#eldest princess should be drawn and quartered

[ashortstoryaboutlove]

Holy shit the first 10 minutes of The Double are amazing

Also the music when Duke Su arrives on screen for the first time is so extra (but he also seems extra lmao)

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Blood Sport

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 1 - 1K WC

Part 1 (you are here!)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: royalty y/n, space vampires (kinda?), if you speak Latin you might know some of these words, feyd being feyd, feyd realizing you are a bad bitch, probably some other shit I should mention but honestly this one is setting the stage, its the following fics that'll need warnings lol

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Your eyes were black. It was the first thing about you that Feyd noticed. Pitch black scleras with blood red irises that seemed to glow softly. You were draped in black with different shades of red peaking throughout your dress. Yet your eyes are what captured Feyd the most. Not the long, sharp nails. Not the jars of blood your maids were taking to your quarters. Not the fact that almost everything you were wearing could become an improvised weapon. No, your sharp eyes that were unreadable to him are what drew him closer to you. You kept your head high, unyielding to his imposing presence. Neither of you did anything but stare at one another, trying to analyze what you could from one another. 

“The only child of House Cruor, Princess Y/N.” said the Baron from the throne in the Great Hall.

You and Feyd kept watching each other, poised like snakes ready to strike. 

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“And why should I wed some priss of a princess?” Fedy spat as he looked on at the Baron, submerged in his black sludge bath.

“You are of age and Geidi Prime needs an heir. You are the only one who can give us an heir.” he answered as he smoked out of his pipe.

“What about Rabban?” Feyd said, gesturing to his brother.

“Because I’m going to make you Emperor. And the future Emperor needs an heir.” the Baron said, dismissing his eldest nephew. “He embarrassed this house. You need to restore House Harkonnen to its full glory. Full fear. So you will marry and you will do so without quarrel.” the Baron said without room for further question.

Feyd sighed. He shouldn’t be complaining, he really shouldn’t. Emperor - he could be the most powerful man in the Emperium. And whoever he would be married to would be Empress and would fill their days with something or the other. He would never have to see you if he were the Emperor. “Fine… find me a wife worthy of being my Empress.” Feyd said to him before walking away. 

And oh did he. The Baron only sought out the most savage houses. Honorable but bloodthirsty just like the Harkonnens. He has to find someone Feyd couldn’t break. And so, he found you. The sole heir to House Cruor. A planet shrouded in darkness with only a red supergiant star bathing their planet in ominous red light. House Cruor was brutal. Their battle strategies, their fearlessness, their desire for power. It was a match made in hell. Even better, House Cruor were the last of the Sanguines; a powerful race that had once practiced blood magic. Their ways were unknown to the universe, similar to the Bene Gesserit, but they were incredibly strong, incredibly alluring, and incredibly ruthless. The Baron chose well.

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Feyd’s hand twitched, going to move some hair from your face. You instantly had the ruffles of your long sleeve drawn together and pointed at his throat, your fingernails coming up to defend yourself further. The sharp ends of each ruffle coming together made for several tiny daggers pointed at him, and your nails were more like claws. He retracted his hand slowly, once it was back at his side you retracted your dress and nails as well. 

“This is who you picked for me?” Feyd asked, looking at the Baron and the Reverend Mother, “She can’t even talk.” He said looking at you, unimpressed. 

“SPEAK.” Reverend Mother ordered you, using the Voice.

You smiled coldly at her after a moment of deafening silence. Feyd’s breath caught in his throat, he had never seen someone be unaffected by the Voice. 

“She’s some kind of monster…” you heard one of the maids whisper from the corner of the room.

Your hand shot out moving in strange, hypnotic ways. The maid had no control over herself, she walked to stand in front of you before you forced her to her knees. The blood magic Feyd had read up on briefly before you arrived, could this be it? You kept your hand down, your powers gripped every molecule of her blood, bending her to your will. 

“A monster? If I am a monster I would speak more softly. Monsters are dangerous. Ill tempered.” you said before raising her up so her feet hovered just above the cold stone floor. 

The maids eyes held fear, tears streaming down her face as she waited for you to do something. For the first time, Feyd saw a brief smile grace your lips. Two fangs; a much desired Sanguine feature that had faded from the genetic line slowly. Yet you were graciously bestowed with them. Your smile faded before you tossed the girl to the side dismissively. You turned your attention back to Feyd who was looking at you with a heated gaze. A hungry one. 

“She can talk. When she wants to.” you said to him with venom in your tone. 

All Feyd did was smirk. You weren’t weak like he expected. He was going to have so much fun figuring out how you worked. You bowed your head to the Baron and a still stunned Reverend Mother. You were already proving difficult to control. They both needed you on their side, yet Feyd wanted you on his. You moved to leave the Great Hall, all the sharp metal bits of your gown dragged along the stone floor. Your maids followed behind you swiftly.

“Already holding knives to you… this will be a prosperous marriage indeed.” chuckled the Baron as he looked at Feyd.

Feyd’s eyes remained on the corridor, watching your frame get smaller and smaller as you walked away. 

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Naboo's Note:

Did someone say cliffhanger to a possible series? No? Just me... well here it is guys and gals and nonbinary pals - SPACE VAMPIRES because the only thing sexier than aliens is vampires. That's a hill i'm willing to die on. Vampires are just unmatched. ANYWAYS - I love how this started so I will try to keep up with this but this will def be continued so look out for it! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO thank you for all the support!!!

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

                                                                                                         [next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

[alextir-creates]

Zutara Fankids by Tigrette-of-Fire

…Look, I’m a little embarrassed about the fact that I ship zutara, given how polarized the atla fandom can be about shipping, but I had so much fun designing Taiyin and Arnaaluk I just couldn’t resist.

In all honesty, this was more an exercise in mixing genetics and expressions of two cultures than anything else (I mean seriously, I wasn’t exactly inspiredor anything when I named them lmao). Like I said in my Sukka fankids piece, I’m a mixed-race, multi-ethnic person – and getting to design characters that are of more than one culture and thinking about how to best visually express a connection with both sides of that character’s heritage is really fun for me. Zutara fankids are a goldmine for that kind of thing.

More info and image ID under the cut!

Unlike Taiyin and Arnaaluk, these guys can’t exist in a largely LoK-compliant verse. However, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I would’ve changed on the cultural sensitivity front in LoK, and honestly if I’m going to put the time and effort into doing that… I’m going to be self-indulgent and add my preferred ships, even though – and I cannot stress this enough – shipping has no bearing on why I dislike LoK.

So, welcome to the Hijack!Verse, I guess (which is to say the AU where I hijack the AtLA post-canon and do what I want); it’s completely self-indulgent and I’m sorry in advance. Taiyin and Arnaaluk absolutely exist in this verse too – and tbqh, most of the content I plan to make for them will be Hijack!Verse, not LoK compliant. Sorry again.

In any case, onto the Zutara kids! Let me give you a short run-down.

Kya (pictured at 16 in this drawing), Crown Princess of the Fire Nation and firebender, is the eldest. She’s outspoken, cheerful, and is a touch more mischievous than she perhaps should be (all in good fun or in the name of fucking with bigots, of course – she and her cousin Taiyin are two peas in a pod about this. I already have ideas about a Fire Boomerang Incident in mind when it comes to the two of them putting their heads together). Izumi (pictured at 15 in this drawing), is the second child. She’s likely a non-bender, and trains to mastery both with a spear in the Southern Water Tribe’s style and with a bow and arrows under the Yuyan Archers. On the more introverted end of things and fond of organization (Izumi is definitely on the autism spectrum), she likely grows up to be Kya’s Minister of Finance. Lu Ten (pictured at 13 in this drawing) is the baby of the family – on the shy end and emotionally intuitive. He’s a waterbender and chooses healing as his focus. As an adult, Lu Ten probably moves to the Southern Water Tribe pretty much full time – though, of course, he makes time to visit his sisters and vice versa.

I uh, honestly have more planned, but this is getting really long so I’ll save that for another time. I do want to say though that Kya, Izumi, and Lu Ten split their time growing up between the Fire Nation and the South Pole. It’s really important to me that they get to have equal connection to the Southern Water Tribe and its culture as they do to the Fire Nation – and frankly, there’s no way Katara wouldn’t make sure that they did. (This also means that Katara – and to a lesser degree, Zuko, given his responsibilities as Fire Lord – is splitting her time as well. There will be no cutting Katara off from her homeland OR stymying her drive to interact with the world/be a major global figure in this verse, no siree.

Avatar: The Last Airbender © Mike DeMartino, Bryan Konietzko, and Nickelodeon

Art © Me

[Image ID: Neck up headshots of three teenagers. The teen to the top right, labelled “Kya,” has light-to-medium brown skin, black hair, and blue eyes. She’s smiling widely enough that you can see her teeth, and is drawn at a three-quarter view facing the viewer’s left. She has two looped braids hanging from each of her temples, which are each secured with dark blue ties with gold trim. The rest of her hair is pulled up into a topknot, on which she is wearing a crown consisting of a red band and two stylized gold flames – the same hairpiece Avatar Roku is depicted wearing. To the lower right of her is a stylized drawing of the Fire Nation’s pre-imperial insignia, drawn in red.

The teen to the middle left, labelled “Izumi,” has light-to-medium brown skin, dark brown hair, and gold eyes. She is also drawn at a three-quarter view but is facing to the viewer’s right. Her expression is somewhere between concerned and amused, and her mouth is open as if to comment on whatever is causing that reaction. She sports the same “hair loopies” Katara does in the series – each adorned with a pale blue bead. The rest of her hair (and where the ends of the ‘hair loopies” are secured) is in a high ponytail (in universe called a phoenix plume) reminiscent of Zuko’s pre-banishment hairstyle. Her phoenix plume is secured by a red ribbon and has a small hairpiece shaped like a flame (similar to the crown we see Azula wear) in front of the tie. The motion of her hair implies that she is turning to look in the viewer’s direction.

The teen to the bottom right, labelled “Lu Ten,” has light brown skin, dark brown hair, and gold eyes. His expression looks vaguely surprised. He is also drawn at a three-quarter view, facing to the viewer’s left. His hair is shoulder length, with the top portion tied back into a warrior’s wolf-tail. His wolf-tail is decorated with the same, flame-shaped hairpiece Izumi wears. He is wearing an cream colored necklace akin to the one Sokka wears in the series. To the immediate right of him is the Southern Water Tribe crest, drawn in pale blue.

All of these headshots are circumscribed by a purple rectangular “frame.” The artist’s signature, reading “AlexTir” is in the bottom right corner

End ID]

[magneticmage]

A Web of Betrayal

This is an excerpt from yet another fic I will probably never write. I have a lot of those. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw for sexism, plans of poisoning and Canon death of named characters. Also a discussion of how Orzammar's sex-based system is stupid and artifical binaries do not work in real life because nonbinary and transpeople exist. And enforcement of such a binary system hurts people who do not fit within its demands.

Valda Aeducan was lucky.

She was a princess in Orzammar. Daughter of the King and his noble Queen. Noble Caste and wealthy. Desirable and beautiful.

And yet she felt strangled in unseen webs at times for it.

She had seen her father's favoritism from a long time ago. He favored his sons, particularly his eldest two. It was not that surprising in retrospect, she supposed. Bhelen had been born from a casteless concubine-which had further soured her parents' then already-strained relationship. She had been born a woman, and thus should have inherited her mother's noble caste, not her father's royal one. But her mother had convinced the King to break from tradition for her daughter's benefit. Perhaps with the potential a future alliance of marriage could bring him.

The whole caste system was sexist, really. She had recalled the few times her cousin, Firenze, had broken down in her arms sobbing because they had not fit between their mother's noble caste and their father's casteless one since they did not wish to be male or female. Their brother, Rethan, had been assigned their mother's caste as a noble and he lived in fear for the discovery of his true self and being forced down amongst the casteless, to live in squalor and disease and refuse until he died. Both had gone off into the Deep Roads one day and neither returned. Rumors said that Rethan had escaped to the surface and Firenze had joined the Legion. But they were only rumors.

The caste system was killing them, bit by bit.

Even when one's gender did not affect things, one's caste certainly did. She was a noblewoman and was expected to be chaste and honorable. She had more bodies hidden under her stone caverns to be fed to her spiders and spilled more dwarven blood than quite a few members of the Warrior caste. She had been denied male lovers unless her father had approved of the match. Gorim was proof of that.

It rankled her. Coated her veins in venom and she was not surprised to find her growing disdain was matched with an increasing skill in actual poison and its antidotes.

She saw how Bhelen held the same doubts and frustrations. He was chided and ignored by their father, only gaining attention when he failed drastically. While she was praised for her own combat skills, it was because it was rare and often discouraged for women to become warriors due to the looming threat of broodmothers. Or so her father had explained when she had picked up her brother's sword to practice. She had batted her lashes and played on her father's soft spot as his only daughter and the family's precious jewel, to be safeguarded in Proving fights and not in true Deep Roads expeditions, when she was allowed to fight at all. She had been forced to maintain that image for years. She was as harmless as a nug as far as many nobles were concerned when really all she had been doing was weaving webs of influence and manipulating court intrigue to her family's benefit.

It had only been a matter of time before she had learned of Bhelen's ambitions. He had begun to be more reserved at family meals. But Trian was busy being groomed for heirdom and Barran-her own twin- was focused on both supporting their brother and learning the ways of war for the day he became Commander of Orzammar's armies. Whatever was left of them. No one else noticed the growing frown in their younger brother's expression. The faint hint of mockery in each laugh. The deep exhale of relief the moment he had a moment away from his brothers' shadows.

But she did.

And so she waited.

She did not strike when he took that lovely redhead as his lover. Trian had scoffed and demanded she be kept to her rooms like the dirty casteless woman she was. Barran had scowled and offered to find him a better match when he had time. Bhelen did not listen. Valda did not need to see the tender looks and small touches they hid before each parting to know how deep the affection ran. She even helped the woman by sending her gifts of food and small trinkets in passing over the years-always discreet, of course-and let her presume Bhelen had been the one to send them or whatever she wished to think of them. And her little brother did notice and gave her a questioning look between meals every once in a while after each present arrived. But she only smiled and went back to discussing the ways the various Houses were quarreling again as she cut delicately into her bronto steak.

She did not strike when she saw Bhelen begin to make moves in Dust Town. To ally with the Carta bosses to do his dirty work in exchange for some of the wealth and finer adjustments in life. Trian did not notice a few of his silver buttons went missing and blamed it on the servants as thieves. One poor girl had been beaten so badly that Valda had stepped in and offered the girl a new job instead of cleaning her brother's laundry: to make sure her spiders were fed. She had agreed and despite the healing wounds causing her some delay in being able to work, she had grown extremely adept at managing the caves and the spiders had learned not to harm the girl, even when she took a few of their eggs and venom for herself. Valda did not mind nor ask after her blatant thefts. Being a woman of any rank was hard enough when the men of the noble caste were as inconsiderate and selfish like her eldest brother.

Still she did not strike when Bhelen began to put his plans in motion. He had quietly orchestrated small quarrels between a few noble Houses, pitting them against each other in Provings to test his skills at coercing the upper classes. Barran had bested them all and drawn himself as a target after he ended the conflict through diplomacy. Their father had held a feast in celebration. Trian had all but secured Lady Helmi's daughter's affections by then, bolstering the traditionalists' favor in the Assembly despite Barran's rising own status and favor amongst the reformists and Warrior castes. Bhelen seethed over his wine that night. Until she had slipped him a note with the location of a warehouse full of food and medicine and scraps of old unused fabric and metal from her many, many gowns and armor. He had put the warehouse to use and it was empty within a fortnight, it's contents gutted and distributed amongst his followers.

He had thanked her but did not reveal his plans further.

But they both knew where the rot lay. And they both knew what measures would be needed to remove it.

Still, the entire system did not need to be torn down like he wished. Rebuilt and reconstructed, but not demolished.

So she struck at last.

It was the eve of the expedition and the feast was in full swing. Trian was complaining until his eye had wandered to some lovely noble women wishing to dance and flirt with the heir to the throne. Barran glowed with pride and swagger as he roamed the hall before disappearing with a pair noble-hunters, one on each arm. A third had been sent to Gorim's quarters and Valda did not pretend to hide her jealousy when the woman left with a smile later that night. Luckily, her handmaidens had been more than happy to help calm her anger by giving her tasks until it was time to move. She was still human, after all. She still held regrets sometimes.

If she were not who she was, she might have been able to have him. But the castes were absolute and the Assembly and her father and Harrowmont all valued tradition. Some more than others.

She was waiting alongside his concubine when Bhelen returned to his room, the two of them happily chatting about various skin and hair care regimes and the frustrations of the world's expectations with her future sister-in-law and herself. There was no doubt Bhelen would do anything for his loved ones.

And so would she.

"Sister, I....I did not expect you." He frowned and crossed his arms as he made his way across the room towards the two women.

"I know," She savored her last sip of wine for the evening before setting the glass down, "And I have a proposal, dear brother. I will be blunt since it is time we be honest to, at least, each other."

Bhelen's brows furrowed and the canny intelligence he took great pains to hide gleamed bright and open in his eyes then. "I'm listening."

"I know some of what you have struggled with these past years," She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, letting the sound breathe into the air for a moment before she continued, "Our struggles may not be the same, but we understand that our home is being destroyed by more than the darkspawn. It is being destroyed by ourselves."

Bhelen sat down across from her, gently taking Rica's hand and kissing her knuckles, "Would you mind preparing a bath for me, love? I need a moment to discuss some things with my sister."

Rica nodded and curtesied, "Course. My lady, excuse me."

Valda waved her off, "None of that, my dear. You will be Queen one day. Bow to no one but the ones you love."

Bhelen blinked in surprise and Rica smiled, as pleasant and easy-going as ever, "I will keep that in mind."

As Rica left the room, Bhelen leaned forward, fingers dipping out of view to no doubt reach for his knife sheath. "Queen, sister? Whatever gave you-"

"Honesty," She reminded him simply, "You and I both wish to change the face of Orzammar in our own way. And I believe we can help each other do that."

He leaned back and lifted his hand to stroke his beard for a moment. The gesture was so very much like her father and brothers that she had to bite back a swear. Bhelen, of course, noticed the slip in her mask and smiled, "Yes. Let's be honest, sister. Tell me how you wish to change Orzammar for the better."

"I believe you've had enough of listening to others tell you their goals, brother. " She smiled and set her hands on the table, palms up, "Tell me yours."

There was a pause as Bhelen seemed to weigh his options. Finally, he shook his head, "You will not help me. You do not have the heart for it."

"I have no more heart than you." She countered, "Our brothers are fools, my twin included. If they must be removed to ensure we get where we need to go, then so be it. That is what you planned for with that ex-warrior caste, isn't it? To move the Aeducan shield so you can set them up against each other."

He frowned, "Why would I wish them dead?"

"Because Trian does not respect you and would never change what needs to be done. Barran attempts to help but does not understand the causes of our sufferings."

"And what sufferings are those?"

Valda let her eyes drift towards the screen that separated the running water room of the bath, "You and I were not meant to be what we wish, Bhelen. Your ambition is to do better for the dwarven people, for your lover and your child."

He scowled, "You seem to know a great deal, sister. However did you come across such things?"

"People talk about interesting rumors all the time," Valda responded crisply, "Beyond that, we both know that I cannot name my sources without risking their lives, now can I?"

He chuckled and waved a hand, "You are such a spider queen, sister. If I did not know better, I would say you would much prefer the throne yourself!"

"No." She said.

There was a pregnant pause.

He arched a brow, "Truly? You could have all the power you wish. Any man you want. The Assembly would happily support you."

"The Assembly are old and do not speak for all of our people," Valda looked at her nails. The paint had chipped away a bit somewhere. "I wish to remove the caste system where it harms people. But I cannot be the one to do that."

"And why not?"

"I do not want power, Bhelen. I want people to be able to choose what they are in this world. What we Dwarves become. We cannot do that if a symbol of the old ways does that."

"Elaborate." His brows furrowed as he turned his head to the side to glance at the baths.

"Many people view me as either a copy of my mother or an extension of my brother as his twin." She smiled bitterly, "It is how I have managed to go unnoticed on my own all these years. So, no, I cannot be the one to change our people, but I can help the one who does."

Bhelen shook his head, "You want me to be King?"

"I want to help my brother," Valda corrected quietly, "Because I believe that he will do what he needs to in order to better help our people. All I ask is that I am listened to and my requests are accepted when I have them."

Bhelen met her gaze, "And what requests would you have?"

"A voice of my own to say what I wish, agency to decide things for myself be it marriage or other life prospects, and the dignity of any dwarf has been granted in your new rule."

"That's vague," He pointed out, "What will you do with these favors, if I grant them?"

"Serve our people by ensuring the old nobles do not interfere too much with your work, for one," She brushed aside her ringlets from her armored shoulders, "Ensure the casteless are fed and respected and the darkspawn driven back. Forge alliances and trade. All the same things you are already planning. And a few you haven't accounted for."

"Like?" He questioned.

"You'll find out eventually. You're smart enough, brother. And we promised honesty to each other." She held out her hand, "Now, do we have a deal?"

Bhelen glanced at her hand and seemed to think it over a moment longer. Then he clasped her forearm and they shook, "Very well, sister dear. I will do what you ask so long as you do not betray me."

[whitelotus-ffxiv]

lessons learned.

There are plenty of reasons to dislike Claudia fae Caelius. 

She’s loud, she’s rude, she gossips, she looks down on the servants within the palace and does little to hide it, she practically pimps out her middle daughter while ignoring the existence of her youngest...

But her most unforgivable sin is that she makes me feel bad for her eldest.

No wonder Laelia is a godsdamned control freak that needs to have her finger on the pulse of everything and everyone around her. It was probably the only way to survive her basket case of a mother.

I watch as this savage invader with her yellow hair walks the halls of the palace, clearly uncomfortable in the clothes that have been gifted to her to wear. I watch as she pinches the silks and satins between her fingers to judge their value, watch as her dark blue eyes narrow and assess the price, and I know what she thinks as she looks over the finery that exists within the Jade Palace.

How could Domans have so much wealth? How could any Domans exist that hadn’t had everything stolen? Didn’t her people take all of the palaces, all of the gold and the jade and the silks? She watches Jun, and she watches the Jade Lord, and I know. I know that she is confused that these royals still exist, that they weren’t exterminated or overpowered. 

I wonder just how much it would curl her hair to know what the Jade royals did at the behest of her people to maintain their power and wealth and autonomy. 

Just as the little one with the scar begged her mother to leave us be, I hear how the middle Caelius girl pleads with her own mother to not wander the halls too much. They’ve heard the stories from the servants, and I’m sure that they’ve heard the intermittent screaming throughout the nights - either from the dungeons filled with mad women longing for lost children or whatever poor bastard is enduring the Jade Lord and Jun. 

The girls are right. No one should be wandering these halls unattended. It’s not safe for those who aren’t careful, who don’t know what they’re doing.

It’s not safe, especially, for those with third eyes around servants and trained guards who feel twitchy at the sight of Garleans, who are triggered by the sound of their language or the way that they carry themselves. It’s not safe for loud-mouthed people who don’t know their place in this world anymore to try to carve out a new space for themselves and their kin.

It’s not safe for Caudia fae Benes to try to be gathering information about the martial status of the Jade Prince. It’s not safe for her to be trying to find out if I am a concubine, a wife, a mistress - but never have I heard that I might be a princess from the servants’ reports. That doesn’t cross Claudia fae Benes’ mind that I might be the next bitch in charge, lounging on a dais. It doesn’t cross her mind that I have much influence at all, that it was Jun who permits me the power that I have, or that I’m much more than a whore for the prince and a bodyguard for Princess Aoi. 

It’s not safe for a woman who practically spits at one of the younger servant girls for accidentally spilling a bit of tea on her shoes - shoes that she doesn’t actually own, but belong to the palace - and demand that the quaking girl speak Garlean, because she knows it, doesn’t she? 

And it’s especially not safe for a woman who wants to pimp her middle daughter, after ruining the first, and propose that my Jade Prince marry Julia Caelius so that her mother can try to regain some footing in a social hierarchy, to regain some wealth, and try to regain some influence.

The servants tell me that Claudia fae Caelius wants to be granted a private audience with the Jade Lord. They rushed to me as soon as they overheard it coming from the Garleans’ chambers, with the redheaded one arguing that it was an absolutely moronic idea, and didn’t Claudia know when to stop--...

I tell them to find Claudia fae Caelius and tell them that she’s been granted an audience - though not to specify with who, exactly - after ensuring that the Jade Lord would be busy for the day. I ensure that the only servants coming in or out are ones that I can trust, that Kai is in charge of the guards that attend to the throne room that I choose...

The water room. 

---------

The servants keep the lights low in the room, but the reflections from the water bounce off of the walls. There’s no tables, like there usually are when we come in here. The room is empty. It feels strange for me to sit upon a dais, but there needs to be some order regained. Things need setting straight. 

I know how angry I am, but... I also know that my song is still calm. Maybe it’s still taut and tight like leather rather than silk, but that’s alright. I’m still in control of myself and my emotions. This is something that I know I have the upperhand in it when it comes to the Caelius woman. This is something that Laelia and I had in common, I suppose - the ability to remain composed. 

Fingers drum slowly against the hilt of the katana I have drawn, watching the doorway as light reflects off of the steel. I sit like a man might, dressed in the same black uniform that I’d once worn to sneak into Jun’s quarters. I appear as no more than a shadow, my hair pulled into a ponytail, the veil across my lips still except for when I exhale once I hear approaching footsteps. 

“Don’t turn your back,” I hear a servant murmuring, and the reminder makes the corners of my lips twitch. One was never to turn their back on the Jade royals, but that isn’t why Claudia is receiving the same instructions I received on my first day. After all, she’s right. I’m no princess. Not really. This isn’t my throne room. This isn’t my palace. 

But you don’t turn your back on a dog ready to attack, either. 

My eyes are better adjusted to dark rooms than the average person’s, and so I see the Caelius woman very clearly as she walks slowly into the throne room. It’s odd, seeing her move with such care and reverence after watching her paw at vases and tapestries like she already owned them. The disrespect makes my mouth feel like it might fill with blood. When she looks at my prince, she sees status. She sees price tags. She sees power and opportunity. 

“Your Majesty,” the woman begins in broken Doman, lowering herself to her knees. Maybe the trousers I wear have thrown her off, or the way that I’m sitting, and maybe it’s hard to see just how much smaller my silhouette is than the Jade Lord’s in the darkness. “I thank you--...”

“Is that who you were told you’d be meeting with today?” I cut her off, my voice low, well-aware of how well the Garlean language falls off my lips and tongue. “Rise, woman. There is no one for you to bow to here.”

I can see the way that she bristles, and it makes me want to laugh. There’s hesitation before she sits back up, and then stumbles to her feet, the unfamiliar clothes hindering her ability to move with grace.

“I beg your... pardon, but I was told that I had been granted an audience--...”

“An audience.” I cut her off again. “You have. No one specified with whom exactly the audience would be with, did they?” 

I wait. I wait for her to answer and try to argue with me, eyebrows raised. But she doesn’t. She looks around the room, and I’m willing to bet she doesn’t think she looks nervous. She does, though. I can smell it on her. I can see it in the way she pivots her toes, in the direction her waist turns initially before she turns to look at me head-on through the dim room. 

“Did the Jade Lord sign off on this, young woman?” she sniffs, taking a step closer to the dais, and I lift a hand. She freezes in place, like she was expecting guards to melt out of the walls, and then I watch her glare up at me as I smile down at her. 

“No, but the Jade Prince did. He has power here, but you know that already, don’t you? The way you flinch - the way that you believe that I could easily have you handled by hands that aren’t my own - tells me that you know that I have whatever power I want in this place. So, pray tell, Lady Caelius...”

Slowly, I rise to my feet and make my way down the small set of stairs that take me off of the dais and onto the floor where she stands. To her credit - or her foolishness - the woman stays exactly where she is. She doesn’t budge this time. She doesn’t flinch, and I can’t tell if I admire it or find it annoying.

“Tell me why you’ve been feeling bold enough to walk around my prince’s palace, touching things as you please, talking to servants however you see fit, and acting as if you already own the place?” 

My voice doesn’t raise. It’s so very soft, in a way that I’ve learned from Jun’s siren song. It doesn’t have the same magical properties. It never could, but... If nothing else, it’s taught me a little bit about how to croon in a way that is both peaceful and unsettling all at once. And, as I speak, I walk until I stop just mere ilms from Claudia fae Caelius’ face, my eyes drilling into hers through the darkness as shards of light bounce across our faces. 

She sniffs. She stiffens. She has the audacity and lack of self preservation to narrow her eyes and lean her head back from me. She takes a step back, and I simply take a step forward, quietly reaching around to set my sword at her hamstrings - still sheathed - so that she knows she isn’t permitted to step away from me another fulm. 

“The Jade Lord will be displeased to receive a report about your behavior,” Claudia whispers, her voice practically trembling with indignation, and I can’t help but to smile.

“He would. I’m sure he would, if anyone in this room other than you would be willing to vouch for that story. But as the story stands... You’re resting in your quarters. Do you think it would be difficult to get your companions to agree to tell that lie? And if they disagreed... Well. Have you heard all of the singing in the palace, my lady? It’s very beautiful, isn’t it? It can set one so very much at ease, and yet...” 

Lightly, I tap the sword against the back of her legs.

“And yet, it makes your mind feel like it isn’t quite yours, right? The prince or the beautiful women that roam the halls could tell anyone anything and they would believe it. They have such a way about them. So... While my lady is correct in assuming that the Jade Lord wouldn’t approve of this, she is desperately incorrect about him receiving a report about it to begin with. You were a senator, weren’t you? And you still couldn’t politician your way into an actual meeting with him, and... for what? What were your intentions?”

I take a step back and move my sword from the back of her legs, and though she tries to hide it, I can see the way Claudia exhales - at least a little bit - in clear relief, as she lets go of a breath she wasn’t aware that she was holding.

“My intentions are not the concern of a bodyguard, Line Hwa. Let us cease this silly little meeting and allow us to both go back about our business.”

The corners of my lips twitch again at her tone and the butchering of my pseudonym. Slowly, I reach up and unclasp the mask hanging in front of my mouth so that she can see my face a bit more clearly. 

“You have been rude to the servants in the palace. You demand they speak a language that incites fear because you haven’t bothered to learn ours, despite you being permitted into this palace out of an act of kindness. It’s gotten back to me - as a bodyguard, in charge of many of the servants that graciously agreed to help you and the rest of your party - that you’ve even gone far enough to call a girl hardly more than a child a savage. So...”

The words make her shrink. All at once, I see the pride that Claudia fae Caelius was trying to cling onto start to fade, because no one was supposed to know about that slip of the tongue. Even her own party would rip her apart for such foul language, and she knows it. 

She is a proud, foolish woman, but I believe that she even knows that one wrong step would throw her into the wilds to fend for herself. 

“I would suggest you change your tune, quickly. I hear everything that happens in this palace, but even I know far less of how a person truly is compared to those who truly own this palace. They know you to your core, Claudia fae Caelius. They can see the rot that lives in you with far more ease than I can. Your song - your inner song, you understand? - has no beauty. It grates on them. You grate on everyone around you, even your own children...”

Clicking my tongue, I clasp my hands behind my back, and I circle her like a vulture about to descend on its prey. I watch her stiffen. I watch her hold her wrist with one hand, and then repeat the motion as she wrings her hands before forcing herself to stop. I come to a halt behind her, my voice still low, still almost a croon, but I can’t stop the bite that seeps into my tone.

“No wonder your eldest decided that she would rather die, in a burning Castrum, than ever see your face again, Claudia.” 

Claudia moves this time. Sure, it was a low blow. Of course it was. But it wasn’t really a lie, was it? It’s enough to make Claudia dare raise a hand to me as she swivels on a heel, her eyes burning like ceruleum, and I don’t even move to grab her wrist. I stay still. I wait, and I watch, eyebrows raised. 

“Keep pushing your middle girl and she might experience a similar fate. One child has already proved they’ll do anything to get away from your control and your incessant nagging. At least your husband isn’t here, but he only beat Laelia, didn’t he? Cassia wasn’t important enough to hit, and Julia is the only one that actually belongs to him. I can see you balling your hand into fist, so I’m right, aren’t I? Laelia was just another bastard?”

“Shut your mouth,” Claudia hisses, and I grin.

“Or what? You’ll call me a savage? You’ll strike me? You don’t have any power here, Claudia. You can hit me, and then you’ll lose your hands. I’ll feed them to the creatures in the lagoon and force you to watch,” I murmur, and she bristles again. So much bristling, so little action. 

“Tread lightly around the ponds. I think it bears reminding,” I continue, looking down and adjusting my gloves as she continues to glare, with her hand still raised in the air, before I glance back up at her face. “And do lower your arm. It would be a shame for everyone to see how you’ve stained those beautiful silks with your sweat from trembling like an angry little dog.” 

“You’re a sick little girl,” Claudia snarls. “Who do you think you are? You are a lowly guard that could easily be replaced. Just because the prince likes to call you to his quarters doesn’t mean you have the right to speak to me like this. I doubt the prince would approve of you calling away servants and guards just for this! Who is looking after the princess?” 

“I am well within my rights and the capacity of my authority. I promise you. And the safety of the princess is none of your concern. The biggest threat to her right now is that she might be wondering where her lunch is. Keep running your mouth and questioning me, and see how quickly I have your head covered in a bag and you left alone in the middle of the jungle, Caelius.”

Taking a step back, I step around the woman - who smells like sweat and anger and fear - and towards the exit of the throne room, my footsteps silent. But she isn’t silent. She isn’t still. She whips around, and she reaches for my arm, and I feel no remorse for the way I grab her wrist and throw her onto the floor. It’s simply a knee-jerk reaction, and I hear her gasp in absolute shock - and pain, because I’m sure that it didn’t tickle. I turn on my heel, staring down at her, as I pull my sword from its sheath. 

“Apologize,” she demands in a shaky voice, glaring up at me. “Apologize for threatening me! And then you put hands on me? How dare you!” 

Rolling my eyes, I crouch down, resting my arm on the pommel of my sword as I peer down at the woman’s face. Her makeup is creasing from sweat. I supposed the silks might be a bit stifling for her, that the weather in Doma might be a bit balmy compared to what she’s used to. 

“You put hands on me first,” I remind her softly. “I would be well within my rights to hurt you far worse than that. No one would mourn you. You know that, don’t you? Your daughters might feel a passing sadness, and then it would be relief... And I think that will be your punishment.” 

Clearing my throat, I smile before reaching out and grabbing Claudia’s face between my hands, despite the way that she tries to pull away - and the way that she fails to do so. 

"No one would mourn your death,” I whisper to her. “Not your daughters. Not your husband. And it’s more than likely that any friends you have now are dead, in the same gutters that people like you forced the Populares into. Now... A few parting reminders...”

I tighten my leather-clad grip on Claudia’s face as she sputters and tries to speak, her eyes wild and furious.

“You may continue to try to sell your daughter like a pig at the market to the Jade Prince, but he won’t bite. He won’t be interested. Insult one more servant and you will be removed from the palace - or, at best, put into solitary confinement until it’s time for you to leave. And... stay in your fucking quarters. This palace is not and will never belong to you. It is ancient. It is sacred. And it screams each time you touch it with your filthy, war-mongering feet. I only see one savage in this room, and I assure you that it is not me.”

“How dare you--” Claudia sputters again once I let go of her face and straighten back up. “The Jade Lord will hear of this! Mark my words! You terrible girl! Come back here, we are not--- gaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Close the doors,” I tell the guards flanking either side of them, even as they glance nervously into the throne room. “Allow her out in five minutes.”

“Why is she screaming?” one of them asks, and I shrug as I walk past. 

It definitely had nothing to do with yokai taking the shape of thirty snakes surrounding her and nipping at her skin. Certainly not.

Dumb bitch.

[icecoldflames]

Chapter 1 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Next Chapter

***

1820, England

You can’t be serious. Logan felt his whole body shut down. No, no, nonono. This can’t be right. His palms were beginning to sweat and his clothes were too tight on him.

Why did Irwin have to take his day off today? Logan grimaced at the sudden thought and shoved it back down. That was a stupid thing to think.

Logan wanted to stand up and shout at his parents who were blinking at him expectantly. Expecting him to be the good prince. The serious prince. The prince who would eventually take the crown after his father died. The prince who was now going to marry some random princess across the woods.

Why couldn’t he have been born a peasant? He would have been much better suited there than in a castle. As the heir to the throne. If he were born a peasant he would be able to talk with Irwin whenever he wanted.

“Logan?” His mother persisted.

Logan squashed his feelings, silenced his mental alarms with ease and swallowed before replying. “Fine by me.”

***

Her name was Philomena. And Logan was going to meet her today. And apparently one of her brothers too which was odd but Logan wasn’t complaining. They would be staying over for three days.

It had been two weeks since Logan learned about the arranged marriage and he had done some extensive reading on Philomena’s kingdom, Betrug, while also avoiding any picture of her.

She was the eldest of five, the second eldest, Virgil, was in line for the throne, and the brother accompanying her today.

Their kingdom loved them immensely. Logan couldn’t say the same for their kingdom, which is why he suspected his parents wanted a marriage between their kingdoms.

Philomena’s kingdom was smaller than theirs and had a pond dead center in the middle which was protected almost as much as the castle itself so no one could pollute it.

A knock came at his door. Logan’s shoulders snapped up to his ears. They couldn’t have come early, could they?

“Your Royal Highness?” It was Irwin.

Logan swung open the door and glanced up and down the halls before ushering him in. He sat back down at his desk chair while Irwin leaned up against the wall next to the window. He always said he felt more comfortable standing up than sitting down.

“How are you feeling?” Irwin asked after a long moment’s pause.

Logan glared at him. What a stupid question to ask. Of course he wasn’t doing fine. He was being married off to some girl he didn’t know. Instead, Logan swallowed.

Irwin crossed his arms. “We’ve talked about this, Logan. Stop repressing your feelings. These past couple weeks you’ve been like a robot. Talk to me.”

     Logan opened his mouth but no words came out even though his mind was always a constant machine, churning out thoughts like there was no tomorrow. He hunched back in on himself. What would his parents say if they saw him now—vulnerable, small, and feeble? They would surely scold him. He was supposed to be a strong, good, prince.

Irwin sighed. “You should get a journal and write your feelings in it.”

Logan ran a nervous hand through his brown hair. “And have someone find it?” He shivered at the thought of all of his feelings and thoughts so exposed on a blank sheet of paper for anyone to read. His thoughts were better hidden in his head where no one could read them.

Finally defeated, Irwin took Logan’s cold hand and hauled him to his feet. He was shorter than Logan but seemed so much stronger than him. “C’mon, I hate seeing you moping around like that.”

“Where are we going?” Logan asked as Irwin began dragging him across the room, his other hand outstretched to Logan’s door.

Irwin’s grin was almost contagious. “You’ll never guess what I found when I was trying to hide from Emese last night!” His red hair was curly and Logan found his eyes drawn up to a specific curl that was curved a different way than the rest.

Logan held Irwin’s hand tighter, feeling energy bursting out from their intertwined hands. It was an odd feeling and he didn’t know what it was but Logan liked it.

Irwin’s hand was inches away from the doorknob when it seemed to twist on its own and Logan’s mother walked in, her head held high.

Her head snapped down. Logan dropped Irwin’s hand like cold stone.

“Your Majesty,” Irwin said instantly, dropping into a bow and hurrying out. Once he got out the door he turned back and mouthed, I’ll be back.

“Mother?” Logan prompted, sitting instantly back down on his chair like a schoolboy adhering to a teacher. His hand that had been holding Irwin’s twitched and he shoved it underneath him.

The queen quietly closed the door and sat on his bed, her back perfectly straight. “Logan, you are a smart boy,” she stated.

Logan braced for the punching words that she had seen his and Irwin’s hands holding each other’s.

“And I have full trust that you will make a good impression with Princess Philomena and Prince Virgil.” His mother’s voice was like steel and unwavering. Not like she had just seen anything out of the ordinary. “I want you to make a good impression.”

Logan relaxed. Just a bit. He was positive his mother had seen their hands together. She wasn’t blind. Logan didn’t mention it because he would make sure it would never happen again. “Of course.”

His mother nodded and gripped her hands together. Her lips made a thin line. “Very well. I’ll call up some valets to help you get ready for the princess’ arrival.” She stood up and placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder shortly before exiting out the door. Her hand was warm but it left a cold feeling where she had touched him.

All while he was being preened and pampered by valets, Logan had plenty of time to think and try to calm his spinning thoughts that would soon spiral if he didn’t take control quickly.

Mother definitely saw, his brain told him, mocking him.

If she saw she would have brought attention to it, Logan replied fervently. Right?

You’re meeting the woman you’re going to marry today and you’ll be stuck with her until you die. His brain wouldn’t let up. You’re unhappy now and you’ll always be unhappy—

“—Shut up!” Logan shouted, standing up and grabbing at his head, pulling at his hair that had been so meticulously done.

All the valets stared at him with unblinking eyes.

Logan let his arms fall to his sides. He hung his head and sat back down. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what came over me.”

His brain snickered at him. Have fun.

Logan dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from having another outburst.

Would any of his valets tell his parents about this? It was a stupid thought but Logan didn’t want his parents to know anything that was going on. He wanted them to see a perfect prince who would eventually take over the crown and marry a woman and have heirs to continue the line and—

“—Your Royal Highness?” Irwin’s voice snapped him out of his spiral. “The queen wishes me to take you down to the front entrance.”

Logan instantly relaxed as the door behind him shut and only him and Irwin were alone in the halls.

“You look very nice,” Irwin complimented and Logan could feel his body become warm.

He was wearing a navy blue broad shouldered coat with golden cords and bindings with a tail that was cut all the way down to his knees with white breeches. The whole outfit was uncomfortable and hiding the very tight belt cinching his waist. It was new and his parents had bought it for this very special occasion of meeting his future wife.

“Thank you,” Logan said awkwardly, coughing a little.

Their shoes echoed through the halls menacingly and Logan squashed down all his doubts and quickly grasped Irwin’s hand. Because darn it, he deserved something nice today.

They walked down the stairs and through the stone hallways holding hands.

“Do you think you’ll be fine when you finally see Princess Philomena?” Irwin asked, finally breaking the silence.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Irwin squeezed Logan’s hand but didn’t say anything.

Logan knew this meant that he had nothing to say. And there was nothing to say. No words would make this entire thing better except maybe “Logan, your father and I have something to tell you. In actuality, we had a secret child before you and you don’t have to get married because they are the true heir to the throne!”

They walked down the rest of the way to the front entrance of the castle. They crossed paths with almost no one on their way there. All the servants were probably preparing for Princess Philomena’s arrival.

They stopped before the right turn and Logan gloomily peeled his hand away from Irwin’s.

“Tonight, I’ll come over and show you the secret passage I found. You’ll never believe where it leads to,” Irwin said with a fond smile. “That’ll give you something to look forward to.”

Logan nodded and a small smile appeared on his own face. “Okay. That’ll be fun.”

Irwin turned around and made his way back to the servant’s quarters, only turning back around once to give a reassuring smile to Logan.

Once he couldn’t see Irwin, Logan turned back around to take the corner. He swallowed his fear and stepped forward.

The king and queen, in all their glory, were standing just past the door frame wearing even better than their best in matching royal blue and gold which matched Logan’s outfit perfectly.

The two of them didn’t even acknowledge him other than his mother who rested her hands on Logan’s shoulders. He resisted the constant urge to shiver.

Then, they waited. Almost no one spoke except to start measly conversations which died off pretty quickly.

Then the gait of horses could be heard and Logan’s spine stiffened. This was the moment. Where Logan would lay his eyes on his wife for the very first time.

Just hearing that term—wife—left a foul feeling in him.

The horses rounded the bend and a gold gilded carriage came after. Logan tried to squint through his glasses but couldn’t see through the small window where the princess and prince were sitting.

The coachmen brought the carriage around the circular dirt road until the carriage’s door was at the bottom of the stairs, right in front of Logan and his parents.

The shorter coachmen stepped off the carriage and put a hand on the carriage’s door.

Logan held his breath.

“Introducing, Her Royal Highness, Princess of Betrug! Philomena Scharf!” The coachman pulled open the door with a flourish and Philomena, Logan’s future wife, stepped out of the carriage with the help of the coachman.

Logan felt dizzy. Seeing Philomena in the flesh was making everything seem too real. She was taller than average but Logan could tell he had a couple inches on her. Her hair was a light brown that was pulled back from her face and curled so tightly it looked like it could bounce. Her dress had massive puffy sleeves and it was a deep, deep, purple that looked almost black.

Philomena and Logan locked eyes for a millisecond and something passed between them. He wasn’t sure what, but something told him the princess was just as excited as him to get married.

“Introducing, His Royal Highness, Prince of Betrug! Virgil Scharf!”

Logan actually took a step back, involuntarily bumping into his mother. His first thought about Virgil was: he’s taller than me.

His gangly limbs unfolded as he walked out of the carriage, decidedly not using the coachman’s outstretched hand. He was wearing something similar to Logan with the breeches and the long-tailed coat but it was a purple like Philomena’s dress, just not as dark. The outfit seemed to suit him and his face seemed to have a permanent frown.

Logan watched with interest as Virgil walked over to Philomena’s side and leaned down to whisper something in her ear which made her bite her lip to hold in a smile.

Logan wondered what Virgil had said.

Virgil raised his head back up and looked directly into Logan’s eyes. Virgil cocked his head to the side like a rabbit and Logan, while the whole idea felt so stupid, felt like Virgil had just seen right though him. Like the prince had just read his mind like an easy book with large print.

“Princess Philomena! Prince Virgil!” Logan’s father exclaimed, a fake smile gracing his lips as he began to descend down the stairs. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Philomena curtsied and Virgil bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, King James,” she said simply with a light voice and practiced smile. Everything felt so fake that Logan wanted to scream.

“Shall we go to the sitting room?” Logan’s mother asked, opening her arms welcomingly. She was using the same smile her husband was using. They weren’t fooling anybody. The townspeople weren’t fooled. Princess Philomena and Prince Logan weren’t fooled.

The five of them ended up in the smallest sitting room in the heart of the castle, decorated the most lavishly and only seen by other royals.

Logan and Philomena were sitting together on a couch so close that he could feel Philomena’s body heat radiating off of her. Even though Logan was cold, he couldn’t help but discreetly shift away from her.

Logan was trying to tune out all conversation while also paying attention so he didn’t seem rude. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. This woman in front of him—Philomena—was going to be his wife and they’d be expected to have children and rule together until he died.

Virgil and Logan’s father were talking business while Philomena and his mother were talking about the wedding. Oh God, he forgot about the wedding. So many eyes would be on them…

His favourite couch in the sitting room was like stone and he hated how he should be trying to get to know Philomena better but his gaze always seemed to come back to Virgil sitting across the room. Logan could only see half of his face, thank goodness, so Virgil wouldn’t be able to notice him watching him.

“Logan?” Logan’s mother’s voice made him sit up straighter and turn his attention away from Virgil. His face grew hot. You’re not the perfect prince. The perfect prince would have been paying attention and would be content with Philomena.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Logan asked meekly. He avoided Philomena’s gaze all together and just stared into his mother’s eyes which wasn’t much better.

“I asked you if—” Logan’s mother started but she didn’t get to finish.

One of the servants knocked politely on the doorframe. He looked slightly frazzled. “—Your Majesties?” He cocked his head to the side. Both Logan’s parents turned to look at him. “Um, there is a…um…matter that needs to be attended to.”

Logan’s parents glanced at each other and something passed between them—an understanding. They both stood up at the same time. “I’m sorry, Virgil and Philomena,” Logan’s mother said with a small bow of her head. A little smile formed on her face. “Our duty calls.” And then they both swept out of the room with the servant, leaving Virgil, Philomena, and Logan alone in the sitting room.

Virgil stretched like a cat and his piercing eyes glazed over his sister to stare straight at Logan.

“It’s rude to stare,” Logan stated, wishing for his parents to return as soon as possible. Was it rude to make an excuse and run straight to the library, not coming out until supper?

“So I can’t stare at you but you can stare at me?” Virgil cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “That’s hardly fair.”

Logan blanched. Virgil had noticed him looking at him? His cheeks warmed up again but he was too stubborn to look away.

“Virgil,” Philomena warned.

“I wasn’t looking at you,” Logan sniffed, trying to keep his posture. “I was looking out the window.” He nodded to the window behind Virgil. He knew it was a dreadful lie but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Virgil rolled his eyes and brushed his sister off. “I’m serious. You’re just as dull as your father.”

Logan clenched his jaw. He breathed deeply through his nose. “You hardly know me.”

“I know plenty,” Virgil replied, crossing his arms.

“Your castle is very nice,” Philomena interjected, trying to change the topic.

Logan turned to her and smiled tightly. “Thank you.” He turned back to Virgil. “Then what do you know? Tell me.” He doubted Virgil knew anything about him. He was always careful to mask everything. Besides, Logan hadn’t learned anything about Virgil other than the stuff he had read up on before they came.

Virgil leisurely stretched his legs out then sat up straight again, his eyes boring holes into Logan’s head. He looked like a king. “I know that you think you’re the smartest in the room and think you’re always right. I know that you think you’re better than everyone. I know that you wish you weren’t royalty.”

The room went deathly silent and Logan stopped breathing.

Virgil blinked. “And I know you’re struggling with your feelings.”

Philomena suddenly stood and Logan flinched. “I think Virgil and I should find our rooms.” Her hands were in fists.

Logan stood up too, building his walls back up and trying to get some colour back into his face. “Do you want me to show—?”

“—No, I think we’ll be fine,” Philomena said curtly with a small smile. “We’ll ask one of the servants if we need help.”

Logan knew when he was being pushed away. “Alright. I guess I’ll see you two at supper.”

Virgil stood up from the chair and Logan, again, was astutely aware of how much taller Virgil was than him.

Both Philomena and Virgil walked out of the room and Logan waited a good five minutes before heading back to his own room.

He couldn’t wait for this weekend to be over.

***

Supper couldn’t have been any longer. Philomena sat across from him, and Logan was sweating from trying to ignore Virgil’s presence next to him.

His parents had planned on an extra long supper and it would be completely rude to excuse himself so early. After the meal they sat and chatted for another couple excruciating hours.

So, when most of the castle was fast asleep, Logan found himself heading back to his room. His mind wandered to Irwin and he wondered what he planned to show Logan. He was looking forward to whatever he had to show him.

Suddenly, Logan heard footsteps behind him and his first thought was: Virgil.

But, when he spun around, it was just his mother, her mouth in a frown and Logan braced himself for a scolding for not talking to Philomena enough.

Instead, though, Logan’s mother said “Irwin was fired today.” Her voice was cold and her hands were clasped in front of her.

Logan froze and, for a split second, he wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. But he didn’t. His whole body felt cold like when his parents told him about the arranged marriage. But this was so much worse.

The only person who he ever considered a friend was no longer working at the castle. He’d never see Irwin ever again.

His mind produced a picture of their hands intertwined and Logan shoved that down so far down that his foot twitched.

So this is what his mother did. She didn’t say anything about seeing a servant and her son’s hands intertwined because she didn’t have to. Because his mother was the queen and she could fire whoever she wanted.

Was that why his parents were called away from the sitting room?

Logan didn’t say anything. He swallowed his feelings, nodded, and walked quickly off to his room.

As he stared up at the ceiling, lying in his bed, the truth of it really set in. He was marrying Philomena. Irwin was gone. And he couldn’t do anything about anything.

[lanonima]

I have finished Jing Wei Qing Shang so it’s update time again~

I’m taking a few days off before I start anything new, but the next thing on my list is about a quarter of the length so it won’t take long once I start.

Romantic - Fucky is not how risque a work is but rather my opinion of the attitude/quality of the main relationship, the way the characters interact with respect to one another. I like a lot of stuff in fiction but if you’re easily made uncomfortable, stay towards the top half.

Easy reading - Plot-heavy is how I personally consider the plot’s intricacy and successful implementation, regardless of the author’s intention.

Jing Wei Qing Shang

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 9.8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have to start off by saying: damn girl. The improvement evident in this book is absolutely insane. A few minor issues prevent me from giving it a 10 out of 10 – her transitions are still extremely abrupt, the ending is slightly weak and some plot points remain unresolved, and her use of narrative repetition is too heavy-handed for my taste. Other than that, this book leaves me almost speechless. Very similar to Female General and Eldest Princess, there are many similar themes and events. But while I thought FGEP was fairly cute, I like this one way better. If you like angst, political intrigue, and lesbians, you should definitely read this book. I have no doubt that Please Don’t Laugh will continue to improve in the future, and I really look forward to following her career.

Would I read it again: 100%, I absolutely intend to read this again sometime in the future. It's very long and very dense but delightful and ultimately worth it.

My reviews for everything else are under the cut.

Mo Dao Zu Shi

Author: MXTX

Quality: 9.5

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have a huge emotional connection to this novel. There are some weak parts, the tension isn’t quite even, she’s pretty terrible at erotic scenes and not great at fight scenes…but that being said, I love the characters and some of the plot points really ripped my heart out. This is a novel that’s really driven by the characters so if you’re a character-focused person like me, definitely look into it (as if we all don’t already know it lmao). I really, really love this story. Every single adaptation of it has also been great, but the novel is still my favorite. It was my introduction to xianxia novels too, so you can say it changed my life!

Would I read it again: I’ve already read it twice, and consumed every adaptation (sometimes also multiple times)

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System

Author: MXTX

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I’m not much of one for comedy and, as I discovered, not really into system novels either. Clearly weaker than MXTX’s later work, many of the characters are somewhat bland, she hasn’t quite found her groove yet. It’s not my style but the fandom is hilarious and the fans constantly produce content that I actually do find entertaining so overall I still have some fond feelings for this one, even if not for the source material.

Would I read it again: I found a different translation and am willing to try again in the future, I’m also willing to watch the donghua. But I can’t guarantee I’ll like it any more than previously.

Tian Guan Ci Fu

Author: MXTX

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I love this book…but not as much as I love Mo Dao Zu Shi. I think the plot is somewhat typical, however the characters are great once again (though maybe slightly less deep than MDZS), and her use of thematic repetition and foreshadowing are killer. Actually, I liked this book more the second time around because it just hits differently. Definitely the best of MXTX’s couples, they are so soft and sweet. Very long, but worth it.

Would I read it again: I already have, was personally translating the manhua before I hurt my arms, and am eagerly awaiting the donghua this fall!

The Villain’s White Lotus Halo

Author: A Big Roll of Toilet Paper

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: Fuck, I love this one so much…..even though it’s also a system novel. But that part is in it so rarely that it reads more like pure fantasy. I love the characters, I love the plot, I love the way the relationship is developing. Oh yeah, the translation isn’t even complete but I already purchased not only the original from JJWXC but also the print edition. I’ve even drawn fanart for it, which is so unlike me. Every time a chapter comes out, I’m ruined for the rest of the day, I can’t think about anything else. Good fight scenes, which is uncommon. My favorite danmei novel so far.

Would I read it again: I fully intend to once the translation is complete, and also plan to read it in Chinese later (I’ve already read certain parts in Chinese hahaha but not the whole thing)

2Ha (Husky and his White Cat Shizun)

Author: Meatbun Doesn’t Eat Meat

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: 2Ha is not for the faint of heart, it’s very horny, and violent, and has a lot of questionable content. However I love it so much. The story and characters are great, Meatbun really has me by the heart. The writing is a little more on the casual side but it hardly matters because the story is so great. Good fight scenes. Chu Wanning is like, the ultimate Me™ character, I hate how much I adore him. If you read this, just go into it knowing that it’s a long emotional journey, the characters are very dynamic and there’s a lot of character development.

Would I read it again: Same as the above, I plan a reread when the translation is done and have read parts in Chinese and might read the whole thing again later. Cautiously eager about the up-coming live action and donghua.

Di Wang Gong Lue

Author: Yu Xiao Lanshan

Quality: 2

Enjoyment: 9

Comments: This is one of the most terribly written things I’ve ever read, but I’m a character girl and the characters and ways they interact fucking kill me. I’m constantly entertained….although I don’t think this is actually supposed to be a comedy. If I were going to treat myself and like, take a bubble bath and read something that made me laugh, this is exactly the sort of trashy romance I would want to read. Technically a political intrigue story but it’s so abrupt and full of holes, are any of us reading it for the actual plot? The donghua is on Youtube, I watched it first and recommend others to do the same. If you can handle that, you can handle the book because it’s exactly the same in quality, just gayer. I do love the main couple a lot, the set-up surrounding the relationship is great, and the side characters are also really fun.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but I’m still having fun with it. I watched the donghua and read a bit of the manhua as well, which has very cute art and is probably my favorite version of the story.

Liu Yao

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 7.5

Comments: I really struggled getting into this one, it took me about 25 chapters to get invested. Initially I had rated it a 6 in enjoyment but after careful thought, I realized that even though it was so hard for me, it probably is my favorite Priest novel and I really do love the main couple so much. Her side characters also seem to be slightly stronger than usual in this one. Decent plot, not too much or too little. It seems really chill to me, doesn’t provoke much of an emotional reaction but I do think it’s very sweet, which is nice sometimes too.

Would I read it again: No, but I think (?) it’s supposed to get some kind of tv adaptation (drama or donghua, not sure), and if that happens, I’ll watch it.

Didn’t Know the General was Female

Author: Rong Qing

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: Not the greatest thing I’ve ever read, but cute. It’s short, and a little lesbian fluff is never a bad thing. Writing is a bit weak and the plot is basic, but the characters are enjoyable and I liked it overall.

Would I read it again: No.

Wrong Way to a Demon Sect Leader

Author: Yi Zhi Dayan

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Again, not the greatest in writing or plot, it’s a bit shallow. But I found the idea of it to be entertaining, and actually liked it more than I would have assumed. It’s fairly short and cute, like a good summer beach read.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but possibly, if the stars align.

Female General and Eldest Princess

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: A very good first effort, but the writing is a bit weak. It’s slow to start and I don’t think the political plotline is spectacularly strong. Some things were left unexplained, and her sense of battle tactics and fight-writing were very confusing, definitely room for improvement. I don’t think it’s as good as people say, but she writes with the air of someone who will continue to improve. And also, a lesbian author writing lesbian stories so that’s a plus. Overall I enjoyed the experience, this story is definitely worth a read.

Would I read it again: Maybe, but probably not.

Sha Po Lang

Author: Priest

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Originally I rated this one higher, but on later thought I realized that I actually enjoyed Liu Yao more. I personally have issues with the way Priest writes, and this book showed a lot of them. Characters were okay, I did like the main couple, but side characters were weak as usual. The plot is pretty good, though not great, and I think some of the pacing is off. Some descriptions were confusing, but that could be a translation issue. Overall, still a pretty good political drama, but I would say that of the three I read, this was the Priest novel with the least impact on me.

Would I read it again: No. But I will watch the live action if it ever gets made.

Guardian

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I love Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan, thought the plot was interesting, and there were some enjoyable moments. But it has all the problems I usually have with Priest in addition to some choices that offend me as a queer reader. I spent about 75% of the time reading while pissed off. And actually the fact that it had a happy ending kinda bummed me out because I love a good tragedy. Overall, I can only give it an average score. If you like Priest, you’ll like this one too. I’m not a tv person but I binged the hell out of the live action, I really loved it, so I was sort of disappointed that the source material didn’t seem as strong as I had assumed.

Would I read it again: No, but I will happily watch the live action again some day.

[witchybooks]

2021 Most Anticipated Pt.1

I’m posting this early so others can add these beauties to their list. :) 

The Mask of Mirrors - M.A Carrick

Nightmares are creeping through the city of dreams... Renata Viraudax is a con artist who has come to the sparkling city of Nadezra -- the city of dreams -- with one goal: to trick her way into a noble house and secure her fortune and her sister's future. But as she's drawn into the elite world of House Traementis, she realizes her masquerade is just one of many surrounding her. And as corrupt magic begins to weave its way through Nadezra, the poisonous feuds of its aristocrats and the shadowy dangers of its impoverished underbelly become tangled -- with Ren at their heart.

Son of the Storm - Suyi Davies Okungbowa 

A young scholar's ambition threatens to reshape an empire determined to retain its might in this epic tale of violent conquest, buried histories, and forbidden magic. In the thriving city of Bassa, Danso is a clever but disillusioned scholar who longs for a life beyond the rigid family and political obligations expected of the city's elite. A way out presents itself when Lilong, a skin-changing warrior, shows up wounded in his barn. She comes from the Nameless Islands- which, according to Bassa lore, don't exist- and neither should the mythical magic of ibor she wields. Now swept into a conspiracy far beyond his understanding, Danso and Lilong will set out on a journey that reveals histories violently suppressed and magic only found in lore.

A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas

***Spoilers for ACOTAR series***

Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it. The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other. Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts. Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.

Underboss - Kristen Proby

As the eldest son of Seattle’s current mob boss, Carmine Martinelli’s life has never really been his own. But he doesn’t mind because his family means more to him than his life. Which is why he's determined to make those responsible for the death of his aunt and uncle pay—in inventive and gruesome ways. And what better way to do that than to infiltrate the Russian mafia from the inside? It’s a good thing the bratva’s princess is stunning and seemingly willing to do whatever he asks. This vengeance could be the perfect mix of business and pleasure. Nadia Tarenkov has several things stacked against her: she’s a woman, and she’s not the eldest child in her family. But it doesn’t matter. She has her sights set on ruling the syndicate, and she always gets what she wants. When the heir to one of the States’ most powerful crime families comes knocking, Nadia sees it for the gift it is. He thinks he has her fooled, but she’s smarter, more cunning, and always two steps ahead. She’ll beat the gorgeous mobster at his own game, and secure her place in the fold. What neither of them takes into consideration, however, is that they aren’t the only ones with deadly plans in motion. To survive, they’ll have to come clean and work together—and acknowledge that the growing love they’ve been pretending isn’t there, is very real.

Hall of Smoke - H.M Long

Epic fantasy featuring warrior priestesses and fickle gods at war, for readers of Brian Staveley's Chronicles of the Unhewn Throne. Hessa is an Eangi: a warrior priestess of the Goddess of War, with the power to turn an enemy's bones to dust with a scream. Banished for disobeying her goddess's command to murder a traveller, she prays for forgiveness alone on a mountainside. While she is gone, raiders raze her village and obliterate the Eangi priesthood. Grieving and alone, Hessa - the last Eangi - must find the traveller, atone for her weakness and secure her place with her loved ones in the High Halls. As clans from the north and legionaries from the south tear through her homeland, slaughtering everyone in their path, Hessa strives to win back her goddess' favour. Beset by zealot soldiers, deceitful gods, and newly-awakened demons at every turn, Hessa burns her path towards redemption and revenge. But her journey reveals a harrowing truth: the gods are dying and the High Halls of the afterlife are fading. Soon Hessa's trust in her goddess weakens with every unheeded prayer. Thrust into a battle between the gods of the Old World and the New, Hessa realizes there is far more on the line than securing a life beyond her own death. Bigger, older powers slumber beneath the surface of her world. And they're about to wake up.

Beneath the Keep - Erika Johansen

The Tearling has reverted to feudalism, a far cry from the utopia it was founded to be. As the gap between rich and poor widens and famine threatens the land, sparking unrest, rumors of a prophecy begin to spread: a great hope, a True Queen who will rise up and save the kingdom. But rumors will not help Lazarus, a man raised to kill in the brutal clandestine underworld of the Creche, nor Aislinn, a farm girl who must reckon with her own role in the growing rebellion. In the Keep, the crown princess, Elyssa, finds herself torn between duty to the throne and the lure of the Blue Horizon, a group of fierce idealists who promise radical change . . . but Elyssa must choose quickly, before a nefarious witch and her shadowy master use dark magic to decide for her. It is only a matter of time before all three will be called into the service of something bigger than they have ever imagined: a fight for a better world.

Heartopper Vol.4 - Alice Oseman

Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. The bestselling LGBTQ+ graphic novel about life, love, and everything that happens in between: this is the fourth volume of HEARTSTOPPER

The Lost Metal - Brandon Sanderson

I hope this is finally is coming out in 2021. 

The Jasmine Throne - Tasha Suri

Imprisoned by her dictator brother, Malini spends her days in isolation in the Hirana: an ancient temple that was once the source of the powerful, magical deathless waters — but is now little more than a decaying ruin. Priya is a maidservant, one among several who make the treacherous journey to the top of the Hirana every night to clean Malini’s chambers. She is happy to be an anonymous drudge, so long as it keeps anyone from guessing the dangerous secret she hides. But when Malini accidentally bears witness to Priya’s true nature, their destinies become irrevocably tangled. One is a vengeful princess seeking to depose her brother from his throne. The other is a priestess seeking to find her family. Together, they will change the fate of an empire.

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (16/18)

Summary: For hundreds of years, the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Templar Order have waged war.  For Princess Emma of Misthaven, that war has become personal.  After a mission gone wrong, the Templar Grandmaster, placed a curse on Emma’s son that is slowly killing him.  Emma will stop at nothing to save Henry, even if it means going rogue from the Brotherhood and consorting with pirates.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta.  To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created.   And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.  

AO3

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Art for Chapter 16 by @cocohook38

              “Captain Nemo told me that Shay Cormac was once an Assassin,” Killian told Kenway as the Aquila neared the area where they had spotted the Morrigan the day before.   “That he was trained by some of the best men and woman the Brotherhood ever had.”    

              Kenway nodded as he retrieved the Templar flag Nemo had provided and ordered one of his men to raise it.  

              “We cannot underestimate him and he may attack before we get close enough to execute our plan,” Killian continued.  “If that happens, I need to know that you are committed to seeing this mission through, Captain Kenway.” He stared straight into the eyes of the young Captain as he finished.

               Kenway’s dark eyes stared right back.  “I’m no coward, Hook.  This may not be Arandelle’s fight, but Her Majesty has ordered me to do everything I can to see that Princess Emma has every chance of rescuing her family. Regardless of the danger.”

               Killian smiled.  Even though Edward Kenway hadn’t had much influence in his son’s life, Killian could see the same stubbornness and pride in the younger Kenway that Killian respected in the elder.

               “I’ll distract Captain Cormac as long as I can,” Kenway said, reaching up to pull at the collar of his vest.  Like Killian, he was also dressed in a Templar uniform. This was in order to fool Cormac into believing that a member of The Order had captured the Aquila.

               Satisfied with Kenway’s answer, Killian went below to the gun deck.  There, the three Assassin’s he had recruited from Nemo’s crew, two men and one woman, waited.  Illya, the eldest of the group, was a stoic man who had been with the Assassins for nearly thirty years.  He reminded Killian of Starkey, which was one reason he had chosen the man for this mission. The other was that Nemo had assured him that Illya was an excellent fighter in close quarters, though Killian hoped their mission wouldn’t come to that.  The other two members of his team were a set of twins a few years younger than Emma, Ciaran and Siobhan, who were supposedly from a small kingdom near Camelot that Killian had never heard of.  Regardless of their origins, Siobhan had a talent for passing unobserved and Ciaran was reputed to have never met a lock he couldn’t pick.  Both were talents Killian needed.

               “We should be nearing the Morrigan soon,” Killian told them.  Illya nodded, his face serious, but the twins grinned at his words.  

               The four of them waited on the gun deck for the Aquila to get close enough to the Morrigan for them to sneak aboard. Killian had to mentally remind himself to breathe the whole time, nervous that Cormac would decide to fire on the unknown vessel approaching.  No cannon fire came, though, and when the Aquila had drawn abreast with the other ship, he led his team to the bow.  

               They had moved one of the forward facing cannons out of the way earlier and one by one, they climb out of the porthole and moved along the hull of the ship toward the bowsprit.  The Aquila’s bow was positioned next to the Morrigan’s stern, where the Captain’s Cabin was located.  Cormac would be on deck, speaking with Kenway, so his cabin would most likely be empty.

               Illya was the first to make the jump from the hull of the Aquila to the Morrigan and once he had knocked the glass out of one of the windows, he climbed through into the room beyond.  He would take care of anyone unexpected.  The signal that the room was clear came and Killian, followed by the twins, boarded the Morrigan.

               Killian gestured the rug-covered floor in front of the large desk that dominated the room. “The trapdoor is under here,” Killian told them.  Since the rug was nailed down, so that it didn’t shift during rough water, Killian made a large slice down the middle of it with a dagger.  Illya assisted in widening the opening once they located the exact location of the door.  

               The trap door led to a small, empty room with two, locked, portholes.  This was where crewmen would either drop barrels of the flammable oil into the sea for pursuing ships to run into, or pour oil onto the water for another to ignite with a flaming arrow once the Morrigan was a safe distance away.  However, no oil was stored in this room.  It was all kept on the bottom level of the ship, below the waterline, where they were safe from any cannon fire.  There was, however, a bundle of the long, slow burning wicks that were sometimes used with the barrels and Killian pocketed it.  Using them would give them more time to escape the Morrigan before the fire overtook the ship.

               Ciaran crouched in front of the keyhole of the door. “I don’t see anyone on the deck beyond,” he told them.  

               Killian smiled.  He had been hoping that the hold would be empty of crewmen.  They were all likely manning the cannons on the gun deck, which would make their mission easier.  Though they were dressed as Templar officers and most of the low-level sailors would ignore any officer they could, he didn’t want to risk someone looking to closely at them.

               “Let’s go, than,” he said and the four of them made their way out of the small room.  They proceeded directly down the stairs that led to the lower level of the hold. It took Ciaran a minute to unlock the room where Killian remembered the barrels of oil being kept and his heart beat loudly in his chest as he waited.   Once the door was open, Killian lit the wick of one of the hanging lanterns and carefully entered the room.      

               Two dozen barrels of oil were stacked carefully against the walls, thick pads of cotton keeping them from knocking together.

               “Siobhan, go to the gun deck.  Come back once the Aquila begins to sail away,” Killian ordered.  The young woman nodded and made her way back up the stairs.

               While she was gone, the three of them carefully inserted the wicks Killian had found earlier into the barrels.  They wove the wicks of adjacent barrels together with lengths of fast burning cotton fabric.  They then braided the cotton strips together until they had a long rope.

               By Killian’s estimate, the process of preparing the barrels took around fifteen minutes.  When Siobhan hadn’t returned ten minutes after they had finished, he began to get nervous.  He was about to order Ciaran to go check on his sister, but he was interrupted by the sound of boot on the stairway outside the door.

               Killian barely had time to pull his sword before nearly half-dozen men began to flood into the small room.  He and Illya rushed forward and skewered the first men they men. Together, they pushed, forcing the group of men to step backward or topple over.  They kept pushing until the doorway was clear and the door slammed shut behind them.  

              Ciaran was still inside.  The young Assassin would barricade the door against the crew and then light the braided wick.  That would give Illya, Killian, and Siobhan, if she still lived, five minutes to escape the ship.  

               Five minutes.  

               Pushing Ciaran’s fate from his mind, Killian fought against the Templar sailors. He and Illya were almost finished with the original six men when a dozen more came down the stairs and overwhelmed them.  A knock to the head with the hilt of a sword sent Killian face first onto the deck.  His sword was tore from his hand as his arms were wrenched behind his back. He heard a familiar click when his hook was removed from his brace.

               “Bring them above.  Captain will want to deal with this himself,” an unfamiliar voice said and Killian’s shoulders strained as he was pulled to his feet.  Killian glanced at Illya and was glad to see that the man was still alive, though he was bleeding profusely from a cut on his forehead.  

               Killian didn’t resist as he was pushed toward the stairs by his captor.   He wanted to be as far from the oil as he could get before it ignited.  Once on deck, he blinked as his eyes adjusted. When he could see again, he saw that the Aquila was still next to the Morrigan, and that there were dozens Templar’s sailors milling about its deck.

               Things had not gone as planned.

               Four minutes.

               Captain Kenway and three of his officers were bound and kneeling in front of the mast.  Captain Shay Cormac stood in front of him, his sword held loose in his hand.

               There was no sign on Siobhan.

               “Captain, we found these men below deck,” one of his and Illya’s captors said as they were marched forward.  

               Shay Cormac turned and when Killian’s eyes met his, he felt a pulse of hatred. Cormac had been the one to convince Liam that joining the Templar Order would be the best for the two brothers.  It had been he, years later, which had suggested Liam as Captain for the voyage to Neverland.  If it hadn’t been for him, Liam would not have died, blindly convinced that the Dreamshade they had been sent to retrieve was medicine and not a deadly poison as Killian had learned.

               “Killian Jones,” Cormac said with a sharp laugh. “So the rumors are true, you have returned from the dead!”

               Killian stayed silent as the Templar Captain circled him, though he was disturbed by what Cormac had said.  He had gone to great pains to prevent the knowledge of his survival from reaching the Templars.  He was disheartened to hear that it finally had.

               “Captain, they were outside the hold where the oil is stored,” a crewman said as he handed Cormac Killian’s hook.

               He held Killian’s hook in one hand, studying it for a moment before pressing its sharp tip to the underside of Killian’s jaw. “Are there any more of you?”

               Kilian stared straight ahead and refused to answer. Cormac pressed harder and Killian could feel blood running down his neck.  

               “Are there any more of you?”  He asked again.  

               Killian lunched forward and his forehead connected with Cormac’s nose with a satisfying crack.  A blow to the back of his knees sent Killian forward onto the deck until someone pulled him up by his hair.  He smirked when he saw that Cormac’s nose was streaming blood.

               “Get the hold open,” he ordered some of his men before he turned his attention back to Killian.

               Three minutes.

               “Did you know The Order still has a bounty of 1,000 gold doubloons on your head, even after all these years?” Cormac asked.

               “Only 1,000?” Killian quipped, unable to help himself.  “How disappointing.”  

               Cormac laughed.  “You’d think the murderer of a Templar Grandmaster would be worth 2,000, at least, but I doubt Regina really cares if you’re brought to justice or not. After all, your actions allowed her to assume power.  She should really be thanking you.”

               Killian rolled his eyes.  The idea of Regina thanking anyone was absurd.

               “Tell me, Killian, did you really think I would fall for such an obvious ruse?”  Cormac asked.

               “I was hoping you had gotten slow in your old age.”

               Cormac snorted.  “Even an initiate would have seen through this ploy.”

               Killian shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care.

               “I’m disappointed.  I thought I had taught you better,” Cormac remarked.

               “Your memories starting to go, old man,” Killian snarled.  “Liam was the one who actually cared about anything you tried to teach us.  I spent most of my time aboard this ship either scrubbing the deck or bleeding on it.”  

               “You did spend a lot of time under my whip, didn’t you?” Cormac mused.  He brought the hook to Killian’s face and traced the scar that adorned his left cheek.  

               Two minutes.    

               A wicked grin spread across Cormac’s face and he turned toward one of his crew.  “Get my whip.”

              Two men grabbed Killian’s arms and dragged him backwards.  Killian struggled against them, but more crewmen joined them and forced him against the mast.  Just as an iron manacle was about to close over his wrist, the Morrigan lurched underfoot.  

              Killian fell to the deck and felt a wave of heat pass over him.  Ciaran had either speed up the ignition of the oil or Cormac’s crew had inadvertently ignited it when trying to get into the hold. Either way, the Morrigan would soon be engulfed in flames and heading to the bottom of Davy Jone’s Locker.

              He stumbled to his feet.  Crewmen were running about, hauling buckets from the sea and tossing them on the rapidly spreading fire while Cormac yelled orders from the quarterdeck.  No one cared about him or his compatriots anymore; they had a bigger problem to deal with.  Killian grabbed a stray sword from the deck and made his way over to Captain Kenway and the others.  He quickly cut their bonds.  

              They rushed back toward the Aquila. The flames hadn’t spread to the other ship, yet, and there was still a chance she could escape going down with the Morrigan.

              Out of nowhere, Siobhan appeared, Ciaran over her shoulder.  He helped her get her brother onto the Aquila.  Though parts of his clothes were burned, Killian was glad to see that the young man was still alive.

              Killian was cutting the lines holding the Aquila in place when one of the sailors from the Morrigan attacked.

              “Traitor!” The man screamed as he swung a sword at Killian’s head.

              Killian ducked the attack with ease and countered with one of his own.  He had the man disarmed and up against the rail within moments.  Just as he was about to give the man the option of dying then or burning to death, Killian felt someone approaching from behind.  With his sword still at the one sailor’s throat, Killian turned and lashed out with his hook.

               The young man, who Killian guessed to be no older than he himself had been when he sailed on the Morrgan, froze, one hand raised.  “I don’t want to die,” the lad cried out.

               After a moment of thought, Killian quirked his head toward the Aqulia and the lad quickly scrambled over the rails and onto the other ship.  Killian made to follow but a sharp yank on the hood of his coat pulled him off balance and he fell to the deck of the ship.  

               Captain Shay Cormac stood above him and the man stabbed downward with his sword at Killian’s chest.  Killian rolled and the tip of Cormac’s sword impaled the wood instead. Killian hauled himself to his feet as Cormac yanked it free with a growl.  

               The infuriated Captain attacked again. Killian caught the blade with his hook and sword.  The maneuver brought him and Cormac toe to toe.

               “Revenge after all these years, Jones?” Cormac spat out as he tried to dislodge his sword.

               “Nothing personal, actually.  Your ship just happens to be in the way,” Killian said with a shrug.

              The deck of the Morrigan rolled under his feet. The ship started to tilt, which told Killian that it was starting to sink.  He needed to get off the Morrigan before it was too late.

              Cormac pulled his sword free with a heave and Killian sidestepped in the direction of the rail.  Normally, he’d avoid a positon that kept him from the open deck during a fight, but his goal was escape, not winning the fight.  

              Cormac, though, seemed to have predicted this and did his best to prevent Killian from getting too close to the rail.

              “If I’m going down with the ship, so are you!” Cormac snarled as he attacked.

               Killian countered.  His sword came close to piercing the Cormac through the shoulder but the other man dodged at the last moment.  Killian stumbled forward.  Cormac took advantage of the opportunity and the tip of his sword sliced through the layers Killian wore and into his back.  Killian hissed through his teeth in pain.

               He spun and slashed wildly with his sword.  It slashed across Cormac’s face.  The man stepped back, his cheek dripping blood. He pressed his hand to his face and stared at the blood on his fingers when he pulled it away.

               “If I’m to die, answer me one thing first: Who told you I was still alive?” Killian asked.  

              He had gone to great pains to prevent the knowledge of his survival from reaching the Templars and he was disheartened to hear that it finally had. It would also put Emma at risk if the Templars renewed their interest in killing him in revenge.

              “There have been rumors for years, truthfully, but no one believed them. Not until an agent in Camelot sent a very convincing message,” Cormac answered.  

              Camelot…

               Cormac attacked again before Killian could contemplate who in Camelot had betrayed Emma.   The Morrigan lurched and Cormac lost his footing.  This gave Killian an opening and he rushed forward.  His sword slid into Cormac’s stomach until his hilt pressed against the man’s gut.  Cormac looked down, blinking.

               Killian he pulled this sword free and Cormac fell to the deck.  He coughed and blood poured from the wound.  Killian had thought that seeing one of the tormentors from his past dying would bring him pleasure, but as he looked at the dying man, he didn’t feel anything.  

              The Morrigan pitched underfoot and Killian decided it was well past time he get off the foundering ship.

               “May Poseidon keep you,” Killian murmured as he walked past Cormac.  The other captain glared at him, but otherwise did not move.

               With the assistance of a shroud that had miraculously not yet burned, Killian hauled himself up to stand on the rail of the ship. He studied the waters below in search for a place free of debris for him to dive into.  He spotted one that would work and prepared to jump, but a sharp pain ripped through his side.  

              Killian tumbled off his perch with barely had enough time maneuver his body to protect his injured side before he hit the water.  Regardless, his still healing ribs flared with pain at his hard landing and the air was knocked from his lungs.  Killian struggled to catch his breath as waves caused by the sinking Morrigan washed over his head.  All he got was seawater, which burned in his lungs and the edges of his vision began to darken.  

               I’m sorry, Emma.

---

              Unable to be still, Emma paced the bridge of the Nautilus.  It was akin to torture, Emma decided, that there was no way of them knowing what was happening on the sea above without Kenway telling them through the mermaid shell. However, the other Captain had gone silent once his ship had drawn close to the Morrigan, with promise to contact them again when it was safe for the Nautilus to head toward the cove. She and Killian had decided it was best he not use his shell to communicate with her until he had completed his part of the mission, but she was now regretting that decision.

              While they waited, Emma’s mind had been supplying her with images of the worst possible outcomes as time passed.

               What if the Morrigan had attacked the Aquila despite the Templar flag?

               Or if Killian and his team had been unable to rig the oil for a delayed ignition, something he had assured her could be done, and both ships had been destroyed?  Or been caught when they first snuck aboard the ship and had been killed?

               Emma was rounding the area where Captain Nemo stood when the sound of someone coughing emitted from the mermaid shell. She immediately stopped, her heart sinking in her chest.  

               “Go, go now!” Came Kenway’s panicked sounding voice once the coughing had subsided.  

               Captain Nemo wasted no time in following the instructions.

               “Kenway, what happened?” Nemo asked into the shell once the Nautilus was moving forward to the cove.

               More coughing came through the shell, but no answer.

               Nemo sighed.  “We continue as planned,” he said, looking at his crew, who nodded in response.

               He turned to her last.  “We cannot afford to deviate from the plan.”

               In her mind, Emma knew Nemo spoke the truth, but her heart was screaming at her that they should go and see what had become of those aboard the Aquila.  She fought back tears as she stood in front of the window. She could see very little of the ocean beyond, except for a couple of fish.  

               When the Nautilus surfaced, Emma rushed out of the ship and onto land at the first opportunity.  She turned and looked out toward the entrance of the cove, where she saw a ship in flames. That was, the bow of the ship was burning, but the stern was already below water.

               “That’s the Morrigan,” Aziz said as he pointed toward the figurehead on the ship. Emma jerked at his sudden appearance. She cursed herself for having been too absorb in the sight of the burning ship to notice his approach.  She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

               “I don’t see the Aquila,” Aziz continued, “She must have gotten away.”

               Emma hoped that was the case.  But if it was, why hadn’t Kenway contacted them again?

               “Once I determine what has become of the Aquila, I’ll take the Nautilus south to Blanchard.  If I can, I’ll draw a ship or two stationed there away,” Captain Nemo had told her as they said their goodbyes.  He had agreed to her request that he search the area around the Morrigan for any survivors.  Though Emma didn’t care about the Templar sailors, she was worried about Killian and his team and the idiotic plan to swim to shore if they couldn’t make it back to the Aquila.

               Content as she could be with the situation, Emma led her team of twenty Assassin’s toward the smuggler tunnels carved into the cliffs.  It took them nearly two hours to climb the winding tunnel the smugglers had created to move their illicit goods.  It was well constructed and Emma felt a twinge of regret that she would need to inform her parents of its existence once they had retaken her kingdom. Perhaps she would pardon the smugglers themselves, but she couldn’t allow them to continue their operation.

               It was midday when she reached the top of the cliffs and Emma once again looked out to the cove.  The Morrigan was gone; a few bits of debris floated on the surface where she had been.  

               She would remain a permanent addition decorating the floor of the cove.

Chapter 17

[leandadelisle]

THE TRUE STORY BEHIND THE LAST TUDOR

Few people remember them today, but nearly 500 years ago Katherine and Mary Grey – sisters of the doomed Lady Jane Grey – posed such a threat to the sovereignty of Elizabeth I that she took drastic measures to ensure they would never reign, as Leanda de Lisle reveals

The discovery of manuscripts lost for 400 years has given me the answer to a small Tudor mystery. What did Elizabeth I do with the body of her forgotten heir, Lady Mary Grey – a princess whose life is buried in obscurity, along with the secrets it carries?  

If Mary Grey is recalled today, it is as a historical footnote. She was the dwarf who married a giant, the curious youngest sister of the tragic ‘nine days queen’, Lady Jane Grey. But Mary was a more significant figure than her stature in literature suggests. Under the will of Henry VIII, backed by statute, Mary and her two elder sisters, Katherine and Jane, were the heirs to his daughter Elizabeth. They represent an English dynasty that never was.

The eldest sister, Jane, is the best remembered. She was 16, ‘young and lovely’ when King Henry’s son  Edward VI bequeathed her the throne in 1553. The pious Edward preferred Jane, granddaughter of Henry’s sister Mary, to both his half-sisters: the Catholic Mary Tudor and Elizabeth, whose mother Anne Boleyn had been executed on charges of betraying his father with numerous men, including her own brother.

Mary Grey was eight when Jane became ‘Jane the Queen’ with the support of the Protestant elite. Although well-educated, she had not yet started learning Latin and Greek as her sisters had. But she was, like Jane, a clever girl, and might have followed suit if it were not for the catastrophe that befell the family. Just nine days after Jane acceded the throne, Mary Tudor overthrew her in a coup that had popular support. Jane was tried for treason, convicted, and executed in the aftermath of a counter-revolt led by her father the following year. The shocking spectacle in the Tower of the blindfolded teenager feeling for the block and crying out for help on that cold February morning appalled even contemporaries accustomed to the horror of beheadings.

Mary and Katherine were later obliged to wait at court upon the Queen who had ordered the execution of their sister. But Mary Grey guarded the memory of her sister Jane. As an adult she kept with her a copy of John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, which described Jane’s pitiful end and recorded her last letter to Katherine. Jane asked Katherine to ‘despise the flesh’ and prepare for judgment and death.  But Katherine was very much a creature of the flesh, as Mary would prove to be too.

Loving and pretty, Katherine longed for the happiness of a love-match marriage – a dream she would pursue to her destruction at Queen Elizabeth’s hand. For just as Mary Grey never forgot Jane, neither did Elizabeth, who became Queen when Mary Tudor died in 1558. Elizabeth feared that the Protestant elite, who had backed Jane as Queen in 1553, might one day overthrow her in favour of one of the remaining Grey girls. The most likely trigger would be if either Katherine or Mary were to produce a male heir, while she did not.  Elizabeth was therefore determined that neither sister should marry.  

In 1560, however, the 20-year-old Katherine wed, in secret, the handsome ‘Ned’ Seymour, Earl of Hertford. The transcripts of later interviews in the Tower describe their wedding night in intimate detail. Katherine married Ned in his bedroom at a house on the Thames. They toasted their wedding quickly and rushed to bed, making love twice: first on one side of the bed then the other. Katherine was naked save for a fashionable headdress. Then they dashed back to court, anxious not to be missed.

Katherine tried to protect her younger sister Mary by keeping what she had done from her.  But over the following months she had sex in  nearly all of the Queen’s palaces. When she was eight months pregnant, Elizabeth finally discovered what had been going on. Preventing Katherine from continuing to have sex and producing sons proved impossible even when she was confined in the Tower, where sympathetic warders allowed some ‘corridor creeping’. But Elizabeth had Katherine’s two children bastardised, and from 1563 Katherine was banished to remote country house prisons.

Even though the unmarried Virgin Queen had left the fertile Katherine to rot, Mary Grey envied the happiness her sister had known. In 1565, when she was 19, a widower with several children called Thomas Keyes began courting her. Mary Grey was very far from fitting the traditional idea of a princess. She was so short it has been suggested she may have been a dwarf, and the Spanish ambassador described her cruelly as ‘crook backed and very ugly’. But pretty or not, Mary combined the best characteristics of both her sisters, with Jane’s courage and Katherine’s passion.

Thomas Keyes, who held the post of sergeant porter, in charge of palace security, was a huge man. One courtier later described it as ‘monstrous’ that the ‘least of all the court’ should marry ‘the biggest gentlemen of this court’. But marry they did, by candlelight in Keyes’s quarters at Whitehall Palace, on 16 July that year. Mary’s best friend, her cousin Margaret Arundell, was so frightened that she listened at the door rather than witness the forbidden ceremony.

By marrying outside the nobility Mary was effectively (if not legally) ruling herself out of the succession. She must have hoped, therefore, that Elizabeth would forgive her actions. But when gossip about Mary’s marriage reached Elizabeth’s ears just weeks later, these hopes proved misplaced. Elizabeth ordered Keyes to be incarcerated in Fleet prison, while Mary was sent to a series of country house jails. The first of these was Chequers, now the Prime Minister’s country residence. There she was kept in a 12ft room where her unanswered letters, begging Elizabeth for freedom, hang framed on the walls today.

Katherine, separated from her elder son as well as her husband, began to despair of ever seeing them again. A horrified jailer recorded how she gradually lost the will to live, dying in 1568, aged 28, of what looks very like a broken heart. Mary’s misery at losing a second sister was compounded, meanwhile, by fear for her husband’s health. It was reported that the ‘bulk of his body being such’ Keyes was in agony in his ‘noisome and narrow prison room’. He was released only in 1570, by then gravely weakened. He asked to retire with Mary to Kent, but Elizabeth refused the request and he died the following year without seeing her again.

Mary’s jailer reported that she took the news of his death ‘grievously’. A portrait of her that hangs at Chequers, painted that autumn, has her defiantly showing off her wedding ring. In her hair, meanwhile, she wears carnations for love, fidelity and remembrance. Denied even the consolation of caring for her orphaned stepchildren,

Mary Grey now became an increasingly difficult prisoner. Her jailer wrote frantic letters to the Privy Council, sometimes twice in one day, begging for her removal ‘for the quietness of my poor wife’. In 1573 she was, at last, freed.

Mary was held at Chequers, where her letters, begging Elizabeth for freedom, hang on the walls today

Mary set up her own small household in the shadow of the Tower where Jane had been beheaded. There she employed one of Katherine’s former servants. She had asked Ned to send him to her, ‘for my sister’s sake’. She devoted her time to her stepchildren, growing especially close to one of them, Jane Merrick, who named her daughter after her. Sometimes Mary was invited to court, where the diminutive princess must have resembled a bumble bee in her brilliant yellow kirtle and black gowns.  

It was another, better known Mary who now posed the principal danger to Elizabeth – Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. The Stuart line, descended from King Henry’s elder sister, was excluded from the English succession in his will and by law. But the destruction of the Greys (descended from Henry’s younger sister) had made the foreign Stuart claim a powerful one. The consequences would be fatal: Mary, Queen of Scots was executed in 1587. But Elizabeth helped secure the succession of Mary’s son, King James, in 1603, in preference to Katherine’s heir, and against English statute.  

The last of the Grey sisters was, by then, long dead and conveniently forgotten. Mary died, possibly of a form of pneumonia, in 1578, having requested only that the Queen have her buried where she thought ‘most fit’. No one knew where that was until I discovered her funeral details. They lay wrongly catalogued at the College of Arms as those of an insignificant daughter of the Earl of Kent – hidden, perhaps for centuries, in plain view. The manuscripts reveal that the Queen had her buried at Westminster Abbey, as befitted Mary’s royal status.  

The funeral took place on 14 May, with Mary’s body brought in procession to the Abbey. There were just four pallbearers for the tiny coffin, and behind it walked the mourners. The names of those who attended the funeral are a roll call of figures from the lives of the sisters. There is a Mistress Tilney – the loyal lady in waiting who had walked with Jane to the scaffold. There is Katherine’s last jailer, with whom she left a ring for Ned inscribed, ‘While I lived, Yours’ and a message for the Queen pleading that she be kind to her children. Finally there is Mary’s friend, Margaret Arundell.

Mary was buried in the tomb of her mother, Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, without her own name inscribed on it. But there she lies today in the Abbey surrounded by the kings from whom she was descended and the queens whose rivals she and her sisters had been.

THIS ARTICLE IS DRAWN FROM MORE EXTENSIVE MATERIAL IN LEANDA DE LISLE'S BEST SELLING TRIPLE BIOGRAPHY: THE SISTERS WHO WOULD BE QUEEN; THE TRAGEDY OF MARY, KATHERINE AND LADY JANE GREY