#bollocks to the coronation

[administratumadept]

Graffiti seen locally:

Fuck the king

Feed the poor

[frenchchairs]

The holy oil to anoint King Charles III on his coronation, has been consecrated in Jerusalem.

Oh thank goodness for that. I’ll sleep easier tonight.

[thealanwrightblog]

King's coronation: the bollocks continues.

The cross containing 'shards used in Christ's crucifixion' to be used in procession.

You couldn’t make this stuff up. Actually - they did!

[heliophile-oxon]

In the immortal words of (mostly) Celtic and (some) Rangers fans setting aside their ancient and bitter rivalry and coming together in an unprecedented and inspiring display of unity at Hampden Park on Sunday 30/04/23 ...

“you can stick your coronation up your arse”

This expresses my feelings precisely.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

teehee its my birthday buuuuuut i am here clawing for nikprice on the ground like a chicken. anyway i wonder how would a nikprice drunk confession go. i just love that trope to death lol

It's your birthday? Happy birthday, mate! A small gift...

Price gets a medal and then gets drunk at the after party. Nik is surprised to hear what he has to say. No one else - and I mean, no one else - is.

cw: alcohol, drunken kiss.

"I hate these bloody things," Price mumbled into his scotch, staring bleary-eyed at his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His speech had been short, concise, and he had spent the majority of it talking about the bravery and dedication of his Task Force. The rest of 'em had prattled on for ages about themselves, preening their egos with the new metal on their chests.

"It is a party in your honour, captain. You did a brave thing. And," Nik leaned back to pluck a canapé from the tray of a passing waitress, "there is free food." He pulled the honey-soaked sausage off the cocktail stick and chucked it in the air, catching it in his open mouth, much to the consternation of a gaggle of RAF officers nearby.

None of them were brave enough to let Nikolai see or hear what they thought of him, because they had all heard enough whispers of his service record to steer well clear. Even top brass were scared enough of him to overlook his multiple active Interpol arrest warrants so that he could attend.

Price smiled as Nik chewed, clearly pleased with his feat of dexterity, and then proceeded to slosh his scotch all over himself as he leaned his elbow against the bar... but missed said bar by about an inch and a half. "Bollocks," he growled, as expensive alcohol soaked into the equally expensive wool of his number one uniform.

Nik chuckled, snatching up a handful of serviettes from the bar. "I am starting to think you are a lightweight," he said, swivelling around in his bar stool so that his knees bracketed Price's, a folded serviette pressed to Price's chest to soak out some of the scotch.

"'M not," Price... slurred, fuck, maybe he was. "You wearin' cologne?"

"Da, number one majesté impériale."

"Sounds posh," Price said, lifting his scotch for another swig.

"Hm, it is $215,000 a bottle."

Price choked on his drink, spluttering it back into the glass. "You spent nearly four times my salary on some cologne?" He wheezed.

"It is a special occasion."

"Bloody fucking christ, Nik. It's a medal ceremony, not a bloody coronation."

"It is more important to me," Nik said, "because it is you."

Price felt his cheeks and ears warm. It didn't help that Nik's big hands were still on his chest, careful to pluck away the stray fibres of serviette from where it clung to the damp wool. This close, Price couldn't help but stare.

Fuck, he was so... handsome.

Nik had made an effort to look, and smell, his best. In his expensive tailored three-piece, no tie, because... well, who would be brave enough to tell Nikolai to put on a fuckin' tie? The open top button gave Price a really good view of his chest hair peeking through at the top. Oh, fuckin'... Hot, it was hot in here. Damn uniform.

"Careful, captain, you will fall," Nik said softly, palm pressed to the centre of Price's chest. Price had been leaning forward. Leering. Oh, this was embarrassing. He cleared his throat, shuffled back, and beckoned the barman over for a refill.

Two more glasses, one of vodka and another of scotch, and Price chanced a glance over at Nik again. "Thanks... for, uh, coming to this. The boys like the schmoozin', Simon doesn't stay longer than the talks, don't blame him, but, I, uh..."

"You find it hard to navigate the politics because you are honest and they," Nik waved his hand vaguely around the room, "are not."

Price smiled faintly. "Yeah, guess so. Full of compliments today, Nik. Man might get the wrong idea."

"Or... the right idea."

Price froze with the glass halfway up to his mouth. Even through the drunken dog, he managed to parse the meaning behind that. In payment, however, his brain had decided to bury his entire knowledge of the English language, so all he could do was make a small noise in the back of his throat, which he smothered with a large mouthful of scotch.

Nik hadn't turned in his stool, his knees still spread wide either side of Price's, and Price wanted to shuffle a little closer. He wanted those hands back on his chest, and he wanted... Christ, he just wanted. He had wanted for a long fuckin' time.

"Here," Nik said, sliding a plate of sausages over to Price. "It will absorb some of the scotch."

"Urf, naw, can't stomach that shit..."

"Then we shall go elsewhere."

"Wot?"

"Come, captain. The sergeants left for the clubs ten minutes ago."

"They did? Bastards..."

"Da. I will get your coat."

The fresh evening air hit Price like a sledge hammer to the face, and he was pretty sure he would have fallen in the gutter without Nikolai to lean on. He was intimately aware of the strong arm around his waist, one of his hands clinging onto Nik's expensive wool coat as they staggered into the local Maccy D's for a Big Mac and chicken nugget share box.

Nik paid for it, flashing his most charming smile at the young girl behind the counter as he collected the highly decorated SAS captain from where he was clinging onto a nearby condiments bench for support, takeaway bag in hand.

They ended up sat on a bench by the Thames, dressed to the nines, Nik smelling of thousand dollar cologne as he wolfed down over-salted MacDonald's chips at Price's side, and Price couldn't stop staring at him.

Nik could be anywhere else. Anywhere. He could be partying with the wealthiest men and women in the world, walking among the elite, and yet here he was sitting in London eating shitty fast food with a drunk soldier. He chose Price every time. Every time. Price felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. "Nikolai..."

"Da, captain."

"I think I love you."

Nik grinned, huffing a soft chuckle. "Mmhm."

"No, no," Price swiped his beret off, which had somehow managed to cling onto his head while they had staggered through the mean streets of Westminster. "I... I'm serious. I... I love you. Have for, uh," he hiccuped, fucking hiccuped, tried to recover by puffing into his clenched fist, "...have for a while," he squeaked. Oh, fuck, was that indigestion?

Nik put his box of chicken nuggets aside and turned, arm draped over the back of the bench. He slid a gloved hand under Price's chin and turned his head up. Seconds later, they were kissing. Fucking... Nik's fucking lips were on Price's and, and...

Price hiccuped again.

Nik chuckled into his mouth, before drawing away to smooth his thumb through Price's beard. "This is not how I imagined it, but it is... somehow, right."

Price's face was bright red, he could feel it burning, and his eyes were wide. "You, uh... You..."

"For many, many years, solnyshko."

"We've... that's a... a long time." Price said softly.

"I am a patient man. And you are worth waiting for."

After that, Price didn't really recall much. The MacDonald's hit the deck and Price climbed Nikolai like a bloody tree. They ended up in his hotel room, with Nik's expensive suit and Price's (honestly, perhaps slightly less) expensive uniform on the floor. It might have gone further than boyish fumbling if Price hadn't fallen asleep face down in the pillows after saying he didn't want to take advantage of Nik in his current state. Nik had chuckled at that and laid down next to him, stroking his hair.

Price woke up in the morning with a sore head and a dry mouth, and found Nik sitting by the open window in a hotel dressing gown. "Nik, did I..."

"Nyet, captain. You were an absolute gentleman." Nik put the newspaper aside and took his glasses off, delivering the waiting pint of water and aspirin to Prices hands. "Do you... remember what you said?"

Price's cheeks reddened. "Yeah, look, I'll understand if--"

He didn't get to finish. Nik kissed him squarely on his stupid mouth, stroking a big palm through his hair. When he drew back, he hummed softly. "Drink that and then we will go to breakfast," he said, walking away. Price couldn't help but stare as the dressing gown slid down his broad back, revealing a full arse framed in black boxers. "And brush your teeth."

Price downed the water and staggered from beneath the duvet. He was ready to head down within ten minutes, desperate for a strong coffee and a greasy sarnie. Unfortunately, the rest of his task force, Los Vaqueros, Chimera, Laswell and a handful of her agents happened to be in the dining room already.

"Eyy, there he is!" Gaz called, toasting his mug of coffee.

Soap looked round, glanced at Nik and then back at Price. "Fuckin' finally."

Laswell rested her chin on her palm. "Bagged your man then, Nik. Well done."

Price blinked, squinting in the bright morning light. "So you all--"

Simon walked past, his plate heaped with bacon and eggs, and shoved a coffee into his captain's hand before patting his shoulder. "Yeah. Everyone did 'cept you."

Price looked at Nik for help, only to receive a shrug and a quirked eyebrow before Nik wandered off to the buffet.

"Bloody bastards," Price muttered, glancing at each triumphant face, thumbs up and smirk, before slumping into a nearby chair. Bloody. Bastards

[mariacallous]

David Cameron has provoked a wave of indignation from Grenfell fire survivors and housing campaigners after claiming that the inquiry agreed with him that fire regulations had not been part of his government’s “red tape drive” to cut regulations.

But campaigners said the former prime minister’s words were “bollocks” and “total bullshit”, since the inquiry report had explicitly said the effect of the Coalition government’s attack on red tape was that “even matters affecting the safety of life were ignored, delayed or disregarded”.

Ed Daffarn, 62, a Grenfell tower resident who raised multiple concerns about fire safety before the fire, said he was “angry but not surprised”, and said Cameron was “failing to take responsibility”.

After Cameron’s government came to power in 2010, it created a “one in, one out” rule where new regulations could only come into force if another was scrapped, later becoming one in, two out and one in, three out.

Survivors of the Grenfell tower fire in June 2017 believe that the lack of regulations and ministers’ failure to act on a coroner’s report into a fire at Lakanal House, another London tower block, eight years earlier had contributed to the avoidable disaster that killed 72 people.

When the inquiry examined the issue, chair Sir Martin Moore-Bick took evidence from Eric Pickles, the housing secretary under Cameron, who made the claim that his prime minister’s “red tape challenge” had specifically excluded fire safety.

The inquiry report said it was “unable to accept his evidence” on the issue, which was “flatly contradicted by that of his officials and by the contemporaneous documents”.

Cameron’s government had excluded one part of fire regulations, the Regulatory Reform (Fire Safety) Order 2005, the inquiry found, but not building regulations and other documents which had a material impact on how construction firms approached fire safety concerns. Pickles’s remarks “served only to reveal the limits of his understanding” about the difference, it said.

In its summary, the inquiry was explicit that “the government’s deregulatory agenda, enthusiastically supported by some junior ministers and [Pickles],dominated the department [for community, housing and local government]’s thinking to such an extent that even matters affecting the safety of life were ignored, delayed or disregarded.”

And it said the government “determinedly resisted calls from across the fire sector to regulate fire risk assessors and to amend the Fire Safety Order to make it clear that it applied to the exterior walls of buildings containing more than one set of domestic premises”.

The former prime minister chose to make his first statement since the report was published last Wednesday in a post on X, formerly Twitter, at 6pm on Friday evening.

Cameron said “all of us who have served in positions of power” had made mistakes and said he wanted to “echo” apologies by Keir Starmer and Rishi Sunak to survivors and the community, saying: “the British state let you down”.

Yet he claimed: “The report is clear that fire safety and building safety regulations were explicitly excluded from the Coalition Government’s greatly-needed ‘red tape reviews’, given the importance we placed on safety and build quality. Indeed, the Coalition and post-2015 governments took steps to increase fire safety regulation.”

Pete Apps, who won the Orwell Prize for his book Show Me the Bodies: How We Let Grenfell Happen, said Cameron’s statement was “demonstrably and very clearly total bullshit”.

“Cameron is making the same mistake Pickles did when giving evidence – conflating the regulatory reform order, which was exempt, with the building regulations, which weren’t,” he said, adding that the failures that contributed to Grenfell related to building regulations.

“Whoever wrote that statement for him either hasn’t read the report, has woefully misunderstood or is lying about its conclusions.”

Ed Daffarn, who survived the Grenfell fire, said Cameron and Pickles were acting in the same way as some of the corporations involved, denying culpability in the face of the inquiry’s findings and the impact of the ministerial drive to reduce regulation.

“I feel angry, but I’m not surprised,” said Daffarn. “The report is a damning indictment of a government that put UK plc before the health and safety of Grenfell. The result is that 72 people die because the regulations didn’t keep them safe.

“Cameron and Pickles are failing to take responsibility in the aftermath, despite the overwhelming evidence put before the inquiry and its findings.”

Giles Grover, co-leader of End Our Cladding Scandal, said “that’s bollocks” when told of Cameron’s comments.

“It was Cameron’s government’s focus on deregulation that played a key part in people’s homes not being safe,” Grover said. “His government wanted to ‘kill off the health and safety culture for good’ amid a ‘bonfire of red tape’, and this culture pervaded throughout government, including housing and building regulations, during his tenure as prime minister, whatever he may now wish to believe.”

The Grenfell Next of Kin group, which represents immediate bereaved families, said Cameron’s comments were “staggering”. A spokesperson for the group said: “Has he followed the inquiry or listened to the evidence? We heard quite clearly that from 2010 onwards the government pursued a drive that had a disdain for regulations.”

Masoumeh Samimi, 38, whose mother and aunt were killed in the fire on the 23rd floor, said: “David Cameron is talking without thinking, and his statement is ridiculous. They had a bonfire of regulations, with no regard to the lives of people.

“We buried the ashes of his “bonfire of regulation”. Samimi said she was told as recently as a year ago that police had found “another piece of bone” believed to be part of the remains of her mother.

Jennifer Frame, a former resident of Richmond House, which was destroyed by fire two years after Grenfell, said: “It is astonishing to see former prime ministers who held power and responsibility for the deregulatory culture which led to Grenfell trying to rewrite history to say they are blameless.

“This is just a continuation of the buck-passing and blame-shifting culture that was laid bare by the inquiry. If the political class cannot acknowledge their failings, then nothing will change.

“David Cameron boasted of cutting red tape, and he should not be surprised if the culture he presided over and the so-called ‘bonfire of regulations’ contributed to turning people’s homes into actual bonfires.”

[quoteoftheweekblog]

QUOTE OF THE WEEK 8/5/23 - PRINCE HARRY ‘My mother legendarily said that there were three people in her marriage.’ (Prince Harry, p.49).

 Prince Harry. (2023) 'Spare'. [pdf] New York: Random House. Original source unknown. Accessed 5 May 2023. *****

‘Holyshit. The Crown.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.287).

KING CHARLES III …

‘ ... she began to play the long game, a campaign aimed at marriage and eventually the Crown.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.51).

QUEEN CAMILLA

…

‘She was carefree, sweet, kind …

Her name was Kate.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.125).

CATHERINE, PRINCESS OF WALES

…

‘ … the future King of England, plotting his revenge.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.72).

PRINCE WILLIAM

…

‘Heir, Spare, etc.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.382).

PRINCE HARRY (5th IN LINE TO THE THRONE), PRINCE ANDREW (8th), PRINCESS BEATRICE (9th), PRINCESS EUGENIE (11th), PETER PHILLIPS (17th) AND ZARA TINDALL (20th)

*****

SEE ALSO

‘ … if you like reading pure bollocks then royal biographies are just your thing.’ (Prince Harry, 2023, p.271).

*****

TO MY ANONYMOUS DONOR FOR THIS ORIGINAL SOURCE UNKNOWN PDF

PLUS THIS TIMELY REMINDER OF

DIANA, PRINCESS OF WALES

https://twitter.com/mrkphllps1/status/1653522066203713539?s=46&t=ESc-qZvrzRwY5joSI0XhFA

VIDEO

…

RAINING ON THAT PARADE

*****

HAPPY CORONATION BANK HOLIDAY MONDAY STILL RAINING

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQJj4w9-WuQ

VIDEO

*****

HRH

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/715950443528962048/quote-of-the-week-1523-danielle-steele-we

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/695108538623803392/quote-of-the-week-12922-king-charles-iii-may

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/686254057511370752/quote-of-the-week-6622-sali-hughes-and-the

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/645104577974255616/quote-of-the-week-8321-hilary-mantel-diana

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/189959203379/quote-of-the-week-3011219-craig-brown-m

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/189958968619/101119-my-book-matches-my-windsor-castle

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/188040521744/quote-of-the-week-30919-king-athelstans

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/174314689514/quote-of-the-week-21518-jon-klassen-have-you

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/136123747799/quote-of-the-week-281215-hilary-mantel-for

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/24418490857/quote-of-the-week-4612-alan-bennett-it-was

*****

QUOTE OF THE WEEK 2011 - 2023 11 EPIC YEARS

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/references FROM THE ARCHIVE

https://quoteoftheweekblog.tumblr.com/post/645104577974255616/quote-of-the-week-8321-hilary-mantel-diana

*****

[xtruss]

Adulterer, Boak Bollocks, Killer of Diana, Filthy Clown King: Illustration By Justin Metz/The Guardian

‘The Crowd Were Saying, “Kill Him, Kick Him To Death”’: What Happened To The People Who Protested Against Clown King Charles?

When the queen died last year, republicans balked at the fawning response to the succession. Some even found themselves under arrest for minor acts of protest, such as heckling. Ahead of next week’s coronation, three tell their tales

— By Simon Hattenstone | Saturday April 29th, 2023

Symon Hill was walking back from church on a sunny autumn Sunday when he realised his route was blocked; the roads around Carfax Tower in Oxford were closed off. It was 11 September, the day after Charles Windsor had been officially proclaimed King Charles III in London, and local events were being held nationwide. This ceremony, organised by the council, typified the pomp and pageantry. Hill is a quiet, thoughtful man of 46, but it doesn’t take much to rile him when it comes to the monarchy. He was looking forward to spending the afternoon relaxing with his housemates in their garden, and now he was stuck in a celebration he regarded as archaic and irrelevant.

Hill is a Christian, historian, pacifist, teacher, writer, activist and republican. At the start of the ceremony, which focused on the queen’s death, he was silent: “I wouldn’t interrupt somebody’s grief.” But when “they declared Charles rightful liege lord, and acknowledged our obedience to him as our only king”, Hill had heard enough. “I find this language very demeaning, and I called out ‘Who elected him?’” To his astonishment, he found himself surrounded by security, arrested and eventually charged under the Public Order Act 1986.

Hill’s arrest made the newspapers. Not because his had been an extreme or dramatic protest, but because it had been so mild. How could it have resulted in a criminal charge? On the same day, a 22-year-old woman who allegedly held a placard reading “Fuck imperialism, abolish monarchy” was arrested in Edinburgh for breach of the peace. More overt forms of protest also made headlines. One young man chucked five eggs at the new king and, despite his failure to hit his target, he was also charged with a public order offence.

Perhaps the most alarming story to emerge was that of a barrister threatened with arrest after holding up a blank piece of paper outside parliament. It felt like something we might read about in China or Russia. (Indeed, a couple of months later Chinese protesters used blank pieces of paper to protest against the country’s zero-tolerance Covid policy in what people referred to as the A4 revolution.) What was happening to Britain and its much vaunted democracy? In the days after the queen’s death, as TV stations cancelled regular programming and sombre music was played on the radio, only supine monarchism seemed acceptable.

Hill and I meet in a Wetherspoon pub in Oxford where he orders a non-alcoholic beer. He bears a resemblance to Mole in The Wind in the Willows – small, bespectacled, flat-capped, scrupulously polite and kind. Hill tells me it was his childhood that radicalised him. He was born into a working-class family in the Midlands. When he was six, his mother became housekeeper to a wealthy, aristocratic couple: “We lived in what would have been called a servants’ cottage back in the day.” He admits his memories are partial, but some are still so clear – being allowed to play with the employer’s dog as if it were a treat; the benign patrician taking down a glass of wine to his mother in the kitchen and telling her not to mention it to his wife, who would disapprove. “It made me aware of inequality. As a child, you don’t understand why one woman should be a housekeeper and another should have a housekeeper. I still don’t.”

Hill’s activism has always been bound up with his Christianity, much of his objection to monarchy derived from his faith: “I don’t understand how a Christian can agree to a proclamation declaring somebody other than Jesus to be our only king. I try to live by my faith all the time,” he adds, and reddens slightly. “Obviously I often don’t manage that. But things like trying to love your neighbour is a form of activism for me.” He is the author of The No-Nonsense Guide to Religion and The Upside-Down Bible.

“I called out, ‘Let’s not bow down to our equals.’ Then the security guards pushed me backwards and the police rushed in”

Hill had not planned to protest at the proclamation but stumbled into it. How loud was his heckle? “Loud enough for the people near me to hear. But I know they couldn’t hear it at the front because the Oxford Mail reported an indistinct heckle.” Did he say anything rude? Hill looks appalled. “A couple of people told me to shut up,” he says. He would probably have walked away and found an alternative route home if he hadn’t been stopped by security guards – or crowd management services, as the police later called them. “One told me to be quiet. I asked what authority he had to do that and he said, ‘You could be arrested for breach of the peace.’ I said, ‘I’m not doing anything illegal, I’m just expressing an opinion. If you can have somebody proclaim in favour of monarchy, I’m speaking against it.’”

Hill called out something else to make his point: “Something like, ‘Let’s not bow down to our equals.’ Then the security guards pushed me backwards. I thought they were going to knock me over. As the band started playing God Save the King, the police rushed in and said to the security guards, ‘We’ve got this’ or, ‘We’ve got him’, something like that.” Hill is fastidious about the facts to the point of pedantry. “Then the police grabbed me, twisted my arms back and handcuffed me.”

As he was led to the van, two people challenged the police. “They were both pro-monarchy, middle-class. They said, ‘Well, I don’t agree with him but surely he’s got a right to freedom of speech?’ They walked behind the police challenging them, which I really appreciated.”

‘I’d literally said a couple of sentences in the street’: historian Symon Hill, arrested for asking who elected King Charles. Photograph: David Levene/The Guardian

When Hill was put in the back of the van, he asked on what grounds he had been arrested. An officer admitted he didn’t know. The whole thing was a farce, Hill says. “They didn’t have a clue. It’s an important principle that if you’re going to have rule of law and democracy and human rights, you have freedom from arbitrary arrest.”

He says it was more alarming than the three previous occasions he had been arrested for protesting. In 2013, he was among a group of Christian activists charged with aggravated trespass after blocking an entrance to a London arms fair by kneeling in prayer. “We were found not guilty on a technicality because the police hadn’t read the warning in the proper way before arresting us. The second time I was not charged; the third time the charges were dropped. On all those occasions I wasn’t surprised to be arrested. This time I was gobsmacked. I don’t think I’m naive about police behaviour, but I’d literally said a couple of sentences in the street.”

Hill was then de-arrested without explanation and driven home by the police. He was later invited to a voluntary interview. He declined, but when it became apparent it wasn’t quite so voluntary, he went to the police station with his solicitor. He was told one of the security guards had alleged assault. “I was worried because assault is an imprisonable offence.” On 22 December, he was charged with breach of the Public Order Act – a charge that was dropped two weeks later, again with no explanation.

How did he feel? “A part of me was slightly disappointed I wouldn’t get the chance to make the case in court, but a much bigger part was relieved.” He smiles. “There’s a stereotype of activists that we want as much confrontation and publicity as possible. And, yes, I’m willing to make an argument in court, but I’d rather be at home with a cup of tea.”

Hill – who is considering bringing a case of unlawful arrest against Thames Valley police, with the support of human rights group Liberty – has been surprised by how much attention the incident received. “There are things I’ve done that have required far more effort and courage that have got a lot less interest.” On social media, there were thousands of incendiary comments. Conservative councillor Andrew Schrader tweeted: “To the tower with you, you dour grump.” But there has also been support, and Hill is aware that for some he represents the acceptable face of protest. “What’s been interesting is how much my Christian faith has been mentioned. They’re keen to emphasise what a normal, respectable person I am – a history lecturer in his 40s, walking home from church. But it wouldn’t have been any more acceptable to arrest anybody else.”

Patrick Thelwell is arrested after throwing eggs at King Charles. Photograph: Jacob King/PA. File photo dated 09/11/22 of police detaining protester Patrick Thelwell after he appeared to throw eggs at King Charles III and the Queen Consort as they arrived for a ceremony at Micklegate Bar in York

Hill has kept tabs on other people who were arrested after protesting against the monarchy. He tells me about a 16-year-old given a dispersal notice for holding a sign saying “Abolish the monarchy” in Bolton an hour before the king visited. The boy and his friends were threatened with arrest if they returned within three hours. Hill also mentions Mariángela, the Mexican woman arrested in Edinburgh. “I’ve been in touch with her. She got quite a bit of racist abuse about it.” And then there’s Patrick Thelwell in York, who threw the eggs at Charles. “I don’t have a big problem with that, but I wouldn’t do it. I don’t think it’s entirely non-violent. I also think it’s a waste of food.” But they have been in touch and Hill hopes to attend Thelwell’s court case in a show of solidarity.

The protesters seem to have become a close-knit family. Hill tells me he’ll go to London for the coronation, alongside the pressure group Republic, and will hopefully meet up with a few fellow protesters.

Perhaps the solemn reverence after the death of Queen Elizabeth II wasn’t surprising. She had served for a record-breaking 70 years and was globally admired, even by many republicans. The new king is a different character. Whereas she was famous for her discretion, he is regarded by many as a meddler. While her poker face remained intact throughout her reign, it took him only days to show his petulance in public, throwing two strops over pen-related incidents. There have also been questions about his judgment and integrity. Four days after the queen’s death, up to 100 Palace staff were given notice of redundancy during a thanksgiving service for her, and last November evidence about cash-for-honours allegations involving one of the king’s charities was passed to the Crown Prosecution Service.

In an Ipsos poll in 2016, just before the Queen’s 90th birthday, 76% of those surveyed favoured a monarchy, with only 17% preferring a republic. Now, 58% want a monarchy, while 26% prefer an elected head of state, according to a YouGov poll for Panorama of nearly 4,600 adults, published earlier this week. Most revealingly, only 32% of 18-24-year-olds polled want the monarchy to continue.

Graham Smith, CEO of Republic, believes this is significant. “The Queen is the monarchy for most people,” he said before her death last year. And now? “The institution is in serious jeopardy. It’s been reduced to two couples – Charles and Camilla, and William and Kate – and they’re not particularly inspirational figures. As we see indifference to the monarchy grow, they won’t be in a position to turn that around.” Smith thinks the generational gap can be explained by shifting cultural forces: “Identity politics, #MeToo, growing awareness of empire and slavery – all this is pushing people away.”

Patrick Thelwell and Symon Hill have a good deal in common. Both are academic, passionate about queer politics and were arrested for protesting against Charles. But while Hill is an understated pacifist, Thelwell believes in cracking a few eggs to make a republican omelette. On 9 November, he threw at least five at the king. One whistled past his arm, but that was the closest they got. His heckles, including “The king is a paedophile” (he says now he was thinking of his friendship with Jimmy Savile) were as outlandish as Hill’s had been sober.

Thelwell was arrested, pulled to the floor and taken to the police station where he signed his custody record “Fuck the king”. When we speak soon after, Thelwell, who is studying for a master’s in international relations, thinks he may be charged with treason and jailed. Does he want to be charged? “Aha! That’s a good question. Kind of. Well, I’ve got some choice words for my court appearance, that’s for sure.” Such as? “I won’t be apologising, especially if I get found guilty. I’ll be saying I don’t recognise the legitimacy of this court or this country, and I’ll probably call for a revolution, just to spice things up a bit, because that’s what we need.”

“With the problems we’re facing, thinking, ‘Ooh, if we could just get Labour into power, everything would be fine’, like, no!”

What form of revolution? “I’d like people to withdraw their consent to be governed by the British nation state because it’s complicit in war crimes and crimes against humanity. It needs to be dissolved and its assets redistributed as reparations for climate change to the global south. In its place we’d create a federated direct democracy of local people’s assemblies and ultimately a global democracy where we’re citizens of Earth.” Blimey, I say, that’s ambitious. He giggles. “Well, yeah! Have you seen the problems we’re facing? Thinking, ‘Ooh, if we could just get Labour into power, everything would be fine.’ Like, no! Keir Starmer’s planning on keeping all the protest laws that have come into place.”

Cross Boy George with Rick from The Young Ones and you may get something approaching Thelwell. He sees himself as “a cosmocrat, a democratic federalist. The politicial philosopher I most draw on is Murray Bookchin. He was a Marxist, then an anarchist, then he thought, ‘Neither of these are enough, we need to create a different state, based on local self-governance.’” Has anywhere in the world achieved this? “Yes, Rojava in northern Syria. Abdullah Öcalan, the Kurdish resistance leader, built on Bookchin’s work and moved towards creating a stateless direct democracy. About three million people live under it and you’ve got a huge network of different tribes and towns and villages.” In the Observer, Kenan Malik praised Rojava as a brave experiment in democracy and equality, saying it would be a “tragedy” if it were crushed by President Assad.

When Thelwell, 23, is not studying or plotting the revolution, he works as an ecological gardener. He makes it clear he is no protest virgin. “It wasn’t my first rodeo,” he says of the egg-throwing incident. In 2020, he was one of 26 Extinction Rebellion activists who blockaded two British printing plants, disrupting the distribution of newspapers including the Murdoch-owned Sun and Times. Thelwell glued himself to the roof of a van and was convicted of obstructing the highway and aggravated trespass. He was also, like Hill, arrested at the arms fair in London, though his protest was more physical. “I jumped a fence and climbed on an Apache helicopter. I sat on the rotors and drummed on it for two hours.” He pauses, then adds proudly: “I’ve no sense of rhythm.” He wasn’t charged on that occasion.

‘We need a revolution’: student Patrick Thelwell, whose egg-throwing resulted in a charge of threatening behaviour. Photograph: Richard Saker/The Guardian. Patrick Thelwell, a student at York University who in November 2022 threw eggs at King Charles and the Queen Consort whilst they were visiting York in North Yorkshire.

“There’s nothing that compares to taking an action,” he says. It gives him a buzz? “It’s not a buzz, it’s being aligned with the kind of world we want to create. You feel you’re doing something inherently right, that transcends your ego. People say it’s narcissistic, but it’s not about you, it’s about your message.”

None of Thelwell’s direct actions met with the vitriol that egging the king did. He thought he was going to be lynched by the crowd: “They lost their minds. They were saying things like, ‘Kill him, kick him to death.’” Since then, he says, he’s received death threats. “People have tried to get into my accommodation block. I’ve had emails saying, ‘We’re outside, we’re going to put your head on a spike.’ It’s not safe for me to walk around York by myself.” He reads out an Instagram post: “What a prick you are. Embarrassing. If you’re not careful you’ll get your head taken off, you little muppet.” Beheading is a common theme in the trolling and though others have treated him as a hero, it’s been a challenging time for Thelwell, who has ADHD and suffers with anxiety. “I feel quite ungrounded. There was my life pre-egg and now it’s post-egg. I need to focus on a bit of self-care.”

In early December, Thelwell was charged with threatening behaviour. As part of his bail conditions, he was banned from carrying eggs. What does he think will happen in court? “I think I’m going to prison, partly because of what I will say in court. I’m going to say, ‘Fuck the king, this court is an illegitimate authority.’”

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The Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act 2022 will make the arrest of protesters at next week’s coronation easier and more likely. The stop and search powers of police have been extended to allow officers to target people and vehicles if they suspect they might be carrying anything that could be used in protests. The home secretary now has the power to ban marches and demonstrations they believe might be “seriously disruptive”, including being too noisy. But the controversial policing of monarchy-related protests is nothing new.

In 1952, 26-year-old Anthony George was fined 20 shillings for insulting behaviour after failing to observe the two minutes’ silence at King George VI’s funeral because he objected to its commercialism. PC Eric Rolfe told Guildhall magistrates court that George had made “unnecessary noise with his feet”. Half a century later, during the Golden Jubilee, 23 activists staging a protest in Tower Hill with the banner “Execute the Queen” were arrested. They later received £80,000 in damages from police in an out-of-court settlement. In 2011, protesters dressed as zombies were arrested during the wedding of Prince William and Kate. Police justified the arrest as pre-emptive, with the European court of human rights ruling eight years later that there had been no breach of the protesters’ right to liberty.

I meet barrister Paul Powlesland at Garden Court Chambers in mid-November, a couple of months after he was threatened with arrest for holding up a blank piece of paper in Parliament Square. Powlesland had read about the arrest of protesters exercising their rights to freedom of speech and was dismayed at the one-note coverage of the queen’s death. “It felt over the top and mawkish. I don’t want to say it was akin to North Korea, but it did not feel like a free, vibrant democracy in terms of different opinions being expressed. When I heard about the arrests, I thought, this is outrageous.”

Powlesland had never given the royals much thought, but he’d given plenty to freedom of speech: “The protest was initially more about that.” Protesting with a blank piece of paper was purely practical. “I couldn’t get arrested because I had a case next day. Holding up a ‘Not my king’ sign is not unlawful, but they can still arrest you and I didn’t want to let my client down.”

Powlesland, 36, wears a brightly coloured jacket over his smart suit, has a ponytail and speaks with a plummy accent he says is misleading. He grew up in Addlestone, Surrey, to working-class parents (his father worked as a window fitter for 45 years) but “Addlestone gave me an accent that makes everyone assume I’m a public schoolboy.” Only two people in his school year went to university, and he got into Cambridge.

What politicised him? He looks embarrassed. “I don’t know if I want this confession in the Guardian. I started out as Tory.” There’s more. “I voted Ukip in 2004 because I was a massive Eurosceptic.” Is he still? “No. I try not to think about Brexit. I voted remain in the end.”

“Just having something someone else finds offensive is not a criminal offence because then pretty much anything could be”

Powlesland lives on a boat in east London and is an activist around protecting rivers. He has six children through sperm donation, none of whom he has met. Like Hill and Thelwell, he is not a stranger to direct action. During the 2012 Olympics, he was involved in a bike ride protest. The police ruled the cyclists couldn’t ride north of the Thames; Powlesland did, was charged and convicted, and then given a conditional discharge.

The other incident involving police was terrifying, he says. “I got arrested three years ago in a dawn raid involving 10 officers smashing my door down. I was asleep, they handcuffed me, searched my entire boat and took me to the police station. It was like being kidnapped by a criminal gang.” Powlesland was accused of rioting at the London Stock Exchange. The only evidence was footage of a masked, hooded rioter wearing leggings, which Powlesland was known to wear at demonstrations. He soon proved he was in chambers at the time: “I gave them a dossier of evidence, but they still couldn’t say, ‘We’re sorry, we got it wrong.’”

‘Even monarchists were outraged’: barrister Paul Powlesland, threatened with arrest for holding up a blank piece of paper. Photograph: David Levene/The Guardian

On 12 September, Charles addressed parliament as king for the first time. The Metropolitan police called in reinforcements in case of protests. Powlesland, who works nearby, walked from Parliament Square to Downing Street and back with his blank piece of paper. “Then a guy from Norfolk police came up and spoke to me, and that was the video that went viral.” Powlesland recorded the encounter on his phone. “He asked for my details, I asked why and he said, ‘I want to check you’re OK on the Police National Computer.’ I said, ‘I’ve not done anything wrong, so I’m not giving you them.’ I wanted to test it without getting arrested. So I asked, ‘If I wrote “Not my king” on the paper, would I get arrested?’ and he said, ‘Probably, because it would be a breach of the Public Order Act; it would be offensive.’” Was he right? Powlesland laughs. “No! Just having something someone else finds offensive is not a criminal offence because then pretty much anything could be.”

The video has been watched by more than 1.5 million people and the protest was widely reported. That night the Met’s deputy assistant commissioner, Stuart Cundy, issued a statement verging on the apologetic: “We’re aware of a video online showing an officer speaking with a member of the public outside the Palace of Westminster earlier today. The public absolutely have a right to protest and we have been making this clear to all officers.”

Was Powlesland surprised his protest received so much publicity?“Yes, and that even monarchists were outraged. There was definitely a sense of the police pushing back on alternative forms of expression and by doing something so ridiculous, it forced them to admit they were wrong and freedom of speech is allowed.”

The next day Powlesland returned to Parliament Square with friends. “We had different things written on pieces of A3: ‘Not my king’, ‘Down with the monarchy’.” The police walked past. No arrests were made.

Friday 14 April. It’s early morning and a queue has formed outside York magistrates court – a mix of journalists and Thelwell’s supporters carrying placards featuring eggs and saying “Did you vote for him?” and “Justice for Patrick, justice for all”. Thelwell wears a large hooped earring containing an image of the Earth; an Earth symbol is tattooed on his right hand and “Love” on his left. He is skinny and tiny, even in the platform heels he says he wore on the day to see Charles through the crowd. He is cheeky, likable and nervous.

Thelwell, who has chosen to defend himself, admits to low-level violence in throwing the eggs. He tells senior district judge Paul Goldspring: “If that amounts to unlawful violence, then the violence carried out by the British state is at such a severe level, I can’t be held accountable for my crime while the crimes of the state go unpunished.” The violence was lawful, he says, and he acted out of necessity because government policy in relation to the health service, asylum seekers, the arms trade and the climate is killing countless people. As promised, he tells the court he does not recognise its legitimacy because the prosecutors work for the crown. It’s a bravura performance – by turns ingenious, comic, ridiculous and noble. At one point Goldspring tells him: “We don’t need grandstanding. We’re not in a theatre.”

But the judge is kindly and gentle. He acknowledges Thelwell’s ADHD and that he is strapped for cash, and tells him early on he will not go to prison: “Do you want to say anything about that? Or are you are just relieved?”

“Yes,” Thelwell says with a nervous laugh.

The judge asks him why he had stopped his studies. “Because I thought I was going to prison,” he says.

“What is the chance of you finding a job in six weeks?” the judge asks.

“Do you need any gardening doing?” Thelwell says.

“Surprisingly not,” the judge replies.

Thelwell is found guilty of threatening behaviour. The judge says it is an “unprovoked, targeted and pre-planned use of violence against what was, after all, a 74-year-old man”, yet he sounds as if he’d like to give Thelwell a hug and tell him not to throw away his life. He is given a 12-month community order with 100 hours of unpaid work and ordered to pay costs of £600 and a £114 surcharge at a rate of £5 a week.

He doesn’t get to say “Fuck the king” in court, but he does say pretty much everything else he had planned. He remains polite and thanks the judge for his leniency, before emerging from court triumphant but a little chastened.

When we speak a couple of days later, I tell him I left court thinking it was a victory for humanity – everyone came off well. “I thought so, too,” he says. Was he surprised he was allowed to read out his statement in court? “One hundred per cent. I got lucky with the judge.”

With the coronation imminent the Met are preparing for what is expected to be one of the biggest operations in their history. This month, secretary of state for culture, media and sport Lucy Frazer told the Sun it would be “extremely disappointing” if activists targeted the event. Meanwhile, Hill, Powlesland and Thelwell hope to be there, exercising their democratic right to free speech. “I’ll be protesting,” Hill says. “I want to speak out against being told to submit to somebody because of an accident of birth. It is really important we’re not intimidated into not speaking out.”

Republic’s Smith is looking forward to the big day. Will there be much protest? “We’re bringing 1,000-plus people to Trafalgar Square. We’re not planning anything illegal, and it’s only going to be disruptive in terms of noise and a sea of placards. When Charles comes past, we expect chants of ‘Not my king’ and booing. We’re going to make sure we can’t be missed or edited out.”

[krispyweiss]

Queen Changing Name to King in Honor of Charles III

- “If the sovereign has a vagina, we’re Queen. When the sovereign has a penis, we’re King,” Brian May says in announcing change

Queen + Adam Lambert will soon be known as King + Adam Lambert.

The once-fronted-by-Freddie Mercury band made the announcement via news release, noting the change is effective from 6 May, King Charles III’s coronation date.

“The sovereign has never had a penis during our career,” guitarist Brian May said in a statement that reminded fans the band formed under the reign of Elizabeth II.

“If the sovereign has a vagina, we’re Queen. When the sovereign has a penis, we’re King.”

May and drummer Roger Taylor made the decision. Neither Lambert nor retired bassist John Deacon were consulted. Deacon issued a statement of his own declaring he is “not chuffed” by the name change.

“Bollocks,” he said. “It’s poppycock.”

4/1/23

[readyplayerhobi]

ALSO, the UK basically hasn't had a functioning government for well over a month now because of the stupid arse Tories and their stupid leadership contest.

We finally get a new PM and then the Queen bloody dies the next day, like wtf. A 10 day period of mourning or whatever, so the government isn't gonna do shit for almost 2 weeks, then the coronation bollocks.

We've needed a government to fucking do something and Johnson refused, and now we get to sit around and twiddle our thumbs whilst the Tories do some circle jerk.

[queer-geordie-dyke]

I won’t be making jokes or celebrating the death of the Queen like a lot of people are. Fair play to you, I’m certainly not judging anyone who does, lord knows, the monarchy as an institution is drenched in centuries of colonialism, oppression and genocide. It’s just not my speed. Love her or loathe her, she spent her entire life doing what she believed was an act of service to her country.

What I will say is this: I am certainly not looking forward to the wall to wall coverage that will absolutely follow today while the corruption and depraved indifference to the lives and struggles of ordinary people that has categorised the Tories over the last decade continues unabated and anyone who dares to question either the government or the place of a monarchy in a so-called modern “democratic” state will be labelled as unpatriotic or told to show “some respect.”

While I absolutely don’t begrudge anyone who is upset by this news feeling how they feel, I hope they also remember the hundreds of thousands of people who died because of this government’s catastrophic mishandling of the pandemic or the millions of people living in abject poverty, relying on food banks and charities to survive, in the sixth richest nation in the world. While the cost of living is going through the roof and millions genuinely don’t know how they are going to live through the winter, an obscene amount of money will be spent on a royal funeral and then, in due course, a coronation.

I just have this awful feeling that this whole thing will just stir up the nationalist, fascistic, right wing “our country is the best, how dare you question it” bollocks in the media more than it already is (which is already significant).

[sassyfrassboss]

“I think coming back for the big events, like when QEII dies or Charles's coronation.”

If she would stop feeding the PR a rich diet of PR bollocks then it would be obvious that they will be at her majesty’s funeral as will David Linley and Sarah Chatto, used here as an example because of the late Princess Margret as sibling to the Queen and Harry, regrettably sibling to the future King.

Most people even in this country would barely recognise either one. 🇬🇧

Btw if you Google either Chelsea or Belgravia in bloom you will see the life size, grass covered lions that were outside Linley’s showroom for the jubilee. They look phenomenal.

Meghan's constant need to be in the press will eventually be her downfall. Mark my words.

Gorgeous!

[serialcomposer]

Coronation Chicken is, to my mind, the archetypal "British" food.

It looks crap, it sounds crap, it's made up bollocks for a thing to do with the monarch, and it's something I only ever remember my grandmother eating.

[kickassfu]

@tcs-main came up with this prompt: "Arthur trying to learn a little magic to surprise Merlin at his coronation after their wedding." - and I tried my best. Hope you enjoy!

Merthur / Teen and Up / Canon Divergence / Established Relationship / Kissing

It's also on AO3

for my beating heart is far too small for the entirety of my love for you

It’s exasperating.

Magic is exasperating, trying to learn it is near impossible, but by the Gods Arthur will learn this spell if it kills him. The worst of it is that he can’t even ask Merlin for help, seeing as it’s a surprise Arthur’s getting ready for him. And Gaius is...great, sure, he gets on Arthur’s nerves though. It’s a slow going process that he very much would like to expedite.

Imagining Merlin’s face on the day of his coronation makes all the hours wasted spent, worth it.

There’s no way he’ll ask Morgana for help either, she’d mock him and then treat him like a very stupid child for not figuring things out on his first try - as if she’s all that, really. Asking Mordred doesn’t even come to mind (it does actually, when Gaius is particularly annoying) because he’s his knight and Arthur’s not about to show weakness to those he’s meant to lead into battle.

So he trudges along the best he can, while trying to keep it all a secret from Merlin, which is surprisingly difficult. As much as Arthur calls him an idiot (lovingly), Merlin is in fact a very smart, cunning man; it doesn’t surprise Arthur when he notices Merlin shrewdly looking at him, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

Luckily it’s very easy to distract him. A smile here, a kiss there, a delightful tumble into bed - repeatedly - and Merlin’s head is in the clouds for the rest of the day.

The learning of the spell is also very good for distracting Arthur from their impending marriage, he’s focusing all his attention on Merlin’s coronation instead, or else they’ll never get anything done. Arthur fears he won’t let Merlin out of his sight, out of his arms, for even a second if he focuses on their wedding for longer than a second. So he doesn’t let himself think of it at all.

He can’t wait till he can call Merlin his husband.

-

Arthur’s keeping something from him. Always sneaking around at odd hours of the day, off to do Gods know what, away from Merlin’s prying eyes. The only reason Merlin hasn’t followed him yet is because Arthur’s working very hard to distract him - yes, he knows it, he’s not stupid. And yes he’s letting it happen because it’s enjoyable, he is after all an idiot in love.

He can see how happy Arthur’s been by successfully keeping his surprise from being found out, and slightly frustrated for whatever he’s working on not being as easy as he’d hoped - it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s up to, but Merlin can pretend, can try his best to not find out exactly what it is.

When he finds Arthur whisper-yell at Gaius in irritation, all Merlin wants to do is solve the issue, to hug Arthur and calm him down. What he does instead, is slowly leave the room so neither men notice it.

Besides he has far too much to worry about, what with all the wedding preparations. Morgana’s taking care of it, and by that he means that Gwen is the one actually doing everything whilst Morgana pretends to help; Merlin spends many a-hours with Gwen, talking about everything, making her feel appreciated (bless her heart), which eats a lot of his time. He doesn’t mind though, he’s always loved her company and it’s a fantastic distraction.

The coronation…

Well-

He’s ignoring it. His brain will explode if he starts thinking about what it all means. Nope. He refuses it. Merlin will always be...just Merlin. None of that Emrys bollocks has changed him, and neither will becoming King or Prince Consort or whatever dumb title he might receive - ugh, no, he can’t.

Marrying Arthur makes everything worth it.

-

It’s a beautiful, sunny day, but it’s got nothing on Merlin’s beauty. Arthur can’t bear to look away, completely in awe of his almost husband. He’s quite sure a griffin could crash the wedding, kill everyone and Arthur would still be unable to drag his eyes away from Merlin.

The nerves are there, simmering beneath the surface, he knows. It only takes Merlin’s hand in his to calm him, his smile to steady his beating heart, his warmth to keep his knees from buckling under the pressure.

So many wars, so much bloodshed, a King in his own right, and the sight of the love of his life, their marriage, is enough to almost take him out. Ridiculous really. But it’s Merlin. Truthfully, he’s more nervous about the surprise he prepared for Merlin’s coronation than the wedding itself.

He just wants it to be perfect.

Merlin deserves everything and more, to be appreciated by all, for everything he’s ever done and will do in the future. To be celebrated with magic right from Arthur’s hands, as a peace offering to him and all. To show no one is born wrong or evil. That magic is accepted, revered even, in his kingdom - their kingdom.

-

Arthur is...a vision. Merlin has always known that Arthur was beautiful, obviously, but he’s shining now. And this is how Merlin knows he’s loved, deeply, eternally, loved. From the way Arthur is looking at him, as if he’s never seen anything or anyone quite like him, eyes shining with tears and the softest smile Merlin has ever seen - the type of smile Arthur gives him when they’re lying down together, speaking quietly of everything and anything, while kissing each other just for the sake of kissing, of feeling each other’s breaths.

There has never been anyone- there will never be anyone, that Merlin loves so completely, would so willingly cut his heart out for and offer on an altar. Arthur is his Sun, his God, his most dearest love.

The wedding passes by in a blur, there’s drink, there’s food, friends and family congratulating them, it’s a celebration worthy of a king, (well yeah...he’ll get used to it eventually). But all he’ll remember about it years from now, is Arthur. Arthur’s hand in his, them dancing, them sneaking away far too early to get their married lives started.

-

It’s silly.

It’s very silly that Arthur is the one nervous when it’s Merlin’s coronation.Gaius is no help either, wanting him to take a potion to calm his nerves - what if it messes up with the magic? Of course he won’t take no bloody potion. He’s king, and he will make this work by force if necessary.

Not that magic is something you can force, very much to his dismay; he can feel it now though, control it a bit. Well, he knows one spell, the only spell he will ever need to make Merlin smile.

Taking a deep breath he returns to the moment, looking at the room around him, filled with his friends, his knights, his subjects. And Merlin. Wonderful, powerful, his Merlin.

Putting the crown on Merlin’s head is almost a religious experience, with him kneeling at his feet perfectly still, as if awaiting his judgement. Arthur will always judge him worthy, would give him (has given him) all of him and more.

He shall never have to rule alone again.

When Merlin finally straightens up, a new crown heavy on his head, Arthur kisses him, whispering, “I have a surprise for you, love.”

Merlin’s brows furrow suspiciously, even as a smile tugs at his lips, “Don’t let me stop you then. Surprise me.”

“Gewyrcan lif,” Arthur says, his hands cupped closed.

-

And so he does.

Merlin had a notion of what Arthur might be up to, but seeing him make a blue butterfly with magic as his way to celebrate Merlin’s coronation is...well, there’s no words really. Nothing he can ever say will be able to explain the amount of love he feels for Arthur, how thankful he is, how this is the most beautiful gift he could ask for. The meaning of the gesture is not missed, and it’s not until he feels Arthur wipe his face, that Merlin realizes he is crying.

The butterfly is still flying through the room, as people gasp and cheer, also understanding the meaning of the small magic Arthur performed: The past is the past, the wrongs committed against you shall never be committed again, you are always welcome here.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Merlin whispers, cupping Arthur’s face, the tears still falling even through his smile.

“Truly?” Arthur asks, unsure - always so unsure underneath all his bluster.

“Yes, you’re everything I never dared wish for.”

“And you’re more than I could’ve ever asked for. So I feel like we’ve both gotten out of this with a winning hand.”

“How lucky for us,” Merlin laughs, happier than he’s ever been, (not counting their marriage of course). “There’s something missing though.”

Before Arthur can do anything besides scrunch his face in confusion, Merlin materializes a red butterfly to join the blue one, “There, a friend.”

Arthur’s shaking his head, quite besottedly might Merlin add, when he tenderly says, “Only you.”

“And I’m all yours.”

Grabbing Merlin by his waist, Arthur pulls him in, kissing him softly - has Arthur forgotten they’re not alone yet? Because if he keeps going Merlin certainly will. Sadly, it doesn’t take long till he stops to breathe, resting his forehead on Merlin’s instead, and looking at him with absolute devotion, “Yes. Yes, you are.”

[hitchell-mope]

(First film. Prologue. Instead of an iPad activated by Mal, Jay is in a white void room dressed for the coronation his hands are glowing brightest gold with magic)

Jay: once upon a time, well, two decades ago. The town loony’s daughter. Married the accursed beast. Of course he wasn’t a beast when they tied the knot (his magic creates images of the story as he tells it) true loves kiss solves everything. They had no honeymoon. Instead. Adam brought the kingdoms together and became the king of the United States of Auradon. And guess what he did? (Chuckles darkly) the overly shaved bastard pooled together his resources and magic. And engaged in necromancy, bringing back all the villains (passing by a line of said villains) you know the usual suspects, crown head, dragon lady, the psychotic furrier and my father. The mad genie. (He pauses in front of Jafar’s frozen form). Along with many many others who died in their stories. The “heroes”, for want of a better word, brought them all back. Along with the sidekicks and basically anyone who didntbfir in their perfect widdle bubble. To add insult to injury. The barrier they put up around the prison prevented them leaving even though the god of the dead were among the throngs punished. Can’t get out with out the fairy godmothers wand you see. There’s also no WiFi. So the days and nights are positively tedious. So it left them with nothing to do but procreate. How did they think villains would tear their own offspring when they’ve tried to murder innocents on multiple occasions. Needless to say their absolutely shit as parents. So we try to stay away as much as we can. Form gangs. Safety in numbers. It helps when you can turn some creepy old man who’s looking at your friend inside out with a snap of your fingers. You’ll meet more of us soon. But for now (he walks up to Ben’s portrait) you get to see the oh so handsome prince fight on our behalf against his nimrod of a father to give us basic human rights. See you soon

(His body glows completely gold and he disappears in a flash of light. Ben’s portrait is zoomed in on and changes to him rushing down a hallway with Doug)

Ben: oh darn we’re late

Doug: it’s alright. It’s not like they can start the meeting without you. You did call it after all

Ben: good point. Ohhhh if this doesn’t work I swear I’m holing myself up in my room with teenage dirtbag on repeat for a week

Doug: it’ll work

Ben: oh I hope so

(They burst into the meeting room. Several adults turn to look at him. Ben looks like he might pass out)

Ben: heh hhhhhhhhi heh heh

(He falls backwards but Doug catches him)

Doug: sorry about that but it was a long walk

Belle: it’s ok Doug. There was more then enough tea.

Adam: son.

Ben: mom. Pop. Uhhhh

Leah: Benjamin will this take long. I’m sure Audrey is waiting for you

Ben: pardon.

Leah: I’ve set reservations at a What was it Aurora?

Aurora: Burger King mommie. I suggested it.

Leah: why?

Belle (every fibre of her being fighting to not roll her eyes): anyway. Ben. What is it you wanted to talk to us about.

Ben: uh. Heh heh. As you all know I’m going to be king in a few months.

Adam: and we couldn’t be prouder

Leah: Audrey is so looking forward to your coronation then there’s the cotillion and we all know what comes after.

Snow: your majesty’s. Please. Let Ben speak. The poor child looks as though he might faint. Hello Doug dear

Doug: hi aunt Snow.

Snow: carry on Ben dear

Ben (slightly less nervous now): thank you your highness. As I was saying. I’m going to be king in a few months and I needed to decide on my first proclamation. And I’ve finally thought of one-hang on. Where are mr and Mrs Dearly

Beast: who?

Snow: the ones with all the delightful doggies

Leah: mutts. They are mutts. Who need to be shot

Aurora: I’m sorry for her. She’s recently been taken ill and hasn’t been quite the same since

Belle: she broke a leg coming back from a hunting trip. That is no excuse for her god awful behaviour

Leah: whatever do you mean?

Belle: I’d tell you. But then we’d be here forever

(Ben stays standing there unsure of what to do)

Doug: I think it may be time for Ben to say his piece yes?

Belle, Aurora and Snow: yes.

Doug: thank you. Carry on Ben

Adam: why are you here.

Doug: pardon?

Leah: yes Adam. I would like to know as well. Why are you here. Whoever you are

Doug: ah ha ooh boy. I’m Doug. Ben’s future major-domo. I’ve been in his class since pre-K.

(Leah just stares blankly at him)

Doug (long suffering sigh): my father is dopey the dwarf. Diamond miner. Made Audrey’s tennis bracelet

Leah: oh yes. So why are you in a meeting meant for royalty

Ben: IWANTTOBRINGCHILDRENOVERFROMTHEISLANDOFTHELOST

(All adults are silent. The the Dearly’s burst in)

Anita: we are so sorry we’re late. BB-8 got hold of my patent leather pumps and why does it feel like death warmed up

Belle: Ben. I’m. I’m

Leah: appalled. And so is everyone else. You have have something to do with this don’t you dwarf?

Doug (under his breath): that didn’t take long

Adam: this. Really. This is your first proclamation? Of all things

Leah (damn near hysterical): why not just tax the rich!

Aladdin: oh shut up you old bitch. Go on Ben

Ben: thank you. Al

Leah: you will address the sultan by his proper title you little bollocks

Belle: ok that’s it. Get out you psychotic old biddy

(Leah gasps dramatically)

Belle: Lumiere would you please?

Lumiere: of course ma’am

(He physically drags Leah from the room)

Jasmine: I’m assuming that us being here has something to do with what children you are picking

Ben: I

Doug (not willing to let Ben take the blame if it all goes wrong): we

Ben (immensely grateful): we, thank you Doug, looked through records and dossiers and found the first four, of many, we’d like to bring over.

Belle (encouragingly): go on dear

Ben (more firmly): the children of, Jafar, Cruella De Vil, Queen Grimhilde. And Maleficent

(From the hallway Leah lets out a hysterical screech. Belle throws a stress ball at the door to shut her up. The rest remain silent)

Roger: they, they uh. Oh my god.

Adam (trying to regain control of the situation): Dearly calm down. It’s not as bad as you believe

Anita (laughing hollowly): not bad. N. Not bad. How can it not be bad. Cruella De Vil has a child!

Aurora: oh those poor dears

Snow: stepmother has a baby? I’m a sister. No. Wait. They wouldn’t be fathers.

Phillip: how old are they.

Adam: it matters not how old they are

Aladdin, Roger and Phillip: THE HELL IT DOESN’T

Phillip: TWENTY YEARS. I SLAYED THE DRAGON. YOU BROUGHT HER BACK. AND NOW WE FIND OUT SHE HAS A CHILD. Oh my god!

Snow: I feel sick.

Adam: now look what you’ve done Ben.

Aurora: Ben didn’t engage in necromancy and bring people who have hurt us back from the dead, dump them on an island that we can all see from our windows. And leave them to raise children. I for one commend him on wanting to try and do what’s right by those that we have left to squander.

Ben: thank you Aurora

Belle: when do you plan on bringing them over dear?

Ben: about that.

(Aladdin laughs. Well. Cackles is more like it)

Jasmine: today?

Ben: yes. At least. I hope so.

Anita: pardon dear?

Doug: we don’t know what their parents are like. If they are like the sultan and her husband or if they are like

Phillip (looking directly at Adam): I completely understand. It’s just

Aurora: we’re going on vacation to Malta. Right after this meeting in fact. So

Ben: no matter how much you want to meet Maleficent’s child. You can’t.

Aurora: if it helps. Audrey will be here I’m sure she’ll support you in your des... (Belle gives her a withering stare) yeah I know.

Ben: I told her last month, when I came up with the idea in fact

Phillip: and

Ben: she laughed me off. Then made me take her shopping.

Doug: if it helps Lonnie Jane fairy godmother and I are 100% behind him king Phillip

Phillip: it does actually Doug. Thank you

Ben: dad. Just hear me out. Every time I look out there over the water I feel like we abandoned them.

Adam: then close the drapes

Leah (from the hallway): hear hear

Belle: SHUDDIT

Aladdin: I for one love the idea. I look forward to meeting them.

Ben: thank you sir

Belle: when do we expect them

Ben: this afternoon. Hopefully.

Belle: and I’m assuming you’ve had this set up for a while

Doug: fairy godmother had helps us get everything ready.

Belle: that’s good. I suggest we adjourn this meeting so Ben can put the finishing touches on the task.

(Everyone leaves the room. Ben and Doug stay behind with Belle)

Ben: thanks mom

Doug: thank you your majesty

Belle: you’re welcome boys. Remember. My door is always open

(All three leave and go their separate ways. The boys head to Ben’s room where two girls are waiting)

Lonnie: well?

Ben: mom’s on board

Lonnie: and your dad?

Doug: who gives a shit what he thinks?

Lonnie: true.

Ben: thank you. All three of you. I couldn’t have done it without you all

Jane: you didn’t need me.

Ben: I did. Your my friends. I can hardly do anything without you guys

Lonnie: well there are a couple of things you need to do with our us. Exams for instance

Doug: thank god you said exams

Jane: uh oh

Ben: what?

Jane: 3...2...1...

(Another girl throws open the door and walks in like she owns the place)

Doug (aside to Jane): you have to teach me that

Jane: it’s magic. You can’t learn it. I don’t even want it.

Audrey: of course you don’t

[ceruleanmusings]

Brothers in Arms - Part One

Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia Requested by: anon Rating: T Genre: Angst Words: 1820 Characters: Peter Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie, brief Caspian X Summary - Peter and Edmund get into a disagreement over matters that leads Peter into trouble. Note: A few months ago I got an anon prompt request to do a Peter & Edmund brotherhood fic so I figured now was a good time to pop this out. (I also blame Riley over at @purple-and-red-ribbons for reigniting my high school narnia fixation). I love the relationship between Peter and Edmund so this prompt hit all the right buttons for me! Please let me know what you think! Part two coming soon!

---

Peter closed his eyes in a long, slow, blink. His chest swelled with his deep inhale, lips pressed together to keep from letting it out too early. Too soon. He counted to three in his head and let his breath out in blow. The fire within him continued to smolder.

“Edmund, I don’t think you understand—” Peter said.

“No, you, don’t understand,” Edmund interrupted. Peter threw his arms into the air and paced in a circle.

“Would you please let me finish?”

“I know what you’re going to say!” Edmund’s grip tightened on the pommel of the sword that he held down by his side. Peter eyed it, wondering if maybe going out to spar today was a bad idea in hindsight. “And I’m telling you, it’s not going to work. It’s not the best decision!”

“it’s the only decision!” Peter shot back. “We have to strike back now while we still have the time. While they’re still on the lands.”

“But what if that’s what they want?” Edmund said. Peter gritted his teeth, shook his head. Edmund still wasn’t getting it. The longer they waited to act, the longer they waited to send a unit out to chase away the invaders, the more people would go missing. “What if we just keep feeding them people, one after another, for nothing? What if they’re waiting us out?”

“Then we’ll figure that out when we capture one of them,” Peter replied. “We can entice them to talk. Get down to the answer.”

Edmund shook his head, pushing a hand through his thick, dark hair. “This isn’t the right way, Pete.”

“So, what, you want to sit back and wait like a coward?”

Peter pressed his lips together, too late to keep the bullet of his words from hitting Edmund square in the chest. He watched as Edmund’s body stiffened, eyes darkened, and muscle in his jaw twitch in rapid succession. Sun beat down on then, golden rays illuminating an azure sky ahead but did nothing to quell the cold air that swooped in, whipping around them. Peter shivered; the cold from Edmund’s stare alone nestled deep down in his bones, sifting through every crevice.

“That...that wasn’t what I meant,” Peter said.

Edmund lifted his chin. “Regardless”—the bite in the single word left marks on Peter’s skin—”deciding to sit back and observe is not a coward’s move. It would give us more time to look into their methods. To see if there is a pattern—”

“At that point, there would be too many lives lost.” Peter stepped closer, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. “Could you walk away from that? Walk away with their blood on your hands? Because that’s what’s going to happen if we take too much more time.”

“And if we don’t take enough time, brother, then we will not be able to get a handle on the situation,” Edmund replied, stepping forward himself. Their chests bumped but neither backed down. His lip curled upwards into a snarl as he hissed, “You may be the high king, but you’re not Narnia’s only king.”

“I know that!”

Edmund snorted, moving away from Peter. He walked away a few paces; the crisp grass crunched beneath his boots. “Do you?” His question barely reached Peter’s ears due to Edmund’s back being turned. Barely, but still managed.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. Sweat dripped down his forehead and dripped into his eye. The sting was sobering. “Of course.” He wasn’t alone when he was crowned. He wasn’t alone during his coronation ceremony all those years ago. He wasn’t alone when he sat up on that golden throne, basking in the elation and magic encompassing them after the defeat of the White Witch. Edmund sat next to him; his right hand man as always. Where he was supposed to be. Surely, he couldn’t have forgotten that.

Couldn’t have forgotten the many battles they fought together, charging in side-by-side with swords drawn and an eye on one another’s backs. When they snuck out of the castle for a break form their duties, racing their horses across the rolling greens as fast as their horses could carry them. When they aided one another in creating and establishing support for their loyal subjects that may be down on their luck or were suffering from losses. Any decision Peter made for the good of Narnia, Edmund would be there with him, giving advice and support. Why couldn’t he support him now?

“Sometimes, I don’t think you do,” Edmund said, turning.

“Ed—”

Edmund stabbed the tip of his sword into the soft soil beneath their feet. The sword wiggled from side to side for a few tense seconds as Edmund looked outwards past Peter’s shoulder. Peter waited. Edmund didn’t waste time on frivolous words, Peter knew. it was worth waiting to hear what Edmund had to say, even if it was wrong.

“I know these lands as you do. I know these people as you do. I care for them just the same.” When Peter spoke to object, Edmund held up his hand. “But, I don’t think you have them in mind right now. I really don’t.”

“Okay then, Ed, what do I have in my mind?”

“Retribution.”

Peter gritted his teeth. “They’re innocent!” He gestured off in the distance as the fire within him flared back to life. “Those that are being hunted? They’re innocent! They’ve done nothing wrong! And I can’t just...just keep letting it happen! We cut them off, now!”

“Charging in and ambushing them without a plan isn’t going to make matters any better!” Edmund’s fingers drummed against the handle of his sword. “It’s not going to change the fact that we weren’t here.”

"But we’re here now!”

“I’m not going to let you sacrifice people’s lives to rid yourself of guilt, Pete, and I’m sure Su and Lu wouldn’t either.”

“I’m the High King!”

The muscle in Edmund’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “And that makes the rest of us, what, exactly?” Peter pushed a harsh breath out of his nose. Neither said a word. The hum of a bee’s wings nearby truncated the stretch of silence between them. A stalemate sat between them, so palpable it buzzed like a live-wire, waiting for the first casualty. 

“So, that’s that then.”

Edmund volunteered himself.

“Ed—” Peter shook his head. He had to fix this. Had to...had to make him understand. If only Edmund could understand. Why didn’t he understand?

“I’m sorry I wasted my time bringing my thoughts to you,” he continued, his words clipped in a way that Peter hadn’t heard since they were children. Since their father left for the war. “I won’t make that mistake again, Your Majesty.”

Tufts of grass were wrenched from the ground due to the force behind Edmund’s yank on his sword. Peter watched him go, fingers twitching by his sides, strains of frustration rooting him to the ground. Fine, he could go! Maybe then he’d stop being so bloody blind and see that being proactive was the way to go for their people’s safety.

“Is everything alright?” Peter’s head whipped upwards at Caspian’s voice. He stood a ways away, his hands resting on the belt to his sword strap without a care in the world. Peter scowled.

“S’fine,” Edmund muttered, heading in his direction.

“What happened?”

Edmund paused, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Peter before saying, “Nothing out of the ordinary” and kept going.

Uttering a frustrated growl, Peter turned on his heel and stalked off in the other direction.

---

Shafts of sunlight illuminated the path ahead of Peter as he continued his angry stalking through the woods. Above birds tweeted and flittered from perch to perch, basking in the warmth. Waist-high flora tugged at his doublet as he passed, snagging briefly only for him to batter it aside as his frustration seethed.

Of course Edmund would only see Peter’s declaration as a bad thing. He didn’t mean to hold his title over his brother’s head, he would never do such a thing! They pushed forward their reign together–him, Edmund, Lucy, and Susan. They were the Kings and Queens of old. They brought forth the Golden Age and brought peace to Narnia for a time. The Narnians looked to them for guidance and support and, in the end, were loyal to their monarchs.

They were unified.

He’d only meant...well, now he wasn’t so sure. Peter’s nose wrinkled. His point, once so burning hot, now sat beneath murky water, difficult to distinguish. Just far enough out of reach for him to grasp. With every step he took into the forest, he moved further and further away from the claws of resentment reaching to pull him back.

“Bollocks,” he uttered beneath his breath. He kicked at a nearby rock, watching it bounce and skip across the loamy dirt path. Perhaps he did mean to bring up his title but...it wasn’t to bring Edmund down. It was only to remind that he had final say, that maybe it would push Edmund to see that they had to make some sort of a decision rather than spinning in circles. It probably doesn’t help that you’re pulling him in those circles.

Habits die hard. He was the oldest, he was to protect them, no matter what. No matter how many battles they fought, no matter how many lands they traveled to, he was to ensure that they were taken care of. It was his duty. It was his job. Okay, yes, maybe his brain was overridden with his need to protect the Narnians and his family by proxy, but that didn’t mean he was wrong. There was a time that they weren’t there for their country, he didn’t want them to see him as leaving them in lurch again.

Edmund doesn’t either. Peter stopped walking, letting the words of his colliding thought sink in. Of course they were working towards a common goal, in the end they wanted the kidnappings to stop. But the stakes were higher than they’ve ever been when it came to making a decision for the good of their people. It wasn’t that Edmund didn’t have a point...Peter just didn’t want to do the wrong thing. In the end, it would all fall on him. Press on his shoulders and sit on his chest and keep him up at night as he wondered what he could have done differently, what he could have done better, and if anyone would ever trust him again.

He sighed. Maybe it would be best to talk to Susan first.

He’d barely turned on his heel when the brush exploded. Shouts and jeers whipped around him like a hurricane, taking over, screaming in his ears. His hand barely gripped the base of his sword, trusty Rhindon, when something thunked against the back of his skull and night pulled down over his eyes.

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