#arabella of temeria

[windflowerofskellige]

Adda is an older sister, and older sisters are supposed to take care of their younger sisters. Adda doesn't understand this concept but she does remember when Arabella was born and she looked over the crib to the very small tiny human sleeping there.

It took Foltest months to get Adda to stop leaving scraps of meat on the baby. But when she held the impossibly small child she screamed and cried when her father took her away. Adda did not understand how something was so small, but those big eyes looked up at her and she babbled and clung and she knew she'd do anything for her.

No one really understood Adda, but the toddler wobbled as she walked and babbled on and on. No one really seemed to understand the toddler either.

Adda remembered the first time though, that she realised her sister might be like her. Those big eyes were usually starry and bright but, in an impossibly itchy dress, during the middle of a loud ball, her sister started screaming. She rushed over instinctively grabbing her sister away from the noble boy she was playing with. Her sister screamed and kicked and bit and the realisation hit her.

It's loud. Adda thought. And despite the protests and screams she brought the girl out to the garden, not even noticing she was bleeding. She wanted to scream too. But instead she sat her by the lake, with nothing but the crickets and the frogs. The screaming died down and the thrashing stopped and she was left with a hiccuping crying little sister who started bawling more when she realised she was hurt.

She didn't know what to say, so she grabbed a frog and held it up to her. The child, between hiccuping sobs, looked at the frog and quietly reached out and held it. And there they stayed that night. It was better than the loud ball anyways.

Adda is not a typical older sister, meek and demure, she does not tend to her sister's wounds with grace and elegance. That has never been Adda, that will never be Adda. But older sisters are supposed to take care of their younger sisters and what Adda knows how to do is protect, fight.

When their father got home he found his daughter, so small and little, in a bed being tended to by people much more skilled than Adda at caring for those wounds. His other daughter lay there at her bedside, refusing to move. But the dead bodies in her bed chamber of the would-be assassins were not there because of guards or Vernon. No, because Adda had never been disturbed by the sight of blood before, and had taken on men greater than they. But there was one exception to the rule. It should never, ever, be her little sister's blood.

Because Adda is an older sister, and an older sister protects her little sister.

[aljordandraws]

[windflowerofskellige]

Arabella looks over to her husband curled up in a big arm chair full of down stuffed pillows. He is tired, it is written on his face. Negotiations with Kovir and Povis have been less than ideal and it's starting to show. She has already undressed down to lounge wear, he's still in the cloth of gold flossed doublet he wore to negotiations.

"we don't have centuries, Dove."

"Then I'll find a way." He smiles at her. "Is that not what being King is for?"

"Currently, what being King is for is to keep war off our doorstep."

He sighs, resting his face in his hands then brushes his hair back and shakes it out. "Yeah, yeah. It's just..."

"I know." She whispers. "I have a meeting with the dowager queen, if I can..."

He shakes his head, "perhaps when Esterad was King. But now..."

"they say he's straightened out since his youth, what a load of rubbish." Arabella laughs.

"right!" Radovid shakes his head. "If it's war he wants..."

"all of this over a secret society of mages who killed kings... does he not know the danger of the company he keeps? Merigold is flitting about his castle whilst he is unawares of the horrors—" her hands are shaking.

Radovid stands and pulls her against his chest, "shhhh. It'll take time. The wounds are fresh."

"it's been five years. That's not fresh."

"it's barely been a year since the third war, the frenzy amongst the clergy has only just begun to die down, and despite putting Willemar on a pyre for his brutal murder..." he can't say her name. "It's still not enough."

"love, I don't think anything will be enough, I think he's blinded to the truth of the company he keeps."

He brushes her nose against hers, "ah but we have won, no?"

"how so?" She sways with him arms locked around his waist.

"he is unmarried." He points out.

"pft, and that makes us better? To be young and in love?"

"it means, my love, he has not formed alliances. And Nilfgaard will not be quick to aid them should the need arise."

She smiles, "Of course, but without his mother's support he is nothing. I'm going to the meeting tomorrow, you'll wait for me yes?"

"of course darling." He kisses her softly, "I meant it when I said I could wait centuries for you."

Person A: “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

Person B: “For you, my dear, I could wait centuries.”

[witcherrarepaircommentexchange]

ship:

Villem/Original Female Character(s)

fic:

Gilded Cage by ALJordan

The year is 1274 and Arabella of Temeria is the Northern Realm's most influential menace. Nilfgaard is advancing on Sodden's border and she has to start considering marriage; after all she's already sixteen and alliances aren't going to forge themselves. Finding romance in a court marriage is the name of her plan.

[windflowerofskellige]

An angel and a devil on your shoulder, one whispers dark temptations, one only wants the best for you. For the Queen of Temeria however she didn't seem to have an angel, only a striga and a devil.

For her political opponents it was clear as day. The Queen surrounded herself with monsters. But when does a monster become a man? Arabella would say when it is loved.

She certainly loved her sister and husband, and they her. Nothing could sway the young queen. Thusly something strange happened in Temerian history. The Queen was buried next to a striga. And even now, some nights, dark in the family crypt, archivists swear they can hear the giggling of two women.

[windflowerofskellige]

Radovid shoots awake, the words echo in his head.

Long Live the King, she says. Clear as day.

Philippa Eilhart has been dead for years now. Yet even still, Radovid cannot escape her. When he closes his eyes he is there, in a puddle of his own blood and fear. Eilhart is standing over him. It is both what was, and what could've been.

He swings his legs out of the bed and stands looking at himself in the glass of the window. There are scars, permanent physical reminders of the woman that was killed so brutally, though not by his hand. He will never be free. He closes the curtains, more nauseous than when he woke.

A rustling makes him turn back to the canopy bed, his wife is sitting up now watching him.

"sorry, did I startle you?" He asks quietly.

"did you have the nightmare again?" She deflects.

He frowns. "They're becoming more frequent."

She rubs her eyes. "She's long dead."

"I know, it just seems so real..."

Radovid walks back over to the bed and sits himself in front of her.

She gently takes his knuckles, scarred as they are, and presses a kiss to them. "You're safe with me, darling. You're always safe with me."

He doesn't feel safe, but he lets himself try to go back to sleep.

Long Live The King? 👀

Long Live the King

[windflowerofskellige]

"Yes, your grace?" I say, knowing there is so much more beneath your stone cold grieving face.

In another life perhaps I could've been your mentor.

And in another life perhaps I would hold you.

But I have always understood the weight of duty, and I will always understand the crown that binds you.

[windflowerofskellige]

"You'll be my queen

I'll be your king

And I'll be your lover, too"

Van Morrison — I'll Be Your Lover, Too

[windflowerofskellige]

GUYS LOOK AT MY WALL! AUGH ITS SO COOL!!! Thank you @sparrow-in-boots, @vakarians-babe, @felrija, and @fawnnbinary for some of the amazing art on my wall!!! The other stuff is art I did, a sketch my sister did, my shrine to shigaraki of unsourced art I found on pinterest when I was 16, and photos of my siblings.

[arrthurpendragon]

Is there someone out there who would be willing to read:

Title: Gilded Cage

Author: windflowerofskellige

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Villem x OC, Radovoid x oc

Rated 18+: No

Total Chapters Available (as of Dec. 7): 7

Summary: The year is 1276 and Arabella of Temeria is the Northern Realm's most influential menace. Nilfgaard is advancing on Sodden's border and she has to start considering marriage; after all she's already eighteen and alliances aren't going to forge themselves. Finding romance in a court marriage is the name of her plan. Links: AO3

message me if you're interested

I know there is still plenty of time to get people signed up for fics, but I'm hoping that by seeing via Tumblr what awesome fics we have - more will want to participate!

So if you don't want to see the posts blacklist #review it or lose it (That's all the cleverness I could come up with in 30 seconds of thinking lol)

[windflowerofskellige]

A Royal Couple

[windflowerofskellige]

"When the river's running red, and we begin to falter. We'll hang onto the edge, come hell or high water."

[windflowerofskellige]

"what makes a man a monster?" He asked.

Arabella looked out over the horizon, "when they have been dreadfully stained by an evil they cannot wash off."

He kicked his feet on the edge of the balcony, "then what makes a monster not a monster, your excellency, if you're so well versed in them?"

The Queen smiled sadly, bumping her shoulder against him. "When he is loved."

[aljordandraws]

FINALLY Finished my ship art for my babes based off of these references ! I love them! This is post marriage and hey you get to peep arabella's collarbone scar!

[aljordandraws]

A quick warmup of an older arabella

[windflowerofskellige]

Words Not Said

Radovid never said I love you. Arabella had grown used to this by this point. She knew he loved her, she knew he'd think it, but he never said this.

Her father had told her he loved her often. It was a natural state of existence for Arabella. Until recently she knew she was loved and never had reason to question, nor doubt the veracity of the statement. Her sister was less frequent but even she would tell her she loved her.

Radovid did not say the words. He'd admit to it, he'd allude to it, he'd call her affectionate pet names and hold her hand, he'd even say I adore you. He would not say he loved her.

Arabella of Temeria stood tall like her mother but had a soft presence like her father. The Queen of Temeria however was becoming increasingly aware of the dislike of her.

Arabella of Temeria was no longer a beloved figure, cute as a button, a child who could do no wrong. She was the figurehead, a leader, someone to blame their problems on. She had marched into battle, led young men to their deaths, and let Nilfgaard on their lands.

She sat in her chambers, their chambers, shaking from being screamed at by a magistrate. They did not understand the position she was in, and she knew her father had dealt with this day in and day out. Still how did her father maintain his smile? His beloved smile that always lightened her day and the soft words "I love you, rhenawedd" that could make all her troubles about frogs and princes melt away.

The door shuts behind her. She can see Radovid in her hand mirror. She sets it down and turns to him.

"Do you want him executed?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head.

He kneels down in front of her hands clasped in her lap. "Are you okay?"

"Is it true what he said?" Arabella asks.

He furrows his brows.

"he said... He said no one would love me and I'd die cold alone and miserable." She mutters.

"that's not true. Your sister cares about you, I adore you. That is more than enough, and whatever the magistrate does or says it will not change that." He says gently.

Her heart crashes against her chest falling to the pit of her stomach and breaking every rib on the way down. "If you don't love me don't lie to me about it."

The words tumble out faster than she can stop them. She touches her cheek, it's wet. There's rain in the castle, odd.

He pulls back. "I don't understand?"

"You never say it! Never! It's always I adore you and other allusions you've never said it. Would it kill you to say it?" She snaps.

The most miniscule of change happens in his confused expression. He looks hurt. He stands again, "I'm sorry, would you like me to leave you be?"

She would hate that. "It's whatever I don't care anymore."

He closes the door behind him. Maybe she's the one who's broken?