#earl emmett of arland

[faejilly]

once upon a time I was doing a gift exchange for 7kpp and nothing I wrote work so I did a fanmix and made some TEA instead! (Did you like any of the tea, @awaylaughing? I don't recall) and then today, for no apparent reason, I was looping Hozier and feeling bad about how I keep wanting to write but then don't actually do it... and found a Sheltered Princess/Emmett thing from the POV's of the Chaperones in my WIP folder and finished it! Because Brains! Are Crazy-Cakes! (affectionate) Please Enjoy some observations re: Princess Wilhelmina Temperance of Arland and her Earl.

Emmett had known that he would see her.

Of course The Princess would be here. Even before Katyia herself, this is exactly what Arland Princesses always did. Who they always were.

He'd even known it would be difficult, was aware of his own weaknesses, his own flaws, but he hadn't realized it would hit him so hard, just seeing her walk into the Main Hall, seeing the Skalt Lady approach, watching other people see – her. See her, the way no one else in Arland ever had. The Princess was a wonderful young lady, of course everyone else would eventually see it too. It wasn't as if he didn't want her to succeed, didn't want people to know how amazing she was. He just –

It hurt, a little, to know that he would probably never have his friend by his side again, to know that there had never been a chance that he would, despite how fondly he remembered her, how much he'd looked forward to seeing her again, even if just at formal events at Court.

This was worse than Court.

This was going to be good-bye, and he hadn't even managed to say hello yet.

He was afraid that she'd see his worry and think he wasn't pleased to see her, wasn't always happy at the thought of her.

But then she came toward him, and he was glad enough at the sight of pleased recognition she didn't try to hide that he forgot about the future entirely and smiled at the present instead.

-

It was quite entertaining to realize that he’d been wrong about the Arland Princess. That didn’t happen to Woodly very often. But here she was, holding her own quite successfully through the formal introductions, alert and observant and with a smile almost as engaging as his own niece’s.

He’d dismissed her entirely at the Welcome Feast, convinced she was an even paler and quieter echo of her sister, the one who’d let herself be sold to Corval despite being smart enough to recognize how pleasant her soon-to-be-husband wasn’t.

To be fair, if Penelope had been of an age with Constance, the King and Queen might very well have tried to do the same with her, and Penelope would undoubtedly have agreed, despite also being smart enough to recognize a man who wouldn’t care a bit for her own preferences in the least. (Sometimes Woodly despaired of his sister’s sense, but that was neither here nor there.) Lisle would have fought it though, so it was well that hadn’t been an option.

But here young Princess Wilhelmina was, exquisitely formal with the one deeply unpirate-like Hisean, then listening to the Skalt Princess to call her Mina without looking the least bit upset by the informality. Penelope adored her, which required a bit of a gentle touch, and yet she was vibrant enough that neither the actual pirates nor the Corvali thought her dull. Even the Jiyel delegates were willing to converse with her, and Duke Lyon didn’t like anyone, and Lady Avalie only liked people she could play with.

She was singularly useless for any of the games Woodly himself liked to play, of course, but she was, nonetheless, a singular and effective delegate for Arland. Much more useful than that Earl, who refused to allow an unkind word about anyone, regardless of how much they might deserve it.

Would wonders never cease. An Arland Princess with a hint of a spine.

This Summit was certainly never boring.

-

Yvette thought her Princess deserved better. Such a bright young woman ought to be able to reach for more than her status as a gift Arland would bestow upon an ally who was willing to put up with her. (Perhaps they all deserved better than Summit machinations and noble politics, but that was a question for future generations to answer, not a single Duchess in her private thoughts.)

The Princess was quiet and polite, exactly as she had been trained to be. But she caught the eye, shone with her own inner light, a light that was already brighter than it had been at the Welcome Feast, and she’d handled that particular challenge with grace, deprecation, and a surprisingly charismatic and self-aware touch of humor, even when that young Zarad had dragged her into a highly inappropriate dance in front of everyone.

Constance would have been so proud of Mina if she’d seen it. Not that Yvette allowed herself to consider Princess Constance too often; that led to worrying about how she was doing, trapped at Prince Aamir’s side.

Yvette swallowed a sigh, and made sure her hands stayed loose in her lap, no tension visible anywhere in her body, even as she had to fight not to squint against the light of a rising sun. She’d managed to place herself outside the stable before anyone else, but the chaperones and servants and delegates would be here soon for the ride, and she could not let her worry show. Not for Arland or the Summit, past, present or future, not for the Princess as Princess or simply as a young lady in a difficult place.

Most especially not for her poor darling Earl, who she knew was painfully aware that half the Isle could tell that he was hopelessly in love with his Princess, by far the least eligible match for either of them to attempt here at this Summit.

Katyia would probably have insisted they be matched regardless; this time Yvette had to swallow a smile at the thought. Perhaps, somehow, even without Katyia, they’d manage a small bit of happiness, at least for awhile.

Yvette’s smile escaped her control, that thought too sweet to entirely dismiss.

Perhaps she had more hope left in her bones for this Summit than she’d thought.

-

Falon thought the boat race was the least painful activity of the Summit. It required actual effort and forethought and tactics from the delegates, and did not require he make small-talk about things he couldn’t possibly know anything about, and wouldn’t want to chatter about even if he did.

A Hisean team always won it, of course, but it was interesting to watch what the other delegates decided to do. Did they choose to forego it entirely and network among the spectators? Did they back Hise and their easy victory? Did they put on a show of their own boat, costumes or decorations or fancy tricks to draw the eye? Did they fight for that second place spot, did they try and make Hise work for their victory?

It was fascinating, and a good way to see how all the different delegations were starting to relate to each other, an idea of who could work with who, who might be able to reach a hand across a bargaining table by the end of the Summit and have someone grasp it back.

He had never expected two of the Hise delegates to agree to back an Arlish Captain though. One who had somehow managed to entice his damnable Duke out of the library to participate! And a Wellin Princess. It was the most cosmopolitan ship in the competition.

And then it won.

Hise lost.

Hise lost the boat race to Arland.

Falon didn’t know what to do with that. He couldn’t figure out what it meant, it was too improbable to have even considered it as a possible conclusion. Falon was so disconcerted, he didn’t even manage to catch Lyon before he retreated back inside after the race. Not that it would probably have worked, but Falon didn’t even manage to try.

He did manage to congratulate the rest of the team however, and he didn’t think he sounded nearly as bewildered as he felt.

On the one hand, it was good that there were delegates with the strength of will and character to actually make things happen.

On the other, he had a feeling he was going to spend the next five weeks wishing he’d been assigned as Chaperone for a less interesting Summit.

-

Jaslen loved the Matchmaker’s breakfast. The only real chance anyone had to see what of the Matchmaker’s opinions she was willing to let be seen in public, and so close to the one banquet at the Summit that still held so tightly to Katyia’s dreams rather than everyone else’s fears; there was always something to learn about how well the behind-the-scenes maneuvering was going.

Plus the delegates were always so delightfully chaotic, the stresses of the Summit and the anticipation of the remaining weeks only getting worse…

When Jaslen had flitted through the dining hall prior to any of the delegates arriving, she’d thought placing the poor Arland Princess in between the Revaire Prince and that idiot Blain was uncharacteristically cruel of the Matchmaker. She had no patience for incompetence, but she didn’t usually twist the knife after (metaphorically) stabbing some delegate who hadn’t impressed her.

But then breakfast actually happened, and Wilhelmina was fine! Calm and polite even while her seatmates bickered and everyone stared at her; she even smiled at that Earl of hers without appearing at all self-conscious when she escaped after Blain’s unsubtle attack.

It was such a nice surprise. Jaslen might have underestimated the Princess, but she wasn’t wrong about the Matchmaker, and that would have been disturbing, after all these years.

Watching Blain fumble his way through the Summit was excruciating enough for one year, she didn’t need to add an absolute failure in her usually impeccable people skills on top of that.

This really was the best morning. She wished she could be a chaperone for every Summit.

-

Jasper had been quite honored to realize he was assigned to Princess Wilhelmina of Arland herself. The Princesses were always such lovely guests, dutiful but seldom dull, young and hopeful and exactly the sort of people Katyia had most wanted to help.

He met his Princess and she was a joy to serve. Not just for the Summit or his duty or Arland, but for herself, complete and entire. He wished her well, and he saw her rise to every occasion, and for all he knew he could not take the credit, he was so proud.

But it was tinged with fear, not just for the Summit, or the Isle, and definitely not for Arland, but for her and her countryman, her childhood friend, Yvette's young assistant, Earl Emmett of Arland. He was as kind and dutiful as any Arlish Lord could have ever desired, and every time he smiled Jasper could see the Princess light up, and yet.

And yet.

They were both of Arland, and had been excessively well trained. Earl Emmet had traveled enough to be able to bring home a bride from anywhere and be kind to her in a way she'd understand, and the Princess. Well. The Princesses of Arland always left.

Always.

And then the night of the Matchmaker’s banquet he almost missed it, distracted by everything else that had happened (everything that shouldn’t have happened). He barely made himself settle before the Matchmaker stood, but he managed it just in time, standing quiet in his shadows as she began her announcement.

Which included the love match of Princess Wilhelmina of Arland to Earl Emmet of Arland.

There was an instant of total silence in the Hall, regardless of the number of people, regardless of servants and cutlery and food and conversation, regardless of high ceilings and the usual whispers of acoustics designed specifically to pick up everything so it would be almost impossible to overhear any one thing out of all the rest beyond one’s seatmate.

Arland to Arland.

Jasper’s eyes closed, and he didn’t know if it was joy or shock, horror or hope. He opened them to the much more familiar incoherence of a room full of whispering delegations, not a single person without an opinion on that match.

Arland to Arland.

He let himself smile, just a little, and let himself imagine it, a Summit that celebrated a match like that, Arland to Arland, for love and happiness rather than politics and duty.

-

Mina was sure she was blushing, but she’d noticed the shock after the Matchmaker’s announcement, heard the whispers a moment later, and she couldn’t quite contain it.

She also couldn’t hold in the lift of outright glee at hearing their names announced like that, one after the other. She had no idea how they were going to make this work, but oh, she didn’t regret a moment of choosing her best friend to be her partner, to be her future, no matter what anyone else thought of it. Not even her parents.

And she knew, every time she saw him, every time she thought of him, every time he smiled, or ducked his head, or pushed his sleeves up his arm as if this time they were going to stay, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that Emmett didn’t regret it either.

They only managed one quick moment before they were sent their separate ways, but she could live through a dozen more Summits, and she’d never forget the brilliance of his smile in that moment. Proof, if she’d needed it, that it was worth every effort over the next four weeks to keep him with her, to keep herself with him, to make it out the other side of this Summit

Together.

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Belladonna: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives. 

Emmett: I wake up at four thirty AM.

Belladonna:

Belladonna: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

[leahazel]

Day 5 - “Family” - Bel & Jack

Christabel “Bel” of Hise and Jacqueline “Jack” of Wellin, for 7kppweek day 5 “Family” (indeterminate post-canon timeline, not a multi-MC A/U, PG-ish, ~1800 words)

Notes: Bel’s dad Gabriel and Jack’s dad Leopold are brothers in this continuity, but have not been in contact since before Jack was born. Jack is about five years younger than Christabel.

Emmett had told her that Wellin was a lot like Arland, and she could see what he meant by it, but she didn’t really agree. The two countries were subtly different in all sorts of interesting ways, from the food to the street music to even the weather. Of course she knew about the weather in advance, but that somehow didn’t keep her from being surprised every morning as she woke up to the dawn chill.

The people in the cities they passed through had a standoffishness to them that she couldn’t imagine any of her Arlish neighbors would consider good manners. They were more extravagant, also, and she did not like that. More and more, Bel was rather glad that her father had left Wellin as a youth. Rather, as she liked to think of it, that her mother, the notorious pirate Captain Kendra Blackthorn, had rescued him from a lifetime of dreary stuffiness.

The day’s ride, then, had pleasantly surprised her. The three of them had set out as soon as it was light, despite Anna’s yawns and protestations. At first the roads were empty because of the early hour, but as the day wore on they ran into more and more locals, and all of them were unfailingly kind and friendly. Not even in the stiff, slightly superior politeness that she had come to associate with the Wellish, but earnestly welcoming.

Maybe today would turn out right, after all. Bel was still more than a little apprehensive, even though this trip had been her idea to begin with. She’d insisted on it, in fact. And no, it was not only because their younger child was too small to bear the traveling and had to be left back at the Lilypond with his gran and his nannies. She’d said that she wanted to know where he came from, and she knew her father would never reach out of his own volition. If there were family ties to be mended, it was up to her to make the first move.

“Bel!”

She shook off her distracted thought and focused on her husband.

He smiled brightly at her, and she saw that he’d pulled his horse to the side of the road to chat with a man leading a pack-mule by a rope. They seemed to be chatting comfortably, so Bel didn’t speed her riding overmuch. She had Anna on the saddle before her, and she didn’t like to jostle her too much. She would catch up to them soon enough.

“This man gave me directions to Holt castle,” said Emmett when her horse had reached comfortable speaking distance. “Did you know, we’ve been riding through Holt for hours, now.”

“Have we?” said Bel. “I hope that means we’re close.”

“G’day, milady,” said the man. “Must be two hours’ brisk ride that way,” he said, gesturing, “no more.”

Bel looked from Emmett on his horse to little Anna cradled against her chest and made a face.

“I’d best ride ahead to announce us,” said Emmett, “so they’ll know to expect a lady and a child.”

Bel nodded. “I’ll keep on at a slower pace, with Anna and Geoff. Now, I won’t be riding alone, you see, so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Emmett looked like he was about to argue, but changed his mind. “We’re hardly likely to come to harm, here of all places, surely.”

The strange man nodded and smiled. “Nowhere in the kingdoms is safer than Holt,” he said. “You’ll see when you meet the Countess. She’d never let us down.”

**

“You said your wife and daughter will be joining us?” asked Jack dubiously.

The strange man nodded, which set his golden curls bouncing. “They should be right along, they were riding right behind me. They only had to go more slowly because our daughter is quite young, still.”

He looked too young to have a wife and daughter, but maybe that was just the way his face was, and he hadn’t grown out of it. But no, he didn’t look any older than Jack herself, younger maybe. Of course, many would say that she was long past due to get married herself, but things were different when one was a young and eligible heiress. Still, he seemed pleasant and downright charming, so if he’d fixed on getting married it wasn’t hard to believe he’d find a willing bride. 

But that was more introspection than Jack could tolerate for one day. 

“Do you want to see the dogs?” she asked, abandoning all efforts at decorum. 

His face broke into a radiant smile. “I would love to. Purebred Wellish dogs are supposed to be the best in the world.” 

“Oh, they are,” said Jack confidently, though she’d never been outside Wellin’s borders in her life, “and Holt’s are the best in Wellin, too.” 

With a new litter of puppies to break the ice, Emmett opened up easily and told her all about his travels over the seven kingdoms. Jack envied him more than a little, even if he did have to go home to Arland at the end of every journey. She was convinced that if there was a place more terrible than Wellin’s royal court, Arland had to be it. At least here in Holt, everyone loved her just as she was. Things were proceeding nicely when one of her footmen appeared to announce that there was a woman and child seeking entrance to the castle. 

“That would be Bel and Anna, now,” said Emmett, nodding sagely. 

Jack was overbearingly curious to see them, so much so that she was willing to leave off playing with the puppies any longer. She wondered what she would be like, the wife of this unusual Arlish Earl who didn’t act like any nobleman she’d ever known. Except, maybe, her father. 

Nothing could have prepared her for the reality. 

“The Countess will see you now,” the footman announced. 

Into her great hall entered possibly the tallest woman she’d ever seen. She was dark-skinned, and in the low candlelight of the hall her hair had a russet sheen to it. She was dressed in riding leathers, not even a split skirt, and she carried a toddler on one hip. The child had a mess of curly hair and her thumb stuck in her mouth. She must have been sleepy, but she was looking around the room curiously. Jack instantly knew that she would like her. 

The Countess of Lalahi passed the child on her hip over to her husband and dipped a quick, neat curtsy in her general direction. 

“Well, then,” she said, “now that the niceties are dispensed with, let’s have a look at you, cousin.” 

She couldn’t imagine two less likely cousins, even taking into account that they both apparently favored their mothers. Christabel was tall and broad-shouldered. Up close, her hair proved to be thick, curly and a dark wine-red color, and her eyes were a brilliant shade of green. Jack herself was short, rather round of figure, and had yellow hair and blue eyes. She realized, much to her amusement, that she looked more closely related to Earl Emmett than to his wife. For all she knew, she was; she’d never studied her mother’s family tree too closely. 

“So,” said Jack, to cover up her awkwardness. “You must be the kidnapper’s daughter.” 

It was a terribly crass and inappropriate thing to say, but Christabel only broke into deep laughter. 

“I see the story of my father’s fabled kidnapping is still making the rounds, even all these years later,” she said. “I must tell my parents. They’ll both be delighted. Well, mama will be delighted. Papa finds the whole matter rather embarrassing.” 

“Your parents are still alive,” said Jack, not bothering to phrase it as a question. 

Christabel nodded, her smile dimming. “They still live on Hise, although my mother doesn’t captain a boat anymore.” 

“Do you have any sibling?” asked Jack impulsively. 

She shook her head. “Just me and my parents. What about you?” 

Jack smiled, but she couldn’t seem to put any real cheer into it. “Just me, for years now.” 

The Earl and his bride exchanged a worried look. 

“But let’s not be so gloomy,” said Jack quickly. “Who’s this little puppy?” She bent down to look at the girl leaning against her father’s legs. 

The little girl very gravely offered her a hand to shake, which Jack of course took with all due courtesy. 

“This is Annarose,” said Emmett. “Anna, say hello.” 

Annarose mumbled something out of the corner of her mouth, and clung closer still to her father’s legs. 

“She’s shy,” said Christabel apologetically. 

“Nothing of it,” said Jack, pasting on a grin. “What was I thinking? You must be tired and hungry after all that riding. Dinner isn’t for another hour, I think. You’ll have some time to rest.” She paused and took a breath. “You are staying, aren’t you? Oh, please stay!” 

They exchanged another look and Christabel laughed. 

“We can hardly refuse such a generous invitation,” said Emmett, breaking into a grin. 

“Wonderful!” said Jack, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Maria will be around in a moment to show you to the guest rooms. Maria’s the housekeeper, you know. She’s my right hand, I’d be lost without her. Your man will be with the animals in the stables, so the stablehands will see him taken care of with dinner and a place to stay and so on. If they’re ever done admiring your horses, that is, although I must agree that they look like very fine beasts. I don’t know half as much about horses as I do about dogs, though.” 

She kept up her end of the conversation easily all the way to where Maria was waiting for them, with Emmett pitching in now and then. Maria gladly accepted a sleepy-looking Annarose from her mother, cooing at her adoringly. She left all three guests in her capable hands and went round back to the other staircase, which led directly to her own room. She washed up for dinner without anyone having to remind her, and even took the trouble to run a comb through her windblown hair. It would be the liveliest dinner Holt castle will have seen since the last time her mother’s elder brother had brought his whole brood over. And much nicer, because she only got on with the very relations, on that side of the family. 

**

“What did you think?” asked Emmett, after they’d laid Anna down for a much needed nap, and were resting together in the plush window-seat. 

“She seems nice enough,” said Bel. “Energetic, and certainly a chatterbox, but she’s not much like any of the Wellish nobles I’ve ever met. Not much like papa, either, come to think of it.” 

“I like her,” said Emmett decisively, “and I think Gabriel would like her, too.” 

“Oh, he would,” agreed Bel, “if he could get her to slow down long enough to have a proper conversation.” 

“You’ll have to tell her the whole story of your parents’ meeting,” said Emmett. “The long version.” 

Bel nodded. “I think she’ll like it. She seems so lonely. Now, tell me about the dogs.” 

Emmett laughed. 

[faejilly]

Temperate

This was supposed to be for Day 12 of 7kpp fictober (yes, over two months ago) but it’s so short, and I kept wanting a little something more... only I think this is all there is, just the Dowager Countess from Arland in her chair, contemplating the Summit that’s about to begin. There’s just something really interesting for me in wondering what the NPCs think about each other beyond what they think of the PC. (Or how frustrating it must be, to be from Arland and smart enough to see everything the Royal Family is doing wrong, and not being able to do anything about it. I think my Sheltered Princess feels overflowed onto poor Yvette, too. *laughs*)

Yvette hates to admit it, even just to herself, but there’s not much to be said for the Arland Delegation this year. Too haughty, too self-important, too entrenched in their expectations, too unlikely to listen, or even take off their blinders to observe properly, and without that...

Katyia’s vision will never be realized, not with this lot of arrogant twits, and this, this is the year they need it, she’s seen too many signs of that to be able to pretend otherwise.

History always repeats itself, and she knows exactly what she’s looking at, exactly what’s coming.

The young Earl’s the best of the lot, bright enough to light up a room, both because of his smile and because he’s smarter than most people realize, but he wears his heart on his sleeve and then lets said sleeve dangle in his soup, and he’s a wretched politician.

She rather secretly adores him and the way he makes sure to talk with her instead of at her, but she’s not sure that gentle hands and a gentler heart will serve him well here.

She’s quite sure they won’t, in fact, but she doesn’t want to admit that, even to herself, doesn’t want to wish for such a bright young man to learn to be hard, even if... even if that’s what they need.

Maybe she’s wrong about him, maybe he’s got a spine of steel behind those soft eyes, maybe he’ll rise to the occasion, maybe...

Maybe someone else here will surprise her this year.

She can’t remember the last time someone surprised her.

She supposes it’s possible, supposes she can wish for...

Well.

That's a dangerous thought. Wishing for surprises, as if such a thing isn’t just as likely to be horrifying as helpful.

She knows better than that.

She can’t seem to stop it though, a bright fluttering of hope in her chest, hiding behind the small smile and polite nod she offers to those delegates who think to greet the chaperones before the Welcome Feast.

Maybe she’ll get a chance to witness something better than she expects, just this once, rather than worse.

Maybe...

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Belladonna: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Emmett: Wasn't Hamin with you?

Hamin: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Emmett: Where was Lady Beatrix?

*Distant screaming.*

Belladonna: Wow! We're gonna be late for dinner Em. Time to go.

Hamin: Gotta run.

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Hamin: Why are Bell and Emmett sitting with their backs to each other?

Beatrix: They had a fight.

Hamin: Then why are they holding hands?

Beatrix: They get sad when they fight.

[faejilly]

surrender

7kpp fictober day 10: Theodora of Arland vs The Summit

so if “renown” was right as the welcome feast began, this is during... and the not so fun after.

Theodora commits, then and there, while talking to Princess Anaele... no. Dora commits, while talking to Ana. She cannot be unaware of how her parents have trained her to behave, but this... this is more important than their expectations, this is about everyone’s future, not just hers.

She gives in to that thought, more impulse than a conscious plan, and lets herself go. She looks at each new person she meets, looks at how they stand and how they talk, how they lean towards the people around them, how they look around the rest of the feast, how they look at her, what they say and how they say it, and takes every ounce of experience she has watching her parents’ Court to help her interpret it. (Watching only, never participating, and now she wonders why, why she’s stuck like this, so far away from who she needs to be, for this, when all she needed was a little more give... but that doesn’t matter now, it doesn’t matter what she had or what they did, only what she can do with who she is, right now.)

She offers her respects to most of the Chaperones, to their countries, to their interests, and thinks she succeeds. (The Grand Duke of Wellin catches her eye, and dismisses her with a flick of his own, and she lets him, and decides there’s only so much that can be expected of her on her first day.)

She sees how stiff the Prince of Wellin holds himself, and and speaks to him as she always wished people would dare to speak to her, at home, and he smiles.

She offers Princess Penelope comfort, rides the terror of Hamin of Hise’s brash laugh and pretends she likes this adventure she’s embarked upon, pretends so hard she almost believes it.

(And yet she’s desperately relieved to fall back on comforting formality with Princess Cordelia, a break where she can breathe, and do what is familiar, what is safe, and be greeted with the same in return. She falls a little bit in love, right then and there, with the one other person here who seems to speak the same language she does, the language she’d been told her whole life was the only one she’d ever need to know.)

Prince Zarad sweeps her into a dance, and she calls him every insulting name she can think of, with a smile on her face. (She means them, every one, and hates him a little on behalf of the girl she was just a few minutes ago, before Ana, before Cordelia, who would have burst into tears and had her entire Summit ruined for one madcap young man’s whim. He bows her away again, a glint of respect in his eyes, and she wonders at how fragile Constance’s life must be, caught in the Corvali Court surrounded by men like that. And worse.)

She greets Crown Prince Jarrod, because she must, and the grip of his hand makes her realize how much worse could get. Because this is cruelty, and selfish caprice, and she is afraid.

She almost flees when she gets the chance. She manages to hide her desire to retreat, but she cannot make herself brave Princess Gisette’s cold eyes.

And maybe, maybe she can see how Zarad’s greeting was a test, a way to see if she had what it took to survive the next seven weeks now, rather than waiting ‘til later when the consequences would still be worse.

She hates herself almost as much as him, that she thinks she’s already forgiven him for it.

Lord Clarmont puts her more at ease than she thought possible, after that, and she stood up with Prince Zarad, with Clarmont behind her she can stand up for Penelope too, can’t she?

(She can, she almost doesn’t believe it, and the Theodora in the back of her thoughts is screaming, terror and shock and worry, but Dora smiles, and keeps going.)

Lady Avalie is beautiful and smooth, as flawless as porcelain and gold, and Dora wonders if there’s a way to be more like that, when she grows up a little more.

And Duke Lyon...

He lets her talk about the past, rather than making her worry about the present or the future, and she hopes she gets the chance to talk to him again.

She saves the Earl for last, her sweetly remembered Emmett, the one friend she hopes she has just for herself, and it’s more difficult than she expected not to throw herself into his arms and cling to the one spot of comfort here in this horrifying new stage of her life.

But she doesn’t, and he smiles, and she smiles back, and maybe they’ll both survive the next seven weeks, as long as they help each other through the days.

And Dora smiles, and smiles, and makes it through dinner, and back to her room, and it’s only when she’s finally behind her closed door, curled up in every blanket she can find, that she lets Theodora out again, eyes dry but burning, body shaking so hard she’s surprised to realize she’s still in one piece when she wakes up the next morning.

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem Ships

OTP:

Prince Pirate Hamin of Hise x Lady Beatrix “Bee” of Corval

Love:

Duke Lyon of Jiyel x Lady Ivory “Ivy” of Hise Prince Zarad of Corval x Lady Julianna “Juli” of Jiyel Earl Emmett of Arland x Countess Belladonna “Bell” of Holt Wellin Lord Clarmont of Revaire x Princess Cornelia “Corny”/“Nelly” of Arland Lady Leala of Hise x Lady Skyler “Sky” of Skalt Prince Lisle of Wellin & Lady Sabine of Revaire

Like:

Princess Penelope of Wellin x Countess Belladonna “Bell” of Holt Wellin Lady Cordelia of Hise x Princess Penelope of Wellin Earl Emmett of Arland x Princess Penelople of Wellin Princess Anaeale “Ana” of Skalt x Princess Penelope of Wellin Prince Pirate Hamin of Hise x Prince Zarad of Corval Prince Pirate Hamin of Hise x Corval Lady Prince Pirate Hamin of Hise x Wellin Countess Lord Clarmont of Revaire x Wellin Countess Lord Clarmont of Revaire x Corval Lady Lord Clarmont of Revaire x Hise Pirate Prince Pirate Hamin of Hise x Arland Princess Duke Lyon of Jiyel x Wellin Countess Princess Gisette of Revaire x Jiyel Scholar

Neutral:

Anything not listed

Dislike:

Lord Clarmont of Revaire x Princess Gisette of Revaire Princess Gisette of Revaire x Revaire Rebel Leader Princes Jarrod of Revaire x Anyone Lord Blain x Any Main Character Lady Sabine of Revaire x Anyone Romantically

Hate:

Princess Anaeale “Ana” of Skalt x Any Man Romantically Lady Leala of Hise x Any Man Romantically Prince Lisle of Wellin x Any Woman Romantically Grand Duke Charles Woodly of Wellin x Anyone Princes Jarrod of Revaire x Lady Sabine of Revaire