

“Wait,” You spun around and took a few steps toward her. “The way you-- What do you mean it was nice of him?”

She laughed sardonically, her lips curled sourly.

“Birds of a feather,” She said. “I… know a few of his friends; they aren’t very friendly. Not exactly the helpful type.” Her nostrils flared. “What I mean is that he is not a nice man. Not a good one, in the least.”

You blinked at her dumbly.

“Because he’s a biker?” You asked.

“No, because he’s a criminal. And an asshole.” She snarled. “Just… trust me. You’re best off staying home and reading. The Asp is no place for girls like you.”

You felt like your skin was on fire. You clutched the book and shifted on your feet as she went to walk away.

“How--” You caught yourself and she stopped again.

“How what?” She asked.

“Well, how do I tell him no?”

She squinted. Her forehead wrinkled and she stepped closer.

“What do you mean?”

“He… asked me to have a drink with him, I told him I didn’t want to but… he wouldn’t listen.”

Her face fell and she shook her head. She swore under her breath.

“Well, you don’t,” She leaned a hand on the shelf. “You can’t. He’s one of them.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry. Why are you sorry?”

She shrugged. “I guess because I know what that’s like.”

“Oh,” You uttered and she gave a weak smile before she turned away again.

You watched her go and she stopped at the door to glance back at you. She gave a small wave and stepped out into the street. You slowly trode down the aisles and neared the man at the counter. Larry, Lu? You always forgot.

“Bag?” He asked as he punched the buttons on the till.

“No thank you,” You said as you dug in your purse. Your hand shook as you handed him a bill.

💀

You weren’t sure what to wear. You knew it wasn’t a real date. No, that was dumb. It was a drink. Just a drink. You’d watched enough prime time television to know that meant nothing. And watched enough to know that your wardrobe was painfully out of date. Your old jeans and tees would do on any other day but you weren’t sure that was proper attire for… a drink.

You pulled on the yellow dress with daisies. The skirt hung past your knees and the cap sleeves were dated. You pulled on a crochet cardigan over it and the pair of slingback flats from the back of your closet. You sprayed yourself with the white rose perfume you rarely touched to hide the thrift store scent which clung to you.

You looked okay. You didn’t have any make-up. You never wore it. And your hair looked better than most days; you had tried. Your mother appeared in your door as you grimaced at your reflection.

“Don’t you look nice.” She crossed her arms.

“Ma,” You buttoned your cardigan. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re so naive.” She hissed. “You have no idea what this man could do to you.”

“Ma, please, it’s just a drink.” You neared her. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And when he tries to stick his hand up your skirt, Hmm? You gonna have a choice then?”

You’d never heard her sound so hateful. You flinched.

“No, he doesn’t… want that,” You grabbed your small purse from your dresser and checked that your little wallet was inside. “Ma, really.”

“Do you really think he wants anything else?” She sneered. “He’s playing with you.”

“Maybe. Well, of course, he is, but are you going to stop him? Is Pa gonna get off his fat ass and stop him?” You huffed.

“You think this makes you an adult? Acting like this?”

“You married Pa,” You edged past her. “You know all about marrying an asshole.”

“Don’t you say that,” She followed you down the hall.

“It’s the truth.” You stopped at the front door and opened it to peer through the torn screen. “I might as well accept that I’ll never get out of Birch. I’ll be lucky to get out of this house.”

“Don’t act like we never did anything for you.”

“I never said that,” You turned back to her. “But you can’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Sweet pea…” She clasped her hands together.

“Worry about Pa,” You said as you grasped the door handle and you heard your father swearing at the baseball game. “Worry about yourself. You know how he gets.”

“I’m only worried about you.” She argued.

“Don’t,” You pushed the door open. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

You pulled the big door shut behind you and let the screen door bounce against the frame. You sat on the steps and stared into the dusk. The days got longer and longer as the nights dwindled. You played with the thin strap of your bag and tapped your foot on the rotting wood.

The roar of an engine tore through the air and you stood as you watched Steve approach on the dark beast. The motorcycle huffed a stream of exhaust from its tail and you fidgeted. He stopped just before the yellowed grass and you slowly descended the bottom step.

He let the engine idle as it quieted to a steady rumble. He waved you over with a leather-gloved hand and you neared reluctantly. He smiled at you and gestured to the seat behind him.

“Helmet’s in the saddle bags,” He called over the engine. “Keep your legs wide. Don’t wanna touch that exhaust.”

You nodded and hooked your purse around your body. You went to the saddle bag and fumbled with the buckle. You found the helmet inside and pulled it on. You struggled with the strap and Steve chuckled as he beckoned you closer. He helped secure it and his leather glove tickled your jaw.

“Get on,” He said.

You climbed up, nearly falling as you did, and caught yourself on his shoulder. He seemed barely bothered by the slip and you swung your leg over. You sat there, awkwardly and leaned back. He took your arm and pulled it around his side.

“You’ll have to hold on,” He said.

He slowly backed up, a foot at a time and angled the bike around. You held onto him and looked back at the house. Your mother was at the window, watching. You lowered your eyes and the scent of leather filled your nostril. Steve kicked off and the bike tore down the drive and onto the road. You clung tighter to him as you let out a surprised yelp.

It was only a few minutes before you reached the main road and he pulled into the side lot of The Asp. He came to a stop and waited as you carefully climbed off. You were thankful to be back on the ground. He kicked the stand down as he killed the engine and got off himself.

He took off his helmet and took yours from you. You gripped your purse tightly, nervously. He guided you around the front of the building, his hand on the small of your back. Every time you tried to make space between you, he got closer.

You stepped inside to the same smells as before. Your stomach turned but you kept on. Steve led you to a table and offered you a seat beside another man in leather. You weren’t expecting a crowd but it might save you some awkwardness. You sat as he took the chair beside you and rested his hand on yours, just behind your shoulder.

“This is Bucky,” He pointed to the man at your other shoulder. “Boss man. Sam, Danny, and Reese.”

The men nodded at you, more interested in their beer and their own conversations than your arrival. The only who really acknowledged you was that beside you.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone,” Bucky sat back and raised two fingers to signal the bar then looked at you. “Good to meet ya.”

“You too,” You mumbled and cradled your purse in your lap.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” Steve asked as the server neared.

It was the girl from the bookstore. As she came around, Bucky reached over and caressed her hip. She stiffened but said nothing on it.

“Refill,” Bucky said. “Thanks.”

“A bud,” Steve said tersely. He exchanged a sharp look with the woman. “And--”

You blinked as he waited for you to order. You shrugged.

“I.. don’t know. I don’t really drink.” You muttered.

“She’ll have one too,” Steve filled in.

The woman nodded and strode away. She returned shortly with a tray of tall glasses and you thanked her. She gave you a sympathetic glance before she left you again.

“That’s a… unique dress,” Steve commented as he touched your skirt. “I think my mom had one just like it.”

You scrunched your lips and reached for the beer. You didn’t know what to say.

“Didn’t mean it was bad,” He said and you recoiled at the hoppy beer. “You’ll get used to the taste.”

You nodded and put the pint down. He took his and drank deeply.

“You ever play pool?” He asked. “I could teach you?”

You peeked over at the table. You didn’t like the idea of being bent over like the men did as they hit the balls. You shook your head.

“No, thank you.” You said.

“Poker?” He chanced.

“I don’t know,” You picked at your sweater. “I…”

“It’s okay.” His hand settled on your knee. “You don’t need to be so nervous. I like you. Quiet as you are.”

You gave a sheepish smile and took a drink; a deep gulp. You glanced at the bottle cap clock over the bar. You couldn’t wait for the night to end.

💀

You were wobbly as you stood up. A second glass went down easier and you weren’t so bothered by the grainy taste, though you still wondered how your father could drink so much. Steve angled you around the table as you tried not to betray how unsteady you felt. He grabbed your arm as you got ahead of him.

“Hold up, doll,” He pulled you back beside him. “It’s barely eleven.”

You were silent as he kept pace with you and followed you out the door. The night air was cool and a slap on your hot cheeks.

“I’ll walk you home,” He offered. “Beer went down too easy.”

“Mmhmm,” You hugged yourself, the air seeping through the crocheted cardigan.

“You got tomorrow off, you said?” He asked and you felt his hand on your back again.

“Yeah,” You answered quietly.

“How about I take ya for a ride? A nice long one.” He rubbed your lower back.

“I don’t know. I got a lot to do.”

“Chores? Scared to disappoint your mommy?”

“N-no,” You wavered slightly as your toe caught a crack in the sidewalk. “No. I just… I have things to do.”

“They can wait,” He brought his arm up and slung it over your shoulders. “Doll… you gotta let loose.”

You grabbed his hand and stopped suddenly. You pushed it off your shoulder and turned to him.

“Steve, I don’t think this is--”

His other hand came up to frame your face and you were stunned by his suddenness. He kissed you and the air went out of you. A peck on with a tickle of tongue along your lips. You squeaked in surprise and pulled back. You touched your lips; your first kiss.

You spun and quickly hurried away from him. He followed and caught your hand. He drew you back once more.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Steve, please.” You pleaded. “I just want to go home.”

“I wasn’t rough,” He said. “So, what’s the matter?”

You looked at your feet. He kept hold of your hand and you swayed a little. The beer made your eyelids droop.

“Steve, I’ve never… kissed anyone before,” You admitted as you dared to look at him. The street light caught the blue of his eyes and illuminated the angles of his face. “And I just…” You wrestled with him until you loosed your hand from his. “I don’t know.”

“What?” He stopped you before you could run away, his hands on your arms. “How’s it that you never been kissed?”

“Stop,” You said. “Please. I’m not that girl.”

“Not what girl?”

“The girl you kiss,” You huffed. “I wanna go home.”

“You’re the girl I wanna take for a ride.” He dropped his hands and grabbed yours. He turned you towards your house and continued down the street. “Tomorrow at noon.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #biker!steve rogers #biker au #biker!au #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #au #series #limited series #mcu #marvel #captain america #when the weight comes down

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zelenacat · 4 years ago

Text

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 8

Satine gave Mara a broach with the Kryze emblem on it, to fasten her blankets together. She told Parna not to let her brother sell it, no matter what.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the maid nodded, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Satine smiled sadly, “Thank you, Parna.”

She watched from the window as the handoff took place, that was four children she’d brought into the world, four of them who were now all over the galaxy. Satine had a nagging feeling that this wasn’t right, but still, she couldn’t get rid of what Obi-Wan had given her. Despite herself and everything, she loved him, and she would till the day she died.

As Satine’s stomach began to flatten again, she noticed Khaami was taking extra breaks.

“Fesma, why-”

“Lord Eldar,” Fesma smiled, “things are getting serious now.”

Satine tried to smile, “How wonderful for her.”

“Yes,” Fesma agreed, willingly ignoring Satine’s reaction, “he seems a good sort.”

Within two months, Khaami and Lord Eldar were engaged, it was all the rage in the gossip channels. The day Satine found out, she was playing with Korkie in the garden and trying not to cry. He’d called her mom, and she told her own son to call her Auntie.

“Satine!”

When the Duchess saw her lady running towards her like a giddy girl, she picked up the two-year-old Korkie and stood.

“Khaami?”

“I’m engaged,” the lady held out her ring, “Warx proposed.”

“Oh, Khaami,” Satine kissed her friend’s cheeks, “how wonderful.”

“Yay, Lady Khaami.” Korkie clapped.

“Aw, thank you little one.” Khaami squeezed Korkie’s cheek.

Inside, Satine handed Korkie to his nurse, the woman who’d been with him since he was born, and joined to celebrate her lady’s wedding.

“I see you have marriage on the mind, Your Grace.”

The Duchess had never met the Countess Vizsla, but she looked so much like her son she knew him in a second.

“Countess.” Satine greeted.

“The court had hoped you’d take a husband soon, settle the line of succession, keep that nasty sister of yours away from the throne.”

Satine grew cold, “I suppose you’d like to see your son as Duke.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” grinned the Countess.

“Perhaps I shall never marry,” Satine suggested, “and be like Queen Mara.”

“The first female ruler of Mandalore had a bastard son.” reminded Countess Vizsla.

“Then like the ancient Elizabeth, then,” the Duchess smiled, “no husband or children.”

“How very lonely.” the Countess commented.

Satine brushed past the noblewoman, “Good day, Your Excellency.”

The Duchess did not enjoy the party, but she stayed for Khaami’s sake. Spending most of the time observing or quietly chatting to Fesma, Satine wasn’t surprised she didn’t. Unfortunately, Fesma seemed to be having a worse time than she was.

“Fesma?”

“My mother is ill,” the lady whispered, “it’s that virus that came from Ursa’s Province.”

“Oh no,” Satine frowned, “they should be out with the vaccine soon.”

“I hope so,” Fesma admitted, “I can’t imagine life without her.”

A week later, when it was clear Fesma’s mother was not going to survive, Satine gave her lady three days leave to say goodbye. Fesma took ill soon after she arrived, and the Duchess never saw her again.

“They took her body to be examined,” Khaami shook as she read the letter, “and we didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

“Her death will prevent others from dying.”

“How can you be so cold,” Khaami shouted, “she’s helped you through so much!”

Satine swallowed, “I guess I’m numb to pain now, I’m sorry to be so thoughtless.”

Khaami sobbed, “She won’t even be at my wedding.”

The Duchess ran to comfort her lady.

“I don’t understand why!”

Tears sprang into the Duchess’ eyes, “My father used to say life tested us constantly, and we had to be strong throughout, that’s how you knew we were Mandalorian.”

Khaami sniffled, “That sounds a lot like the old way.”

“He had a point,” Satine said softly, “we’re allowed to be sad, but circumstances will just keep coming at us.”

“Yeah,” Khaami wiped her eyes, “he was so strong though.”

“A true paladin.” Satine agreed.

They mourned for a week before the big event. Khaami’s wedding was held outside in the courtyard, it was Summer and garlands of flowers hung above patchworks of shrubbery. The sky was clear and the air was warm. It was a perfect day, then again, Sundari’s biome was always sunny. The ceremony was beautiful, and Satine was reminded of Obi-Wan more heavily than she thought she would be.

“Your Grace?”

Satine looked up to see Parna, she had thought the maze would give her a safe space to cry.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the maid continued, kneeling next to the Duchess and wiping her eyes, “but Khaami was hoping to say goodbye to you.”

“Ah,” Satine straightened, realizing she spent the entire party alone, “I suppose I have to see her off then.”

When a noblewoman married on Mandalore, she was allowed to keep her position in the palace if she had one. However, Khaami had elected to take a week off before returning, and when she did, the Duchess felt as if she were meeting a different woman.

“Khaami?” Satine asked.

The lady looked up.

“Will you fetch some tea and cookies?”

Khaami’s eyes fell on Parna, who had just finished cleaning the windows.

“Please.” Satine added.

Khaami gave a tight smile and left.

“You’ve grown apart.” Parna observed.

“Fesma’s death really shook her,” Satine agreed, “and now she has someone else to rely on.”

Khaami returned with a tray of cookies and tea, and Satine made polite conversation with her. It was so strange, Khaami and Fesma had always been a unit in her mind, but now Fesma was dead and Khaami married, which was as good as dead in Satine’s eyes. When Khaami left however, she left with honor, the Duchess said she was always welcome at the palace. In her stead, Satine promoted Parna from maid to lady-in-waiting, something for which the latter was most grateful for.

“Please, Parna,” the Duchess smiled at her new lady, “call me Satine.”

“Yes,” the new lady paused, “alright, Satine.”

Existing in a state of numbness, the Duchess got up and went to meetings, visited parliament, and occasionally held parties for the next two years. She wasn’t depressed, but she definitely wasn’t happy either. Every time she thought she was over Obi-Wan, Satine would see Korkie and realize she wasn’t. He was growing to look so much like his father, Satine wondered what the rest of her children looked like.

“Your Grace,” the Prime Minister sighed one day, “I’m afraid we have to talk about something you find unpleasant.”

Satine straightened, “Surely it can’t be that terrible.”

“Your Grace, you’re twenty-two now-”

“I’m aware.” Satine snapped.

“Your Grace,” a female advisor spoke up, “Mandalore is prospering now, all that remains is to secure the line of succession.”

Satine frowned, sank back in her seat, and sighed.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Prime Minister Djarin grimaced, “but it is necessary.”

Bo-Katan had gone underground in the last two years, but rumors ran wild.

“I understand that,” Satine nodded, “but what I don’t understand is why I must marry.”

The council looked at each other.

“It is my wish,” the Duchess began, “that my nephew be crowned as heir until I have a child.”

This caused much surprise.

“Don’t you want your own children to-”

“Yes, if I should have some,” Satine glowered, “I suppose it’s time we revisit the laws of succession.”

The Council disapproved, but the next day, the Duchess had a copy of the laws of succession called forth.

“Excuse my presumption, Your Grace,” began Prime Minister Djarin, “but you cannot change the laws of succession without Parliament.”

“Of course not, Prime Minister,” Satine smiled, “but I will bring my annotations before them so they can make the changes I wish.”

Satine had two problems with the current laws of succession, male primogeniture being the first obstacle to tackle.

“It’s outdated,” the Duchess stated simply, “and it must be changed henceforth.”

Her entire council agreed with her.

“Secondly,” Satine began, “we must acknowledge bastard children.”

“Your Grace-”

“Not in that sense, Prime Minister,” the Duchess added hurriedly, “we need a legal route for my nephew to become the heir presumptive.”

It was then decided that the annotation to the laws of succession would legitimize bastard children if there were no legitimate heirs.

“This would only make your nephew heir if you don’t have any children.” stated a male advisor Satine wasn’t fond of.

“Yes,” the Duchess straightened, “and that is as good as decided.”

After she dismissed her council, Satine retired to her chamber and rang for Parna.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“I need to tell you something,” Satine leaned her back against the head of the bed, “I never fully explained it to you.”

Tentatively, Parna sat down on the edge of Satine’s bed.

“I have four children,” the Duchess began, “and I love them even more than I love their father, which I never thought possible.”

“Satine-”

“Just listen,” the Duchess held up her hand, “my eldest set of twins was born two years ago.”

Parna’s eyes went wide.

“Tyra Satine is force sensitive and was secretly sent to the temple,” Satine swallowed, “Korkyrach stayed with me.”

“Your nephew,” realization sparked in Parna’s eyes, “that’s why you want him to be your heir.”

“Yes.”

Parna smiled sadly, “Then I suppose you won’t have anymore children.”

“Not unless their father returns to me,” Satine looked down, “which he likely will never do again.”

Parna took Satine’s hands in hers, “Never say never.”

The Duchess changed the subject, “My second set of twins was born a couple months ago.”

“Your Grace!”

“I know,” Satine sighed, “Tristan was adopted by Ursa Wren, we swore an oath not to tell.”

“Dear God,” Parna whispered, “that day I heard screaming in the basement, that was you.”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “and of course you know your brother took Mara.”

Tears welled in Parna’s eyes and she reached out, “I’m so sorry, Satine.”

The Duchess embraced her lady, “It was my choice, thank you for understanding.”

“Of course,” Parna replied, “any caring woman would do the same in your position.”

Four days after her discussion with Parna, Satine went before Parliament once again. Dressed in a navy gown bejeweled with crystals, a royal purple sash and a silver coronet, she sat on her throne as if she were a presiding goddess. Which in a way, she was.

“The Duchess has returned to the noble body,” began the Prime Minister, “to review and amend the laws of succession.”

That got some whispers, but the Duchess held steadfast.

“Mandalore has an ancient history,” Satine began, “and although we revere some of those ancient laws, other statues must change along with the times. We are a people in harmony now, and male primogeniture is no longer necessary in the laws of royal succession.”

Prime Minister Djarin banged her staff on the floor.

“The first statue of the line of succession is the Male Primogeniture Clause, which states male siblings shall come before female siblings when deciding who is to rule. All in favor of changing this law please vote “Yea” in the ballot box, all those opposed vote “Nea.””

There was some shuffling as the parliamentarians pulled out voting papers and pencils from the arms of their chairs and made their way to the room’s center ballot box. When it was finally done and the last lawmaker returned to their seat, an attendant gathered the box and took the votes to be counted.

The Prime Minister nodded at Satine.

“This second amendment shall require much more deliberation,” the Duchess began, “I’m sure all of you are aware of my decision to claim my nephew, and it is my wish that he be placed in line for the throne.”

Whispers and commented interjections rolled through the room like air, and the Prime Minister had to bang her staff on the floor.

“The second and final amendment that I shall propose to you today,” stated the Duchess, “is including illegitimate children in the line of succession only when there are no other legitimate children to take their rightful place.”

“Why should we change this,” stood a lawmaker from the below white banner, “this system has worked for over a millenia, bastards are bastards.”

Many voices of assent rose from the lawmaking body, so much so that the Prime Minister was unable to quiet them with her staff.

“Silence!” Satine yelled.

The room got deathly quiet.

“This rule shall only come into effect if there are no legitimate heirs,” began the Duchess, “currently, it would place my nephew behind my sister in the line of succession, and he shall only remain there if my sister and I beget no children.”

“And will the praised She-wolf sire pups?” asked a red parliamentarian.

Satine tilted her head, her nails sinking into her throne, “That is up to her to decide.”

An uncomfortable pause followed where Satine surveyed the room.

“The voting shall commence,” the Prime Minister announced, “yea if you agree, nay if you do not.”

Once the voting finished and an attendant removed the box, the results of the first ballot came in.

“The rule of male primogeniture in the line of succession is obsolete.” announced Prime Minister Djarin.

The Duchess began to clap, and slowly, the clamor in the chamber rose as others joined her. Still, that was not the main reason Satine was here. Finally, the results from the second ballot were brought forth.

“When it comes to bastards inheriting the throne,” began the Prime Minister, “it shall only be allowed if there are no other legitimate heirs.”

“What’s the margain!” a lawmaker yelled.

The Duchess turned to the Prime Minister.

“By a margin of thirty votes.”

“Recount!”

“I second a recount!”

Satine straightened as the room erupted. Prime Minister Djarin banged her staff.

“Order!” she shouted.

Slowly, voices began to recede.

“If a recount is desired,” the Duchess stated, “procedures of this noble body must be followed. The Prime Minister shall oversee the recount.”

After a nod of dismissal from Satine, the Prime Minister and her two attendants left the room and the chamber waited in silence. The Duchess clicked her nails against her throne, which echoed throughout the entire chamber.

“The votes have been recounted,” announced the Prime Minister as she burst through the double doors, “the resolution still stands.”

A murmur of dissent rattled through the ranks.

“Does this chamber not respect the wishes of their Duchess?” Satine bellowed.

Many heads turned to her in shock.

Straightening, Satine continued, “I was told Mandalore had great respect for my father, the late Duke, was I informed wrongly?”

Mumbles rose from the lawmakers.

“We may have thrown out our violent tenants,” the Duchess raised an eyebrow, “but Mandalorians respect the honor in blood, in family, in our clans. I have a nephew, and his noble blood shall keep him in the line of succession.”

Satine stood and swept from the room when she finished, leaving many behind her flabbergasted and ashamed. Parna was waiting for her lady in the foyer, and accompanied Satine down into her vehicle.

“You’re amazing, Satine,” Parna lowered her voice, “but what will they do when they find out?”

“They won’t,” the Duchess said firmly, “I might tell the children when they’re older, but I may never see them again.”

Satine and Parna were quiet for a long time.

“What about Khaami? She knows.”

“She won’t tell unless she’s pressured to,” Satine answered, “and she won’t be pressured to if no one else knows.”

The palace made a formal announcement to accompany that of parliament’s decree, stating that the Duchess valued her nephew more than she could possibly put into words, and that much was taken into account on her making the decision.

From then on, Korkie, who would celebrate his third birthday in three weeks, was allotted much more time with his “Aunt.” Satine even allowed a prominent news outlet to interview her, as her council suggested of course, and brought Korkie along with her. The people were thrilled.

“It seems the Mandalorian She-Wolf has a soft spot for her cub.” Parna observed one afternoon.

“I certainly do,” agreed Satine, “it’s hard to believe he’s almost three years old.”

“And your other children?”

Satine sighed, closing her eyes, “Tyra and Mara will fulfil their potentials, and Tristan will lead a good life.”

Korkie gurgled and the Duchess opened her eyes.

“You are a warrior, Satine,” Parna smiled sadly, “even stronger than those of Old Mandalore.”

“Thank you, Parna,” Satine stroked Korkie’s head, “I just hope they’re proud of me.”

“You don’t need them to be proud of you,” Parna crossed her arms, “they’re dead, you know what’s best for Mandalore now.”

Satine smiled, “You know what, I do. Thank you, Parna.”

#duchess satine #satine x obiwan #satine kryze #obitine #obi wan kenobi #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze

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musedblues · 4 years ago

Text

The Fire and The Flames

summary: In which two baby groupies are born, learn to navigate backstage, and catch the attention of their favorite guitar-wielding boys, on tour with the band whose music brought the girls together in the first place.

a/n: How am I just now writing for John? Jess made me do it, and I can't help but aspire to make her dreams come true. So enjoy this tale inspired and encouraged by @brianmays-hair featuring my very own projections because boy do I miss concerts. I truly poured my soul into this nbd (loosely based on the 75' anato tour)

w/c: 16k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

She won tickets on the radio. You pep talked her into dialing the station and started making dinner while she waited on hold. You'd found out the big news when she burst into the kitchen screeching like a loon, and even though a solid five minutes passed before she could properly say the words, you already knew.

You were going to see Queen.

It was the band's music that brought you and the girl together. She'd been hovering over the last of their newest record the shop had to offer. When she caught your pout upon approaching the newly emptied case, she declared that you could borrow the record, after she bought it. Then she told you her name.

"Queen... they're gonna... we're gonna-" You stammered and shrieked, trying to wrap your mind around the news. You'd missed their last show a city away, because of a flat tire. And the one before that because you were dead broke. Now money nor travel affected your ability to call a cab to take you to the show fifteen minutes away, where tickets with your names on them waited at will call.

///

"Come on!" Elizabeth tugged your sleeve all the way across stalled traffic. Her dark curls were pinned in perfect place, her most expensive jumpsuit hugged her form in all the best ways. You feared your heart would burst through your chest, leaving a giant tattered hole in your best top.

The theater was on one end of the misty street, but Elizabeth yanked you inside the doors of a record shop before the pavement ended. The show wasn't for another couple of hours. You relished the steady hammer of your heart, fawning out loud over how Queen were probably halfway through their soundcheck by now, right down the road from where you stood, waiting to see them. After milling through the country and blues section, you ended up in the back of the shop, where a small cafe served coffee and pastries.

With nothing better to do, you and Elizabeth sat at a high top table, munching on sweets to pass the time. Patrons of all kinds scurried in from the weather. While most seemed to come in to warm up, one group of girls burst in like they owned the place, jingling the bells on the door so loudly it caused your heads to turn.

Three outlandishly dressed girls waltzed passed the crates of records, glancing to the occasional title with a smirk, headed directly to the back counter. One of them threw herself toward the display case of cakes and cookies, dramatically ordering something warm from an exhausted barista.

You and Elizabeth had turned back to chattering over your coffee orders, glancing at the time on your watch with growing impatience. Then one of them sauntered over.

"I like your buttons." One of them piped up. The girl's heavy platforms dragged along the tile floor. Her hair was dusty blonde, totally unkempt, waving past a bright green top, ending at the hem of her black velvet pants. And just when you'd gotten lost in evaluating her bold fashion, Elizabeth chirped back.

"Oh, thank you! I made this one." Elizabeth brought her bag closer to her chest, pointing to the few pins proudly displayed along the strap. You'd made the other two, out of magazine clipping with Queen's name in bright blue letters- advertisement for an old show; the perfect accessory.

Another one of the girls gasped, spinning into view. Her short blonde hair fell to her shoulders, just above a big leopard print coat. Two ruby red shoes poked out of the end of her garment, and you wondered where this crew did all their shopping.

"Are you going to the show, too?" She asked with a broad grin, reaching out to bring Elizabeth's purse handle closer to her sight. And as if she was truly anxious to hear your answer, the girl scurried toward the empty seat at your side, settling in to listen while you gushed.

"Oh, yes!" You grinned, glancing at Elizabeth who was smiling just as wide. "We won tickets on the radio."

By then, the last girl had made her way to join the party. She wore a long purple dress and her thin red hair in pigtails.

"It's not for another hour, yet." She sighed, crossing her arms and glancing back to the counter where she must have been waiting for her order to appear.

Elizabeth welcomed the crew to pass the time with the two of you, even offering bits of her dessert to the new friends you made. They each seemed more than glad to settle at your table, glancing anxiously at their own watches all the same. For the while you waited, you learned their names.

Rita was the redhead with warm eyes and more questions about your lives than answers for her own.

Lilly was her younger sister, the small fiery blonde, who did most of the talking- so much she forgot to drink the coffee she'd put on a show of ordering.

And Jade was the wild-haired girl, without much to say, and a smile that held secrets you were simply dying to know. She kept her eyes traveling back to the window that pointed in the direction of the theater, but the building was still out of view. So when her eyes widened, and she stood to her feet in a flash, you wondered what she'd seen.

"It's time!" Jade announced, pushing in her seat while her friends followed her lead without question.

"Well, I think the doors won't be open for another fifteen minutes but I'm cool with waiting in line," Elizabeth spoke in a rush, tossing her trash in the bin and wrapping her coat back around her well-dressed figure.

The trio waited for you and your friend to collect yourselves, share an excited giggle, and scurry along. The air was still wet, but the rain had yet to fall. You prayed it would stay that way, as you approached the theater, noticing the line stretched for blocks full of anxious fans, eager for a night of music. It would totally suck if you had to linger during a downpour, but you decided Queen was worth the mild pending torture.

The group of girls you'd become acquainted with skipped ahead of you, turning every now and again to make sure you and your friend were keeping up.

As you approached the dreaded line of freezing faces, you sucked in a breath, prepared to find your place at the end, and stick it out till the doors opened. But as you turned to follow the line, you were yanked in the other direction.

"Follow us, trust me!" Jade dug her fingers into your coat, pulling you toward where Lilly and Rita skipped ahead. Elizabeth latched on to you, pulling herself to keep up in a confused rush.

"We'd better wait in line. What if we get back to late? We've been waiting for these tickets forever and-" Elizabeth fretted, keeping her step in time with Jade's pace who set your own. And before your friend could go on making excuses to wait in the cold, shelter came into view in a gloriously unexpected way; Lilly and Rita were slipping through the backstage door.

"Oh, no way!" You croaked, eyes going wide as Jade reached out to the door Lilly stood holding open, waving you in with a hurried hand.

The door slammed shut with a metallic thud. The sound of your shoes echoed in the dank, empty space as your new friend's giggles drifted from where they led the way.

"We should not be back here." Elizabeth worried, reaching out to clutch your arm in a panic. Jade had let you go and spun out of view. Your only hope was the sight of Lilly and Rita skipping far ahead.

"But we are." You whispered back, scanning the hall you stomped through, in a hurry to Lord knew where. Distant chatter and ruckus could be heard as you approach the end of the four-way turn. Jade popped back into view.

She walked backward with ease, wearing a broad grin and holding two gaudy orange stickers in either hand. Two backstage passes. Elizabeth glanced at you, then back at Jade, let out a loud laugh, and snatched the sticker from her hand.

"Welcome to the show, ladies." Jade grinned, handing you the last pass as Elizabeth slapped her own to her chest with glee.

"Oh, God." You chuckled, sticking the pass to your best top as Jade spun to lead the way a little faster. You had just gotten so lucky. "Oh my God, Oh my-"

And just before you rocketed into a true blue freak out, Elizabeth's nails dug into your palm, as Jade halted in place, fanning her arm out for a group to cross the hall before yours. It was them. It was Queen.

Freddie led the way in a bedazzled leotard, a coy grin painting his face as he swept his dark fringe back.

Roger followed close behind, his boldly patterned shirt unbuttoned all the way. He was laughing at something one of his bandmates said, placing a hand on Freddie's shoulder as they turned the corner.

Then came Brian. His features were sharp, and his expression was mild, almost sleepy. His long legs branched out from underneath a white pleated top, and carried him around the corner. Just before he vanished, Brian's gaze happened to sweep sideways, almost certainly landing on you and Elizabeth. And as soon as you registered his look, Brian's form was replaced by another.

John followed last, his hands shoved in his tight pockets, as if on a leisurely Sunday stroll, rather than on his way to put on a kick-ass show. His flaxen hair drifted behind his shoulders, and his eyes stayed on the ground.

When Queen disappeared around the corner, and a few workers with clipboards and headsets rushed to follow, Jade had to hurry you and Elizabeth along like an impatient older sister. Elizabeth held on to your hand like a vice, and you traded a stunned glance as you were being pushed in the right direction.

Before you knew it, you were holding your best friend's hand at the side of the stage where your favorite band settled into position. When the curtain opened, and the lights blinded you, the music came alive.

Roger sat on a throne, thrashing about, trading winks and nods between shrieking in perfect harmony.

Freddie stomped between his bandmates, singing to them, singing to the audience. Singing like his life and death and things in between depended on it. You could see beads of sweat peppered across the skin he dared to expose.

Brian drifted from glancing to the strings under his fingers, across the sea of shouting spectators and then to Freddie, with a shy smile. As if to say "look, I'm doing it! We're doing it." Every time the skinny lad leaned into the microphone, Elizabeth leaned into you as if magnetically linked to the guitarist, pulled in whatever direction he moved, even if he hadn't gone far at all. Every time Brian flew into a solo with practiced concentration, Elizabeth let little squeals escape her throat, much too taken with the sights and sounds to keep up her usually elegant demeanor.

Then there was John. You relished the times his clunky heels staggered out from the shadows, drifting clearer into your view, his head bopping, his poker face hardly changing, not even when Freddie spun to sing right at him.

You'd almost been too concentrated on finding his profile on the other side of the dim stage. When one song faded from the next, with all the precision you'd heard on your worn-out record from home, you were jerked from cloud ten. Yeah, it existed.

"We've got to make it back to the green room before the band, so I can introduce you to the girls!" Just like that, your new wild-haired friend ripped you and Elizabeth away from the greatest sight you'd ever seen, before it was even over.

Jade paraded you around a couple of corners and into an unceremonious room; where a single tattered couch, a wall-length mirror, and a table full of drinks were the only accommodations.

It was enough for a band, you supposed, but not for the mass of people in waiting. You'd come upon several unfamiliar, jarringly beautiful faces, smoking and laughing to pass the time- instead of listening to the music. How curious.

In one big hurry, Jade explained that the green room wasn't always so full and you were lucky to have come on a night that it was. That shows this close to home were always a big party.

"Those are the twins, Gretta and Violet. They're always together." Jade pointed across the way to two girls with the same long dark hair and different shades of lipstick. They turned their pleasant grins your way as Jade pushed you along.

"That's Michelle." Your new friend spoke, pointing to a girl wearing a dramatic frown. "She's moving to Idaho tomorrow. She always bought us merch from the shows we couldn't make it too. We'll have to keep the tradition alive for her when she's gone."

You were shuffled through a crowd of fresh, painted faces, trying to grasp onto every new name they were matched with. And when you made it to the back of the room, Jade let you and Elizabeth go, and disappeared.

"What do we do?" You turned to Elizabeth, swallowing your nerves. You'd been introduced to everyone but Jade failed to give your names away. You felt terribly out of place. Not to mention the fact that your favorite band of all time was due to walk through the doors of the same room you occupied, at any second. Elizabeth rose her finger, with a thought.

"Maybe we could-"

"Girls, this is Ratty. He's new here, just like you." Rita had appeared out of the blue with a tall shaggy-haired man in tow.

"I'm not new, any more babe. Two months is a long time to have to put up with these musical hellions." The fellow chuckled, revealing a cigarette from his jacket pocket. The man explained he was a roadie, hired by the band in September, to help with the technical in's and out's of putting on a show, emotional breakdowns included, apparently.

By the time Ratty finished telling his story, just before you could ask where he got a name like that, the band burst in the doorway.

"My darlings!" Freddie waltzed in, his smile glowing, his presence demanding. Almost everyone turned to greet him with cheers and whistles, except a couple of stagehands whose eyes were glued to the groupies who'd previously had nothing better to do than hold mindless chatter with them.

The band flooded in behind him, acknowledging different people in their own ways, between smiles and jokes and sleepy nods. You and Elizabeth stayed back, shooting each other looks. As much as you wanted to mingle, to matter, you couldn't be sure of your place.

So you stayed against the wall, your pleasant grin relaying secret pleas for help to your friend who answered back with her open wide-eyed apprehension.

"Hello, little wallflowers. I've never seen you around before." Freddie, in all his sweaty, charming glory twirled up to you and Elizabeth. He spun to great you like he'd been greeting everyone else. The way you'd been starstruck till now seemed to settle at the tune of the singer's gentle and well-meaning attention. But, Freddie was still the star of your favorite band, and your nervous glance landed on your friend to speak as your words got lodged in your throat.

She introduced herself boldly, stating her name with false confidence you wondered how she'd come to pick up so quickly.

"Elizabeth, like the queen herself." Freddie barked a laugh, letting his gaze travel across your friend's well-dressed form. "A queen amongst Queen." He seemed to realize.

"And you're something special too aren't you?" Freddie quirked his head to you, as you stood in stunned silences, still. "You're her little twin flame. I quite like you pair."

You and your friend let out little laughs as Freddie nodded in approval, strangers shuffling past in the background. That was when Roger emerged from the mess of folks, wearing drowsy eyes and a smile you'd seen the likes of from other boys in bars.

"Roger, this is our very own little queenie and the jewel to her crown." Freddie gestured between your friend and yourself, as you both tried to keep the same level of composure as everyone else in the laid back room. What a shame squawking like the fans you were, might have been.

As soon as the drummer seemed to evaluate the pair of you, and say hello, a perfectly manicured hand dug into his shoulder and pulled him away from view. Roger went without a fight, as Freddie rolled his eyes, turning to face you all the way once more.

"Oh please tell me you'll be joining us the rest of this tour, dears," Freddie spoke, almost flippantly, with a wave of his hand. "The bloody weather will be a drag, but you two will be much-needed company."

"Yes. We should. Shall we?" You spoke in too big of a hurry, turning to find Elizabeth already shaking her head. When you looked back to Freddie his brow was quirked, waiting for a similar decision.

"Just... give us one minute." You smiled, dragging your friend further down the wall.

"Freddie fucking Mercury just asked us to go on tour with Queen. Why are you shaking your head?" You demanded to know.

"We can't go on tour." Elizabeth said, plainly.

"You need to learn to let loose. That was your bloody new year's resolution, remember? It's coming up on the last two months to keep your word. Come on, Elizabeth. We haven't got anything better to do for the rest of the year. I'm already home for the holidays and you're between jobs. The stars have fucking aligned."

You watched your speech work magic. Your friend sucked in a breath that made her stand a little taller. And when you paused, she nodded and turned away from you to tap Freddie on the shoulder.

"Where to next, then?"

The singer's eyes sparkled, as he shot you a look that made you wonder if he knew you were the one to talk her into being so bold.

After your world subtly shifted on its axis, and plans for your near future changed on a dime, Freddie Mercury vanished as quickly as he'd appeared in front of you. The room was buzzing with folks who wanted every bit of the singer's attention, and he couldn't help but spin with a smile when his name was called out from a different corner.

You and Elizabeth shared whispered reminders to play it cool and mingling with the girls and guys who were either equally as nervous to speak to the band, or simply patient enough to wait their turn. The closest you came to making your wildest dreams come true, were the times you let your stare linger on John as he traveled back and forth from the bar to his bandmates. You couldn't be sure if he'd caught your nervous smiles in his direction, but you kept your lips upturned, just in case.

And when Jade started to leave, she motioned for you and Elizabeth to follow along.

"Don't pack too much, but bring everything you think you'll need. I'll fetch you from the station. And just remember it's not cool to be early, but never be late." The frizzy blonde listed several vague instructions to you and Elizabeth whose ears dialed in, trying to decipher the code in which she spoke. Then, Jade disappeared into the night, leaving you and your pal to race home and prepare for an unexpected ride.

///

You stood in a pale yellow hall, knocking on the door that displayed the room number you'd been given. Down the way, you heard Jade open the door of the room she must have been occupying. She'd picked you up from the train station earlier, well, led you from there to this very hotel on foot. But she did help carry some of your things. You recognized Lilly greet Jade, just before the short blonde groaned.

"They're here?" The small girl groaned in your direction. "And they're coming on the whole tour?" Lilly's complaint didn't go unnoticed by you, but Elizabeth must have missed it. Rita was already welcoming you in, when you turned back from eavesdropping.

"Hurry, we've only got fifteen minutes!" Rita pulled you into the room. "That's like, five minutes in this world." The redhead laughed, spinning toward the writing desk where her suitcase and things were spread out as if she'd be staying much longer than one night. She loaned you some fancy french perfume in your hurry to get ready, all the same.

When you stomped up the steps of the bus, you decided not to question how you'd gotten lucky enough to end up where you were. Instead, you turned to flash your best friend a smile, as everyone greeted each other with grandeur. You kept moving, past benches the other girls had claimed. Between them, were the boys that belonged to your favorite band. Whose faces you were still trying to get used to admiring in real-time, their expressions surpassing the charm they usually oozed from the news clippings you saved and called posters.

"Look who it is! I'm so glad to see your lovely faces come, sit." Freddie gushed when he glanced up to find you'd made it to where you were now. The singer excitedly waved you over to join his company, on the other side of a small booth across for your favorite bassist.

You nudged Elizabeth next to John, far too nervous to sit next to the guy you'd never officially met, but swooned over plenty before now. Your friend shot you a curious glare, probably wondering why you'd given up a seat next to the bassist she knew darn well you fancied. But still, she sat.

"John dear, next to you is our very own Queen of the Tour. And, next to me, our personal ray of sunshine." Freddie turned to you with a smile in his voice, as you eased to sit with a grin.

"Hello." The bassist nodded, glancing between you and your friend without looking either of you in the eye. He instead remained almost entirely fixated on the ring he fiddled with, on his very middle finger. You tried not to let yourself stare long, but his hands were, somehow, even nicer up close.

"These two are keepers, Deacy." Freddie nodded, in the most serious tone you'd ever heard him utter. The lilt in the singer's voice brought a cocky smile to Elizabeth's lips, as John looked up. His stormy eyes locked with yours, for a second, just one second, before he snapped back to Freddie, who was speaking again.

"So tell us about yourselves, dears."

And through a few nervous stammers and shy laughs, you and your friend took turns speaking while Freddie traded knowing looks with John. The bassist seemed indifferent at first, but his polite smile seemed to widen ever so slightly as Freddie coxed you and Elizabeth to share more stories. You wanted to stare, to snapshot a mental image of John's profile to recall later in the day when it was less embarrassing to fawn over his features. But you couldn't let your eyes linger long before a blush threatened to burn across your cheeks.

"See, Deacy? They're really something, aren't they? I'm never wrong about these things, you know!" Freddie flourished, looking to you and Elizabeth as he stood. The bus stalled outside of the venue. It was time for round two.

On the solid ground your motley crew staggered across, Freddie latched onto your best pal. He pulled Elizabeth along the pavement and all the way through empty venue halls, into the green room. The singer fawned over the girl's pleated bell bottoms, pointing out his own array of clothes he'd brought along. And for once, you were left on your own to roam between groupies, roadies and band members most interested in holding each other's attention.

"Hi... I don't believe we've met." A soft, almost timid voice came from just over your shoulder. You spun around from your mission to paste yourself to the wall, like the night before. Stalling you was a certain curly-haired guitarist, holding out a paper cup of tea your way, clutching his own to his chest.

You took the drink with a surprised grin, before telling the guy your name. Brian rose his cup to yours in a mock toast. All the nerves you'd felt meeting his band members were giving you pause now. Brian was shockingly easy to talk to.

"And who is your lovely friend?" Brian asked, letting his eyes flutter across the room, where Elizabeth and Freddie were trading bracelets and laughs.

"According to your singer, she's your band's monarch. She's called Elizabeth." You smiled, watching Brian's warm eyes linger on your friend.

"I see." He grinned, tearing his gaze away to face you again. As you monitored the guitarist's withheld smirk, and the look in his eye, you took a bold chance. You lifted a finger from around your paper cup and motioned Brian to lean a little closer.

"You're her favorite. But she'd never be the first to let you know." You spoke softly, keeping your eyes on Elizabeth across the way. Her dark curls and bright smile were easily admirable. Brian hummed, a sing-songy noise.

"And who's your favorite, then?" Brian asked, a little laugh ending his query.

It was then, when you let your smile represent your response, that you realized why some of the girls had answered your questions so vaguely, so far. Why they'd smirked instead of speaking, too. There were some things too dear to address directly. There was something about the spell that drew you here and now, that might have broken at the slightest misstep.

So you focused on the music. You and Elizabeth shared starry-eyed glances and subdued squeals when the lights dimmed, and the band plugged in. You felt your heart hammer to the time of the drum. You danced along to every riff and line together, until the end of the show when the lights stopped flashing, and the band unplugged. And as you took your sweet time back to the green room, you looked to your friend and proposed standing on the other side, tomorrow night.

///

The shadows of the stage were where you felt most alive. Better than alive, like you'd blasted through reality and ended up in one of your many daydreams. As you tried to understand where you fit into the mess when the show hit the road, you came to understand more about the others who crowded the bus.

Rita sat in the back, with a book in her hand and a look in her eye. She watched on with a grin like an exhausted, trusting mother. She hardly ever spoke up, or out, or joined in the outrageous fun. Instead, she flashed you knowing grins and followed Ratty around like a lost puppy.

You couldn't tell if the roadie noticed or not. He'd been so busy rushing around assisting the band with technical difficulties, and more often than not, the boy's silly little requests and complaints. The times he did notice Rita waiting up for him though, he smiled, and relaxed in the back of the room; just before springing up when Freddie whined for assistance once more.

Jade was the heart and soul of the tour, always coming away from stops with extra snacks for everyone, trading shoes with the girls who couldn't dance one more second on their skyscraper heels. She bounced from one person to the next and never made one feel like second best, when she poured them tea without asking, before disappearing as soon as she'd materialized.

The rides from town to town were usually fun. But hours passed and boredom kicked in, striking everyone at odd moments when all they lost their turn at board games and had nothing to do but watch the world zoom by the window.

Times like then, you'd glance to John across the way, and after several deep breaths, you'd dare to ask what might have been on his mind. He'd answer in small shrugs or silly one-liners, but never said what you were hoping to hear. When you'd all but exhausted every pathetic attempt at catching and keeping John's attention, you'd stood to find something to distract you from staring too long at the guy.

You stepped over Roger who's legs took over the small path toward the kitchenette. He pulled his feet in just in time. Lilly clung to his side, imploring you to watch your step. You weren't anywhere near disturbing her position, you knew she was only speaking in code, warning you to steer clear of her favorite blonde drummer.

Lilly was never too far from Roger's side. You couldn't tell if he minded or not. Lilly knew Roger couldn't very well see her from behind his drum kit. So she'd make vulgar promises to wait up for him elsewhere, loud enough for everyone to hear, and pretend they didn't. But those rare times the girl wasn't super-glued to Rogers' hip, he never seemed to keep his eye out for her, anyway.

You didn't question it. You just kept to yourself as well as you could on a bus full of rockstars and they're royal court.

You traded smiles with Ratty who slumped out of the kitchenette in time for you to take over, but you were only alone for a few seconds time. Brian came shuffling near, reaching for an apple and leaning against the counter so he could say something just to you.

"I figured it out." He noted, like a snide, scheming sibling.

"You're a smart guy," You laughed, reaching for the mini coffee pot. "But I've got no idea what you're on about."

"We're playing Scrabble." Brian declared, cocking his head toward the table most everyone had gathered around. "And there happens to be an empty spot next to John. He won't bite, you know, unless you ask nicely."

Thank God you hadn't taken a sip of your drink yet, or you likely would have spit it right out in a fluster. Brian might have picked up on your silly little schoolgirl crush, but he needed to realize you weren't like the other girls who shamelessly slithered hot on the boy's trails to and from the closest doors with locks. And neither was Elizabeth.

"We're here for the music, got it?" You gave Brian a stern look. "Heartbreak is not an option." You shook your head in his direction, but Brian kept his lithe grin before spinning to lead you along. Maybe you were only warning yourself.

///

At the next stop, Lilly strung along a cluster of girls who'd been camping outside the venue, and started some kind of party in the indoor pool of your latest hotel. Somehow, you'd all wound up there after dumping the band's equipment, sharing drinks and downtime in an all-new setting.

While most of the girls crowded the pool, you stuck to the mini bar in the back and kicked your feet up on Elizabeth's lap. Neither of you thought to pack swimsuits in the beginnings of winter, and neither of you were bold enough as Jade, who'd stripped down to her skivvies to dive in the deep end.

You watched on from plastic chairs, giggling to yourselves over things you'd always found funny. Roger was the first to pull up a seat at your table, handing out fresh drinks to you and Elizabeth. The guy seemed relieved to enjoy your company without having to keep up his usually debaucherous demeanor.

"You don't fancy a swim, Rog?" Elizabeth asked, popping the tab on the bottle he offered her. The shrieks and splashes of a dozen groupies echoed through the humid room.

"Are you kidding? I can risk ruining my hair hours before a big show, love." Roger grinned, rolling his eyes as he settled deeper into his seat. After you and your friend laughed, Roger kept rambling, starting in on a story about the time he'd chopped his sister's braids off when she'd talked him into playing barber, as a boy.

By the end of his tale, you and Elizabeth came down from wild laughter to find the other boys had gathered around the table. There was only another hour left to leave to chance before another show was scheduled to take off. And here you were laughing at Rogers embellished storytelling.

The girls in the water seemed none the wiser, squealing at each other and calling out the boy's names every now and again in hopes they'd join their fun. And the boys in the band let the sound of a siren beckoning their names linger in the air, unanswered. How could two separate worlds exist so cohesively? Maybe they didn't...

"Don't you all get sick of all that?" You asked, after one of the girls called out to one of the boys for the hundredth time around.

"Yes," John answered firmly, swigging the last of his beer and standing up as if the answer gave him permission to finally leave. You hadn't meant to coax him to go. You'd been trying to speak past your nerves all week, and get a little closer to the guy. But all of your polite advances had been for naught. Over dinner and on the road, you would ask John what books he was reading. You would compliment his hair, and ask if he wanted more coffee. But so would the other girls. You were just another in a line of ladies much bolder than you.

///

"Every time he does that I want to cry, it's so sexy." One of the new girls fawned over Brian. He stood across the way, favoring a hip, letting the other jet out as he hung his head, focused on tuning his guitar.

A cast of current groupie girls giggled from a few rows ahead of where you and Elizabeth sat. Lilly had marched them each to the front row for soundcheck, something she never usually stuck around for.

You could have gone to lunch, yourself. You could have roamed around the new city. But even the tunes Queen fiddled about with as they set up in each new town was music to your ears. You caught Elizabeth's withheld expression of resentment every time a new groupies eye turned to focus on the slender dark-haired guitarist, for whom they grossly expressed their love.

"They keep looking at him like a piece of dinner," Elizabeth grumbled under her breath, slumping in her seat. You glanced up from the magazine in your lap and focused on the stage.

"Yeah," You breathed. "but he keeps looking at you."

Brian turned his smile to the floor when he noticed you and Elizabeth stealing a look his way, as he'd already been focused on your friend.

Just then, one of the new girls let out an annoying squeal upon noticing Brian bite back a smile.

"Oh, would you shut the hell up!" Elizabeth barked, catching the attention of the group of girls off guard, turning their grins to sneers your way, but at least they stopped squealing.

"You know tonight is my last night, right?" Jade chuckled, shuffling through the bleachers with an announcement you hadn't seen coming.

"You're leaving?" You asked, not flinching when Roger let loose on a couple of symbols. Jade leaned on the back of the seats in front of you, crossing her arms over her impossibly long hair. Sure, some days the bus was fuller than others. Girls would hop on and off without ever trading their names. But Jade was always there. She had been long before inviting you, too.

"No one ever rides for long. You'll get motion sick, ya know?" Jade traded this information like a secret.

"Well, we can't let you leave without a party." You declared. Jade's eyes grew starry before declaring you left the planning up to her, and waved you along to get ready for another show.

///

You weren't sure how it happened. Maybe he was coming down from the rock and roll high, or maybe he was exhausted enough by the long show, that he'd forgotten how to act. When John sat next to you on the bus with a smile, you nearly shot up in a panic. Was this some kind of cruel prank?

You tried to bury your alarm, and savor his company before it was gone.

"Another good show," You nodded, stiffening in your seat as John threw his head back against the leather with a sigh.

"Barely. Ratty nearly busted me amp in the middle of Liar." John jested as the roadie walked through the bus, swatting away the comment with a grumble of his own. He looked just as worn out as the boys who'd put on the show.

You laughed at John's remark as the bus filled up, too nervous to think of what to say. You'd spent all your free time considering the right thing but the moment fate allowed, your mind went blank, damn it. You decided it was enough to be graced with his presence so delightfully near yours on the ride back to the hotel.

As the band filled up the bus and it started down the road, Freddie dreamed out loud of a long hot shower. You watched as Brian settled next to Elizabeth, including her in the argument he was having with Roger. You noticed the way he looked at her, when you weren't stealing glances at John. It was like you were making sure he was still there, not some figment of your imagination.

He never uttered another word on the ride, and when you got to the hotel, you knew the end of your shared company was near. So you offered John a measly goodnight, hoping he'd pick up on the way you hoped the statement was less of a goodbye and more of a wish to get to say so again.

When John slinked into his room without so much as a look your way, your heart ached with worry over what you'd done wrong.

"He's just shy." A voice spoke low in your ear, as you moved through the hall. You turned to find Roger at your side, offering a shrug. Was he giving you a reason for John's failure to communicate, or defending his friends decided quiet? Either way, the drummer was showing you a bit of kindness, and for that, you smiled and nodded his way.

When Roger floated to his room, and you'd nearly made it to yours, your journey was halted. Lilly stepped in front of you, blue eyes clouded with smokey anger.

"Stay the fuck away from Roger Taylor." She spoke through her teeth, sending a chill down your spine. You nodded, in a hurry to step out from under her killer gaze. You nodded because you would, because you had no plans on stealing the girl away from him in the first place.

Elizabeth asked if you were okay when you finally made it to safety. And even though Lilly's sister floated from the ensuite with a smile, you couldn't help but spill your guts to your best friend. With a great deal of caution, you told Elizabeth what the short blonde has said to you. Rita heard, but seemed to pretend she wasn't listening. And like usual, she slipped out of the room in hopes of occupying another.

This was when everyone went separate ways. This was when girls who waited long enough outside of the tour bus got lucky for just one night. When you scurried to dinner with whoever was in the mood for pizza or chips.

But tonight was off-kilter from the ones you'd become accustomed to. A fierce knock on your door revealed a giddy Jade, and a freshly showered Brian.

"Come on, then! I've found the perfect pub to celebrate my last night in." Jade informed, dancing in place. Elizabeth floated toward Brian with a wide smile that matched his own, like they planned to meet up just like this, before now.

You asked Jade for directions, saying something about freshening up before you went out for the evening, reminding her that a wasted groupie had spilled her champagne down your top before the show ended.

You'd never felt more alone while you rushed to change, in a hurry to meet up with the friends you'd been lucky enough to make. All except one, it seemed. The memory of Lilly's warning kept replaying in your head. Each time you thought back to it, the fear she'd managed to douse you in fizzled away, replaced by anger. You thought back to the night's she'd yank Roger away from signing autographs and pull him down halls when he complained about having to be someplace else. How he'd let her, as if there was no way he could outrun the girls hunt to have him all to herself. It made you sick. That was no way to treat anyone, let alone the talent of the band whose music was the only reason Lilly was lucky enough to be here. She didn't even seem to care about it, anyway.

You hurried to head out, in desperate need of fun. As you spun into the hallway, freshly dressed and ready to party, the couple you'd been in deep thought over were bickering at the end of the hall.

"You're not going with them, Roger. We're going to dinner like I planned." Lilly stamped her foot. Roger wilted, explaining how Jade had invited everyone to celebrate her last night on tour. At the mention of another girl's name Lilly rolled her eyes.

"You aren't canceling our plans, Roger I fucking swear-"

"Is it really so hard to imagine he doesn't want to be around you for once, Lilly?" You snapped, making your way closer as both parties turned their stunned attention your way.

"I'll make it easy for both of you, come on." You marched up to the pair, looped your arm through Roger's, and turned toward the elevator on your way all the same. He picked up the pace, pulling you away in a big hurry, but before you were gone, you caught the look in Lilly's eye.

On your race to the elevator, you tried to shake your fear of Lilly's death glare, and feel more prideful of your ambition to thwart her plans. When the elevator doors shut, and Roger sighed in relief, you did too.

"Thank you." He nodded his messy hair, relaxing against the wall on the ride down twenty floors. "You're a real friend."

You looked at Roger then, you could practically see his guard melting away. You'd never expected to end up here and now, not in your wildest dreams.

"Well, you know, your music has always been there for me. I suppose it's the least I can do to be there for you, too." You weren't trying to boost his ego. You didn't want anything from Roger either. It was simply the most honest response you could think of. You meant it.

"I invited her along. I promised not to leave home without her. But I never promised more than that." Roger explained, digging for a cigarette in his pocket. He explained how the two had misunderstood each other. How he'd realized he'd lead her along and felt too sorry to let her down gently. You both went on laughing about how the music led you all here and now, like some kind of spell, a curse in Lilly's case.

When you spilled out into the world on a mission to find the crew who'd geared up for a long night of fun, you were still laughing. High off of the euphoria of telling Lilly off, you were sure.

Freddie, John, and Ratty were only just leaving, as well. Roger called out to the boys, racing to catch up with his friends without a small blonde bombshell weighing him down. The boys turned with grins to find Roger racing their way, while you watched on with a smile, finally feeling like less of an outsider for once.

And while the crew joined up, John stalled and turned to watch you approach, as you stepped closer with bated breath.

"You alright?" He asked in a small way. As if he wasn't sure he should have even been asking.

You'd laughed it off with Roger. But the look on Lilly's face after what you said to her was burned in your brain. You realized you'd been biting your lip every time the thought threatened to make you queasy.

"I think I've earned myself an enemy, tonight." You shrugged, watching John join your stride, his pace matching your own. Maybe it was his closeness that was sending waves through your stomach, you thought.

"Why's that?" John wondered, ever the conversationalist. This was still further than you'd managed to get with him, most days, though.

"I’ve stolen Roger away from the girl who's been claiming him all tour long." You joked, hoping it would make you feel better about how angry you'd made her. You weren't one to step so boldly out of your shell. John went silent for a beat, glancing at Roger racing ahead, pumping his fists, getting his companions in the party spirit.

"You and Roger? You two really-" John pipped up again, his hair blowing back with the breeze.

"Wait! God, no." You barked a wild laugh. One that might have embarrassed you if John hadn't relaxed into a smile, too. When you managed to find the words, you explained yourself.

"There is no Roger and me." You made yourself clear. "I just couldn't stand to hear Lilly treat him like she does. I finally told her so."

"Well good.. then everyone wins tonight, don't they?" Even the rockstars spoke in code, huh? John kept his smile, a real genuine grin. The first one you'd noticed pointed so unabashedly in your direction. Was there something better than winning? You'd suddenly hit the jackpot.

You walked in time with the fellow around the corner to the pub Jade had scouted out. There, your friends spent the rest of the night bumping into one another in the dark and shouting curses at the jukebox when it ate their coins. As the drinks flowed, Elizabeth and Jade had taken over the dance floor. Brian cowered behind you, asking what he should do, desperate to make it clear to your friend how hard he'd fallen for her, without scaring her away. Roger bought you some shots for being so bold in his honor, and John stayed close. Not nearly as close as you might have liked, but closer than ever before, shooting drunken quips and questions your way. You were too tipsy to hide your blush. You wondered if John was too drunk to notice.

///

You didn't have far to travel, but the early morning ride seemed like the longest of all. Jade left you all with hangovers, booking it to her train station without saying goodbye.

The bus was somber, with everyone sulking in their respective spots. Freddie and Roger scribbled over notes at the table. Rita and Ratty hogged the sofa, kicking Lilly toward an empty bench of her own, where she fell asleep. You sat reading in the seat next to John. His arms were crossed and his eyes were closed, yet still, in his shutdown state, you could feel his presence like a looming storm cloud.

Brian sat strumming an acoustic nearest Elizabeth, both pretending to be focused on anything besides each other. The lanky guitarist had taken to following Elizabeth around everywhere like a lovesick puppy. You watched as he stole her away with excuses to help fix his hair- to ask her opinion on a certain hotel's free library and its selection- to sit next to him at dinner. You watched as she agreed, and smiled and leaned into his side when he gestured her closer to ask something over some loud pub speakers. You watched your friend fuss over all her best flared out pants, and boots, asking if you thought she looked alright... If you thought Brian would think so. You promised Elizabeth she had nothing to worry about with a sure nod.

It was the same gesture you gave her now, across the bus, when Brian abandoned his guitar in her lap without question, on his way to fetch a snack.

"I'm so bloody sick of this shite." Roger grumbled, swatting away Brian's offer of some fresh fruit, the only thing the bus cabinets had to offer, this afternoon. Roger stood from his spot across from Freddie, giving some passionate speech about all the things he was hungry enough to eat, how badly he wanted a proper meal.

You all laughed as he devised a plan to race to the nearest eatery the second the bus stopped. Freddie declared his grand plans for sleeping away the next fifteen hours of truly free time, wondering how half of the bus had fallen into cat naps with such ease on the ride that jostled through the winter weather. John with his eyes still closed, spoke up, startling you, saying something about how he'd never been asleep but hoped if he pretended long enough, he'd eventually find real rest.

When the next hotel beckoned from outside the foggy tour bus windows, Roger raced for the door, inviting anyone who was also famished to come to join in his afternoon plans to feast. Brian nodded to Elizabeth, who shrugged and followed along with a grin.

John lept after the small party, demanding they wait for him to join. You laughed at their desperation, how the boys were in the midst of living out their wildest dreams, yet all they wanted was some warm lunch.

When you looked up from collecting your books, bag, and coat; Brian, Roger, and Elizabeth were zooming down the steps chanting like school kids on their race to the mess hall, and John was standing at the end of your seat.

"You comin'?"

///

Roger strung you all along like the sky was falling and you only had an hour left to find nourishment before the end of times. How you all fit into the back of one cab, you weren't sure. The patient driver helped your gang locate the nearest, nicest restaurant and laughed when Roger was the first out of the ride, dancing up to the double doors of some cabin-esque eatery with their specials presented in faded chalk, in the ice-covered picture window.

You and Elizabeth sat across from the boys in the band, who dreamed of home while impatiently waiting for your orders to cook. Brian compared the fireplace in the back of the place to his families. John was delighted to find his favorite dish on the menu. And Roger acted as if he'd been admitted into high heaven, simply pleased to be sat in one place with nothing more to do than enjoy himself, and some real food.

The five of you laughed for hours, enjoying the extra-large cups of cocoa on sale during the storm you'd arrived in the middle of.

"It's so nice to have absolutely nothing to do. We could stay here all night and we wouldn't miss a thing." Brian chirped, smiling to the barista who traded his empty cup of cocoa for a new fresh one.

"I don't know how you boys do it, I surely would have lost my voice after so many shows in a row." You pipped up, always in awe of how hard they worked.

"Well, Deacy barely has a voice so-" Roger jeered.

"You leave him be!" Elizabeth crushed an empty sugar packet and flung it toward the drummer, who feigned shock. You glanced across the table, catching John's gaze. His had already been settled on you, and when you noticed, he looked down with a grin, twisting the ring on his very middle finger.

///

Love was dangerous. One taste, one blurry vision of the adoration you always dreamed of, and common sense flew out the window. You and Elizabeth were busy gushing over the picture-perfect time you'd spent with three-fourths of your very favorite band. How close your two favorites had been for the few hours you spent making Roger's simple dream come true.

Instead of getting ready for the next show in a timely manner, you and your friend chattered away about the night before, and you'd missed the bus to the venue. Rita had all the extra passes, and you absolutely panicked on your race to make it on time.

Outside the propped open backstage doors were two burly men you hadn't seen earlier in the day. They stood inside of a stone foyer, out of the snow like royal guard. Neither of them budged when you and your friend rushed up to explain what had happened, begging to slip inside the already open entry.

You had nothing to show but desperation, and the men weren't standing for your girlish desire. What else could you have done? Elizabeth took her turn at begging when just passed the propped open doorway, a familiar face floated near.

"Lilly!" Elizabeth shouted, waving past the well-built men who blocked your entry. The small blonde halted and peeked her head around one of the men's shoulders with a wicked grin.

"Oh, please tell them we know you! We don't have our passes!" Elizabeth breathed, bending her knees as she begged.

"Doesn't matter. Can't get in without a pass." The taller guard sighed. Lilly put on a frown, listening to your friend's pleas.

"Oh, here." Lilly clicked her tongue, reaching in her bag and unveiling a shiny orange sticker she'd had on standby. As the blonde reached through the security guards to hand the pass to your friend, you practically heard heavens gates creak open.

When Elizabeth moved to snatch the sticker, Lilly latched onto her wrist and pulled the girl inside, as the guards reluctantly stepped aside.

"Oops. That was the last one I had." Lilly's always evil smile had long foreshadowed this power play. She shot you a look reminiscent of the glare that haunted your dreams.

"No, come on, she's really with us!" Elizabeth turned around and reached out for you. But the guards snapped back into place, clearly on the side of the wicked witch who was already skipping deeper inside, stalling to pull Elizabeth along.

"Oh my God!" You shouted in disbelief.

"Don't move an inch, I'll be right back!" Elizabeth yelled from where she moved in a hurry inside, just before one of the big tall men slammed the door shut without blinking an eye.

You slumped in disbelief, crossing your arms to shield the cold that came along with the falling snow. The guards paid you no mind from their small shelter as you paced back and forth, trying to keep your cool, all the same. Maybe it was the weather reducing you to shivers, but Elizabeth seemed to be gone much longer than it took to find a pass to pull you back in.

"The hell are you doing?" A voice called from behind where you stood freezing, trying to hold back frustrated tears. Ratty stood with a big clunky case in hand and a cigarette between his lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

"We were late." You greeted through the sorry explanation.

"Christ," Ratty flicked his cigarette toward the fence and reached into his coat pocket for an extra pass.

"Come on." He uttered, handing the sticker your way, nodding for you to follow him inside. The guards shot you a glare as one moved to open the door, while the other stepped aside. You unpeeled the sticker and placed it proudly on your coat, determined for that to never happen again.

"Oh, Deacy..." Ratty sang as you stepped in time with the roadie, behind the stage. John had only been around the corner, fiddling with an amp no doubt. He was dressed for the show already, a shy smile included. You tried to shake the snowflakes tangled in your hair, embarrassed by how silly you must have looked.

"I've gotten the things you need, my friend." Ratty held out the case to John, who approached as you walked his way.

"You have, haven't you?" John replied to Ratty, but kept his studying eye on you, his grin turning to a frown. "Where've you been?" John asked, seemingly concerned by how cold you must have looked.

"We were late. Lilly apparently only had one extra pass for Elizabeth, who went searching for another..." You sighed through a polite smile.

"Rita has them all. She went looking for you, Rat." John quirked a brow, taking the case from the slim man at your side. Ratty huffed and nodded toward the green room, where everyone in question would likely end up sooner or later.

The three of you shuffled that way in silence, and if you'd ever glance to John at the right moment, you'd notice he was stealing looks at you too. When the bassist reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back as the three of you entered the green room, you felt like you belonged. Like he wanted you there. The shiver his fingertips sent up your spine was different from the chill you'd felt lingering outside moments ago.

As you arrived, Freddie seemed to sigh in relief, greeting you with a sweet lilt in his voice. As Ratty met an impatient Rita near the wardrobe, and Elizabeth came running in, just in time.

"Is Rita back? Oh-" Your friend found you shedding your coat in the corner, reaching out like you'd been found from a deserted island after years away.

Lilly followed, rolling her icy eyes when she noticed you'd found your way.

"Look who made it in, no thanks to you." Elizabeth muttered in the small blonde's direction, who breezed into the room like she owned it.

"It is a triumph, considering neither of you belong here, anyway." Lilly spat, not even bothering to look in your direction. As she waltzed past where John had opened the case Ratty gifted him, the bassist slammed it shut and looked right at the girl.

"Would you get the fuck out, Lilly? You're the one who shouldn't be here. You make everyone feel like such shite, they're too afraid to tell you otherwise." John snapped, causing a stunned silence to fall over the room.

Everyone watched on as Lilly turned red hot, her fists balled up at her side, ears steaming, eyes searching for her next victim. She whipped in Roger's direction.

"Aren't you going to defend me?" She cursed, watching the blonde lean against the counter where all Freddie's eyeliner waited to be put to use.

"No." Roger spoke, plain as day, with the shake of his pretty hair.

With that, Lilly let out a string of curses as she stomped out of the room. But before you could celebrate, Rita came alive from the corner of the room.

"That was totally unnecessary." The tall redhead scolded John as she collected her coat. You watched the man hold back a chuckle at her mismarked anger.

"You finally speak up and that's what you have to say?" Ratty yelled, stepping to meet Rita on her way out the door.

"It's time!" A man with a headset burst in, waving the band to fall in line. Commotion swept through the room and out into the hall as everyone bickered and cheered each other along. You and Elizabeth were the last to leave after you'd picked your jaws up from the floor and laughed like loons over the scene you'd watched unfold.

When you finally made it to the side of another stage, something came over the two of you. You followed Elizabeth past a few snaking wires, down some stairs and into the back of the concert hall. Stragglers gathered and marveled over your orange passes that permitted you backstage where you belonged.

You danced along with fans who'd traveled through the storm to hear the music. And Queen proceeded to play the best show you'd seen the entire tour, or ever at all.

///

In an impressive hurry, the conference room of the hotel you'd rented was decked in streamers, and drink carts were set up in almost every corner. The band was greeted with cheers and toasts, all to celebrate the show they'd just performed.

For weeks you watched as they kept in tune, in time and impressed crowds all over the country. You'd gotten chills at every solo and sound. Yet tonight was better than all the best before. And since the boys had a three day weekend ahead of them, a proper party was in order.

Ratty sent everyone on a mission to set up the perfect spontaneous shindig. He took to the crowd, in charge of inviting the right kind of people to the afterparty. You stuck with Elizabeth to set up the celebration, and the hotel was more than happy to help. The lady at the front desk waved you back to the kitchen to select the best kind of sweets they had on hand, to set out for your pending guests. She even let you at a storage closet full of streamers and decor for moments such as now.

All the while, Lilly and Rita remained missing. But no one missed them much, as you downed champagne and mingled with fans who poured into the party and gushed over the music, and the boy's accomplishments.

Freddie arrived already buzzed from the ride to the party, and Roger was the perfect pseudo-host. He went around, clapping backs, sharing smiles, and passing bottles from stranger to stranger. And somehow, when you found Brian, he was already plastered, closer to crashing into sobriety than the others who were just getting started.

"Congrats Bri." You grinned, reaching out to pull the guy in for a hug. He didn't let go when you pulled away, instead clung to your shoulders for balance as he asked,

"Where's Beth? I want her to congratulate me." Brian spoke, barely keeping it together.

"Brian, oh no. Don't call her that, she hates that." But as you warned, he wasn't listening. And while he twisted in place to scan the crowd he found Elizabeth posing for a photo with Ratty, near the table of sweets.

"Oh, there I see her!"

"Don't call her-"

"Beth! Love, can you believe it? We've earned ourselves a party!"

Brian bound her way, arms outstretched like some big cuddly rag doll. And despite the nickname your friend once scolded you badly enough to remember to never call her again, she smiled. She leaned into Brian and shook her head at the way he rambled, and held his hand as he spoke right to her.

You watched on with a grin, and meandered further into the room, reveling in the knowledge that tonight would be one you'd look back on and tell your families about for ages. Then someone called your name.

"Come sit, we've got first dibs to the bar." Freddie motioned you over to some hideously cushioned wicker furniture, just on the edge of the gathering crowd.

"There are plenty of bars around tonight, Fred." You laughed, glancing at one of the mini stations set up in every corner.

"This one is nearest to the kitchen, love."

"And we've got the key." John boasted from the matching loveseat facing the throne Freddie made of his wicker chair. As you laughed, the bassist waved you over, and you'd be a fool to back away. You sat at John's side, trying not to drool over his tight-fitting suit. He was just as drunk as his counterparts, wasted enough to get up and start dancing like he did. But he didn't budge. He settled deeper into the sofa next to you.

"You." Freddie pointed behind the place you sat, barely managing to tame your heartbeat. A kid with coke bottle glasses stumbled closer, clearly stunned by Freddie's favoritism.

"Bring us back something clear and toxic." Freddie held a shinny key between his fingers, waving it toward the kitchen door. "And fetch a little something for yourself, darling."

The kid nodded, nearly bowed, snatched the key, and slipped in the back when he was sure no one was looking. John burst into a fit of giggles at your side as you and Freddie traded smug smiles. The dark-headed singer spun off into a made-up monologue about the laws he'd enforce if he were queen for a day. You joined John in laughing until it hurt, until the kid with the glasses popped out of the kitchen with vodka in hand.

You reached out for the kid to pass the drink to you, joking about how the other boys were too far off their rockers to be in charge. He even handed over a few spare cups before handing the key to Freddie with a nervous grin. You poured the kid a glass first, as thanks. He took the drink and nervously slinked off to the corner while Freddie demanded the next cup. When it came time for you to offer some to John, you felt the cushions shift. He'd leaned forward to where you worked at the coffee table.

"I'm so glad you're here," John muttered, right in your ear. All your senses shut down and reopened with a thousand nerves on end. His shoulder pressed into yours as you passed the cup of vodka his way. He smiled and said a small thank you before leaning back, leaving you to pour your own, very tall drink.

The night passed by in blurb, like the world around you had been set to super speed. But you stood still, taking the occasional sip of alcohol. Freddie fled his throne to dance. Ratty passed by to steal the vodka, arguing with John, who filled both your glasses before letting the roadie take the bottle. You thought you notice Roger kicking cans of beer from tabletops.

All the while, John never left your side. When he reached for the key Freddie entrusted him, John let his arm drape over the back of the sofa. When a certain song came on, he leaned over to tell you how much he liked it. But mostly, he chatted to fans who plopped in the seats nearby, to extend their congratulations.

When a record screeched to a halt and the crowd groaned collectively, you stood up. As another track started to play, you moved to the exit, daring to look over your shoulder to the place you'd abandoned John. A girl you didn't recognize had taken your spot, and John wasn't looking back.

You knew his closeness had been driven by the drinks he'd downed. But it still stung to realize. It still hurt to understand you were just another passing face in his world that never stopped spinning in different fast-paced directions. When you made it up to your room, the quiet was almost welcome.

It wasn't long before you slipped into your pj's and dimmed most of the light, until Elizabeth burst in.

"I'm gonna do it." She announced, out of breath like she ran all the way here to tell you so. "I'm gonna stay with Brian."

You knew this had been coming, and at long last. You encouraged your best friend to jump into her jammies and bolt out the door. And when she did, you knew everything was as it should be, even for you. Even though the quiet pierced your ears, now. You knew tonight was one you'd remember forever. But you never dreamed it would end this way.

///

You awoke to a crashing. Muted hollers echoed from the hall, while the sun beamed through the curtains you forgot to shut. Your head pounded from the party the night before, but the ruckus from the hall was enough to drive you out from under the covers in a hurry.

You opened the door, rubbing your eyes to find clothes and shoes flying out from a doorway and toward an open suitcase at the end of the hall. Then Roger staggered out, dodging a pair of heels that zoomed dangerously passed his head. Lilly emerged no sooner, throwing the rest of her things into the suitcase on the ground, yelling at the drummer the whole time. He stood, listening, taking it. So you stood, crossing your arms, watching Lilly throw her fit, delighted at the sight of her leaving, no matter how dramatic it might have been.

When she grabbed the handle of her hastily zipped bag, she cursed her way toward the elevators. When the doors closed, Roger turned, noticed you, and laughed. His excitement morphed into a grimace as he lifted a hand to his head- he'd had much more to drink than you.

You gave the blonde a small wave and chuckled as you crept back into your sickeningly bright room. You snagged some pills from Rita's opened suitcase, stole some of Elizabeth's shampoo, and prepared for the day ahead and whatever it might bring.

The hotel was eerily quiet, the commotion from the party and Lilly's fit reduced to echoes in your memory and nothing more. There wasn't even a soul to be found in the breakfast bar, each chair in place. You picked one and ordered a hot drink, wondering what other ghosts haunted the place you seemed to exist alone in.

You only got to sulk for a few minutes. Elizabeth skipped through the halls, bounding to pull a seat up next to you, a frantic mess of giggles. You grinned, taking a sip of your drink as you watched her slouch across from you, biting her lip into a smile.

"He kept calling me Beth. And I kind of liked it."

You both burst into chuckles, heads thrown back in the early morning, despite having barely caught a wink of sleep. She ordered a drink, and some breakfast when you asked why she wasn't still with Brian. She explained that his head hurt too badly to move yet, and she was famished.

So she split her breakfast with you and told you all the details she was willing to share. You laughed the whole time, fawning over each dreamy scenario, pausing only to announce how lucky she was and how happy you were for your friend. You'd known all of Brian's trustworthy motives, having spent many a long night coaxing him to sweep your best friend off her feet. A piece of your soul settled knowing they were finally together.

Roger and Freddie interrupted your giggle-fest to join in breakfast, complaining about their aches and pains they would have slept away if Lilly's screaming hadn't rattled them into consciousness. When neither of them ceased whining, you stood to go fetch some more pain killers Rita kept on hand to pass out in times like now, and out of reach during most all other occasions.

When you got to the room, nothing was much the same as when you'd left it an hour ago. The cleaning service had come and made your bed. And Rita was there, clamping her suitcase shut.

"You're leaving?"

The redhead turned to you with a heavy sigh that seemed to be her answer.

"I don't belong here anymore, babe." Rita shrugged when your twisted expression wasn't eased.

"You can't leave..." You cautioned, but for all the wrong reasons. Elizabeth had made it clear that she planned to switch roommates, and that was good news indeed. But if Rita left, you'd be alone. And you couldn't afford to rent more rooms all on your own, for the rest of the tour.

Rita didn't explain much further as she hoisted her bags toward the door. You remembered why you came up in the first place, asking her for some of the pain killers she always kept. You half encouraged the girl to stick around to keep mothering the lot of you, joking that the whole show would fall apart if she left you lot on your own. She only traded you the bottle of pills and a sorry smile before spinning toward the elevators with her bags in hand.

You'd felt alone in the space before, but you hadn't ever felt the way you did, now. Like everything was over. Not just the tour as you knew it. Not just your place on the ride. But like life had shifted into a new, dull grey territory right before your eyes.

///

"Here you are, then." You tossed the bottle of pain killers to Roger, who still managed to catch it in one hand despite his sluggish state. The rest of the band had all flocked to the breakfast table you'd claimed earlier in the day, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. And even though your throat went dry as they glanced up your way, you announced that you had something to say.

"I'm going home." You declared with wimpy confidence.

Everyone gapped at you, waiting for the penny to drop. But you'd already said what you needed to.

"No, you're not." Elizabeth laughed, standing from the spot you'd left her in a bit ago. Funny how some things never changed even when everything else did...

"Rita just left and there's no way I can cover a room all on my own for another week and a half," You explained, watching your friend shake her head. Elizabeth pulled you away from the group, and back toward the elevators.

"You're not leaving me on tour with a bunch of boys." Elizabeth declared, pushing the buttons to send you to the proper floor.

You argued with her all the way up to the room. You watched your friend collect her things, finding tubes of lipstick and shoes mixed among your collection. She combated all your excuses with her own, while she packed her bags.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" Elizabeth spoke up, toting her things into the hall. "But you're not leaving."

You could see the boys making their way back to their rooms, as your friend left you on your own. You let her, and couldn't help but smile when you watched Brian take her suitcase in his hand as they swept into his room. But before you could turn and face the inevitable, you were stopped once more.

"You can stay with me, if you'd like."

John stood in your doorway, with his hands shoved in his tight pockets. Oh, no way.

"I'm not a groupie John." You sneered. You had no interest in being a temporary roommate.

"I never said you were. In fact, I'm glad you're not." John chuckled. It made you hate how much you adored him. He really wasn't interested in you, huh?

"I just don't want-"

"I want you to stay with me." He seemed sure, he wasn't even asking. He never really did ask, did he? John looked at you as if you didn't have a choice. Reluctantly, you let yourself feel glad that you didn't have much of one. And then you hesitantly packed your bags.

When you got to the room John had been staying in for two nights in a row, he hadn't done much to celebrate the small stability. His bags were in the corner and the lights were dim. You tossed your things into an opposite corner.

That night, you barely spoke to each other, and you curled on the sofa to sleep your worries away.

///

The snow had ceased but the chill in the air cut to the bone. It was torture to walk from the bus toward the plane. It was small, much smaller than the already cramped tour bus. Maybe having less friends along for the ride had its perks after all...

The boys were dressed to impress, knowing they'd land to a dozen flashing cameras and excited fans. You and Elizabeth settled in the back, accepted some complimentary flutes of champagne, and buckled up for another long ride. The boys gathered around for some kind of meeting to discuss the last leg of the tour.

She never asked. Elizabeth just kept giving you this look, coxing you to spill any details on what your stay in John's room had been like. And when the plane reached its altitude, you'd had enough of your friends daring glares.

"I slept on the sofa." You admitted through a sigh.

Elizabeth dropped the magazine she'd pretended to be interested in, to her lap, and turned to you with wide eyes. When you met her glance, she swatted you on the shoulder with a disgruntled huff.

"One month left." She rose a manicured nail. "You have one month left of this year and I will not let you live it on sleeping on his sofa."

You snorted a laugh. She sure had come a long way since diving headfirst, last minute, into her new year's resolution. Just then, the boys broke away from business, and Elizabeth perked up.

"John, dear, this seat isn't taken!" She stood to shuffle toward Brian, but you knew her motives were mostly with you in mind.

John could have kept walking and sat next to Ratty, behind you. He could have stayed where he sat, still. But John stood up and waltzed over to where Elizabeth had fled, with a grin on his face. As he settled next to you, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. You turned toward the window, trying to jot down every detail of the land below you, knowing it would always be there, and you could come back to it, but nothing would never be exactly as it was now, ever again.

///

After another kick-ass show, the unruly group you'd been trailing across cities and skies with seemed eager to go their separate ways.

Roger took off, into the town you'd barely learned the name of, hot on the trail of a tall brunette. Freddie invited a cast of characters back to the hotel; you watched as strangers filled up the bus before the band was even finished tearing their set down. And Elizabeth canceled your plans; one's you'd made on the ride to the show, to go to dinner just the two of you and spend the whole night catching up. Even though she'd just been down the hall for a night and a half, you decidedly missed each other already.

But Elizabeth was easily coaxed away at Brian's simple suggestion to take her on a real proper first date. And you couldn't blame her. In fact, you were the one who pushed the girl out of the green room and made her stop asking if you'd hate her for taking a rain check.

That left you, and John. He shrugged on his coat as the last of the strangers Freddie invited shuffled passed to catch the bus. And when he noticed Elizabeth turn to wave goodbye, John frowned as if she'd been letting him down, all along.

"I'm happy for her," You spoke up decidedly, stepping to trail behind the group of partiers headed for your ride. "but I may secretly never forgive her. I was pretty excited to waste the last of my cash on a five-star dining experience we probably would have spent just drinking anyway."

John laughed, a solid, made for the big screen, award-winning laugh. And when you stepped out into the bitter cold, anxious to make it to the bus before catching hypothermia, John curled his fingers around your arm and yanked you the opposite way.

"Uh, where are you abducting me to?" You weren't nervous about where you were headed, just the fact that John seemed so keen to lead you there.

"To a five-star dining experience, duh." John hailed a cab that slowed on the glistening street in perfect time. As he reached to open the door, the man stopped you from arguing all the same.

"And I'll even make sure you still have cash left to waste, don't worry." The bassist pressed his elegant fingers into your shoulder blades, ushering you into the ride.

///

"Thanks for being so hospitable miles away from home." You uttered, stabbing a fork into a salad that cost as much as your rent back home. The place you sat now was saturated in amber light, a warmth you had to swim through to reach for your glass of water across a massive marble table. John sharing his room was one thing, but a lavish meal was another.

"Home is where the heart is, right?" John shrugged, taking a sip of the beer still floating above the bottom of his bottle.

"And I happen to know yours is in the countryside, don't be coy." You teased, shoving a fancy basket of chips toward the middle of the table, gesturing for him to take a few.

Your conversation started slow, with carefully formulated quips, questions, and answers. But once you'd mentioned the few keywords, subjects that sparked to life in his brilliant grey eyes, John was an open book.

He yammered about growing up. You asked about music. He wondered about the future. You laughed about now. And maybe it was the late hour or the exhaustion of the never-ending ride setting in, but you laughed all the way home, too.

You were shaking away the hysteria on your walk toward the hotel. And by the time you reach the halls, you'd both gone silent as the day you met, keeping your smiles polite and your eyes hidden away.

He was the first to get ready for bed. You called the front desk for an extra set of blankets, propped some throw pillows in place on a new tiny sofa, and rummaged for your bedclothes beneath the mess of trousers you couldn't choose from earlier in the day.

You slipped past John when he emerged from the ensuite, almost like you were trying to avoid each other. The bathroom was full of leftover steam that fogged the mirror, quickly fading from the corners. As you took your turn cleaning up you tried not to think of how close this was to being over. How you'd miss Freddie's jokes, the ones he'd tell under his breath just to you. How you'd miss Roger's questions, and the odd times he'd settle in for a chat, even if he didn't seem to have the time. You'd miss Brian begging for your help in catching Elizabeth's attention. You would still have her at the end of this, to dreamily reminisce with while you danced around to records, like always. But you'd miss John most of all.

The lights were out when you crept back into the room. Even the moon was out of sight in the window it's dull shine outlined. On your way toward the sofa, where some blankets remained neatly folded just for you, John stopped you. From the place on the edge of the bed where he'd settled in the dark, he rose a hand to your wrist. Not grabbing on, just letting his fingers brush against your skin. Even the smallest bit of contact with the guy sent sweat to your palms.

Only when you turned to glance at John, did he let his fingers press against your arm, gently pulling you to sit at his side. The shadows of the room might have covered his face if you were any further away. But you were close enough to see the specks of color in his steel-grey eyes.

Did he know what he was doing to you? Could he hear the thud of your heart? Did John realize how much you adored him? You nearly couldn't handle being so close, closer than ever before. When you opened your mouth to warn him, no sound escaped.

John took your failed warning as an invitation to lean closer. You were suddenly glad you'd neglected to give notice to your nerves- when he closed the space left between you to press his lips against yours.

He kissed you slowly, almost timidly. Just the way most all of your other interactions with him had started out. When you kissed John in return, he stopped holding back. His gentle pecks ended when his lips parted against yours, setting the rhythm of your heart into overdrive. It was one of the kisses that there weren't words for. All of the reserved glances, every shared silence, had led up to now. Everything you'd tried to say, to make clear to John seemed to be relayed in the way you kissed each other.

You only stopped to breathe, but when the quiet grew louder, you realized there was more to say than ever. And funnily enough, John spoke up first.

"I like you, ya know?" He whispered, still dangerously close. You could practically feel the words as he formed them.

"I sure hope so." You breathed. Because now you couldn't cling to the edge for dear life, you were free-falling, and he was the only one who could catch you.

Instead of meeting in the middle to kiss you again, he replied. "What do you want?"

"I want to stay with you." You smiled, nearly mocking the way he coaxed you into sharing his room for the rest of the tour. Instead of meeting him halfway for a kiss, you said something more. "But I'll keep wanting too. So don't start something with a finish line in mind."

"I don't plan on letting this end, love." John declared with a grin, looping an arm around your middle and pulling you close. "Besides, we're just getting started."

His low purr in your ear was the nail in the coffin. You couldn't help but melt against John. He pulled you into the jumbled sheets. You tangled your fingers in his mess of sandy waves of hair. He fit against you perfectly. You stayed with him.

///

"Where's my hairbrush?" Roger whined, scouring the vanity with big worried eyes. You stole the silver comb from under Freddie's nose, tossing the thing to the drummer.

"You actually brush this mane?" You tousled his blonde fringe, that seemed to already stand on end. Roger looked pissed at first, but when he glanced at the result of your action in the mirror, he stilled.

"This is better, actually." He shrugged, and you laughed, as Freddie twirled by to steal the comb once more.

"We're just going to the museum down the street. Are you really wasting your eyeliner for a field trip?" Brian asked, tapping his foot impatiently in the doorway on the suite that combined all of your rooms together, in the new, final city.

You'd all been in comfortably close quarters for the last couple days and a half, and yet when everyone's favorite roadie suggested going out to enjoy the last free afternoon, everyone stuck together to do it. Ratty led the way as you all waltzed in pairs between a few buildings lined with piles of snow that quickly melted under the usually beaming sun. Freddie and Roger. Elizabeth and Brian. You and John.

He'd become a permanent fixture on your side, always reaching for your hand, stepping in time with you from place to place. You basked in his glow, and waved from whatever side of the stage you ended up near, not entirely unlike before.

When your gang flooded into the big quiet art gallery, Roger made you laugh, posing with marble statues and making you do the same, asking Freddie to snap your photo. Brian read plaques like stories for you all to hear while still fixated on the art he spoke for. You sat with Elizabeth and watched on with pride while a group of fans flagged the boys down. You and your best pal shared knowing looks before floating away from each other, and back toward the guitarists who'd been glad you managed to find your way on tour.

The last show was watched on by a bevy of film cameras. The boys in your favorite band played hard. You could practically envision the music notes floating away from the chords they struck in flawless synchronicity. Ratty stood, biting his nails ready to exchange instruments and wires in too big of a hurry, wishing there were more roadies to share the worry with.

"Calm down, this is going perfectly." You assured, squeezing the slim man's bicep. Ratty nodded and seemed to still. He'd come to ask you and Elizabeth's opinion, on all sorts of things, but most music. Ratty had watched you and your friend dance to the music night after night with the same unbridled excitement for the very first show. You'd become friends and confidants with the roadie, but above all things, you were still a fan. And not a performance passed without you and Elizabeth geeking out over the music.

Everything was perfect. But you knew better of course. You knew things would be different back where you started. You knew the spell you'd been caught up end might skid to a permanent stop when the tour bus wheels did. But there was no harm in losing yourself in the days that lasted, passing by too quickly.

Even as Brian made plans for your best friend to meet his family after they landed, you knew she'd only gotten lucky. Love like that only ever came once in a lifetime. But Queen seemed to have tapped into a wealth of fortune. And those boys deserved every bit of good they had coming.

///

You stood around the baggage claim carousel watching your friends rub their tired eyes. The tour was over, even though you'd known the day was coming, the realization hit you with all the subtlety of crashing into a brick wall.

That morning, you'd awoken with time to relish the way John slept soundly at your side. You watched the sunrise shine through his hair, relaxing under the weight of his arm that pulled you closer under the covers. You followed his lead, packing your things and hauling out to catch another plane, almost like usual. You were glad for the way he'd napped on your shoulder on the ride, afraid of letting him notice how scared you were for what came next.

John kept an arm around your waist all the way back where you came from, and you kept your head lulling back against his shoulder, terrified of what might happen the moment you stepped away to grab your bags. (If they'd ever show up)

Brian and Elizabeth were the first to leave. You watched the guitarist pull your best friend away from the group after a few unceremonious goodbyes. She turned to give you a final, nervous wave; a message you understand was code for her intention to phone you later.

Roger second, joking how he was sick of all of you, spinning around to take it back as Ratty raced to leave, too.

Freddie was last, but certainly not least.

"I'm off to sleep for a week!" He declared, slipping on a pair of bedazzled sunglasses. "But I'll be so glad to see you again the first of the year, darling." Freddie kissed your cheek and spun through the glass doors, headed for home. Before you had time to fret over Freddie's implied invitation, John offered up a real one.

"You'll come along to America, won't you?" He asked, tightening his hold around your middle.

"You want me to?" You asked feebly, daring to look into his cloud colored eyes.

"Of course. I don't think I can go most anywhere without you, now." John's smile reached his eyes as you bit back a grin, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger.

"Well, what about now?" You ventured to ask, holding your breath. You watched John lift a brow and search your face, the beginnings of a new sort of grin painting his own features.

"You'd come back to mine?"

"Of course."

And you did. You followed John right through the doors of his humble flat, joking how you'd already packed a bag. You shared John's space, his bed, his breakfast, his shampoo- but only once. You were quick to head to the market and by him a better brand, the best because he deserved it. John pulled you in for a dozen kisses, assuring he already had the best things life had to offer, all of them regarding you.

///

Before you knew it, it was time to hit the road once more. You'd saved almost every paycheck, except for one you blew on a dozen new outfits, and packed accordingly, and much more wisely than the time before. By now half of your things were mixed in with John's, anyhow.

"It's the start of a very happy new year! What's your resolution?" Elizabeth squeaked, as you rushed through airport terminals to greet your dearest friend. You hadn't seen much of her in the time since the last tour, but the music still led you back together, crashing into a long-awaited hug. Her dark curls were a little longer, and her style was still just as immaculate.

She escorted you onto the plane, where you'd found most of the rest of your crew.

You ruffled Roger's hair and leaned in for a photo with Ratty before he moved to curl up and sleep the flight away. John yanked you to sit at his side as Brian was the last to board, creeping toward his seat next to your dear friend like a giant trapped in a toy plane.

Freddie sat ahead of you all, leaning over the back of the seats, fawning over you and Elizabeth much like he had the day you met him.

"How glad I am to see your bright shining faces! We couldn't possibly have a proper tour without our very own queenie and you, my star." Freddie flashed a smile over the seat you sat before.

"Watch it, she's taken," John warned Freddie with a laugh, reaching to grab your hand.

"And for that you're welcome!" Freddie pointed between John and Brian, boasting about how clever he was to have invited you and your friend along, how he had been an undercover, genius matchmaker, all along. As your flight took off, Freddie blabbered on about how it was Roger's turn, saying he knew this nice french girl who'd be perfect for the blonde. Everyone laughed as Freddie yammered on. You clutched John's hand the whole ride, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

///

You left the boys to navigate their way around the first stage of the tour, while you took across town to get lunch with Elizabeth. You joked about how it was just like the first time, when you'd waited around hours before the show you won tickets too. The only difference now, was the level of fondness in which you spoke about your favorite band who were busy setting up at the venue down the road.

She caught you up on all the long-winded stories about Brian she'd been sorting away. You'd told her what you and John had been up too. And then you took your time meandering back to the concert hall, arm in arm.

The pair of you flashed your backstage passes to the doorman who let you in with a smile. The halls were full of cases and wires and new roadies and crew members who nodded as you and Elizabeth floated toward the green room. The closer you got, the more people came into view Girls and guys in denim and velvet, chomping on bubblegum and giggling over each other hairstyles.

You shouldered past a few unfamiliar love-struck groupies with their gazes set on your favorite band. Their drooly slack jaws clamped into frowns when you and Elizabeth fell into the open arms of the boys who'd brought you along.

Some of the girls lingered in the green room when the band rushed toward the stage. You were right behind them as always, stalling in the shadows, offering thumbs-up, and giving good luck kisses. Queen took their places behind their instruments, breathing in time with the buzzing amps as the lights dimmed, and the crowd roared.

Roger thrashed his drums with a smile, as Freddie sang his heart out. Brian turned his gaze to the side of the stage as he sang into the mic. And John danced out further from the shadows than ever before.

It was even better than you remembered. It was the best. You and Elizabeth won so much more than free tickets on the radio that day. The music had always been your personal soundtrack to your world, but now it was your world. And it sounded even sweeter as John plucked away at your favorite bass line, flashing his smile in your direction. He was your ticket in, tonight. And hopefully, many more nights to follow.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

Text

End of Sanctuary

Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins Characters: Mael, Meliodas Tags: Post-Canon, Character Study, Canon Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort written for @nntzine Summary: After the defeat of the Demon King, Mael returns to the only home he knows and engages in a festival to honor the ones who were lost.Originally written for Nanatsu no Taizine: Volume II and published in celebration of autumn.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is low in the sky when he reaches his home. Former home, he supposes, landing lightly in what was once the grand courtyard: the immaculate marble has cracked and fallen, the flowers overgrown by thistles and weeds. Mael tilts his head back, taking in the ruins of the spires of the Supreme Deity’s palace, listening to the wind whistle forlornly through the shattered windows and holes in the walls, and wonders if this is their punishment for their hubris. Dead leaves whisper through the grass, like the voices of so many ghosts; with a sigh, he kneels, sweeping dirt away from the walk. This is the place of his birth, and he remembers with a fond sort of ache the feasts and festivals that were held here, one in particular which was always dear to him.

The Feast of All Souls began as a prayer. To remember those who’d come before, goddesses lit candles within their homes and laid offerings of food and wine on their doorsteps. Eventually, with the war looming over their clan, the Supreme Deity had made it a public event, one which all were encouraged to attend. Private offerings were still left, yet the majority of the evening was spent in the city streets, buying masks and scraps of finest parchment upon which to write hopes, dreams, or words of remembrance. And, once the sun had set and the world was cool and quiet, in the grand courtyard a chosen member of their race would light the torches and dance, and those little bits of people’s lives would be fed to the bonfire, to reach the next life. Mael rubs a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. There is no one here, and yet . . .

He has no place in Britannia, nor a reason to return there. Too much suffering is on his shoulders, too much grief for him to express his own. And with the role he played in Escanor’s passing — how foolish he had been to believe that Elizabeth could heal the damage inflicted by Sunshine, how naive to trust in Escanor’s words over his own understanding of the man’s life — he would no doubt face scathing ire from the Sins, who loved Escanor as a comrade and a friend. And the Celestial Realm is in ruins, hardly fit to live in. Mael is well and truly alone in this world, and he presses himself to his feet and lifts his gaze to study the first blooming stars. He does not know where he will go from here, but he decides that, before he meets whatever fate is in store for him, he will honor those who lost their lives in this senseless war.

He will reignite the flames of the Feast.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Mael stands in the center of the courtyard, watching as the sun begins its slow trek below the horizon. It is cold now, the seasons caught between autumn and winter, and the ivy that climbs the stone pillars is a vibrant, otherworldly green against the tawny hues of the rest of the world, and his breath condenses on the inside of the mask he wears. Only the Grace that had returned to him keeps him from truly feeling the chill; he is shirtless, his feet bare, and without Sunshine he would be trembling. Surrounding him are torches, burning brightly against the oncoming gloom, plates of food and wine at their bases, and a pile of dead branches waits for him to set it alight. His mind is as clear as it can be, his limbs tense for the dance he will perform. When the sun kisses the edge of the sky, he leans over and presses one of his own torches to the kindling, and the bonfire, soaked in oil, roars to life.

Then Mael begins to dance.

It is Ludoshel he thinks of first, the brother he had all but worshipped in his youth. He remembers his first flight—more of a glide, really, his wings too small and his feathers too new to hold him aloft for more than a few moments—how Ludoshel beamed with pride as he landed awkwardly on his feet and ruffled the hair that never laid as prettily as his own. Nights passed with stories, his brother tracing the constellations in the sky and telling them how they came to be: the Warrior, forever chasing the Queen he loved; the clever Fox that marked the beginning of autumn, the Saint and the King and the Dove, until Mael’s head was full of starlight and dreams. Ludoshel’s comfort when he was injured, his hands calloused yet soothing as he bandaged scrapes. Ludoshel, his voice hoarse with held-back tears as he clapped Mael on the shoulder and congratulated him on becoming an Archangel. His brother, and confidante, who had his flaws yet was always good to him.

Mael flicks out an arm, the torch in that hand dangling by his fingertips. To my brother, without whom I would not be. I thank you.

Escanor comes next. Though they had barely known each other at all, the man had been full of kindness and love, the type of person Mael wished he had been three thousand years ago. Their meeting had been violent, to be sure, but even then, even as Estarossa, he had felt a genuine respect for the one who stood against his decree, and knows now that Sunshine did not aid him in that feat. Escanor had not been capable of hatred; his heart was too pure, his capacity for understanding too great. Even in his grief, he had not been cruel, each action meant to end Mael’s life as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, perhaps that is too generous, but whether or not Escanor knew that Cruel Sun would cause a slow death, Mael does not know. They had been bound by Sunshine and Mael had found him, and Escanor had pleaded with him, not once but twice, refusing to accept the self-loathing brewing within Mael’s chest.

He crouches, twisting the torches over his head in a shower of sparks. To Escanor, who was all that I hoped to be and more. I thank you.

Sariel, who taught him to read the affection that lurked beneath abrasive words, and Tarmiel, the one who had never given up his hope that Mael was good, both dead by his hands. Sariel’s tongue had always been like sandpaper, yet he had been the one to teach him how to be agile, how to stay moving in the air so no one enemy could get close enough to do him harm. Tarmiel, gentle and sweet, had encouraged him, shown him the proper way to grip a sword and how he could use his size to make his opponents think he was slower than he was to keep the upper hand. Monspeet, an unwilling victim of the illness that had festered within Mael as the decree at away at his sanity; Derieri, who sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him; Oslo, who was Rou, a loyal companion that devoured Mael’s magic so that the Fairy King could live.

Without that, without them, he would not have survived, and he lets the fire lick his shoulders as he draws the torches along his chest. To those who gave themselves so that I would be free. I thank you.

In one fluid movement, he lunges forward and places the torches atop the fire, his magic working to heal his hands even as they burn. Then he steps back, removing the mask he had carved from silver aspen and the ceremonial trousers woven from red-dyed wool before placing them within the pile as well, the flames devouring the hopes and prayers held within the objects, turning them into smoke that will hopefully reach the souls they are meant for. The sun is long gone now, the moon at the apex of its journey, and the sweat that had formed as he danced grows cold along his legs and back. Mael picks up the flask of wine he’d brought for himself and opens it to drink, uncaring of his nudity. He must watch until the fire dies, and then he can rest until dawn. Checking the offerings will come in the morning; so he sits and drinks and fasts till only embers remain, smoldering against the shattered stone.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The next morning, he exits his makeshift home, exhausted and more than a little hungover. A quick Invigorate cures him of the latter, but his bones ache as he treks by to the courtyard to clean up the remnants from the Feast. It is an unusually bright day, the sky clear and free of clouds, and the sun warms his back as he kneels down to inspect the first of the offerings, finding it nearly gone. With a faint smile, he moves to the next, and the next, and the last, and each of them has been disturbed more than the birds are capable of, the gifts picked thoroughly and more than half-missing. The sign of a good Feast and answered prayers lifts a weight Mael hadn’t realized he was carrying from his shoulders. He knows that he is by no means forgiven for the atrocities he committed, yet the sight of empty baskets puts him at ease; perhaps now those left behind can begin their healing. He pauses next to the remains of the bonfire to tilt his head back, studying the clear blue stretching endlessly above his head.

“Autumn,” Ludoshel says, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “is a time of rest so that we can be reborn anew, like all that the Supreme Deity’s light touches.”

“I miss you,” Mael replies.

His voice echoes flatly in the air, and he closes his eyes against the grief that swells within him. Rest to be reborn anew.

Footsteps crunch over the dirt, drawing Mael’s attention to the ruined stairs. To his surprise, Meliodas is standing there, his hands in his pockets as he surveys their surroundings, his brows furrowed with what can only be contemplation. Then his green eyes cut across the theater to Mael, and his usual grin slides into place. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says cheerfully, crossing to him. “Or hoped, actually, but Elizabeth said this is where you were most likely to go.”

Mael can only stare at him while his mind tries to comprehend Meliodas being in the Celestial Realm. “Why?” he asks.

He supposes it could have meant why are you looking for me, or why did Elizabeth send you, and Meliodas chooses to answer the former. “I have a proposition for you.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, the Sins do. With Escanor gone, we’re short one, and all of us are used to fighting with Sunshine around. So we want you to join us. There probably won’t be much fighting,” Meliodas adds when Mael stiffens, “since the war is over, which means you’ll mostly be helping run the Boar’s Hat and keeping the peace when we have to.”

He isn’t sure what to make of the offer. “I’m not sure I’m suited to becoming his legacy.”

Meliodas waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s asking for that, or for you to become the Sin of Pride. We’re offering a home, and a chance to do something other than stay here, alone.” His gaze is calculating now as he looks at Mael, almost as though he is daring him to refuse, and he nearly smiles as the old, Estarossa-like desire to meet the challenge swells within him.

“Alright,” Mael agrees. “I’ll go with you. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Buy me a drink.”

Meliodas grins, holding out a hand that Mael clasps warmly within his own, and there’s a rush of fear, longing and hope that makes him tremble. Be reborn, he thinks. I’ll try my best, brother.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #mael #nnt mael #nnt fanfic #nnt fanfiction #my writing #myfic #oneshot #zine work

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queensdivas · 4 years ago

Text

Peonies Chapter 5

This took me a little longer than expected because school has me wrapped up in papers and research projects. Someone do this work for me so I can sleep since I haven’t slept well in nights!!!!!!

But anyway. This chapter was interesting to write and I hope that y’all enjoy!!!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Damn him. Damn him damn him! Grabbing the closest random vase to chuck it against the wall. Me! Sleeping with Peter? I would rather die in a pile of shit that had smallpox than sleep with that moron! It’s been a day and I still find those words making my stomach curl! Maybe another vase? Ah these this naked porcelain statue. Chucking it against the wall as it finally made me feel a little better.

How did I allow one man to have such control over my emotions! To flood my mind, body, and soul as if he is a flash flood in the valley! I don’t even..I’m going to drive myself into a pit of never ending darkness. That damn man with those...beautiful blue pools of his eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes in my life. Those strong cheekbones that could cut someone with a knife.

FUCK!

Maybe write a letter..I imagine the family is missing me and I’ve only written two letters so far here. Father is probably worried that I’ve been converted to the Orthodox ways. (Well I’ve been breaking the laws of the catholic church but luckily these people are too busy with themselves). I sat down at my desk to begin thinking on how to send back a positive message when I’m dying on the inside.

Dear Father.

Remind me to never make allies with Russia if I ever become Queen of Italy. These people are uncultured, disgusting horny toads! It feels like I have walked into a brothel except they’re not a bunch of dirty poor people. Now it’s a vast amount of extremely broad people on the court.

I’m not asking for you to save me or come galavanting from the homeland to come save me. Catherine still needs a lot of help and it’s getting worse before it gets better. To think that I gave the Russians the benefit of the doubt because I knew Catherine would be a little sensitive to the whole situation. But this is just horrible. I literally witnessed the Emperor laying with someone in the middle of the hall!

This is definitely a reminder of what not to do when I become Duchess at least. No wild parties at court more than once a week, and no.

My chamber doors bursted open to see Marial storming in, closing the doors behind her. She turned her back and leaned against the door. A panic expression was written on her face as I was waiting for an explanation.

“Yes Marial?” Asking as I continued to work on my letter.

“We’ve got a problem?” I took a sip of my wine that I had sitting out with me.

“Don’t we always?”

“It’s Catherine.” Putting down the quill as I turned around in my chair to stare at her.

“Is Catherine alright?”

“Now that she's Leo , yes. But the ladies..they did something bad. Not extremely bad but bad.” Is this a situation where I should be extremely worried? Worried? Or just a pat on the shoulder should make her feel better.

“After we passed out the eggs to the ladies of the court, Lady Svenska invited her to the tea party she threw, they were in a dance and one of the ladies punched her in the noise and caused her nose blood.” No. NO! NOT WHILE I’M AROUND!

“Are they still at their dance?” Popping up from the chair as I walked over to my trunk.

“Yes. They will be for another hour or two.” Which means pastries and tea will be required. Did I bring it? I really thought I brought it YES!

“Please let Catherine know that I will be handling these women the way they should’ve been. Tossed back down to the station they truly belong in, not what they thought.” Ordering Marial as I rang my bell for Fernanda. She came in as I placed the bottle on the end of the desk.

“Yes M’Lady.”

“Did we bring tea dance attire?” Asking her as she nodded.

“Great. Get my full attire ready, I’m going to way these peasants.” AS before you know I hate wearing the wigs, corsets, layers of face paint, and the dress. But duty calls in this situation because no one lays a hand on my cousin!

Taking off my boots as I heard someone come running into my room as I waited to see who it was. Catherine slid in as I was still sitting there taking off my boots. If she thought she could talk me out of this then she’s surely mistaken.

“Chiara please don’t!” Catherine begged as Fernanda came in with the dress as Catherine looked like she was going to explode.

“You don’t have any idea how this country works and if you do something like this then you could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Catherine stood directly in front of me as I leaned back against the chair.

“Well your last plan turned out to be a disaster and look what they did!”

“Minor setbacks tend to happen in these situations.”

“You’d call that minor?” Pointing directly as her nose as I got up from my desk.

“Please Chiara just because this works in your country doesn’t mean the same thing here. Peter will see this as an attack and were right in the middle of a war! He would be more than happy to send soldiers just because you caused half the women of the court to suffer.” Rolling my eyes as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Marial poked her head into the bedroom as we both turned to face her.

“There’s always smacking me down.” See we wouldn’t be in this situation if Catherine would’ve just listened to Marial and I!

“Yes! Look if you don’t smack her down then I’ll be taking this matter into my own hand. And of course it has to be in public. And you’ll really have to say something to really piss off Catherine.” She knows that if she doesn’t do it then I’ll be doing what I do best.

“The horse fucking.”

“Cause allegedly you did. Though I don’t know how you would but maybe if you sort of..”

“Fine. Tonight Elizabeth is throwing a party in honor of the archbishop being selected so I guess we’ll do it there. Can we talk privately?” Catherine whispered as I looked at Fernanda to leave the room. Marial followed suit to close the bedroom door for me to sit back down at my desk.

“Though I appreciate you willing to avenge my attack. I think you enjoy getting ahead of yourself.”

“We’re family. No one hurts la mia famiglia.” I turned away from her to walk over to the small liquor table that sits in my bedroom. Pouring her a glass of wine then grabbing mine from my desk.

“Here. Something to make you feel a little at home.” Handing it to her then she looked at the bottle.

“Gaja Ornellaia. Dark and sweet.” Clinking glasses together as we both took a sip. Motioning her to sit as she sighed.

“How do you deal with women of the court? Sucking up to them sounds torturous and there’s no way that I can stoop to their level of living.” Catherine sat down on one of the loveseats for me to sit down at my desk.

“This court is one that I won’t be forgetting till the day I die. It’s one that has been let loose to do their own bidding. For the moment I wouldn’t suck up to them, but obviously we’re on a mission to make everyone in favor of you instead of Peter. So gifts. Not like your golden eggs but something that will truly aid them in their boring day to day lives. Maybe a better doctor for instance, or even a dentist. Lord knows how rotted their teeths are and could use at least some sort of cleaning. Though they say their modern, it’s more a barbaric modern.”

“You’re the empress Catherine. You have a lot more power at your fingertips then you realize and they’re trying to make you inferior because you’re new to the court. If you really wanted to you could strip down Svenska from her station if you truly wanted to. Lord knows I would at this point in my mind.”

“The ladies are led by Svenska with the amount of money..”

“Who's the Empress of Russia? Who rules Russia? The donkey face can’t even work up the courage to hit you she sends one of her ladies to do it. I really need to find that mean bone in your body and drag it out of you. I’d hate to say it but there is no such thing as a loving Queen. Most of us who are in royal power must rule with an iron fist but that doesn’t mean to be a monster onto the people like your moron of a husband.”

“Be truthful and fair to the people. Gain their trust in the way they need it, not you.” Close enough.

“Tell me Chiara. What exactly were you going to do with the ladies if I hadn’t come by to stop you?”

“Remember that cruise two years ago?”

“Chiara!”

“What! It worked last time, why wouldn’t it work a second time.” It really would’ve and if something like that happens again while I’m around it will work again.

Catherine put her glass of wine down to then lean a little more towards me which caused me to lean back against the seat.

“You’re a lot more bitter than usual. Is everything alright?” No. Everything is not alright! How can any of this be alright! This country! These people! Backwoods! Horny toads that just do whatever they Goddamn please without respecting..Oh it’s not even that! Fucking Grigor accusing me of sleeping with the moron Emporer who has a mind of a child! How dare he accuse me! I wouldn’t have any sort of sexual contact with him if he was the last man on this earth. If the gates of hell were open and the choice for me to go into Heaven was having sex with Peter I still wouldn’t partake in it!

“Peachy. Just absolutely peachy.” Chugging the rest of my wine to then throw my empty glass against the wall.

“You know that scared me for the first few weeks of being here. But now..” Finishing her drink to then chuck it against the wall. Shattering against it as she laid down on the love seat.

“But now it’s become a permanent sound in my mental wallpaper.” Grabbing the bottle to then walk over to where she was laying then sat down next to her. Getting comfortable as I pulled the cork out with my teeth to spit it across the room. Taking a drink to then give her the bottle.

I’ve yet to look at the top of my room since I moved in. They’re cupids that are dancing around in the clouds. Not sure who exactly designed this room but those cupids...they're so masculine..Why are they so muscular? I know no baby ever comes out this muscular no matter who the father is. Zeus himself could not ever make a baby this muscular!

“Catherine. Catherine. Lookup.” Pointing directly at them as her head tilted in curiosity.

“They’re cupids.”

“Yes they’re cupids. But have you ever noticed that they’re extremely muscular. They’re babies and have more muscles than Zeus himself. Just look!” We began laughing as the bottles continued to go back and forth between the both of us. This is exactly what I think we both needed. No men, no Government, not worrying about anything and just laughing at extremely masculine cupids.

“How is Leo? How is having a lover in your life?”

“It’s..intoxicating and confusing. When I first arrived I planned to make Peter fall in love with me as I am a romantic. Then tossed into a wheel of uncertainty. Leo says that he has fallen for me and..it feels so wrong from everything I’ve once believed in.” That’s one word to describe everything I’ve gone through so far.

“Our worlds are messy. We always think that it will be easy as those before us. But the world...people..him..it’s unclear.”

What am I doing? I’m to be a Grand Duchess in the next year or two, there’s a possibility of being a Queen and I’m in a tiny crisis on how to deal with some Russian that’s just using to get back at his wife? That didn’t even feel like the case till he brought up Peter and the accusation. But...look what he’s going through in his life as I imagine he doesn’t want his wife to be behaving like this.

Grigor...Grigor...for some reason the thought of his arms being wrapped around me is helping me fall asleep..so peacefully. He does this thing with his thumb where it glides up and down where it’s placed and it brings such comfort.

After drinking for a little longer than predicted. Catherine and I ended up sleeping directly where we were sitting for more than two hours. Alcohol is such a good night medicine. Fernanda came in to wake us as we both felt like brand new people and we had to get ready for Elizabeths party.

Per usual I truly didn’t feel like getting shoved into a dress and from what I’ve gathered about Elizabeth this party will end up becoming a clothes off party. So why not just dress the part but not get involved. Besides...I want to piss off Grigor for his accusation so why to wear as little as possible for something he’s not receiving.

My beautiful crafted corset that was pink with gold floral designs all around it. My plain white long sleeve shirt was underneath the corset with my nice pair of black pants and boots. Quite the scandal some would say. (But as you know it’s me just trying to be comfortable.)

“Boot dagger.” Fernanda tossed the sheathed knife onto the bed as I placed my boot on the bed and placed it in the boot. And now we’re set.

“Feel free to let loose tonight. I should be able to get myself ready to sleep and probably will be extremely intoxicated.” She nodded as I fixed my shirt so that my chest would be a little more exposed than most times.

Wait, something is missing. Rings yes, boot knife yes, and OH! Necklace! Walking to the desk to pull out my jewelry box to pull out my pearl necklace. The first few rows of pearls were tight around the neck itself then relaxed across my chest. Oh yes. Much better.

Walking out of my bedroom to already hear the madness going down near the end of the hallway. I really need a break from this palace. I’m in Russia and I should be going into the cities to at least see them! Maybe Catherine would be up for a trip to Moscow or Saint Petersburg sometime soon. I think that it would do her some good to go out and see the people to get a complete understanding of the country that she lives in. It does no good for a rising Empress to preach about change when she hasn’t met her own subjects. At home I would constantly go out and about to see my people. Support their businesses and make sure everything was doing okay. Yes her and I are in different situations but going out every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

Walking into the party to see people were holding snakes, animals, and...a bird? I must admit this is one interesting party. Reminds me of when we had an animal exposition a few months back and I got to see a Tiger from China! But I imagine that would be impossible here due to the fact that the tiger would eat all of them up.

Looking around to see the ladies were sitting around the fireplace laughing as I wanted to choke the donkey face till she turned a different color. Ah and George. The Emporers would be where you had the audacity to become angry when Grigor and I were fooling around. The hypocrisy that spills from her mouth is exhausting.

Speaking of Grigor, where is he? Trying not to look suspicious as I searched the room to see him sitting with Peter and children as they drink wine? They look around 10? Mother didn’t even let me touch a drop besides communion till I turned at least 12! He looked directly at me to form a smile on his face. Maybe I over blew the whole situation. Tends to be a problem of mine which I need to fix.

“These parties..so interesting.” Catherine commented as we continued into the party. A waiter passed by with one glass as I snuck it for myself.

“Remember the plan.” Winking as we both sat down with the bitches.

“So. Tell me of your lives here.”

“All is bliss in the court of Peter.”

“Of course life is bliss here. But if tiny improvements could be made, and I could help you as Empress, that would gladden my heart to be a friend and a use to you all.”

“Why don’t you stop the war?” Why don’t you stop being a child? Impossible. They all chuckled as I wanted to scream.

“I will note it down. But it is probably beyond me at this point. Maybe more immediate things.” I can’t chime in on this because I don’t really live here full full time. (Though it feels like I’ve been living here for ages!)

“Well, the carriages are always in disrepair. They do not fix it fast enough.” George chimed in. Always being helpful in gaining her own glory.

“I see. I shall look into it. How is your son Tatyana? Boris. He was unwell?”

“Fucking Chekhow saw him, but...We need better doctors than the Chekhovs. Boris coughs blood, and the fool puts leeches on his throat. I do not know doctoring but it seems ridiculous. And my dearest Boris gets sicker.” I truly can not imagine the horror of how this country would handle an outbreak of any sort of disease. Even if precautions are made to keep them at bay.

“He basically killed Raisa.”

“Exactly.”

“Indeed. We must have the most modern medicine. We shall bring a new doctor from France.”

“What a friend you are to us. How is Leo?” Is her life so dull that she must pry her big disgusting nose into Catherines love affair? Looking over to Catherine who looked uncomfortable for just a moment then smiled.

“He makes my skin tingle and my heart gladden.” They all giggled as I wanted to scream. It’s a private affair!

“Surely more detail than that. If you really are our friend, we will need you to open up to us, if it is true and we are to feel you love us.”

“Shut up, whore!” OH SHIT! Taking a sip of my wine after Marial yelled at her. In reality I’m trying not to laugh because holy shit that’s funny!

“She cannot…”

“Apologize!” Her and Catherine exchanged a look as I was ready. C’mon Catherine! Use that mean bone!

“I will see her later. Go back to your quarters, Marial.”

“NEEEEEIGH!” Catherine stood up to slap the living shit out of her to the point she almost fell down on the ground. Everyone gasped as I was sipping my wine trying not to laugh at these dumbasses.

“Do not ever do that! That goes for all of you. Am I heard?” The ladies in the circle slightly nodded as my eyes were directly on Svenska. I know the ass face was responsible for this mess and I’ll be dealing with it even after this. Oh did you think I forgot about the whole tea dance? Far from it.

“I have spoken to my husband on this, and he sees it as a sleight on him. If it is heard again, no matter what family, what wealth, they will be a servant stripped of everything and we will slap the shit out of them on a daily basis! Am I heard?” And that is how you do it!

“Marial, wipe the blood from your nose. Pour me wine.” Catherine sat down as Marial began to pour her wine.

“Now, other things you ladies need from me? Lady Svenska, can I help you in any way?”

“No Empress. I am satisfied.”

“Mmm. Marvelous. Good day then.” Catherine got up from her seat as I stayed exactly where I was for a few minutes. I’m waiting to see if ass face will say something smart right after Catherine has left.

“What are you waiting for exactly?” Svenska commented as my focus went directly to her.

“Oh just..watching..and waiting.” Svenska turned back towards Tatyana as I noticed George was staring directly at me. What could she possibly want?

“I think we need to talk.”

“Need or want? I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Her eyebrow was raised at me as I put my drink down.

“And I find it hard to believe that you’re a good woman of any sort. If you want to talk then talk. You have the floor and are ready to tell me all about how you’re the victim and everything you do is for status. Truthfully you enjoy every moment of it that you go out of your own way to spend all your time with him.”

I waited for a few moments for her to say something back against my statement but what does she have against me? Being a whore? She’s already got that covered in her department so what would that even do against me?

“The Emperor is about to announce the new patriarch to the court.” A servant told us as I got up from my chair to then walk away. Stupid woman.

We walked into a large sitting room as the new patriarch was wearing his garments as Peter was standing on top of the love seat. I stood next to Leo as I noticed Grigor was coming to stand next to me.

“The new Patriarch! Huzzah!”

“Huzzah!”

“Oh! To the Empress! She is finding her feet here, and her fists.” Took her a minute but we managed to get it out of her.

“Apparently she fucked a horse before she got here!” Damn it….

“For I am all for fucking and after Archie blesses us we will all begin!”

“Huzzah!” Glad to know that after everyone is blessed that they’re basically saying yeah God take it back. Didn’t need it in the first place.

“Can we talk?” Grigor whispered for me to raise my eyebrow.

“You and your wife truly love to talk don’t you?” Not looking directly at him as I kept my head straight forward.

“Please Chiara. I really….” Maybe he is sorry. I feel like this is becoming a usual song and dance for us these past few weeks. Nodding for the two of us to turn around and walk out of the room.

We started down the hallway keeping absolutely silent towards each other. Who exactly was going to start this conversation? Not me because at this moment I have nothing to say on the matter besides saying sorry for being a little over dramatic, and that’s it. He stopped walking to move in front of the fireplace to warm himself up a little. Turning towards me to let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry that I accused you of sleeping with Peter because of my own personal problems. It wasn’t right and I truly feel horrible for saying that…” I could tell that he wanted to say much more but was working on it. My hands were behind my back as I waited for him to finish his statement.

“Grigor it’s not a..

“Chiara I’ve fallen for you.” He interrupted me as I was confused by what he just said. What?

“I have fallen for you Duchess Chiara.” It sent shivers down my spine. What why? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and now he’s fallen. Oh no...no no no.

“I am not the romantic type Grigor. I am not like my cousin who will bring you a twig to show love and unity. I..I don’t care for it.” Truth be told I’ve been avoiding the whole love marriage life ever since I was born. If I marry then I lose everything. The power will go to my husband and I am left to be nothing but a baby making device for my husband.

Yet...this feels different. I feel as if I should be comforting Grigor to hold one another. If I could keep him as a lover for eternity I might be okay with this idea. But marriage is something that I plan on never happening in my life.

“I don’t expect you to have fallen because why would you have fallen for a piece of shit like myself. You’re right about me..I’m nothing but a weakling who can’t even stand up against the moron himself..” He fell to his knees as he was beginning to have some sort of attack on the floor in front of me. Quickly approaching him as I got down on my knees.

“Grigor take a breath.” Rubbing his back as he was trying to catch his breath.

“My mind is beginning to chip away right before my eyes Chiara..” Oh no..no no. Holding him close to me as I kissed the top of his forehead. Okay so me swearing off love may just be a phase like mother said! Or is this just me feeling bad. I’ll figure that out later!

“This..this is just a rocky path in the road of life. We all go through it and eventually it becomes better. Just have to go through the rough path in order to see that beautiful green field on the other...this isn’t helping is it.” He shook his head as I thought I heard a door opening.

“A weakling… I’m such a weakling..” I’d rather the court not see Grigor falling apart in front of their eyes. Laughing was echoing from the hall as I had to get him out of here.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” Telling him as I lifted him up from the ground. We were stumbling around a little as we quickly walked through the palace till we made it to the apartments. No this isn’t meant for me to tackle him and have rough sex. Rather..rather not let the court see him breaking down when he’s the most important members of Peters court.

Opening the door to my apartment as he walked in then slamming the doors shut. Locking it as he fell onto the love seat. His breathing did calm down a little bit yet he was still in some sort of a panic state. Water.

“God how am I a man? Any man would’ve killed the other man for sleeping with his wife..you 're right..” Okay now I’m feeling horrible. I poured him a glass of water to then sit on my knees next to Grigor.

“Drink some water.” He sat up to take the glass from my hand.

“How could anyone love me...I’m such a coward. I can’t even fuck my wife...she has to go to someone else in order to fill that void...that desire that I can not fufill.” Well that’s utter bullshit because being railed by him was marvelous.

“Stop that! There is no need to bring down yourself because of your wife being a total whore. Grigor I’m sorry...I’m sorry for being such a cunt towards you. We both come from completely different worlds and I have to remember sometimes that this isn’t home..You’re not a weakling or a coward. This is just a difficult situation that probably doesn’t help that I’ve been acting so horrid towards you..” His glass was empty as I took it from him to place it down on the ground. My hands cupped his cheeks as he held onto them, he closed his eyes to put his forehead against mine.

“May I stay here for the night?” Grigor asked for me to nod.

“I can’t spend another night alone. Not another night…” Sitting up to then wrap my arms around him. He picked me up to then pull me into his lap which made me giggle a little. It’s kind of fun just being hoisted up into someone's lap.

“I don’t plan on making love with you tonight Chiara.” Oh really? This is rather shocking because I figured he would’ve found a way to seduce me into the bed.

“And why is that? Got tired of me already? We’re those three days….or five..still a little blurry with the amount of wine and food

“Never. You are the only good thing that has come from my dreadful existence here.” Somehow I think he’s right.

“I’m really wanting a glass of vodka. Care for some?” Asking as he was rubbing his eyes.

“Please.” Climbing off to walk over on my refilled liquor shelf. Two of my biggest glasses filled with vodka as I imagine it’s like water to him at this point. Just like how wine is like water, just drink it like water. Sitting back down on his lap to give him the glass, clinking out glasses as we both chugged down the vodka. HOLY SHIT THIS BURNS GOING DOWN STILL HOLY CRAP!

“Still getting used to it aren’t you?” He began to laugh as I shook my head then blinked a few times.

“Indeed. But it acts fast and my fingers are already feeling wonderful. How about another?” I’m just going to grab the glass bottle so I can stay comfortable on his lap. Skipping to the bottle as I pulled the cork off and placed it on the table.

“If you would’ve told me when we first met that I would be letting you sit on my lap after our first introduction. I would’ve thought they were mad.” Good times from a few weeks ago when I had a large stick up my ass. Sitting back down to take a swing from the bottle then hand it to him.

“Or me having some sort of relationship with you after I almost beat you with my sabre. How the world changes before our own eyes.” We both nodded to continue passing the glass bottle back and forth to one another.

I could feel it coursing through my veins like water rushing down a river after a rainstorm. It feels incredible! Vodka is truly a wondrous type of alcohol that loves to scorch my throat. Oof. As much as I would love to sit on his lap for a long time, my bed looks absolutely enticing for us to crawl in. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind crawling into bed.

“Would you mind if we got into bed? Your lap is comfortable but my bed just feels so much better. Please Grigor?” Without questioning it. He sat up as my legs wrapped around his back for us to start heading towards the bed. As much as I love not being pounded into oblivion in this position..this is fun! Wait for the corset. I can not get into my sleep mindset if I’m stuck wearing this cage.

He put me down on the bed as I sat on my knees to then begin taking off my corset. Crap Fernanda really tied the bow up high to the point I can’t reach it. His fingers began messing with the string as I felt the air entering my body once again. Tossing it across the room to untuck my shirt from my pants.

“Thank you.” Turning to face him as we leaned in to kiss one another. Softly kissing one another as he placed his hand on my cheek.

“Picnic with me tomorrow. There’s a beautiful tree that the leaves just dance with the wind that is just beautiful.” Yes. I said that I wanted to get some sort of fresh air and the timing could not be more perfect!

“It’s only been one day since I’ve been away from your bed, and I’ve missed the way it feels. Warm..comforting, can be a bit rough but eventually I become in a state of relaxation.” Grigor became comfortable down on the bed as I joined him on top of the covers. He placed his hand on my cheek as I kissed his hand.

“I know you don’t love me or have fallen for me...but thank you.” He drifted to sleep as I began to scoot closer to him. He must’ve felt me move because I was pulled closer to him and tucked into his chest.

This is nice.

Very nice.

taglist!

@mirkwoodshewolf @bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @johndeaconshands @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @radio-ha-ha @i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @deck-heart @actuallyanita @the-baby-bookworm @sadhwstudent @panagiasikelia @ewannmcgregor

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