#had to be provoked and had to go through the pain of childbirth knowing the baby she was birthing was already dead

[emmcfrxst]

jesus christ i've just been catching up on everything going on at ur workplace rn and im so so sorry bby what the FUCK. it's super understandable that with all of this u're in over ur head, so u better not be worrying abt not answering asks !!!!!!! u're doing so so good dealing with this bs; it'll be over soon, i just know u're gonna nail that interview & u'll get the safe, kind & organized work environment u deserve im manifesting it so fucking hard <333 also wishing ur boss a bomb in her cereals

there’s been a really heart wrenching family tragedy involving a horrible miscarriage as well so i have A Lot on my plate rn but i still feel bad for not writing as much 😭

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is no longer the governess to Harry's children, but she is his wife (part 2)

READ PART 1 HERE

author's note: part two of governess!yn (who is still my lil angel baby I cannot lie!) this took slightly longer than anticipated to get to you but i hope you will be happy with the final result! pls let me know what you think, and if there's anything else you'd like to see of these two (i'm certainly not ready to let them go just yet!)

word count: 14.1k of confusion, a lack of communication, friends to lovers, a meddling modiste who we all love, smut, pregnancy.

WARNINGS: discussion of death during childbirth, struggles with infertility (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of edelweiss here! mwah <3

YEAR FIVE

YN’s life had changed in ways that she never could have expected when she became a wife.

YN had never had an example of what a good marriage looked like growing up, and whilst she had worked for couples in the past – nothing could prepare her for the reality. The fact that her life had changed drastically from zero to one hundred within a few days was something that nobody could have prepared her for. It had been a true shift in the motion of her life, and even though it pained her to say – she did not know whether or not this was a welcome addition to her life.

Their wedding day had been a year ago. It took place in early June, which seemed very apt to their relationship. The first time that YN had joined Harry and the children for meals had been in June, and the summer held a very special place in their friendship – relationship? In all honesty, she did not know whether or not their marriage at this point was one of convenience or one that truly meant that something was between them.

As YN did not have a mother to talk her through life as a married woman, she was thankful for the information that she had managed to retain on her own in her life. Miss Francis had sat her down the day before her wedding and attempted to explain what a wedding night included, but YN had put a stop to that conversation immediately and tried to continue to assure the older woman that she knew what was to happen.

Even though YN knew what was to occur on the wedding night, it did not necessarily mean that the act would occur on the said night.

Harry had never attempted to initiate anything of an intimate context between the two of them. The last and only time that they had ever kissed had been on their wedding day, a necessity to ensure that their marriage was fulfilled. Even once they had returned home, she had received no advancements from Harry at all – and had concluded pretty quickly that maybe he did not wish to share this with her. YN knew that this was not completely shocking, seeing as though she was Harry’s second wife, and he had already experienced this before.

There was also a part of her that knew that men had needs. She had come to this conclusion pretty quickly after the husband at the other house she worked at left every night without fail to meet with his mistress (or mistresses, as YN had no idea about the fine details) and yet she could state with full confidence that Harry had never done so. She knew this with such confidence because they spent every evening together (with a considerable amount of space between the two of them obviously) before they retired to bed.

YN would be lying if she said that she had hoped that her marriage to Harry would offer some clarification on what it was she was feeling. She had spent so long denying her wish for marriage, and she thought that once that wish had been fulfilled everything would be put into some sort of perspective for her. Instead, it had confused and worried her more than it had before. The overwhelming, thought-provoking idea that ran through her head most days was that Harry had married YN just to appease her, to be a good friend and that was it. It made her think that Harry (no matter how many times he verbally denied it to her) did not wish for this.

It was not as though Harry required an heir to his estate – he already had one. That normally looming requirement of marriage was gone for him. YN was three and thirty now, and that could offer little in security as to whether she could have children, and with that gone she could not understand why Harry wanted to marry her. If anything, the only reason a man in Harry’s standing would marry was to ease a loneliness he had.

At first, Noah and Honorah had been confused as to why YN was no longer their governess, and instead their mother. YN had assured both of the children immediately that she could never take away their mother from them, and if they wished to continue to call her Miss YN, they could do so without any worries at all. Noah, who stood at ten when they married had huffed and refused to speak to his father or YN for the first few weeks (something that was inherently a trait of Harry’s, but YN would never outwardly tell him that). Norah, however, had only been seven at the time and saw the whole spectacle as something so exciting and had welcomed the change with open arms. YN assumed that since she had never met her mother, YN had been the closest thing to one for her – and she assumed that would be something difficult for both Harry and Noah to accept.

Even though these questions of intimacy usually loomed in the back of YN’s mind most days, along with questions of how the children were faring with the change. But, thankfully, her ole had changed within the household, and she now had duties as Mrs Styles that often took her attention throughout most of the day. The most prevalent job that took up most of her time now involved the children, and more specifically – finding a new governess for them.

To the blind eye, the task on the surface seemed so simple – but in reality, it was not. In the past year, the children (predominantly Noah) had managed to run four governesses out of the door – with the longest of them lasting two and a half weeks.

That was how YN had found herself now – sitting in the drawing room with the fifth governess she had hired who had lasted all of three days.

“… I am sorry, Mrs Styles, but they are terrors. The little boy placed a frog not only on my chair but in every drawer of my desk! And the little girl, well, she listens to everything the boy says and responds to all of my questions by ribbiting like a frog! They are completely unteachable!” Miss Morris exclaims, and YN has to physically refrain herself from rolling her eyes.

“And yet I managed to do it for four years,” YN mumbled quietly whilst running her finger across her eyebrow.

Miss Morris leant forward slightly in her seat, turning her ear towards YN, “Sorry, what was that Mrs Styles?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, offering a small smile to Miss Morris, “I do just have to remind you, Miss Morris, that they are children. They are not going to be easy to work with. Mr Styles has raised gorgeous, inquisitive and at times mischievous children – but they are no worse than any you may find with another family.”

Miss Morris shook her head, rather violently at that, “You are only saying such as they are your children – you see them through rose-tinted glasses. They are nothing but terrors, unteachable terrors!”

YN sighed before standing up, nodding at Miss Morris to do the same, “Very well then, Miss Morris. If you had not already claimed that you could not teach the children, you would lose your employment just by calling them terrors. You may have the night to arrange your leave, but you shall not interact with the children.”

Miss Morris opened her mouth as though she was to speak but YN shook her head.

“I would not say anything else if I were you,” YN spoke with a nod.

Miss Morris took one last look at YN, nodded, and turned to leave the room. It was not until YN knew that she was in the all-clear that she sighed and dropped back down on the settee again, exhaling a breath that she did not know she had been holding.

The list of once four failed governesses had now turned to five. Somewhere deep down YN knew this would be the case. It was not that she was necessarily full of herself, but more so that she knew she was the best of the best in terms of governesses. No matter who she presented in front of the children, and whether or not they were good governesses or not – they would never be able to help the children in the way that she did. That was the dilemma that YN found herself in day after day.

The sound of footsteps walking towards the room, and subsequently entering knocked YN right out of her daydream, or potentially it was a crisis – she would never know.

“I think Miss Morris just grunted at me,” Harry spoke, pointing back at the door with a confused look on his face.

YN sighed once more, running a hand across her face, “She can grunt all she wants, Harry! She is out of this house by morning.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed, dropping down on the settee across from her, “She quit?”

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “And I fired her. She dared to call the children terrors. Terrors, Harry! I was a moment away from doing something so regrettable I probably would have been sent away!”

Harry laughed with a slight shake of his head, “I told you there was no use in trying to find a new governess.”

“The children still need to be taught, Harry,” YN pointed out, as though she was stating the obvious.

“And you can do it,” Harry shrugged, as though he was the one stating the most obvious thing in the world, “I know that is not necessarily the way that things are done, but when have we ever done things that way?”

A smile taunted on YN’s face, “You would not mind? Having a wife that does not follow the correct rules of society?”

Harry just laughed, “If I cared about the correct rules in society then you would not be my wife.”

YN finally smiled and nodded her head, “I will teach them – God knows that nobody will ever be as good as me.”

“That is certainly more like it,” Harry nodded his head and stood up, “I did have something to tell you before Miss Morris grunted at me. I am going out tonight, a friend of mine is back from a trip abroad. We are meeting at the tavern for a few drinks.”

“Oh,” YN’s heart pummelled to the pit of her stomach, “The tavern?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” YN assured quickly, trying her best to not make the twist in her stomach obvious to Harry, “I hope you have a lovely time.”

Harry nodded, the confused look returning to his features one last time before he offered her another smile and left the room. YN had seen the tavern but had never been inside. She had only ever seen it on her trips into the village. She also knew of its reputation, although she would not say that she wanted to. Those back rooms, and what they held were the thing that concerned her, she supposed.

More than anything, it turned her stomach so much she was unsure how she did not throw up. 

No matter how much she tried, YN could not sleep a wink.

The children had gone to bed hours ago, and surprisingly (to YN’s relief) without any stress. Her body, however, could not accept that relief due to how stressed she was currently feeling.

YN had tried counting sheep, and she had tried running through everything she had planned for tomorrow in her head, but she just could not shake the thoughts out of her head.

She could not shake the thoughts out of her head of everything that Harry was getting up to during his visit to the tavern.

Before, when YN knew that Harry was inside the four walls of this house and could therefore not be doing the things that YN was imagining in her head – there was no cause for her to worry. It was all fine before because she knew that whilst he was not being intimate with her, he was not with anyone else.

YN could not say that now because she did not know if it was true.

It was something that the two of them never spoke about – they never mentioned it. They both danced around the subject as though it was an open flame, neither one of them attempting to get closer to it. YN was truly regretting that now. At least if they had the conversation, if she had forced them to discuss this then she would have some peace of mind at least. Then again, she cannot imagine knowing he was doing such things would offer her any piece of mind.

After failing to succumb to sleep, YN had ended up wrapping herself in a blanket in Harry’s study, one of his books pressed firmly in her hand. She would say that she was reading it, but she had read the last sentence around twenty times and still not managed to finish it.

Then the door opened.

Harry’s head was lulled forward, his posture slightly hunched and his movements sporadic. He was drunk. Without even thinking about it, her eyes danced around his body attempting to see if there were any creases in his clothes that had not been there before he left. 

There was not, and for the first time that entire evening her heart slowed down to a normal pace.

“I saw the light,” He offered her a boyish grin, “I wondered who was sneaking around at this time – I should have known it was you.”

YN sighed in relief, dropping the book closed in her lap, “You are drunk.”

Harry nodded, not even trying to attempt to hide it. His body stumbled towards the other end of the settee from where she was. YN lifted her hand to her head when she watched him nearly fall off, but he caught himself thankfully before there was any need for her to intervene.

“Have I ever told you that you just might be the smartest person I have ever known?” He raised his eyebrow at her, a teasing look on his face.

YN gasped, immediately picking up the book in her lap to smack him on the shoulder with, “I should have known you were such a tease whilst drunk.”

Harry began to laugh, and no matter how much YN tried to resist it she could not help but join in. YN thought that she had seen all the sides to Harry, and yet there were ones that she was learning about every day.

“How was reuniting with your friend?” YN asked, watching as his head lulled back against the settee, dropping to the side slightly so that he was looking at her, “I suppose that is possibly a silly question given the state you are currently in.”

Harry nodded his head, “It was very enjoyable, although I suppose his constant discussion of beaches across the world did need to be taken hand in hand with a drink the further into the night we were.”

YN laughed, “I cannot ever imagine you not being interested in a conversation, Harry.”

He shook his head, leaning towards her slightly, “I was interested! The first time! It was just my luck that every time William had a drink it was as though his memory was wiped and he did not know he had already told me all of it before!”

YN did end up in a fit of laughter at his words. There was an ounce or so of further relief that she felt in that laugh, knowing that the stress she had found herself in was for no reason. It was nice to know that he had not withheld the truth from her – even though she was damning herself for even thinking that he would lie to her.

“It sounds as though you had quite the eventful night, then,” YN leant forward to place the book on the table in front of them before standing up, “Are you able to get yourself to your bedchamber, or are you staying here for the night?”

Harry grunted slightly, his head rolling to the side slightly to look out of the window behind him.

“What was that?” YN pressed, inching a step closer towards him, “You will have to use your words, Harry, I do not speak in grunt.”

“I do not wish to go to bed,” Harry mumbled with a shake of his head, “I do not wish to go to bed because the bed will be cold, and empty and you will be down the hall.”

YN’s lips parted slightly in shock. She knew that Harry was drunk, and therefore his inhibitions were lowered but there must have still been an aspect to it that was the truth. There was a slight part of her that was slightly annoyed by his words. She was annoyed that it had taken him a year into their marriage, on a night when he was drunk to say anything of this sort to her.

YN shook her head, “Harry, you must go to bed and sleep this off.”

“No, we do not have to go to bed,” He reached out to grab her hands, pulling her closer to him, “We can stay here, and we can talk, and you can sit next to me.”

“We cannot,” YN shook her head, unable to stop the pull he had on her, “We must sleep, otherwise we will not get anything done tomorrow.”

“That is fine, YN, we can have a day.” Harry nodded his head, “We could… we could just… we could be together tonight and tomorrow, and it would not matter.”

YN sighs, and she attempts to take a step backwards, but Harry instead wraps his arm around her waist. He rests his head against her stomach, and she can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of her nightgown. The feeling itself was like pinpricks across the expanse of her skin.

YN did not know what to do – she did not know what to think. Instead of trying to pull away from him (which was impossible due to how tightly he had wrapped himself around her), and against her better judgment – she gave in to him. This was the closest that they had physically been to each other since their wedding day, and she knew it was wrong but there was a part of her that did not want this to end just yet.

Instead of pulling away, her fingers found their way through his hair until they were resting in the curls at the nape of his neck.

He sighed against her stomach, causing heat to rush over her skin that she had never experienced in her life. If this is what she was missing out on, she was cursing herself for not forcing them to have a conversation. She supposed that Harry’s behaviour tonight had made it so they had no choice in the matter.

“Harry,” YN whispered, bringing her hands from the nape of his neck towards his cheeks so that she could pull his face away from her and look at him, “Let us go to bed.”

“No,” He shook his head again, “I told you; I do not want to.”

“Harry,” YN sighed, running her finger across the skin of his cheekbone, “You are not listening to me – let us go to bed.”

When YN woke up the next morning, everything felt different.

This was still her room. There were still her curtains hanging above the windows, her bed she was laid upon and still her books that rested upon every shelf in the room – but things were different.

YN often woke up when the light started to seep through the crack in her curtains, and today was no different. This time, however, she was not alone in doing so.

Her entire body felt warm. There was an excess of heat covering her from behind, an arm wrapped so tightly around her waist making it so even if she wanted to escape – there was no way in which she would be able to. Harry’s head pressed firmly into her neck, his steady breathing causing goosebumps to cover her entire body.

Last night, after Harry had finally registered the words that YN was saying – he had allowed her to direct him to her bedchamber. She had tried not to, but she had been unable to redirect her eyes when he had stripped off his jacket, shirt, and trousers before climbing into her bed. They did not talk, only looked at one another. They had settled into bed for the first time since their wedding day a year ago together, without a single conversation as to why between them. Harry had pulled YN’s body close to his, and they had fallen asleep – and that was it.  

YN knew that it was early in the morning, and Harry would probably need a few more hours or so to sleep off the remnants of last night – but there was no way that YN would manage to fall back asleep. YN tried to pull Harry’s arm off of her, but he grunted slightly, and his arm felt even tighter than it had done before.

YN sighed, unable to do anything but move slightly so that she was on her back and could face Harry. There was something so boyish about his features when he was asleep. It was as though all the stress of being an adult left him the second he was asleep, and YN felt a sort of privilege that she was able to witness him in this state.

It was this that caused YN to lift her hand and run her finger along the soft skin of his cheek – just in the way that she had done last night. Her body jumped slightly in his arms when his eyes opened. This was, in fact, the closest she had ever been to him – and the fact that she could see those green eyes of his looking so closely caused her stomach to somersault.

“It is too early,” He whispered hoarsely to her, “Go back to sleep.”

YN chuckled slightly, her fingers slipping back through his hair, “The children will be awake soon.”

“And we have a staff willing and ready to help with them,” He mumbled, dropping his head further into her neck, “Go back to sleep.”

YN lightly shook her head again, “Even if I tried, I highly doubt it would be possible. Even so, the children have missed out on so much learning these last few months – and I am excited to get them back into a classroom.”

“Another day is not going to harm them,” YN could feel Harry’s lips moving against her neck as he spoke, and then they closed, and he left the lightest of kisses on her skin.

“Harry…” YN whispered, her head pulling away from his slightly so that she could look into his eyes, “What are you doing?”

Harry sighed, his head lulling backwards so that he was laid on his back, just as she was. Whilst they needed to have this conversation, there was a part of her that wondered whether or not being laid in her bed, with Harry possibly having what YN would deem as a slightly delicate condition was the best place for this.

“I…” Harry sighed, lifting his hand to his forehead, “I do not know.”

YN’s breath caught slightly in her throat, “You do not know?”

“I do know, but I do not want to offend or upset you,” Harry sighs, turning his head so that he is looking at her again.

YN sighed, reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “Whatever it is, you must tell me, Harry. I am your wife; you can tell me anything.”

Harry lifted their joint hands to his lips so that he could place a kiss on the back of her hand, “I understand that when we married, we did so for ease. It was the best thing for us both at that time, and I understand that you may not feel the same but…”

His words stopped, and his eyes dropped down to her lips, lingering for just a moment before they bounced back up to her eyes.

“I may not feel the same how, Harry?”

Harry hesitated for a second, “That I feel as though my affections for you have grown.”

“Harry…” YN whispered, shaking her head lightly, “You cannot… You cannot say such words to me if you do not mean it…”

“I do,” Harry nodded, “I do mean it. I have meant it for a while now, but I never dared to say so. It seemed that all I needed was some liquid courage, and I could not stop myself.”

YN chuckled, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, “You should not have been scared to speak your mind, Harry.”

“What?” He whispered.

“You should not have been scared to speak your mind because then you would have found out that I feel the same.”

Harry’s face broke out into a smile, and it was quickly after that YN’s followed. He lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. It was then that her heart rate began to speed up – when his face started itching closer to hers. Just as she thought that Harry was going to place his lips against hers, the door to YN’s room burst open.

YN pulled her body away from Harry’s, lifting slightly to see Honorah bouncing towards them – still in her nightgown and having obviously just woken up.

“What is it, Norah?” YN smiled at the little girl, watching as she pulled herself up onto YN’s bed.

“I went to Papa’s room, but he was not there, so I came here to find you and I found Papa too!” The little girl smiled, crawling up the bed so that she could drop down between YN and Harry at the top.

“You found us,” Harry mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his little girl’s head as she cuddled up to him, “How did you sleep?”

Honorah nodded her head, “Very well. I dreamt of horses, and I have decided I quite like them.”

YN chuckled, “That sounds lovely, Norah. We shall have to take you to the stables at some point to visit the horses.”

“Really?” Her entire face broke out into a beaming smile, and she began to tell her father all about the horse in her dream.

As much as it had pained her to admit it before, this is exactly what YN had imagined mornings being married to Harry would be like. Lazing in bed with him, before being interrupted by the children and forcing them to begin their day sounding like complete and utter bliss. YN’s could not have been fuller than it was right now, but then she slowly realised that was not the case when the final part of the puzzle walked through the door.

“Good morning, Noah,” YN smiled, holding her hand out to the boy, “Norah was just telling us about her dream, do you wish to join us?”

The boy seemed to hesitate for a second before nodding, reaching out to grab YN’s hand and make his way onto the bed.

“Only for a little while, though,” He nodded with a shrug, “I am ready to break my fast.”

YN laughed, watching as Noah joined Harry and Norah in their conversation. To YN, it was at this moment that she truly felt as though she was a wife. That she was Harry’s wife.

YEAR SIX

Just as YN thought that one part of the puzzle that was her life had been laid to rest, another part reared its head to her.

YN wished for children.

Just as it was with the idea of marriage, in the past, she had been fine with pushing that thought out of her head and coming to terms with the fact that it was just not her fate. When she thought she was to spend her days as nothing more than a governess, the mere thought of children of her own was laughable.

Now that she was a wife, it was no longer laughable – and she wanted more.

YN knew how children were conceived, and she knew that with the amount that YN and Harry had been doing that act, there was a chance that she could be pregnant, and yet (just as it had been before) neither one spoke of it. YN was beginning to be infuriated by it.

“You know,” Harry spoke from the side of her as they lay in his bed, “To read a book, you have to look at the words on the page.”

YN had not even noticed that she had stopped reading the book she had in her hand and instead was staring above the words and at the rest of the room. YN sighed and closed the book, dropping it down with a slight thud on the bedside table next to her.

“I guess I am just not in the mood to read,” YN sighed, slipping down so that her head was on the pillow, and she could bring the covers up and over her body.

“That is not like you,” Harry turned to face her, a slight smirk settling over his features, “Are you in the mood for something else?”  

YN rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “Of course you would think that. No, Harry, I am just not in the mood to read.”  

“Since when can a book not capture your attention?” He reached over and placed a finger upon her cheek, lighting and tapping the skin so she would turn and face him, “Some may say I can read you like a book… what is wrong?”

YN turned upon her side, slipping her arm underneath her head as she stared at Harry, those eyes of his offering her an ounce of comfort at a time in which her mind was filled with different thoughts.

“Do you ever… do you ever think about having another child? With me?”

Harry went silent, his eyes squinting slightly before he turned away from YN. Her heart dropped and the comfort that had been there immediately disappeared the second that his eyes were not on her.

“I… I do not know,” Harry spoke after a second or so.

YN’s breath caught slightly, “You do not know?”

“I do not know,” Harry slightly tipped his head at her, “I have not ever thought about it.”

YN turned once more so that she was facing the ceiling, not wanting his face to be in her eyeline anymore. Whilst she had spent days, maybe even weeks or possibly months thinking upon this topic, imagining all of the possibilities of how this conversation would take place – she had never allowed herself to think upon this as one of them.

She supposed in part that was her fault – for allowing her thoughts to run away with her without any true evidence.

“I am sorry, I should not have brought the topic up,” YN spoke after a few minutes or so, before deciding that it was probably time to leave it altogether. She quickly pulled the covers off her, “I shall retire to my room tonight, I think.”  

“No,” Harry reached to grab her hand before she could stand up, “You do not have to do that.”

YN shook her head and pulled her hand out of his, “I just wish for a moment alone.”

YN stood up, reaching over for her gown to wrap around her body. She turned and saw Harry still lying in bed, this time with his hand over his face. It did not seem as though he was going to say anything, so she took that as her cue to leave the room.

Just as YN was about to reach for the door handle, Harry stopped her, “I cannot see you go through that.”

YN stopped her movements and turned to face him, “What?”

“I have witnessed first-hand what pregnancy can do to a woman,” Harry sat up, pulling the covers off his body, and moving towards the edge of the bed, “I cannot… I will not let you go through that.”

It all made sense to her now. The reason Harry had never even thought about it. She was ashamed of herself that she had not even thought of it. He had lost his first wife during childbirth, and he was afraid of the same for her.

“Harry…” YN took a step closer to him, watching as his slightly glassy eyes met hers.

“I know that you love the children, you truly do,” Harry spoke, “Are they not enough?”

YN was slightly taken aback by that question, and in turn, she ended up taking a step away from him, “I cannot believe you would say such a thing.”

Harry sighed, his head dropping forward slightly as he rested his hands upon his knees, “I am only saying what is the truth.”

“No, what you are saying is an excuse – what you are saying is nothing more than offensive,” YN shook her head, “I understand your worries, Harry, I truly do but what I cannot understand is you ever saying that Noah and Honorah are not enough for me!”

Harry sighed, his eyes failing to meet hers, “I apologise, YN, I should have never said such things.”

“No,” YN quickly retorted, “You should not have said such things, and yet you have! I only wished to discuss the topic with you Harry and I would never do a thing that you do not wish to do.”

Harry nodded, finally meeting her eyes again, “I understand, I apologise again.”

“We share the love of two beautiful children, Harry,” YN sighed, unable to comprehend why she was even having to explain the love she held for the children, “I apologise for wanting to just share our love in a child of our own.”

Harry gasped, and YN was shocked herself that those words had left her lips. Whilst YN had felt that feeling, love, for Harry for longer than she could put a timeline on – they had never said those words. If the conversation surrounding children had not caused animosity between the two of them, she worried if he did not return the favour that this certainly would. It was their cycle, one that no matter how much they attempted to change – YN feared they never would.

Harry did not say anything, and instead stood up and walked towards her. YN worried as to what it could be that he would say to her, or if he would indeed just walk past her altogether. Instead, he reached for her hands.

“Of course, I wish that we could share… share our love with a child but…” Harry shook his head, “I cannot lose you, YN. I love you too much. I need you too much. I fear, well, I would not be able to go on if anything were to happen to you.”

YN just sighed, taking a step forward to wrap her arms around his waist, her head falling upon his bare chest, “You will not lose me, Harry.”

“You do not know that,” He muttered against her hairline, “You cannot promise me that.”

“I know I cannot,” YN pulled away, looking up at those green eyes of his, “But… your fear, Harry, and whilst I am not diminishing it could also not be the case.”

Harry sighed, “I love you so much, YN.”

“Then, please,” YN rested her hand upon his cheek, “Think about it.”

Harry leaned down, placing the lightest of kisses upon her lips, “For you… I will.”

After quite a struggle, YN had just managed to get the children down and in bed, both of them deciding today was the day that they did not need a bedtime – and that they were both, in fact, too grown up for a bedtime.

Once she had finally managed to wrangle them into their beds, she wanted nothing more than to drop into bed with her husband and sleep the day off. The only problem was when she walked into their bedchamber – he was nowhere to be found.  She set off throughout the house, looking at all of the different spots she usually found him in. It was not until she spotted a light coming from underneath the door to his study that a small smile crossed her face.

The door was slightly ajar, almost as though he had left it slightly open in hopes that she would find him. She stepped into the room and saw him sitting at his desk, with his books open on the desk in front of him. She knew that he had to be busy to still be working.

Harry had his eyes down, resting his head against his hands. He seemed stressed. YN leaned against the door, a small smile crossing her lips as she watched him. 

“If you continue to furrow your eyebrows like that they will stay that way,” YN joked, watching as his eyes lifted to her.

YN watched as the furrow in his eyebrow ceased, and his chest emptied the air that he had been holding in. It was as though all of the stress in his body had dissipated the second that he saw him in the room. She had not seen him all day, and whilst she had missed him – it was evident just by the look on his face now that he had missed her too.

“Forever jesting,” Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair.

YN shrugged, “You married me for a reason.”

“That I did,” Harry sighed. He held his hands out, beckoning her to come closer to him. YN walked towards him, placing her hands in his and accepting his invitation to sit on his lap, “How are the children?”

YN groaned, dropping her head back slightly, “They have decided that they do not need a bedtime anymore. That they are old enough to go to bed whenever they decide it is time.”

Harry’s body shook with laughter slightly, “I fear the older Noah gets, the more difficult he will become.”

“It certainly seems that way,” YN smiled, her fingers threading through those curls at the nape of his neck, “Are you coming to bed anytime soon?”

Harry sighed, pursing his lips slightly, “I can certainly be persuaded to come to bed.”

YN rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Harry’s words, “I should have known that was going to be your motive.”

Harry’s hands found their place on YN’s waist, his thumb itching ever so closer to the swell of her breast, “I do not know what you mean.”

“You have that glint in your eyes,” YN noted, pulling back from him slightly, “The one you have when you are scheming something.”

“No schemes here,” Harry shook his head, holding his arms up in surrender, “It is just if I am not mistaken… the best time of the month.”

YN could not help the pull of her cheeks that his words caused. It was one thing that YN had noticed very quickly about Harry, even more so when their relationship had turned into what it is now – he remembered everything. Everything that YN told him that was of some sort of importance, he remembered. Even if it was not of much importance, just a tiny, small thing that YN had mentioned in passing, he remembered. It was probably one of the things that YN found the most endearing about Harry. 

When YN and Harry had their conversation about children, it had taken him a few weeks to come to terms with her request. She had left him to think about it and assured her that if anything were to happen, he would be prepared. He would make sure the greatest doctors were at their beck and call the second that anything seemed wrong, and he would ensure her safety at every point. With these in mind, he had decided to oblige her request.

But, when YN saw Harry’s smug expression there was a part of her that knew that at this point, he had no qualms with what she had asked.

“Well, then,” YN smiled, “Since it is the best time of the month, shall we retire upstairs?”

“I was thinking that the best course of action was to shut the door,” YN bit her lip, attempting to suppress her smile but it was no use. She immediately clambered off his lap to shut the door to the room that they were in.

When YN turned back around from the door, Harry had moved so that he was leaning against the front of his desk. For a moment, she just stared at him. She was unable to control the wave of desire that rushed over her body just at the sight of him. It was crazy to believe that just over a year ago they had not slept in each other’s bed and that these feelings had not yet reached the surface. Now, YN could not sleep without Harry beside her.

YN attempted to not think of the past, and instead, she was to focus on the future.

YN took light steps towards him, not stopping until she was in between his open legs. It was then that he almost pounced on her. With such rigour, he dropped his lips down to hers so that their faces all but smashed together, but YN did not mind. Her hands grasped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer to her if that was possible.

“YN,” Harry mumbled against her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist until they rested in the small of her back.

It was not long before their hands were pulling the clothes off their bodies piece by piece. Harry was especially skilled at unlacing a corset, something that made their recent penchant for these activities all the easier to complete. There was something about the comfortability with their movements, the ease, that YN had both longed for and never thought would be a possibility. It was now that they knew the ins and outs of each other, they knew what made each other tick more than anyone else in this world.

Their movements quickened in their speed, and Harry’s body fell back slightly. YN ignored the sound of the items that had once lined Harry’s desk falling to the floor. YN would be lying if she said that this had not happened once or twice in this room and that they did not know the logistics of it. She would be lying even more so if she said that they did not know the logistics of most of the rooms in the house.

Harry’s lips slipped from hers and across her cheek, placing light kisses until they reached her neck. Harry was completely, and utterly obsessed with her neck. He always put the most kisses on the skin between her neck and her collarbone, when they were in bed that was where his head was always placed. The one that excited YN the most was always when they were in public, and Harry pushed her hair off her neck. His fingertips would always linger there, and the touch was always ever so light that it would set her skin alight.

It was always tough work to get him off her neck once he was there, but a tug on the curls at the nape of his neck was always enough to pull him off her and elicit the lightest of moans from his lips. His hands moved down and came to rest at the seam of her chemise, pushing the lace up ever so slightly so that his fingers could rest on the skin of her thighs. His fingertips scratched her skin lightly, causing her to moan into his mouth.

YN pulled away from him slightly so that she could help him unfasten his trousers and pull them swiftly down his legs.

“Eager?” He mumbled against her lips again, his hands pushing her chemise up until they were resting upon her waist.

YN shook her head, “Not eager, just fed up with your constant teasing.”

Harry did not reply. Instead, he picked her up and switched their positions. She landed on the desk with a slight thud, eliciting a moan from her lips. Harry wasted no time in slipping his fingers underneath the thin strap of her chemise, allowing it to fall from her shoulder and expose her chest to him. As the material fell, Harry purposefully slowed his movements so that the soft material rubbed against her pert nipples. To her, it was truly as though he knew her exact strings to pull.  

“You are teasing again,” YN mumbled, pulling away from him slightly in hopes that he would stop the teasing. She should have known better.

His hands grasped at her waist, his fingers setting her skin on fire. He pulled her towards the edge of the desk so that his lips could attach to her nipple. YN gasped, her back arching towards Harry’s body.

He pulled away, his chin resting on the exposed skin of her chest, “You knew what I was like when you married me.”

YN shook her head, wrapping her legs around his body to pull him closer to her, “Not in this capacity I did not.”

Harry laughed, placing a kiss on her skin once more before his lips caught her nipple again. His hands ran up the exposed skin of her thigh once more, pushing it all the way up to her waist until she was exposed to him. His eyes locked with hers again, the slight darkness in them causing a shiver to run across YN’s body and pool in the pit of her stomach.

His assault moved downwards until he was face to face with her. He gripped the skin of her thighs, pulling his legs upwards until they were resting upon his shoulders. She bit her lip in an attempt to conceal the illicit sounds that threatened to escape them. There was nothing that could have helped her when his head lurched forward, his mouth attaching to her immediately.

“God, Harry…” Her body fell backwards, her chest rising up and down at a record speed as he continued his movements.

The mix of continuous flicks of his tongue against her clit, mixed with the suction his lips provided brought her closer and closer to the edge within minutes. YN also wondered if there was a part to play in that in how much she had thought about this throughout the day. It was as though she had been shown something, and now her entire thoughts were consumed by it day by day.

With each second she could feel herself getting closer, and her hands found themselves attached to his hair. Her breathing quickened, and her chest rose and fell at an exasperated rate.

Then it stopped.

YN could not help the moan that passed her lips at the loss of contact, tears brimming against her waterline. She watched as Harry wasted no time in lifting his body back up to her, his lips dropping against hers once more.

“You are cruel,” She mumbled against his lips, feeling the smirk that crossed his features, “You are cruel, and you are mean.”

“I am not cruel and mean,” He responded, his hand moving between them to pull himself out. He gave his cock a few strokes before lining himself up with her, “That is just not the purpose of the best time of the month, is it?”

“It could be, but you…” YN’s words were interrupted by Harry pushing himself into her. YN gasped, her nails digging into the skin of his exposed back, “Oh, god!”

The first time that they had sex was the night of the morning they had been interrupted. YN knew that if it was not for the children, it would have probably happened then. They had spent the entire day exchanging what can only be called longing and intoxicating looks at one another. In part, it felt like both pleasure and torture. YN had been slightly nervous, she would not lie, but Harry had made her feel like the most beautiful woman on this earth. He had not rushed her, he had made her feel comfortable the entire time and most importantly, he had reassured her time and time again that they were doing this together. That this was them showing their affection for each other, in a way that two people could.

All of their sex was not like this. More often than not it was sloppy, and it was rushed, and it was in the five minutes spare they had within the day when nobody from the estate or the children wanted them. If it was not rushed, it was often very slow and sleepy – but in a different remark still sloppy.

“Oh, Harry,” YN’s hands ran down his back towards the curve of his bum, where she pressed her hands against the flesh in hopes of pushing him deeper into her.

Harry groaned against her lips, “This is what you wanted, yes? You were wanting me to fill you up?”

“It was,” YN responded, gasping when he hit that particular spot inside of her that caused her to tighten around him. His hips never stopped their assault on her, and she did not want him to. The second that he slipped his hand between their bodies to rub his thumb against her clit, she was right back to where she had been minutes prior.

Harry’s head dropped into the nape of her neck, resting there whilst he continued to move his hips faster and faster against hers. YN had tried her best to match his pace, but she could not. It was as though she could not control her body when she was with him. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would be the one to get her there.

YN’s entire body went rigid, her mouth parting as a string of moans mixed with calls of Harry’s name left her lips as she orgasmed, Harry’s following just after hers. Their chest, pressed close to one another, were heaving in sync, their breaths ragged but smiles still dancing across both of their lips.

Harry pulled out of her gently and helped her clean herself up, pulling her chemise back on so it was not revealing her in such a promiscuous way. YN laughed, accepting a kiss from Harry when he offered her a hand to help her off the table.

“Do you think it worked this time?” YN asked, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck.

“We can hope,” Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “But we will not be disheartened if it has not, yes?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, saying the words as though she was trying to convince herself that they were true.

“Let us go to bed,” Harry nodded, reaching his hand out for her.

YN laughed, “We must dress first, imagine if we are to pass any of the staff in this state!”

“They have seen much worse. Now…” Harry dropped down, wrapping his arm around her legs and hoisted her up into his arms, “Let us go to bed… we can tidy in the morning.”

YN just laughed, allowing him to carry her to their room.

YN had been sitting on a blanket in the garden with Noah and Norah when it happened.

When she awoke that morning, she had certainly felt strange. YN had attempted to ignore it, to push the feeling so far down that it would not affect her day. There were things in life that YN could face head-on, with no worries about the consequences. This was something that she could not do. This broke her heart.

YN had smiled at the maid that was in the garden with them, giving her a look to instruct her to look after the children whilst she rushed inside.

She had stripped herself of her ruined clothes as quickly as she could, ordered a bath to be drawn and sunk into the water without a second thought.

They had tried and tried to conceive a child, but it seemed that no matter their efforts (which were frequent) it did not seem to stick. It was heartbreaking every time that this happened, and yet she could not control anything that happened. YN knew that she was older, but she had heard of women having children even older than her before. She just did not understand why nothing seemed to stick for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Harry walked in with a smile on his face, “Miss Harding told me you were in here. It is not like you to have a midday bath.”

YN looked at Harry and at those kind eyes that were staring into hers, and she broke down. The sobs that left her lips were loud, and they shook her entire body. He immediately rushed over to her, kneeling by the tub so that he could wrap his arms around body, trying to soothe the sobs that were wracking through her body.

It was at that point that he noticed her discarded clothes, and the stain upon them told him everything that he needed to know.

“Oh, YN…” Harry’s lips skimmed the top of her head, the realisation and seeing her in such pain stabbed at his chest also, “I am so sorry.”

YN shook her head, leaning against his shoulder, “There is no need for you to apologise, Harry. It is not your fault… I just… I am finding it more and more difficult to deal with the disappointment time and time again.”

Harry sighed, his lips placing a light kiss on her hairline before he pulled away, “Move forward, slightly.”

YN nodded, bringing her legs closer to her chest, and moving forward slightly, She watched as Harry stripped from his clothes, dropping them on a pile by the end of the tub and allowed his body to slip into the water behind her. YN immediately relaxed into Harry’s arms, the feeling of his arms around her body offering the comfort that she needed at that time.

“I do not wish to offend you with this, my love, but…” YN dropped her head back on his shoulder, placing her hands upon his that sat on the soft skin of his thighs, “Do you think that we should stop our endeavours?”

YN pulled away to look at him, “You wish to stop having sex with me?”

“No!” Harry’s eyes immediately widened, “No, God no. I do not wish for that, at all. I just mean that… YN I cannot see you go through this month by month. I just thought that we could, stop putting such a pressure on our actions.”

YN let out a sigh of relief and dropped back down next to him, “Oh… I suppose you may be right.”

“I thought you should know by now that it is often not the case that I am not,” Harry jested from behind her, his nose nudging her cheek.

“I think you are mistaken by that,” YN retorted, shaking her head, “I am more often the one that is right, and you know it.”

“So I do,” Harry lifted his hand from the water to tap her cheek, turning her head so that their lips were inches away from each other, “I just think that if we possibly put a little less pressure on ourselves, then you would hurt less.”

As much as YN would hate to admit it again, Harry’s word did hold some truth. Whilst Harry had never put any sort of pressure upon her, she was unable to say that she did not do the same for herself. It was more often than not she found herself worrying if it was her that was the cause of the problems. Harry had two beautiful children already, and yet the only difference between then and now was YN – and that therefore meant that she had to be the problem which was occurring.

“I think that is the best course of action,” YN nodded, dropping her head forward so that her forehead rested against his.

It was not long before he leant forward and placed his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, and light and the only word that YN could use to describe it was loving. It was as though no matter what mood YN found herself in or what was possibly going on in her head – the only thing that ever brought her out of such was him.

Harry’s hand lifted to rest against her cheek, resting against the soft skin and in part brushing all of the worry out of her body. It was a shock to her at what his touch did to her. She never, ever wanted it to end. She was the one to pull away first, placing her head against his shoulder again.

“We shall take the pressure off,” YN nodded, “And wait to see what happens.” “It will happen when the time is right,” Harry placed his head against hers, “And we should not worry ourselves until that time.”

YEAR SEVEN

From the last time that YN felt strange, this one was different.

The feeling itself was nothing that YN would say was significant – but it was there. She waited for the moment that her courses would come and prove to her that whatever she was feeling was just the prerequisite to that – and yet it never did.

YN tried not to worry herself, or to let her mind spiral but it was often difficult not to. It was as though there were some things that her mind just had to run free with. She did not tell Harry of her thoughts, as she did not want to worry him or to let him get his hopes up for something which could not be true just yet. That it could once again just be her mind playing tricks on her.

That was until, a month or so after her courses should have arrived that she started to feel waves of nausea race over her.

That was when her suspicions grew more into what she would deem to be facts. Her missed courses, the nausea, her constant state of fatigue and the fact that foods that she had once loved turned her stomach in ways that she could not express.

These feelings, which had been slight at first soon grew into something that she could not hide.

It was just a random Thursday that she had woken up and felt quite unwell, and whilst she had truly tried to get up and get herself ready for the day – she just could not.

The only way in which YN’s stomach did not churn uncontrollably was if she was laid down. That is how she found herself, on a lounger by the window in the drawing room. Her arm was covering her eyes, and she was focusing on nothing but her breathing – that was the only way in which to settle her stomach.

Even when she heard the door open, and Harry walked into the room – YN could not muster the energy to lift her arm and greet him. She could hear him talking to her, and yet her ears could not focus on the words that he was saying.

It was not until he dropped himself on the edge of the lounger she was laid on was it that she finally turned to greet him, but it was certainly not the greeting he was possibly expecting.

“Why do you smell like that?”

Harry chuckled, “Did you not hear me saying that I had just returned from my morning ride?”

“No,” YN shook her head, her features grimacing, “If I had, I would not be asking you why you smell like that.”  

“It is nice to know that you listen to me,” Harry jested, leaning forward to place either one of his arms around her body. He leant forward in hopes that she would return the favour, and yet she did not. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away from her.

“You… The smell…” YN placed her hand over her mouth, pushing Harry out of the way so that she could reach the chamber pot she had left at the side of her on the lounger.

Harry dropped down next to her, pulling her hair back from around her face. He was confused, and even more so when he reached out to wrap his arm around her body and she pushed him away once again.

“Do not come near me,” She held her hand out, instructing him to stay where he was, “You smell horrid.”

“Are you ill?” Harry ignored her orders, “Do I need to fetch a doctor?”

YN shook her head, leaning back against the lounger, “That is not necessary.”

“YN, you must tell me if you are ill,” YN sighed at his words, her annoyance growing by the second, “I cannot bear to see you in pain.”

YN raised her hand to cover her eyes once more, “I am not ill in the way that you think.”

“Then what is it?”

YN tried to swallow the feeling that was bubbling within her, but she could not, “Is there no way that you could change, or maybe even wash before we have this conversation?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “YN tell me what it is right now.”

YN sighed, turning to meet his eyes despite her stomach’s protests, “I have… evidence to believe that I am with child.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked upon her, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” YN did not mean to snap, but she could not lie and say that her patience was not wearing thin with him, “I said that I believe I am with child.”

“I heard what you said, I just…” Then, his face broke out into a smile, “It is just that I am slightly in shock, but I cannot say not overjoyed by the news – and possibly a little apprehensive.”

Harry attempted to move closer to her, but she pushed him back once more.

“Harry, I wish nothing more than to hug you and kiss you right now to celebrate but I fear if you come any closer to me you might receive something else entirely.”

Harry finally understood what it was that she was saying to him. He stood up and immediately started to unbutton his coat and his shirt. He removed his suspenders, and his trousers came next until he was stood in nothing but his underwear in front of her.

“Would this suffice?” He held his arms open in front of her.

YN laughed, “You will have to come closer for me to make my decision.”

Harry laughed as he dropped back down beside her, wrapping his arms around his wife. He lifted her with such care and ease until she was upon his lap. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We are having a baby?” He smiled, immediately leaning forward to capture her lips with his, “I cannot quite believe it.”

“Well, I cannot say for certain, but I do think that it is highly likely,” YN nodded, accepting the light kisses he was giving her through her words.

Sighing, YN pursed her lips in an attempt to keep her feelings down. Without his clothes on was certainly much better, but the smell was still lingering around him, and going straight towards her stomach.  

“Harry, I am sorry, but you need to bathe,” YN pushed herself up and off his lap, “I cannot be around you until you do.”

“I thought you vowed to love me – smell and all?” He pouted, still making no movements to stand up.

YN shook her head, “That was before such a smell did this to me. Please, freshen up and then we can continue our conversation.”

Harry just nodded, pushing himself up until he was standing, “I shall wash straight away.”

“I need to leave this room,” YN shook her head, walking towards the door, “Can you open the windows before you leave to air it out?”

Harry laughed but did as his wife wished. His wife that was indeed carrying their child.

“I must say, it’s been too long since you have been in my shop, YN,” Miss Francis spoke, passing her friend who sat on the settee in her shop a cup of tea, “I might have to come and have words with that husband of yours to let you free every once in a while.”

YN chuckled, “You should have seen him this morning. I said that I needed to come and see you and he was readying himself to join us.”

Miss Francis gasped and shook her head, dropping down on the settee with her cup of tea in her hand also.

As much as YN hated to admit it – she had slightly neglected Miss Francis and her friendship since she was married. She, of course, saw her whenever she needed a dressmaking or something altered – but they both knew that was not good enough. Miss Francis had been there with her through thick and thin, and she hated that it had let it get this bad.  

“Well, if I was worried about whether or not he loved you – I’m certainly not worried about that now,” Miss Francis offered the younger girl a smile, but that dropped once she saw the expression on YN’s face, “What is that face for? Are you… is everything okay?”

YN offered Miss Francis a small smile and placed the cup down on the table in front of them. She turned and reached over to grab the older woman’s hand.

“I need to apologise to you, Miss Francis,” YN spoke, squeezing Miss Francis’ hand.

Miss Francis furrowed her eyebrows, placing her cup down, “Whatever for, my dear?”

YN sighed, “For getting married, and not coming to visit you as often. It was despicable of me, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

Miss Francis laughed with a shake of her head, “You do not need to apologise to me, silly girl. You were a newlywed; I am just your modiste – there is no reason to apologise for not coming to see me without a need for it.”

“No,” YN shook her head, “Miss Francis, you are not just a modiste to me. You are my friend I would say that you are my best friend. You encouraged me to marry, you held my hand the morning of my wedding. You gave me your family’s jewels to wear at the ball. And I… well I handled the changes in my life poorly when it came to you. I therefore need to apologise to you.”

When YN looked back up at Miss Francis, her heart broke at the sight of her watery eyes. She had never felt disappointment in herself like this before, and she was angry. She was angry at herself for abandoning this woman.

“YN,” Miss Francis shook her head, “All of that does not matter to me. I was happy just knowing that you were happy.”

“I am happy,” YN nodded, “And I promise you that I will never let it get to this again. I will come to see you as much as I can until… well…”

Miss Francis furrowed her eyebrows, reaching forward to pick up a biscuit, “Until what?”

YN pursed her lips in an attempt to hold back her smile, and yet she could not do it. This had been the real reason that YN had wanted to come and make amends for the guilt that she had been feeling. When she had finally come to terms with the fact that she was pregnant a few days ago, the first person (besides Harry) that she had wanted to tell was Miss Francis. She had wanted to tell her straight away, but it had taken her a few days for the nausea to not be so bad, and in fact for her to be able to get up and ready and even contemplate leaving the house. Harry had not left her alone these past few days, doing everything that he could to make her comfortable. That was why when she had felt fine this morning and had asked Harry to make sure the carriage was ready to take her into town – Harry had tried and tried to get her to allow him to come with her.

It had taken YN explaining to Harry the reason behind the visit, and how she needed to do this on her own for Harry to finally let her go without him. It was under the stipulation that she would go there and come straight back, and if she started to feel ill at any point she had to return immediately. YN, not wanting to upset him anymore nodded and accepted the stipulations with a light kiss to his lips. Any of the turning in her stomach that she felt today was more the nerves of the conversation she was going to have – rather than a cause of the baby.

“Let us just say that… life might be turned around once more in eight months.”

Miss Francis gasped, dropping the biscuit she had in her hand onto her lap and leaning over to wrap her arms around the younger woman. YN laughed, swaying with Miss Francis as they embraced.

“Oh, YN,” Miss Francis pulled away, the tears in her waterline now ones of joy, “I am so happy for you, darling.”

YN had her own tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Another part of this which she had not expected to experience as well as the nausea was the up and down of her emotions. Harry, who probably had prior knowledge of this, had taken her constant changes of mood like a champ thankfully. YN, however, was struggling slightly with the changes.

“I wanted to tell you,” YN nodded, “I needed to tell you. I need you to be with me throughout this.”

“Of course, I will, darling,” Miss Francis smiled, running her hand across YN’s cheek, “I will be here for anything that you need.”

“Thank you,” YN nodded.

It was then that Miss Francis sprung up into action, walking over to the trunk where YN had brought some of her dresses with her. YN knew better than to interrupt Miss Francis when she was working, so instead she stood up and allowed the older woman to boss her around the way she needed her to.

“I did wonder when you showed up with the trunk what was happening,” Miss Francis spoke pulling the dresses out, “I should have known.”

“It is just the ones that I think with a bit of altering should have some give,” YN nodded, allowing the older woman to hold the dress up to her body, “Harry said I should have some new ones made but I do not see the need.”

“You might have to, YN,” Miss Francis explains, “Depending on how much altering I can do to these dresses.”

“Well,” YN offers Miss Francis a smile, “You have never been one to turn down a challenge.”

“That I have not,” Miss Francis laughs, “Now, you have to tell me everything. How did you tell Mr Styles?

“It is not quite the story you imagine it to be, I am afraid,” Then the two women broke out into a fit of giggles and it was as though nothing had happened between them at all.

Nathaniel Styles entered the world a mere eight months later.

Eight months of what some might conclude as torture, but others may count as bliss. YN had realised that her pregnancy would be a mixture of the two. She possibly should have realised when the first few months of her pregnancy were torture that she was not necessarily going to have the easiest pregnancy. It had been easy to realise that this experience was beautiful, and YN would not have changed it for the world – it was also difficult for her.

It had also taken a toll on Harry. He had already been particularly attentive before her pregnancy, but it seemed as though it was even more so when she got pregnant. She should have known the way that he acted when she had first told him that she was pregnant and that he was going to be that way. If she thought that Harry was bad before, the closer they were to welcoming their bundle of joy into the world – the more that he would not leave her alone at all. He was there, always in the room with her and ready to be there if anything happened. YN, whilst she may not have said so during time, was thankful for him.

By the time that YN had realised she was in labour, there had been no time to do anything. If Harry had not devoted himself to being close to her at all times (especially during the latter part of the pregnancy) then she would have worried about him missing the birth.

It was slightly scary the speed at which her labour progressed, there was not even any time to call for a doctor, or even Harry’s mother or Miss Francis. She had to rely upon Harry and the maids that were at hand in the house.

Whilst Harry had tried his very hardest to not make it obvious that he was worried, YN knew him too well and knew that he was. The speed at which her labour was progressing was the thing that worried him more than anything. It was as though he had kept worrying about something going wrong, and yet nothing ever seemed to.

It was in the mid-afternoon when their baby boy made his way into the world, making their two other children siblings once more.

Harry had not put Nathaniel down since he had made his entrance into the world. One of the first things that caused YN to fall in love with Harry was the love and care that he had for his children, and now that they had one of their own – that had certainly not changed. YN had been resting in the bed, unable to take her eyes off her husband sitting on the lounger next to the window, with their baby boy placed on his chest. Nathaniel was sleeping soundly against his father’s chest, obviously finding the comfort he needed in the skin-to-skin contact.

There was not a single sound in the room apart from a babble from Nathaniel now and then, until there was a knock at the door. YN’s face broke into a smile when she saw Anne, Harry’s mother peering her head into the room.

Anne held a similar smile on her face, “Are you up for any visitors?”

“Of course, I am,” YN beamed, any ounce of fatigue immediately dissipating from her body. She watched as Noah and Norah walked into the room, both of them rushing around the bed and towards her.

“Is that him? My baby brother?” Noah pointed to the baby bundled against Harry’s chest, his face beaming out into a smile.

“It is,” YN smiled, her head dropping against her shoulder as she watched the two older children walk closer to their new sibling.

It was not often that YN would say that she saw the two of them nervous. They were such confident children; it was so out of character for them. There was nothing in this world that scared them, and yet for some reason, they both seemed that way about meeting their new brother. As the children inched closer to their father, YN felt the bed dip at the side of her. She smiled as she saw Anne sitting there, immediately reaching out to grab YN’s hand.

“How are you feeling?” Anne asked, pushing some of YN’s hair out of her face slightly.

YN smiled, accepting the woman’s comforting touch, “Tired, but I am well. It all seemed to happen very quickly.”

“Harry’s birth was just the same,” Anne smiled, “If you need anything, do not be afraid to ask.”

YN smiled, “Thank you.”

Both of the women’s attention immediately turned to Harry, who was instructing Noah on how best to sit to hold his brother in his arms. The eldest boy’s eyes were wide, and he was listening to every word from his father’s mouth as he spoke.

“Keep your arms together, just like that,” Noah nodded, watching as his father moved Nathaniel from his arms and placed him down in his sons. His face broke into a smile once the little boy was safe and secure in his arms.

“He’s so small,” Noah commented, his eyes wide as he looked up to YN for just a second until they dropped back down to his brother.

“Well,” Harry sighed, reaching over to run the back of his finger across the expanse of Nathaniel’s small cheek, “You both were once this small.”

“Really?” Norah’s eyes lit up, “But you always say that I am your big girl.”

Harry nodded, suppressing a chuckle slightly before he reached his arm out to wrap around his daughter’s body, pulling her into the side of him, “You are my big girl, but you were once my small girl too, but you will always be my baby.”

Norah smiled, accepting the kiss that Harry placed on her cheek. It was very quickly that (just as her brother’s) Norah’s attention was placed upon her little brother, who had interrupted his sleep once again to let out a small whine before falling straight back into a slumber.

“Look at that,” YN smiled, “He feels safe with his big brother.”

Noah smiled once more before it was replaced with one of concern when Nathaniel broke out into tears, his little face turning red and his eyebrows furrowing. Noah’s eyes widened, looking between Harry and YN with a panic-stricken face.

“It is okay, bud,” Harry chuckled slightly, an amused glint in his eyes as they met YN’s, “He must be hungry.”

YN and Anne both chuckled from their place on the bed, watching as Noah angled his arms towards Harry slightly so that he could take his brother off him.

“I think that is our cue to leave,” Anne smiled, squeezing YN’s hand one last before climbing off the bed, “I am sure that there’s some trouble that we can get up to.”

YN smiled, opening her arms wide so that both Noah and Norah could come and hug her and kiss her before they left. Norah had a pouting face as she came over to YN. The older woman attempted to wipe it off her face, but she could not.

“And what is with that face, Norah?” YN teased, running her finger across the girl’s cheek lightly.

She pouted one more time, “I did not get to hold Nathaniel.”

YN smiled, placing a kiss on the younger girl’s cheek, “Your time will come, Norah, I promise. But he’s small now and needs me to feed him but I promise that once he has a full stomach – you will be the first to hold him.”

Norah sighed but alas nodded her head, “I suppose I can live with that.”

“I suppose you can,” YN smiled, “Now go, I’m sure Nana has plenty of things planned for you in the meantime.”

The children both nodded, accepting their Nana’s outstretched hands and walked out of the room. Both Harry and YN watched as the door closed behind them, a smile passing between them as it did. YN pulled herself up slightly so that she was in a sitting position, and smiled as Harry dropped down next to her, passing her Nathaniel as he did.

YN smiled at Nathaniel, and even though his little face was still red and scrunched with tears, YN would not change it for the world. Harry helped in pulling her nightgown down of herself, the act itself being sort of difficult with little Nathaniel in her arms. She sighed slightly as Nathaniel attached to her nipple, her body falling into Harry’s embrace as he wrapped his arm around YN’s shoulder, her head dropping down to his.

It was as though the second that Nathaniel had latched on, his face relaxed and peace was restored throughout his body. His eyes were wide, never leaving his parents faces as he began to eat. It was a beautiful moment, a moment that YN would never forget.

Harry sighed, lifting his free hand up to run his finger across Nathaniel’s cheek again, “He’s got your nose.”

YN chuckled slightly, trying her hardest not to shake too much and disturb the little boy pressed against her chest, “He does… it is no wonder I had so much heartburn with all of that hair – that’s certainly taking after you.”

Harry is the one who chuckles this time, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of YN’s head, “I hope he has your eyes.”

YN shook her head, turning so that she was facing Harry, “I want him to have your eyes.”

Harry smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead against YN’s. Harry’s eyes were one of the first things that YN noticed about him, and they will always be one of her favourite things about him. People always say that home is not a house, and instead can be found in a person. That was more obvious to her when she met Harry, and even more so when she looked into those green eyes of his. Those eyes, especially when they looked at her made her feel more at home than anything in this world. They were her comfort, her love, and more importantly, her home.

“Are you sure that you want him to have my eyes?” Harry questioned, pulling away slightly to look at her, “Because we both know we will not be able to say no to him.”

YN laughs before shaking her head, “I have no trouble saying no to you.”

“That is true,” Harry nods, “I suppose it shall be me that struggles to say no. I will compromise with the next one having your eyes.”

YN chuckled, “The next one?”

“Of course,” Harry sighed, “If you would want that.”

After sharing a slight chuckle between the two of them, they both turned to look at their son, who was becoming drowsier by the second. They decided that now was probably the best time to burp and place him down for a nap. Harry placed a cloth over his shoulder and carefully removed Nathaniel out of YN’s arms again, picking him up and placing him upon his shoulder.

YN watched with a smile as Harry started to walk around the room, gently rubbing Nathaniel’s back in hopes that it would coax a burp out of him. There was something so beautiful about the sight in front of her The fact that seven years ago YN had thought that marriage was out of the picture for her, and here she was now with a husband she could not love any more than she did and three beautiful children.

It was not long before Nathaniel let out the perfect burp, and his eyes began to close once more. He, so far, was the perfect baby. YN could not be luckier, and she also could not be luckier with the man she was raising him with.

“That’s it, baby boy,” YN watched as Harry swaddled the baby with a blanket, dropping him down lightly in the bassinet at the side of the bed.

There was a sigh from Nathaniel, and then not a single peep from him. Harry sighed, dropping back down on the bed next to YN, pulling her closer to him so she was resting her head on his chest. YN sighed into his body, dropping her hand upon his chest.

“Thank you,” YN mumbled, lifting her hand so that she was looking at him, “For everything.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “Thank you.”

[mc-critical]

Who do you think, out of the entire MC franchise, would you say was the best mother? I would honestly have to say Mahidevran since she was so nurturing and compassionate towards Mustafa (I loved their scenes together) and you could tell Mustafa’s safety always came first to her. What are your thoughts?

No mother of the franchise is perfect and as I’ve said before, there is no way mothers in the harem can develop a completely healthy (as we know it) relationship with their children. Still, I appreciate the various types of mothers we saw in MC/K and I usually love the scenes they have with their sons and/or daughters, since they enrich the characters and give them more humanity and depth.

I think I’ll also put Mahidevran as the best mother of the franchise. To be fair, one important writing advantage she possesses over the rest is that her relationship with Mustafa is probably the most fleshed out mother-son relationship of the entire franchise - we saw it develop in the span of four seasons and we saw every possible side of it. Mahidevran’s motherhood is a very vital aspect of her character: her love for Mustafa has always been there ever since her introduction and after she lost SS, Mustafa was all she had left. Everyone around her encouraged her to focus only on him and his upbringing. That didn’t seem so easy for a person who had yet to adapt to the immediate changes of her life and to accept the loss of a person that has undoubtedly been very important to her, but Mustafa has been there with her in every step of the way and the support they gave each other as early as S01 was very profound and human and I couldn’t help but tear up many times. And most remarkably, when she put her past in Manisa behind, when she truly focused the most on Mustafa, Mahidevran’s motherhood became a powerful indicator of her character development and I truly can’t think of another mother who evolved this beautifully.

Mahidevran has very strong motherly instincts outside of Mustafa and I loved how she saved Mehmet, the care she took of Mihrimah during the Janissary rebellion and the understanding she provided when Mehmet was struck with the arrow in E75. Hürrem also had equally strong motherly instincts during the same rebellion as well and I admire her for it, but one could argue it’s a little more surprising for Mahidevran to show them in such a way - back in S01, pre-E16, she didn’t seem to show signs that she could take care of the children of her enemy like that. Not many people would expect a person who has wished Hürrem’s death in her childbirths to do that at all. And yet she did. Once she saved Mehmet, we found out that she didn’t want the children’s deaths at all, even though she did make an attempt on Hürrem’s life when she was pregnant out of hurt and desperation. In fact, Mahidevran’s hate for Hürrem seems to be unbreakable, to know no bounds, except when it concerns the children. Once that happens, this is the only time she’s ready to let go. These are the only times she could ever understand Hürrem. The one scene where she herself went to her in good terms, to the point of her trying to return her ring, happened after she found out Hürrem protected Mustafa. It is clear that children and motherhood are important to Mahidevran, so important they can become the most important things in her life, so important she can leave her enmity with Hürrem for that and that alone. And conversely, her hatred for Hürrem reached the strongest peaks when it concerned Mustafa, as well: once he was exiled to Amasya and once he died, respectively, giving her a whole new motive to live and seek justice from the hands of God.

The advices (E55 and E56 aside) she gave to Mustafa are Mahidevran at her most perceptive - she speaks both from heart and experience and does her best at nurturing and caring for her son, understanding his struggles the way no one else could. Mustafa seeking vast support from everyone comes as much from her as it does from Ibrahim (I’m referring to this scene in particular) and while that sure is a double-edged sword when it comes to Süleiman’s opinion, it did motivate Mustafa to give his all to be the best heir he can be and gave him a certain upper hand over his brothers. Her advices are also her at her most decisive - showing that at this point, she knows what she’s talking about and can easily sense danger and warn accordingly. She has gained a fair sense of paranoia when it comes to his safety (understandably enough) and that is a factor of her advices as well, but it proves that she can be careful, that she isn’t as naive as she may look and that it’s not that easy to deceive her as it may have seemed.

Interestingly enough, before Mahidevran fell out of love with SS, she was fighting with her own loss and winning SS back and her hurt over it may seem to have taken primacy over the advantages she has as a mother. In E10, her first thought was Mustafa when SS appeared dead. Even in E55, she begins to look at her own possible advantageous position that comes with Mustafa only after Valide reminded her that she has her son. The falling out of love has started to the point she can openly think of her own future, but her feelings for SS were still conflicted and she could freely remember all the good times with him and lament them before she considered standing up. Her arc was moving back and forth between Mustafa, Süleiman and her own independence before she completed the full transition and had the chance to embrace the comparatively calmer environment and take full hand on Mustafa. Which is why Mustafa not being a priority at all is exactly Mahidevran at her worst. Due to her will for revenge, it was him she detached from to the point of her not wanting to go to Manisa with him in order to finish her battle with Hürrem in the form of ruling the harem. That was the only moment where she considerably detached herself from one of her best virtues and arguably did the most mistakes, culminating in a definite loss, for that moment. But we can say this was a learning experience for her, the cathartic process that granted her an entirely new push in strength and made her both a better character and a better mother than ever.

Yes, Mahidevran isn’t the perfect mother and she could inadvertently put Mustafa in danger due to her own personal pride being wounded (E48), her tears that could sometimes turn into breakdowns (E23) definitely affected him a lot to the point he was constantly willing to defend her, which, admittedly, could cause trouble (once again E48), but I could understand all this, because when everyone else doesn’t seem to alleviate your pain in the best way in your eyes, you become helpless when you have nobody else to confide in. For Mahidevran Mustafa was the only one she could truly confide in and he was her only tangible source of comfort when she’s pained to the point she can’t think rationally, in a way. There were definetly moments where she was ready to assert her own power through him, involving him in her fights. But once again, these things were stuff she developed out of, now indeed considering his safety first and foremost, telling him to stay away from any and all danger and to not provoke his enemies in any way. She became ready to eliminate all threats to him by herself and that’s also why she commited her biggest sin in the series: it was in a desperate, urgent attempt to protect Mustafa that she killed Mehmet. She thought only about him then, never about herself. (in E101 we see that Mustafa isn’t in the best condition after being exiled in Amasya to the point he was willing to not let anyone close to him and commit suicide and Mahidevran knew this, giving orders to Taşlicalı through Fidan to not leave him alone while she’s gone. With that I wanna thank Joanna for noticing this a while back! <33) She was ready to do anything and everything for him. Her path as a mother is heartfelt and fascinating to me.

I find Ayşe Hafsa to also be a very good mother, though. She was also the most notable in her advices and perceptiveness she delivered to SS. It was for a reason he thought of her as his conscience and seeing how he spiraled down massively after her absence, she may have been a huge part of his justice system, even though there were times where he disregarded her. She grounded him and told him which lines he shouldn’t cross just as she provided emotional support when he left for campaigns or went in the divan.

Her and Hatice are probably the best mother and daughter relationship on the franchise (Gevherhan and Kosem come as a close second), for there we saw genuine love and genuine support, as well. She fell ill precisely for the thought of her daughter’s pain after she learns about Ibrahim and Nigar. Hafsa is more tradition-bound and that may cause her to disregard her children’s wishes or cross paths with them quite a few times, but her motherhood is certainly one of her good qualities, especially when it shined through her flanderization in S02.

Despite of her cold pragmatism, Şah seemed to be a very good mother, all things considered. She was able to put Esmahan's wishes above her own by agreeing to try marrying her to Bali Bey and most importantly, sparing Lütfi Pasha for her sake alone.

I don’t consider Hürrem to be a totally bad mother by any means, especially how, as I mentioned, her motherly instincts can be as strong as Mahidevran’s, but there are factors where she falls a little short for me. One of them is screentime, to be brutally honest: we simply didn’t get much of her relationship with Mehmet for this reason, except for the schematic praise, hope for him to be the padisah and her not allowing him to go to the sanjack. We didn’t get much of her with Mihrimah in S03, either, even though their S03A relationship is the best part of it for me. I love her relationships with Selim, Bayezid and Cihangir much, much more writing-wise and my favourite point of Hürrem as a mother, as I mentioned once, is the S02B Cihangir arc. There we see her genuine concern over him that puts her motherhood to the forefront, we see how terrified she is of his incoming operation and that’s Hürrem at her most emotionally honest overall (and I wish we had more of that!). I love her protective mama bear attitude. I love how she managed to keep her children away from conflict in the earlier seasons (with the exception of little Mihrimah in S02A) and that certainly gave her some advantage.

Her problems as a mother, however, appeared later down the line and managed to prevail, with her mishandling of the Selim and Bayezid conflict being her biggest failing in the whole show for me. Her fixation on her enemies, or Mustafa in particular, dominated in how she dealt with her children in S04, to the point she moulded them for the political game, made pragmatic decisions she explained far too late (like why she sent Selim in Manisa), condemned them for their mistakes more than necessary (Mihrimah) and attempted to make them fully fixated on one goal, to no avail. I get her motives - Mehmet’s death empowered her will for revenge in an enormous way and she is now even more desperate to win the fight of her life that would help her make them respect her, ,,kneel to her feet’’ and defeat them all, but that way she had to make her children fully commit to that same fight, putting their personal feelings and desires behind and sometimes overlooking their own problems. She loves her children a lot and the realization that she had to choose between Selim and Bayezid broke her to pieces, but some problems manage to outweigh that. She’s an interesting, relatable in this time period, mother, but I certainly wouldn’t call her the best one of the franchise.

We didn’t see much of Nurbanu as a mother, but she certainly seemed to love Murad, but show strictness as well. We also saw how ruthless she can get when it comes to the survival of her and her son when she was about to kill Defne's kids.

Defne is a very nurturing mother, from what we saw. She's probably shown as a nurturer the most when it comes to all the mothers and her love and protection of her children is warm, yet heartbreaking, especially because she's ready to take risks she never had when Nurbanu comes for them. That scene was the peak of her removing her loyalties to her in general.

I wouldn’t compare the dynastic sultanas like Hatice or Gevherhan as mothers, simply because they’re not very often shown as such. Hatice wanted to have children so badly, but we didn’t see her much with her living children, which is solely a writing issue. Gevherhan isn’t seen as a mother that much to comment on it, either, even though yes, she clearly loves her children.

Safiye is another deal: she loves her children, but keeping her power has always taken primacy over them. Though it’s not to be denied that their deaths are moments of big vulnerability for her and indicators for the last ounces of her humanity - once Fahriye died, she seemed to have lost some of that humanity. Once Iskender died, she was finally willing to let go. But this humanity in her motherly relationships couples with her moments of disregarding them: as seen with Fahriye and especially, Humasah. There was a hinted resentment of Humasah’s of Safiye, and I’m sure there was a reason for it, despite of Humasah listening to her still in some cases.

Handan is a comparatively good mother. She also tries her best to protect Ahmet from stronger enemies and he is the reason she had fought this war against Safiye and Halime and ended up outranking them. One part she commited suicide was perhaps because she didn’t see any sign of acceptance in Ahmet of her love with Dervish, one of the few things that made her happy in the cage that is the castle. Getting such strong disapproval from her own son… it hurt.

I see Kösem as a mother that cares about her children, but is often forced to couple them with the needs of the country or caves in to the necessity to represent the traditions, as well as the country. That’s why she ended both Ibrahim and Murat, no matter how much she didn’t want to. Her whole arc was about the dilemma of representing the state and her own motherly persona and she fought the fratricide law so hardly, for no one to endure their children being killed no more. She knows best what is like to lose children and that also motivated her in doing what she considered right in ruling the empire, trying her best to stop any failings.

I elaborated in the past on why I think Halime and Gülbahar are very toxic mothers and I stand by these opinions.

I know the ask was about who is the best mother in the franchise, but I want to mention, for the second time, the worst mother in the franchise, is Turhan. Oh god, Turhan. She is the worst mother both character-wise and writing-wise - nor have we seen her show any affection for Mehmed at all, nor have we had that much time to see it, either. She is a one-dimensional thematic symbol, nearly devoid of vulnerability or humanity, and (even though that fits thematically, except for her relationship with her son) that also includes her son.

[newmusickarl]

Album & EP Recommendations

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power by Halsey

Halsey’s evolution across her career has been quite something to witness. Having begun her career in pure pop territory, her artistry has developed over time with each new record seeing the American singer-songwriter up the ambition and scope of her music. Now with this her fourth album, Halsey has gone bigger than ever, teaming up with Nine Inch Nails members and Oscar-winning composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross for her boldest work to date.

Produced entirely by Reznor and Ross, Halsey describes this new record as “a concept album about the joys and horrors of pregnancy and childbirth.” Naturally with any concept record there is going to be a cinematic feel, however Halsey has gone one step further and even delivered a full theatrical film to accompany the album, the trailer for which you can watch above. Although I am yet to see the film, there is no doubt that the musical portion is a mightily ambitious and accomplished project, with each song seamlessly segueing into the next despite the array of styles and genres across each track.

It may still be a pop record at the heart, but with the masterful touch of Reznor and Ross, Halsey also brings in some industrial rock elements, as well as a bit of pop punk in places too. However, it is not just sonically that Halsey pushes the boundaries but also thematically as well, using the album’s concept to press the issue of feminism and misogyny within the lyrics. Arguably what’s most striking about this record though is how tightly constructed everything is here – under the watchful eye of Reznor and Ross, the dramatic production is inch-perfect.

Most importantly, the songs here are just fantastic, from the religious imagery and glistening synths that lace the wonderful melody of Bells of Santa Fe, to the raw, grungy guitars of You asked for this. There’s also the atmospheric piano ballad 1121, where Halsey really flexes her impressive vocal cords. Pulsating, stylish electro-pop single I am not a woman, I’m a god is another standout. Once you have been amazed by all of this, the gentle plucking and raindrop like xylophone of stunning closer Ya’aburnee arrives to really blow things away.

In a year packed full of outstanding pop records, Halsey has delivered, for my money, one of the best of the lot. With Reznor and Ross holding the reigns, they help Halsey deliver on her epic vision with both style and control. It’s one thing to attempt a record like this, it’s another thing to pull it off as expertly and vibrantly as this – hats off for this one!

Listen here

Screen Violence by CHVRCHES

Also delivering their fourth album this week was Scottish synth-pop group CHVRCHES who, whilst predominantly maintaining their vintage sound, have lyrically pushed themselves into darker territory on this new record. Probably their finest work since their debut, frontwoman Lauren Mayberry takes no prisoners as she tackles sexism and misogyny, calling upon her own experiences within the industry to really illustrate the issues being put front and centre.  

This is highlighted best on electric single Good Girls, a track Mayberry wrote “after listening to some friends arguing about the present-day implications of loving certain problematic male artists – I was struck by the lengths that people would go to in order to excuse their heroes and how that was so juxtaposed to my own experiences in the world.”

Other highlights include He Said She Said, a glistening synth-driven pop banger that’s contrasted against razor-sharp lyrics with a defiant message at its core – catchy, but also powerful and thought-provoking. There’s also the superb collaboration with The Cure legend Robert Smith, How Not to Drown, which is a moody, atmospheric, and synth-soaked belter of a track. Although it is incredible right the way through, the real spine-tingling moment comes during the song’s outro thanks to the ghostly vocals of Smith being cast over some hauntingly melodic guitars. Outside of the singles, the rawness of heartbreaking closer Better If You Don’t leaves the biggest impression.

All in all, this album ranks amongst their best work and although it may not be quite as dramatic or impressionable as Halsey’s album, there’s still plenty to which you’ll want to digest and ultimately keep returning.

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How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? By Big Red Machine

The National’s Aaron Dessner and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon have certainly kept themselves busy over lockdown. It seems they weren’t satisfied with just taking Taylor Swift’s music to incredible new heights on 2020’s folklore and evermore, as they have now also released their second album under their Big Red Machine guise. The most noticeable thing about this second record is that the duo have extended their collaboration further this time around, bringing in renowned artists such as Ben Howard, Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan and Fleet Foxes, as well as two more collaborations with Miss Swift herself.

Given the talent involved, it is no surprise that this makes for a really special and stunning collection of songs. There’s wonderful electro-folk track Mimi, which sees singer-songwriter Ilsey Juber join Justin Vernon on lead vocal duties. Phoenix sees Robin Pecknold of Fleet Foxes and Anaïs Mitchell join in for a wonderful, horn-backed number. This track in fact isn’t the only time Anaïs Mitchell steals the show, as her beautiful, soothing vocal performances on opener Latter Days and closer New Auburn arguably provide the two best moments of the entire album.

The two tracks with Taylor Swift are also fantastic, with Renegade offering a sweet, pop cut that wouldn’t be out of place on either of Swift’s last two records. The better of the two though is Birch, a piano-driven, string-tinged ballad which sees Swift simply providing back-up vocals to Vernon’s haunting folky croons. It’s stunning and possibly my new favourite collaboration between the three artists.

Ultimately this is just a superb album, with Dessner and Vernon thriving alongside their chosen collaborators for a collection of songs that will frequently both move and astound you.

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Donda by Kanye West

Easily the most talked about album of the week, after several launch events and many, many delays, Kanye West finally released his long-awaited tenth studio album, Donda. Now anyone who knows me knows that I am not a fan of excessive, bloated albums, so with Donda clocking in at almost 2 hours long it was always going to struggle to win me over.

As expected, this is another West project that struggles with inconsistency, with moments of brilliance balanced out with plenty of moments that ultimately underwhelm. Although it has more high points than Ye and the production is more polished than Jesus Is King, there is no track as good as Ghost Town and sonically I found it less inspired than Jesus Is King in many ways. I’m not sure just yet if this is indeed the worst West album, but it is certainly down there in the bottom half for me.

That said, there are still some great moments to be found here. Once you get passed the massively irritating Donda Chant opener (honestly, so painful!), the Jay-Z featuring Jail offers an anthemic rock-influenced gem to get the album started properly. From there The Weeknd featuring Hurricane, the Lauryn Hill sampling Believe What I Say, the heavenly melody of Kid Cudi feature Moon and the organ-backed closer No Child Left Behind provide some of the other highlights. However possibly the finest moment comes in the form of Jesus Lord, a 9-minute epic that sees West deliver some of his best bars in years, returning to the social-consciousness that made him a star in the first place.

If you are a fan of West’s recent gospel-influenced work, then this album will reward you for your patience if you stick with it. For me, although there are some moments I enjoyed, the length was just too much, with this album having the same inconsistency problem that The Life of Pablo had but without reaching the same heights as that album did when it was at its best. Disappointing, but still somewhat worthwhile.

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The Awesome Album by Mouse Rat

And finally on the albums front, if like me you are a big Parks & Recreation fan, you’ll be pleased to hear that Chris Pratt’s fictional band from the show, Mouse Rat, have finally released their debut album this week. Featuring classics such as 5,000 Candle In The Wind and The Pit, this one is a lot of fun for fans of the show.

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Tracks of the Week

Good Ones by Charli XCX

Coming off the back of the definitive lockdown album How I’m Feeling Now that earned her both a Mercury Prize nomination and a place in my Top 5 albums of 2020, Charli XCX has returned with a new synth-driven banger that packs in an insanely catchy hook and wonderful 80s vibes.

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Family Ties by Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar

Also making his return this week was King Kendrick who delivered a fantastic new collaboration with his cousin Baby Keem. Over a brilliant horn-driven beat, the two family members go toe-to-toe and bar-to-bar across this concise hip-hop banger.

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Alone by Rag N Bone Man & Nothing But Thieves

A remix of a track from Rory Graham’s latest album Life By Misadventure, this version sees Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves join in on vocals, along with some triumphant rock production that replaces the stripped back nature of the album cut.

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Spirit Power & Soul by Johnny Marr

The brilliant first track from his forthcoming new EP, Spirit Power & Soul finds legendary guitarist Johnny Marr in fine form, sonically calling back to his days with Bernard Sumner in Electronic. Built on a masterful central riff, pulsating synths and a big anthemic chorus, it’s a belter!

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Nothing Else Matters by Chris Stapleton

And finally this week, we’ve had plenty of great, unique covers of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica already this year, with Miley Cyrus and Phoebe Bridgers already offering their own take on the classic song. However, I’ve always got time for another and this 8-minute epic from country singer Chris Stapleton is just as dazzling, thanks to some amazing bluesy guitars and his textured vocal performance.

Listen here

[sunflowersupremes]

Bun in the Oven

This is an abandoned plot point from my A/B/O verse. It ended up not fitting in the continuity of the fic, but it’s been kicking around my hard drive for months so I thought I’d pull it out and finish it up.

No prior knowledge of my A/B/O verse is needed, it’s just a deleted scene and strays pretty far from the plot of the other story. Although if you have read my other fic you may recognize a few bits that ended up getting reworked and used for other things

Tags: Past Rape/Non-Con

Read on AO3

Another successful contract finished, and Geralt headed to Novigrad. It wasn’t a city he frequented often, but there were a great many things to look forward to there: an inn with a proper bed, a tailor for a new set of clothing, and (more likely than not) Dandelion.

His friend enjoyed the city, and if he wasn’t in Oxenfurt, stirring up trouble at his alma mater, he was most likely in Novigrad (when he wasn’t with the Witcher, that was). They’d not seen each other since Geralt had headed north the previous fall, and after spending the winter in Kaer Morhen he’d returned south and had yet to stumble across Dandelion.

Since fate was misbehaving, he’d have to give it a bit of a nudge.

Once in the city, he easily found the inn where the bard was staying, although he was surprised to be told that he hadn’t been seen in several days. No matter, thought the Witcher, he’s most likely in a creative funk, only allowing prostitutes in to see him. He would let Geralt in though, he always did, and the Witcher could regale him with stories of monsters, and Dandelion will fill him in on whatever absurd gossip was going around at the time. The poet would also know a tailor where he could get a new jacket, and then, perhaps, they’d head out on the Path together.

A coin tossed at the innkeeper got him the location of Dandelion’s room, and an order to tell his friend that he only had a day left on the coin he’d paid so far. Geralt nodded, handed over another day’s rent, and walked upstairs.

He pushed open the door to Dandelion’s room without thinking, because he never bothered to knock, the worst that could happen was finding Dandelion in bed with some woman, but he was caught off guard by a shoe hitting him in the face.

Geralt stumbled backwards, swearing and cursing, bringing his hand to his nose. It seemed Dandelion’s bedfellow hadn’t taken well to being intruded upon.

But when he looked up, Dandelion was alone, standing in the middle of the room with his other shoe in hand, dressed in a silken robe that hung loosely around him. “Dandelion-”

“Geralt?” The shoe dropped from his hand, hitting the ground as he stared at Geralt in shock. It seemed that the Witcher wasn’t the person he had been expecting, but somehow he didn’t seem exactly pleased to see him.

Geralt took a step forward. Dandelion took two steps back. “What is it?” he asked. The room reeked of perfumed oils and candles, several different ones all layered on top of one another, competing for attention.

“Dandelion?” he asked again.

The bard was just staring at him, his eyes wide with fright. “Ger- Geralt- I- You should leave.”

“No.”

The bard’s pupils were blown wide, as though frightened, but the tremor in his hands made Geralt think more of someone coming down from a drug high. “What happened?” Geralt asked.

“I- I-” Dandelion shook his head. “I’m a whore.”

Geralt’s first thought was to say that everyone knew of Dandelion’s promiscuity, but something told him that wouldn’t be well received at the moment. He slowly removed his swords, hanging them from a peg by the door, and continued to study Dandelion in silence.

A strange scent seemed to be wafting from Dandelion, but he couldn’t quite place it, not under all the other smells in the room. It smelled almost like sex, and Geralt asked, “Are you in heat?”

“I was.”

That caught him off guard. Dandelion took enough suppressants to tranquilize a rhinoceros, for him to have been in heat- “Did something happen?”

“I was tricked. I- I took poppy instead of my suppressants.”

“But you aren’t in heat now?” Geralt asked slowly.

Dandelion’s entire demeanor suddenly changed. Bending over he grabbed the shoe he’d dropped earlier and hurled it at Geralt. “Get out!” he shouted, his face twisted with anger.

The shoe bounced harmlessly off Geralt’s chest. “No.”

The bard lunged at him, his fists banging against Geralt’s chest as he shouted, something about Alphas and their innate cruelty, he was speaking too quickly for Geralt to catch it.

But with Dandelion as close as he was, Geralt realized what he was smelling. Shit.

“Hit me again,” said quietly. “I mean it, Dandelion, if it will help-”

“Damn it, Geralt! Protect yourself!” Dandelion swung at him again, but he barely felt it.

“You can’t provoke me into attacking you!”

“You’re an Alpha! That’s what you do!”

“If you want someone to kill you, you’ll have to find someone else,” Geralt said quietly. “Lambert perhaps, he hates you enough.” It didn’t make Dandelion laugh.

“I don’t need you to kill me, just- just this parasite-” He gestured to his stomach. “I thought you might stab it, actually.”

“You’re pregnant.”

It was as if Geralt’s words took the wind out of him, and Dandelion collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. “Yes,” he said weakly, then began to sob.

Geralt sat beside him slowly, studying his body language for any sign that he was uncomfortable with the Witcher’s presence. But he seemed to have lost the earlier anger, settling instead into loathing and self pity.

“What happened?”

Dandelion looked up, and in such close quarters Geralt could see the lines of exhaustion on his face. “What the fuck do you think, Geralt? I was sold poppy instead of my medication and- well, I was attacked.” A shiver ran through him and he pulled his robe more tightly around himself. “I- I- Geralt they took me somewhere, to their house or something, I honestly don’t know, but I do know it was the worst time of my life, and then, on top of it all, by the time I got away I- I suppose it was too late.”

“Have you seen a doctor-”

“No,” Dandelion snapped. “I don’t need one to know I’m pregnant-”

“I meant- were you harmed-”

“A few bruises was all, they’ve faded.” Dandelion rubbed his face. “Childbirth is hell on male Omegas, Geralt, did you know that? We don’t have a proper birth canal, so it just sort of rips open.”

“I thought about giving it to Yennefer,” Dandelion sneered. “But she doesn’t want just any child, she wants one out of her own cunt.” Geralt doubted he’d ever actually considered it, it just seemed to be someone he could be angry about (which he deserved at the moment).

“We can find an abortionist.”

“I tried,” grumbled Dandelion. “They’ll sell an Omega nightshade but not an abortifactant, did you know that?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Did you buy nightshade?”

“It’s in the dresser,” said the bard calmly. “I was too much of a coward to take it.”

Geralt’s hands itched to pull him into a hug, but he knew better than to grab him. One of us has to remain rational, he decided, and it won’t be Dandelion, understandably.

He bit his lip and studied Dandelion. It was hard to make anything out with the loose robe hiding his form. “How far along are you?”

“Two months. I- I’ve been living here- thank the gods my half brother gave me a bit of coin the last time I saw him and I hadn’t spent it yet, otherwise I wouldn’t even have managed to stay here.” Geralt’s chest twinged at the thought of Dandelion being alone and vulnerable for so long.

“I’m an Alpha,” Geralt said quietly. “I can get you an abortion, if that’s what you want.”

“Of course that’s what I fucking want!”

“It’s getting late,” Geralt said softly. “There’s nothing we can do tonight. May I stay with you?”

“Please do,” Dandelion whispered pathetically. “I- don’t leave.”

“I won’t.” Geralt swallowed, knowing what he needed to do. “May I look you over?”

Dandelion eyed him warily. He knew there were horrors in the bard’s past, something to do with his status as an Omega, but he didn’t ask about them. It was understandable that Dandelion wouldn’t want anyone - let alone an Alpha, to touch him.

“You smell of pain,” he explained gently.

“I- my body is ripping apart, Geralt. Male Omegas aren’t meant to have pleasant pregnancies.”

Geralt nodded. “I know,” he said gently. “And I know there are treatments that meant to be done, and I suppose you haven’t done them, so I’d like to make sure you aren’t falling apart on me.”

Dandelion nodded slowly. “Alright,” he whispered. “I- I haven’t looked, I- I just know, well, there was blood the other day…”

Geralt stood. “Robe off,” he said. “Lay on your back.”

Dandelion shrugged it aside and Geralt immediately knew why he’d been wearing it. His stomach had only a small swell, since the baby wasn’t too far along, but his nipples were angry and red.

Geralt winced sympathetically.

Dandelion squeezed his eyes shut as he laid back, letting Geralt rub his hand over his stomach, then to his hips.

When Geralt pushed his legs apart, he whined. “Easy,” the Witcher soothed, rubbing his side.

“Fuck it all,” moaned Dandelion. “Just kill me.”

“No, Dandelion, I won’t hurt you.”

Dandelion’s entire crotch was red and inflamed, more than he’d been expecting, and the strange patterning in the inflammation made it look as though fingers had rubbed over it. “What did you put on yourself?” Geralt asked sharply.

“An herbal mixture,” the bard said. “I- I was panicking, I thought it might help...”

“I think you’re allergic to it.”

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m going to wipe you down,” Geralt said.

Dandelion groaned but didn’t argue.

Geralt found a basin of water and a rag and brought them back to the bed. He dipped the rag in the water then carefully pressed it against Dandelion’s thigh. He wiped him down as quickly as he could,

“I fought a Katakan last week,” Geralt said, hoping to distract Dandelion.

“That’s a vampire? Isn’t it?”

“Lesser Vampire,” Geralt explained. “It had been terrorizing a small village to the north of here.” He lifted Dandelion’s cock, peering under it to see the inflammation between his balls and anus. He appeared to be mostly intact and there was no sign of blood, so Geralt set the cloth aside and stood.

“Did you kill it?”

“What else would I do with it?”

Dandelion wrapped himself back up in his robe, shivering slightly. “I’d like details,” he muttered.

“Sleep,” Geralt pleaded. “And then I’ll tell you more once we’ve gotten you to a doctor.”

[beaaareputation]

The Problem Is Ignorance: Curbing Maternal Mortality in the United States

The United States is well known for its striking maternal mortality rates - meaning the number of American women who die during pregnancy or because of it. More accurately, maternal mortality is defined as death while pregnant or within 42 days of pregnancy, irrespective of the duration or site of the pregnancy, from any cause related to or aggravated by the pregnancy or its management, but not from accidental or incidental causes, and is recorded using a device called a “maternal mortality ratio”, or MMR. The MMR is the number of maternal deaths that result in 100,000 live births. In 2018, the United States’ MMR was 17.4, and that is an average of all of the rates, between economic and racial status, which vastly affect the statistics. Maternal mortality, like many health issues, is sometimes inevitable. But for the most part, it’s simply an injustice, like in Serena Williams’ case.

On September 1, 2017, the famed tennis player gave birth to her daughter via cesarean section. The next day, she was having trouble breathing and feared a pulmonary embolism, or a blockage in one of the pulmonary arteries, which are connected to the lungs. They are often caused by blood clots, with the main symptoms being shortness of breath, chest pain, and coughing. The nurse to which she expressed her concern dismissed Williams’ worry as confusion from pain medication, even after Williams exhibited more than one symptom.

The nurse was wrong - there were several blood clots in the tennis player’s lungs. Williams’ fear wasn’t irrational. It wasn’t a postpartum symptom or a hormonal defect. She had, in fact, suffered multiple pulmonary embolisms more than 6 years before which had almost cost her her career and her life, and now is hyper-aware of them. It was only after her demands to her doctors that a CT scan revealed the clots and she was put on a heparin drip to thin her blood. Multiple surgeries later, she is still very much at risk for blood clots.

Medically, the causes of maternal death are mainly bleeding or infection, which usually occur postpartum, pre-eclampsia or eclampsia, many times characterized by high blood pressure during pregnancy, and complications from delivery or unsafe abortion. But these are all conditions that are preventable and treatable, yet so many women are dying from them.

Most women who go to the hospital and entrust their healthcare providers with their’s and their baby’s life aren’t experts at what is happening to their body. That is why we have doctors, nurses, midwives, and other healthcare professionals to assist. But what happens when the patient can’t communicate what they are feeling correctly is ignorance. Serena Williams was extremely fortunate to have had that previous knowledge about herself and her past medical conditions. That is not the case with the majority of women. There are, of course, pre-existing conditions that raise one’s rate for maternal death, but many of the aforementioned common causes of maternal death happen to perfectly healthy women who died because their healthcare professional didn’t realize they were bleeding out after delivery.

Take a moment to consider the word hysteria. A noun defined as a psychological disorder whose symptoms include conversion of psychological stress into physical symptoms, selective amnesia, shallow, volatile emotions, and overdramatic or attention-seeking behavior. This word is derived from the Greek one “hystera”, meaning uterus, or the womb in which a baby grows inside of its mother. And so through time, misogynistic views have categorized hysteria as a side effect of pregnancy, childbirth, or the mere possession of a uterus. And this is how and why medical professionals like Serena Williams’ nurse get away with ignoring their patients and denying them attention or care. While Williams’ condition wasn’t particularly common among postpartum women, she expressed her concern for what she thought was happening, yet she was ignored. The horrific stereotype of women being crazy makes the community mistrust what they say before they say it. You can see that explicitly in fields such as science, math and politics, ones which men have dominated for centuries. And it’s worse for women of color. 

They are placed in the position of “least important” in American society, they face injustice even before they are born, with their mothers. The maternal mortality ratio for Black women is 37.3, three to four times the rate for white women. This is not only because of the natural risk they face, but also that they are blatantly ignored. Continuing with the theme of athletes, who would be less likely to suffer consequences from pregnancy or birth: Simone Biles, who is Black, or Aly Raisman, who is white? Both members of the Final Five, Biles is the world’s best gymnast and a 25-time Olympic medal winner and Raisman is a silver medalist who has captained the United States Women’s team in the 2012 and 2016 Olympics. They are exceptional athletes who have led their teams to victory in more than one Olympic competitions, yet Raisman would still have a better chance of a healthy, uncomplicated pregnancy and birth.

Not because of anything they did, but because of the barriers, norms, and bias that have been placed in society and in the medical community. If we cared, we would do something about it. But we don’t care, so we don’t do anything.

The United States is ignorant of and unresponsive to the needs of women, and has been since before its official beginning. Our country sits among the most well developed countries in the world yet still fails at maternal healthcare. In 1990, Norway’s maternal mortality ratio was 3; in 2015 it was 4, with countries such as Switzerland, Ireland, the Netherlands, and Australia following suit. 

So what are they doing better than us?

For starters, the health of their people in general. Aforementioned pre-existing conditions such as heart disease, diabetes, and obesity make a pregnancy more risky, and in the United States it’s much more common for people to have one of these conditions. 1 in 5 American women report having one of these pre-existing conditions whereas it’s 1 in 10 or more in Germany, the Netherlands, and Australia. 

But much of the weight falls on our maternal healthcare workforce itself. In the countries with the best MMRs, midwives are more common than obstetrician-gynecologists or physicians, which promotes natural birth and a simpler process. When medical personnel are involved, the chance of having to perform surgery or use other complex procedures is higher. Additionally, using physicians for every natural birth makes them less available to focus on the more high-risk pregnancies that require specialized attention and care. And midwives aren’t just there for simpler delivery - they are specially trained to care for mother, baby, and family, providing postpartum support physically and emotionally. Lack of communication and trust between the mother and her care providers provokes more situations such as Serena Williams’. 

Subtracting the medical causes of maternal death, the social issues are evident: we haven’t placed enough focus on maternal healthcare and women as a whole to prevent and stop maternal mortality.

So we know what the problem is. What is the solution? After education, first trying to minimize the rate and improve the likelihood of mothers suffering complications, and second, reducing risk of maternal death.

The United States needs to refine its postpartum care system. Postpartum care is essential for mothers and babies. Not only does it give the new parents the much needed assistance from a professional who can help them with whatever they need, the midwife can provide care to the woman who may not know everything that is happening with her body, which is changing from day to day. Scheduled checkups by a maternity nurse or midwife for a set number of days or weeks after the woman and her baby go home are covered by national insurance in Norway, Germany, the Netherlands, and Australia where rates of maternal death are at a record low, and here in the United States, postpartum care coverage varies depending on your medical insurance, and only a portion of new mothers can afford a service such as a postpartum doula. Since 52% of maternal deaths in the United States occur postpartum, we should be providing this type of care that seems to improve maternal health in other countries with the best rates.

Once the chances of maternal mortality are lower, we need to lower the risk of more people dying from pregnancy or birth, and a segway to that is to lower the rates of unnecessary or unwanted pregnancy.

A big factor is contraception, or lack thereof. There are two main groups that suffer from an insufficiency in contraception. Firstly, low-income communities where people lack easy or affordable access to contraception have higher rates of maternal mortality because with each pregnancy a woman has, her risk increases, and controlling birth rates can help to control maternal mortality. 

Secondly, a woman’s risk of maternal mortality not only increases the older you are, but also the younger you are. Females within the ages of 10 and 20 are more likely to suffer complications so encouraging and providing contraception at a younger age will not only lower the number of teen pregnancies, but improve the likelihood of adolescent maternal death. 

The vast majority of maternal deaths are preventable, treatable, and completely unavoidable. But the finding a medical solution isn’t the first step. The root of the issue isn’t that doctors aren’t trained to handle these types of scenarios. It’s that they aren’t taught from the beginning, that there is a solution. They are taught that other patients are more important, that pregnancy complications aren’t the most valuable area of study. And the government and medical community need to be held accountable for disregarding what is plainly and simply just sexism, and the icing on the cake is the misogyny within our society that stalls the attention that pregnant women and new moms need and deserve. Maternal mortality, pregnancy, and female reproductive health as a whole shouldn’t be put at the bottom of the pile. It is a severe healthcare issue that accompanies many other women’s rights topics. 

And the denial is impossible to disguise. Remember that postpartum commercial that was banned from being aired during the Academy Awards broadcast last year because it was “too graphic”? It would have reached millions of awards show viewers of all genders and sexes, but network executives, mostly men, reject these types of topics because they feel they are not what they think is family viewing material. Yet unabashed advertisements about erectile dysfunction air on the nightly news networks that play on televisions around the country every day. And what’s so sad is that there are only a fraction of people who are aware of this. Everybody, not just women and girls, needs to be taught about the struggles that females face every day with healthcare and other issues. 

Ignorance starts at the beginning. Solving maternal mortality starts with bringing attention to these problems, and only then can we make efforts to stop the deaths that occur every day unnecessarily. It only gets harder to fight the stigma once people have the idea that maternal health isn’t that big of a deal, that it’s just another radical, made up idea. So we need to educate our community and bring awareness to this, and after that, work towards fighting what is completely inexcusable.

So what would happen if we actually cared? If the entire world held the maternal mortality rate of the European Union, 11,000 women would succumb to maternal death each year in contrast to the six-digit figure that it unfortunately, rounds up to be. 11,000 is still tragic, but it is something, and right now, we need to be anywhere we can. 

We just need to remember that it’s possible.

[magicandjuliet]

"hello,Cassandra"

Here's a little one shot about Cassandra Devorak's birth! It's reaaal fluff here • Mrs. Isadora Devorak had no idea how long it had been since that same day she had felt a strange pressure in the lower abdomen that had immediately alarmed her husband, Dr. Julian Devorak, who had immediately said it was the beginning of labor. Isadora had tried to downplay it by saying that maybe the baby was just moving, causing some pressure down there. She had therefore told him that it was nothing and that he didn't have to worry. It was only when the pressure had arrived a little later and this time more intense that she evaluated the possibility of the beginning of childbirth and that Julian had completely forgotten that he was a doctor for a few brief moments before he recomposed himself. While he was talking to her he tried to keep his voice in the most stable tone possible, even if sometimes his booming tone ended up rising a few octaves and cracking a little due to emotion. "good, breathe .. breathe" he was saying now, kneeling in front of her while she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head fell back and her hair brushed the untidy and messy sheets, twisted and pushed aside on one side. He kept one hand on her belly, trying to keep it as still as possible. Isadora knew he wasn't controlling anything, he just wanted her to feel safe and that made her smile. She reached out and squeezed her hand in his; both were holding each other's left hands, so their gold rings on their ring fingers touched lightly with a slight 'cling' which only softened Isadora's eyes even more. As soon as they were married she hadn't failed to notice how much that ring on his finger made Julian look more mature, changed. From their first meeting to the beginning of such a special moment, they had come a long way ... the little bundle of joy that would come to the world in the next few hours would have been what would have bound them eternally, the fruit of their love, that child would have been the proof of it. "does it hurt?" asked her husband "oh, if only I still had the mark I would transfer all that pain on me..." but she interrupted him, putting her right hand on his "love, don't worry" she said "we aren't in the phase of active labor yet. Remember? It'll take a while before that. I only feel pressure." Julian's gray eyes seemed like two stormy seas, he nodded unconvincingly "I know ... but maybe I should send Malak to call Mazelinka. For safety..." he said, running a hand through his hair "I don't even think about leaving you alone." Isadora smiled again, placing a hand on his cheek "will this make you feel more at ease?" Malak croaked beside them, as if to say to play along or he would never stop worrying at least until the child had turned 18. Julian nodded "yes." He said. The woman smiled "then I agree." With a quick nod, Julian told Malak to start and the crow flew gliding toward the city to the home of Julian's foster mother. Only then did the tension in her husband's shoulders seem to fade a little as he laid his hands on her belly again, with visible relief. "do you think about it?" he finally asked, in a low voice, "we're about to meet this little bundle of joy." Isadora smiled at him lovingly "i know..." he said "seems that this little one is looking forward to meeting us too." Julian smiled; it wasn't the smile he used when he wanted to provoke her, it was a sweet smile,It was full of emotions that she knew would emerge when he would take his baby in his arms. He placed a kiss on her stomach and then leaned his forehead against it, staying that way for a while as Isadora sank her fingers into the sea of copper-colored curls she hoped the child would inherit. "I love you" was all he whispered "I love you both." ••• It was only around midnight that the contractions began: the first didn't hurt, not even the second ... but the third was so strong that Isadora grabbed Julian's hand so hard that she risked breaking it, gripped by the pain of that terrible spasm that he had moved her belly muscles. Mazelinka was furiously waving a ladle in the air when she arrived "agh, damn crow! Why did you arrive so late?" She had exclaimed in a hoarse voice, that she had immediately softened to see Isadora "oh, my dear! how are you? how are you feeling?" Isadora was kneeling on the bed, one of Julian's hands on her back and the other holding her hand. The woman shrugged "it could be bet- oh, Julian; another contraction." And this time more intense than the others, so strong that a couple of tears came down mixed with the sweat that was beginning to form. "oh my god .. someone tell me how much is missing." She said, her voice clenched between her teeth in a hiss as she caught her breath. Julian didn't know for sure, but he had observed how the contractions were approaching each other "breathe, love" he said "we're almost there now." She nodded discouraged for a moment, preparing herself for more contractions. ••• Finally the long-awaited time as feared had arrived. The moment of birth; Isadora was lying on the pillows and in a hurry her husband had tied her hair while she breathed, so he sat down on her so that her back rested on his wide chest half uncovered by the neckline of his blouse. The urge to push had come, and Mazelinka drove everything with dexterity "courage sweetness, here we are!" he said "give me a strong push, show this child what its mother is made of!" she and her husband looked each other briefly in the eyes, he squeezed her shoulder with one hand, the other holding her trembling one. Isadora obeyed, all her body strained by the enormous effort to push a human being out into the world. She felt Mazelinka's hand on her knee as the old woman nodded and muttered to herself "very well, very well" she said "push for five more seconds ..." those five seconds lasted an eternity, and at the end of them she let herself go on her husband's chest, breathing hard and gasping. Julian kissed her hair "breathe, love ... you're very good ... breathe." encouraged her. Mazelinka nodded again "I see the head." he said, smiling "definitely a Devorak. Red hair." he smiled briefly at the phrase "you didn't expect a blond, did you?" joked Julian, stroking her back gently. Isadora pushed again, leaning forward. His beautiful face twisted into a list expression between concentration, ferocity and strained pain. Julian held his own in pain as he felt his hand almost shatter; he didn't care, she needed it. After a long while, the shoulders popped out together with the arms and the rest. Finally a little body covered in blood came out. Isadora gave a last push, clinging strongly to both Julian's hand and shirt, exposing his chest even more when the pain disappeared, relief and fatigue pervaded her, as if all her limbs had atrophied and she felt only the Julian's lips against her cheek. A sound shouted by very small lungs, but so powerful and to both came goose bumps: the cry of a newborn. Mazelinka lifted the little body in her arms and Isadora felt Julian's heart rumble on her back, fast and strong like a drum "it's a girl!" the new grandmother roared, proud raising it in the air. The little girl screamed incessantly, the narrow fists circulating without having a precise direction and the little legs kicked. Isadora let go of a sob, letting her tears run and releasing her tiredness and tension. Julian, behind her, he let himself go to a cry of pure joy; kissing her head several times and whispering to her how incredible she was while both new parents watched the new-born screaming "she's beautiful ..." Isadora murmured, holding his hand tight. Julian leaned his head on her "oh, she's so tiny, isn't she?" he said, wiping his tears quickly and now smiling. Mazelinka cleaned the baby well, wrapped her in clean bands and finally took her to her parents. "take off your shirt and put her on your chest, so she will get used to your scent." Once done, Mazelinka gave the baby to Isadora and she took her softly "oh ... hello ... hello honey" she murmured softly "we finally we know each other." the child immediately stopped crying, recognizing her mother's voice. She rested her cheek against her chest and slowly opened her eyes, they were silver like those of Julian, he had a small nose but of the same shape as his. Isadora smiled again, kissing her tight little fists before looking at Julian: that man was a valley of tears "hold her, Papa." she said, gently passing their daughter in his arms. His arms trembled, but she didn't even believe for a moment that he would drop her. In fact, the moment the little girl's head rested on the hollow of his arm, the trembling ceased and Julian stabilized, but the tears fell again "hey you ..." he murmured "you're beautiful ... it's me, I'm your dad! " finally being able to call himself a father filled his heart with love and pride for having contributed to creating that wonder that after nine long months he could hold in his arms. He touched her forehead with the tip of his nose "she has my eyes ..." he murmured, without really understanding what he was saying. he kept repeating "I'm a dad ... I'm a father ..." smiling as tears fell copiously. Isadora leaned on his shoulder, looking at their creation with nothing but pure love in her eyes. Mazelinka smiled "do we have a name?" She asked. Isadora and Julian looked at each other "I was thinking of 'Cassandra'" she said "Cassandra Devorak." He gave her a loving look, lightly rubbing the head of his daughter "Cassandra Levane Devorak, you mean"

[doctor-marquis]

The Story of Malec Montvoy || From Then til Now

(RICHARD MADDEN, HE/HIM, MALE) HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Allow me to introduce MALEC MONTROY of FRANCE. The 30  year old MARQUIS OF CALAIS is known to be WISE and CARETAKING, but rumors about court claim HE can be SELF DOUBTING and RASH when crossed. Only time will tell where their interests belong. Penned by CAITLIN ( MST + 23 + SHE/HER).

Malec is a wise old soul who has been worn by the responsibilities he carries and the things he’s seen. He has a warm heart and will always grant you honest advice without judgement. However, he is also fiercely protective, and is quick to become heated if he feels danger or disrespect towards anyone he deems an amicable acquaintance. He will beat you bloody if you provoke him, and then stitch up the wounds. He is nothing if not honorable, though his past leaves him with wavering allegiances and a soul deep uncertainty about his place in the world.

Malec’s mother died in childbirth, leaving him alone with his father, who owned a small and humble plot of land in the rolling English hills near the French border. When he was very young, their home was attacked by the French militia, and shortly after, his father joined the English military.

During a battle of the Second Huguenot Rebellion in 1629 in France, during which catholic forces sought to conquer English lands as an extension of the rebellion, 5 year old Malec hid in the back of a wagon full of artillery after watching his father be killed before his eyes. There he waited out the remainder of the battle eventually falling asleep. He did not wake again until the wagon was moving, and peeking out carefully, he found that instead of being among his own people, he had found refuge on a French wagon, and was surrounded by his family’s enemies.

Malec waited till nightfall and attempted to climb out of the wagon quietly and slip away, but as he reached the edge, his foot caught and he tumbled off the edge, taking a basket of musketballs clamorously with him. To his fortune, there was only one man on watch in the area: General Edouard Claudeau. The general, seeing nothing more than a frightened boy, and having been born an Englishman himself before joining the side of the French to buy opportunity for his younger brother,  he took Malec under his wing, and trained him as his footman for the rest of his regiment’s term in the English Borderlands. Malec thought from time to time of escape, but he was fed and well taken care of as he had ever been despite being in the war carrivan, and he had nothing to go back to anyways.

General Edouard Claudeaul was granted the marquiship of Calais for his service, and so that he could continue to oversee the French-English border. The General invited Malec, then 8 years old, to move into his home and continue in his service. The now marquis also invited his family from his former estate, which included his younger brother Martìn, who had trained as a physician in Paris.

Young Malec became obsessed with the doctor’s work, and soon was taken under his tutelage when his service was not needed to the marquis himself. He grew to become quite knowledgeable in everything from Finances to Veterinary work, and even Surgery. The two brothers raised Malec as if they were each his own father. That is until Martin found himself a wife and had a babe of his own.

By then, however, Malec was grown and did not need the men’s tutelage any longer. However, he stayed on to assist the marquis in overseeing the estate, as the man never had any children of his own. And in the end, it was a blessing and a curse. One night, out of nowhere, the estate was raided by Englishmen. They ransacked the house and sought to attack the marquis. Young and hotheaded, Malec itched to join in the fight to protect the home that had taken him in, but Martìn insisted that Malec take his wife and son to safety, and he would take care of the intruders. Malec begrudgingly did what he was told and stole away into the night with the woman and her babe, who was himself only 6 at the time, just as Malec had been when he lost his own father.

When they returned in the morning, they found the estate in shambles. Parts of the house and surrounding building had been burned, though luckily the fires must have been small, and it had been pouring buckets the night before. Smoke still rose from some areas, and fences were broken and livestock run amuck. Inside, Malec found the marquis and the Doctor butchered, their throats slit…

To Malec’s heartstopping surprise, the marquis pronounced in his will that Malec Alexander Montroy should be named his successor and hold the estate and title of marquis until Martìn’s son, Avery Cole Claudeau, should come of age.

Now Malec does the work of two men, both keeping up the estate and acting as the physician for Calais, all the while training Avery in both trades as well.

When the plagues threatened all of Europe, Malec panicked, stealing away with his God son to Sardinia to keep them safe. It was there that he met the love of his life, though their story was not without strife, for he had fallen for none other than the Dauphine of France. They had met 9 months ago, when Malec had come to the capital to pay his annual taxes. She must have been around at some point on his past visits, as she was the daughter of the king. But then, Malec often kept to himself at court, and since Beatrice was young, perhaps she had never been in a place where he might have the opportunity to lay eyes upon her before. But as soon as he had laid eyes on her for the first time, his heart had seized by her beauty. Before he had even known who she was, he wanted nothing more than to know her in the way that she was known only to God. Yet, when he learned who she was, he knew he could not.

But then, one day shortly before Malec was set to leave court, Beatrice had fallen from her horse when riding on the grounds, and the royal physician had been called away to tend to another child with the sweats. The fall had knocked her unconscious, and she looked almost like a beautiful corpse laid out on his operating table, though her bosom rose and fell with shallow breaths. But he had set her wrist, which she had broken in the fall, and wrapped her ribs where he was most certain two had fractured. To touch such a treasure was a pleasure he never should have had, but once he had tasted it, it was like an addiction. He could not imagine being unable to caress her again. He was consumed with a lack of control he had never known, so averse to his nature he felt lost.

And when she had finally opened her eyes, the admiration for him that appeared at the moment she realized he had saved her pierced his heart like a fishing hook and drug him down to drown. By morning, Malec was certain that God had sent her to him, though whether as a blessing or a test he did not know. After that, he had been unable to stay away from her, though he had warred with himself over it constantly. One night, near the end of their second week together, they lay beneath the stars atop his Celtic colors, which he had laid out upon a bed of hay in a wagon for them to lay upon. He had meant to surprise her with the escape, taking a horse and the wagon deep out into the fields so that they could be outside and be alone. And whilst they lay there under the magic of the stars, lips intertwined, passion took them near the edge before Malec stopped them, and returned her neatly to her quarters.

The next morning, Malec began to feel ill about it. He loved her, there was no doubt about it, but he could not forgive himself for having nearly stolen her innocence. He knew then that the only way to show his love for her was to leave for good, and so when she came to him in his chambers that night after he had avoided her through the day, she’d found them empty. Malec had fled back home.

All was well until they crossed paths again in Sardinia. For the first weeks, Malec avoided her as best he could. He told her that he had left her for her own sake and that he was not her destiny, but she would hear little of it, and after a scuffle in the city left Beatrice with life-threatening wounds, he found he no longer had the will to deny it. The fear of treating her, uncertain if she might live or die, stripped away all of his past inhibitions, and all he could think of was having a life with her. When she recovered, they took up a clandestine courtship, always stealing away to the woods in the day and each other’s chambers at night until they finally crossed that line that had scared Malec away the first time.

After that, the weight of hiding their affection began to eat away at Malec’s conscience once again. He had always been an honest man, and if he was going to have her, he wanted to do it honestly. And so he confessed their courtship (in very little detail) to her father, the King. Enraged, he forced Malec to stay away from Beatrice until it came out that she was pregnant, much to the shock of both men. His hand forced, the King consented to their marriage, and the two were wed in a small, private ceremony in Sardinia, then told to return to Calais and keep news of their indiscretions out of court. The consequences had not been nearly as bad as they’d feared, for Malec had not lost his lands, his title, or his Godson, and the couple headed home with high hopes for their new child.

However, on the road back to Calais, Beatrice tripped while stopping to water her horse, and took a hard fall. At the time, it did not seem as if anything was wrong, but several hours later, she started screaming in excruciating pain and blood began running down her legs. Malec panicked, doing everything he could to help her, stranded as they were in the middle of nowhere. But there was nothing to be done. their baby boy exited her body, lifeless.

Since returning Calais, there had been an invisible distance between them. Both struggling with the loss of their child they risked everything to have, Malec and Beatrice have fought constantly. He still loves her deeply, but cannot figure out how to get through to her since their tragic loss, and so he has buried himself in his work, tending to patients and overseeing the comings and going of travellers and boarders that pass through the ports in Calais on their way to Germany, England, Scotland and France.

Malec has seen and been personally affected by the violence and savagery of both sides of battle, and he finds his heart, and his allegiances mixed. He has always felt the need for a cause, but wasn’t quite sure what that cause was, until he met Beatrice. Now he knows, it’s always been her.

[5hfanfiction]

The Price We Pay

The man raced down the dark alley just as a black arrow whizzed by his ear, narrowly missing him. A very feminine laugh echoed off of the buildings walls from the person chasing him. “A warning shot- next time I won’t miss.” Her voice was young, and sounded playful, as if she was enjoying this. He couldn’t see how someone could enjoy making another person their prey, basically. A second arrow came flying at him at a deadly speed, this time slamming into the back of his thigh. He shrieked as the pain overtook him, causing him to collapse to the ground.

As footsteps grew louder the closer the girl got, his heart continued to be at a too fast pace while pain shot up and down his leg. He knew very well that with this arrow in his leg he’d never be able to escape from the girl.

“It’s a shame,” the girl was still in the shadows, and he waited until she was in the moonlight so he could get a better look at his murderer. “I really do enjoy the chase. It’s a pity that you were such easy prey.” She sighed dramatically, finally stepping into the light. The unnamed man gasped at the sight before him; she was a child! No older than eighteen, maybe even seventeen, with long dark brown hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. Her skin tight black leather suit blended in perfectly with the shadows. She had a simple black mask that covered only her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “Well, Mr. Reed,” he was too paralyzed by fear to jerk away when she leaned down into personal space and reached into his inner jacket pocket. The papers. He was supposed to be on his way to deliver papers before… before, this girl. “This was fun, but I’m not one to keep my master waiting.” With that, her eyes flashed white for a moment as a black arrow appeared out of thin air. She didn’t bother to notch this one before slamming it into his heart.

As she walked down the alley towards the awaiting black town car, her ears and nose began to bleed just as she coughed a mouth full of blood up.

-

Camila strode through the long hallway of Jauregui Manor, attempting to find her master. He was usually in his study working on one thing or another with a client, but he wasn’t there. She checked the dinning room next, but once again he couldn’t be located. There was one place left to check besides his bedroom, and Camila dreaded going there.

Master Jauregui lost his only daughter and child three years ago when she was fifteen. It was a standard assassination gone wrong, and it cost Lauren Jauregui her life. Besides his work, Lauren was Master Jauregui’s whole world. Clara Jauregui, the masters late wife, died during childbirth along with their second child, a boy they named Christopher. He never took a breath.

And if Master Jauregui wasn’t in his one of his regular rooms, he would be found in Lauren’s old bedroom.

Camila slowly shuffled up to the oak door. There was nothing to differentiate this door from all the others in the large manor besides for the green ribbon hanging on the doorknob. She didn’t bother to knock as she shoved the door open on well oiled hinges. Her Master made the staff keep up on all the cleaning in case his daughter some how managed to rise from the dead.

“Master,” Camila dropped to one knee, her head bowed in a show of complete submission. Master Jauregui was merely standing in the center of the room, clutching much too tightly the green bear that Camila remember as Lauren’s favorite childhood toy. Camila wished to tell her master to give up, that his daughter was dead and gone, but knew he would surely kill her for that. While she was his favorite killer, she was nothing compared to Lauren, even in death.

“Yes, child?” He sighed in that detached voice he always seemed to have whenever he thought about Lauren. Even Camila had to admit the girl was well liked. Unlike Camila herself and her master, Lauren was kind. There wasn’t a vicious bone in her body, even if her powers suggested otherwise. “The mission…” He said softly, as if just remembering he sent Camila on one. “I take it it went well?” If a mission didn’t go well, Camila knew not to come back until the target was dead. And if she couldn’t kill them, then she better die trying. Master Jauregui would not employ incompetent sorcerers.

“Yes, master,” Camila still didn’t look up, she kept staring at the off white carpet. Up close, she could see the stains that Lauren had attempted to remove. The markings of a child and teens room. “Philip Reed is dead.” She didn’t know who Lucas was, merely that her master wanted him dead and so he is now dead. “If you don’t require anything else of me, I’ll be leaving you now.”

He turned to look at her now, a permanent frown currently etched onto his otherwise relatively handsome face. Age would have done him nicely, had he not had worry lines on his mouth and eyes making him look older beyond his years. “You’re coated in blood. Yours?” Master Jauregui pointed towards her chest, which was in fact covered in her blood. She hadn’t had time to change once she arrived home. “Your price isn’t getting any worse, is it?”

He sounded so concerned, worried, interested, that Camila nearly believed it for a moment. She needed to remind herself he only cared in case she started to flame out. There was no telling when a sorcerer would flame out. The only tell tale signs were a sorcerers price became too steep to handle. In Camila’s case, every time she would use her powers she would bleed more and more each time until she eventually either lost control of her powers and ending up killing herself, or bled to death. Neither option sounded too appealing. She had never seen someone flame out, but she’s heard enough stories.

“No. It’s the same as it always is.” While her price was annoying and somewhat gross, it wasn’t as bad as some, like Normani for instance. That poor girl had a price Camila wouldn’t wish upon her worse enemy. Normani was the only sorcerer employed by Master Jauregui to hardly use her powers. Camila believed the only reason her master even kept the girl around was because she’s never failed to make a kill, and by hand too. The older girl preferred knives to make it up and close.

Master Jauregui waved her up, and Camila sighed as she stood. So he didn’t have another mission for her. If he did, she would have stayed on her knees. It was the dismissal she had gotten for the past ten years. Though, one could imagine her surprise when instead of allowing her to leave, Jauregui asked, “do you miss her, Camila?”

Lauren. He was asking Camila if she missed Lauren. Memories berated her brain, forcing her to think of the times they spent as children, before she made her first kill. Lauren didn’t have to fight to be the best, like Camila did against Ally and Normani and Dinah. For as long as Camila could remember they were fighting each other to win Master Jauregui’s favor. But not Lauren. She didn’t talk to Camila to figure out any weak spots, or any advantage she could for a fight. Lauren talked to Camila because she wanted to, because she wanted to befriend her.

Yes, Camila missed Lauren more than anything else. She missed the older green eyed girl who always wore a smirk, who never wanted the life of an assassin, who would do anything to please her father. But more importantly, Camila missed the girl with the playful glint in her eyes that would sneak into Camila’s room at night only to stay up the whole night talking and watching movies.

“Of course, master,” Camila finally said softly. She refused to meet his hard gaze as she stared out the window her and Lauren used to jump from in the middle of the night to watch the stars. “I miss her everyday. But…” she wasn’t sure how to continue. Master Jauregui had never asked her a question like this, even though he knew how close she and Lauren were. “I can’t let myself dwell on it.” That should be good enough to not provoke him, but enough to make him happy. “If I dwell, I’ll become blinded by the sadness, the grief. I can’t let that happen.”

It was quiet for too long, an awkward and tense sort of quiet that made the hairs on Camila’s neck raise. Just as she was about to ask for permission to speak (Master Jauregui had a strict ‘spoke when spoken to’ rule for his sorcerers) he finally spoke up. “You may leave, Camila.”

Finally.

Camila didn’t wait another heart beat before quickly exiting the room, heading straight towards her own. She was in desperate need of a shower, as well as sleep. It had be, what, almost twenty-four hours since she last slept? Much too long, but for whatever reason Master Jauregui insisted Camila complete the mission the moment she received it. A little out of the ordinary, but not too odd.

She reached her room at long last, falling onto the soft down mattress. It felt like forever since she had gotten a chance to lay down. Too tired and worn out from using her powers, Camila only had enough energy to strip herself of her tight black suit and weaseled her way under the covers in just her underwear. Thanks to Master Jauregui, Camila couldn’t stop the memories that constantly flooded her mind of Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren danced around Camila’s kick, the smile never leaving her face even as the younger of the two landed a hard punch to Lauren’s stomach. That infuriating smirk that Camila had come to love over the years only intensified and she barely had a moment to prepare herself before Lauren threw a serious of jabs and kicks that sent Camila spiraling to the ground. Once on the ground, Camila didn’t bother to get up, simply enjoying lounging on the black mat.

Camila patted the spot beside her, and a moment later felt it dip slightly as Lauren laid beside her. They should be training, and Camila knew if her Master walked in he’d skin her alive. But she didn’t care right in this moment as she relaxed next to her best friend.

“Camz,” it was the nickname only Lauren was allowed to call her, the nickname that instantly brought a smile to her face. “We’re going to be friends forever, right?”

“Friends forever, Lolo.” They were fourteen and fifteen at the time, with a whole world of possibilities at their fingertips. But to them, none of that matter if they couldn’t be friends forever.

“Friends forever,” Camila mocked now, shaking herself from the memory. “Yeah, right. You left me. I loved you. And you left me.”

-

Michael Jauregui sat at his desk, holding the unopened papers one of his assassins brought for him. Camila. He smirked as he thought of the vicious child, who he knew would do anything for his approval. She’d kill her own teammates, if he asked. It always worked out in his favor to have a flawlessly loyal killer on his side. Camila was a murderer, and a good one at that. Her powers made her important, and her ability to perfectly wield those powers made her dangerous.

Yes, he had definitely trained her well.

Better than he trained his own daughter, since Camila had managed to survive all these years, when his own daughter couldn’t. Michael supposed he was cursed, since all the people he found he actually loved had died. First his son, who had never even taken a breath, and then his wife, who gave her life to birth a dead child. And his Lauren, his poor, lovely Lauren.

Michael jerked a letter opener through the paper, skimming it once, twice, three times to make sure what he read was true. The longer he continued to stare at the letter, and the picture attached, the faster his heart beat. The letter shouldn’t be true, couldn’t be. He’d seen the grave himself, seen the casket go down with his own eyes. Of course, the body was too burned to do anything more than know it once belonged to a teenager girl.

A war was going on inside him, should be believe the paper and picture, or no? If what it says is true… If Lauren’s alive…

-

And that is the first chapter! It’s really just a shorter part to explain some of the things going on, basically just background. Let me know if I should continue or nah? I’ll explain more about the sorcerers and magic and their prices later on of course. And soon you’ll meet all the other characters as well, and find out about Lauren.

LOOKING FOR A BETA IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED! 

also on Wattpad 

[shanastoryteller]

Your greek mythology fics are absolutely beautiful, I'm speechless. Your writing captures the like dark/horror-esque tone of old fairytales and then blends in something more modern? It's brilliant and incredible and I love it. If you have the time/inspiration, could you write another? Preferably with lesbians and/or Artemis but literally anything at all is totally cool I just want so many more of these

Artemis is born first. She’s a babe for only moments, springing into gangly-limbed childhood between one breath and the next.

Her mother is red faced and sobbing, prostrate on the ground and reaching for her. “He’s too big,” she sobs, “He won’t come out – I’ve failed! Hera has won and I have failed!”

There’s blood, too much blood, blood that she herself is still slick with. “No,” she says firmly, kneeling in between her mother’s legs, “We have not failed.”

It takes too long, too much blood and screaming, but hours later Leto sleeps, exhausted and pained but alive.

Her brother does not grow as she did, and she cleans him and swaddles him and hold him against her chest. There is too much intelligence for a freshly born-babe in his eyes. She pets the soft golden curls on top of his head.

She looks to Leto, bloody and torn and nearly forced to die with her son inside of her, and decides that her mother’s fate will never be her own.

The only man she’ll ever love is the one currently in her arms.

~

Apollo grows, faster than he should but slower than her until they match, until they are not-quite adults, beautiful adolescents in a godly package.

Her brother worries her; sometimes he reminds her too much of their father and she fears for him. She’s never afraid of him, her golden twin brother, but in that regard she thinks she may be alone. He’s too smart and not careful and feels as if every beautiful thing is his to possess.

The first time he forces himself on a mortal woman, she shoots a silver arrow through his shoulder. It bleeds, an arrow shot by her, more than it would if any other goddess had done it. “They are mine,” she declares, standing in front of the scared girl with her torn clothes, “You will not touch what is mine.”

Apollo says,“Very well, sister,” slick with blood, and she wants to go to him, to heal him and take care of him as she has their whole lives, but she stands her ground. In this she will not be moved.

He leaves, and when she turns to comfort the girl she’s already gone.

~

Her brother doesn’t touch any other unwilling women after that, although there are still plenty of willing women. And why shouldn’t there be? Apollo is gorgeous and strong, brave and just when he forgets to be selfish and petty.

There are men, however, whom are not always so willing. Nothing so harsh as that first time with that girl, nothing that dramatic – but enough that it pains her to see the callous way her brother treats them. Artemis stays silent on that. She is not the patron god of all of humanity, and she can’t hoard them all.

Her brother is a warrior and a poet and harnesses his chariot to the sun so that he may bring light to all the world. She loves him, but sometimes – sometimes she hates him. She is a huntress and a midwife, a bringer of life and a taker of it, and there is something terrible in her power. She thinks this is what Persephone must feel like, as the goddess of spring and queen of the underworld. It’s intoxicating. But it is a quiet sort of power, a harder one.

He is the sun and she is the moon, and there are times she fears that is all she is – a reflection of her younger brother’s brightness, cursed to be nothing more than a poor imitation.

~

She’s fully grown the first time it happens, older than many cities and twice as beautiful as her brother’s sunrises.

She’s sweat soaked and blood covered, but the mother and her sons sleep soundly and safely after the difficult birth. If she were to tell the other gods this they would not believe her, but being the goddess of childbirth is her hardest job by far.

“Come,” the sister of the mother says, a pretty young thing with large eyes and a wide mouth, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Artemis could clean herself up just fine, but allows the young woman to lead her to her room, to remove her blood stained clothes and run a warm cloth over limbs that are sticky with dried sweat. The woman goes to her knees before Artemis, running the cloth over her legs, and then the woman touches a place no one has ever touched.

Artemis jerks with surprise, looking down, her mouth agape. “My lady goddess,” the woman murmurs, parting her wide mouth and licking her lips, “I would thank you for aiding my sister, if you be willing.”

There’s a low curling heat in the pit of her stomach and something fluttering high in her chest. It’s something she hasn’t experienced before. “I am to remain a virgin,” she says, blank, because many men have looked at her like this woman and she was revolted by all of them. She’s not revolted now.

“Virginity is a man’s invention and a man’s concern, my lady,” the woman says dismissively, beginning to move her hands in way that makes Artemis flush all over, “There are no men here.”

That’s the last bit of talking they do until morning.

~

Artemis has many more eager women coming to her, offering to worship her. She accepts, again and again, and there’s never anything more than temporary sparks of desire, yet she enjoys all the women who seek her out, is delighted by them and seeks to delight them in return.

She is bathing in a lake one evening, golden hair having grown longer than she usually keeps it and brushing past her shoulders. She’ll have to cut it soon. She ducks beneath the serene, smooth lake, and when she pops her head up there’s the sound of rustling and footsteps, then clothing being shed.  

There’s a man dipping his toes into the lake, and Artemis rises, ready to kill him for his insolence.

Then she meets his scared eyes, and she’s done nothing to provoke his fear, not yet. Then she has to look again, eyes raking over his naked body, and this person certainly looks like a man. Yet –

“Who are you?” she demands, hands on her hips.

“Sipriotes, miss,” the person says, and bends to pick up the discarded clothes. “Apologies, I did not expect anyone to be here. I’ll go.”

“Why?” Artemis asks, taking a guess, “There’s plenty of water for two women to share.”

She knows she’s guessed right when Sipriotes’s mouth parts in surprise, and then widens in a pleased grin. “Thank you, lady,” she says, dropping her dress back at the lake’s edge and stepping into the water.

“Your hair is a mess,” she observes, looking at the tangled bun on top of Sipriotes’s head, “Let me help you with that.”

“It’s okay, miss,” she says politely.

Somehow this woman hasn’t figured out she’s a goddess yet. Artemis is in no rush to tell her – she’s scared enough of her as it is. “I insist,” she says, swimming over and twisting Sipriotes around so her back is to Artemis. The woman’s muscles are tense, and Artemis runs light fingers over the pale, criss crossed lashing scares. Artemis is smart, so she doesn’t ask the obvious, stupid question and undoes the woman’s bun. Her tangled long black hair tumbles down to her hips. “What a mess,” she says quietly, not explaining whether she talking about her hair or her back.

Sipriotes relaxes, tilting her head forward as Artemis gently untangles her hair until it lies smooth.

~

Artemis tries, but she can’t get the woman from the lake out of her head. She lives alone at the edge of the village, doesn’t bathe with the other women because they don’t welcome her. They don’t shun her, but they don’t wash her hair or her back and it makes Artemis’s blood boil.

She expects better from those she has claimed as her own.

The sun’s just setting when her brother appears at her side, watching her watch Sipriotes gather water from the well. “He’s not your usual type, is he?” he asks, leaning against her and tangling his fingers in hers.

“Yes,” Artemis says, “she is.”

~

For the first time in her life Artemis feels uncertain, but kicks at the door anyway.

It opens. The wariness on Sipriotes’s face is replaced by confusion. “Hi,” Artemis says, “Do you like bear?”

The creature is slung over her shoulders. She’d just killed it, and it occurs to her too late that a normal woman wouldn’t be able to casually hold a bear across her back. “I like you,” Sipriotes says, stepping aside to let her in, “you can bring the bear if you like.”

She offers Artemis warm wine and insists she sit as she skins the bear, sticking chunks of it on a spit and salting the rest of it. This time she keeps up a steady stream of conversation, eyes warm and smile soft, and Artemis wishes she could blame the wine for the heat on her cheeks.

“I like your shoulders,” Artemis says, watching her finish up preparing the bear meat.

Sipriotes pauses and turns to Artemis, eyebrow raised. Her dress is stained red with the bear’s blood and her silky black hair is braided to the side. Artemis wants to run her fingers through it. “You do?”

She stands, moves slowly in case this isn’t what Sipriotes wants, and presses her hands to her back the same way she had in the lake. “Yes, they’re broad. Strong. Like mine.”

Sipriotes turns, and Artemis trails her hands from her shoulders to her face, pressing her thumb against Sipriotes’s bottom lip. “The bear will burn,” she says, eyes dark.

“I’ll bring you another one,” Artemis says, walking her backward until they reach the bed, until Sipriotes’s knees hit the edge of it and she falls back, until Artemis can climb on top of her and straddle her waist.

Sipriotes holds up a hand, and Artemis captures it in her own and turns it so she can leave a butterfly kiss on each knuckle. “I know who you are, Artemis,” she whispers, “Are you – are you sure? No man can touch you.”

Artemis leans down, pressing more kisses across Sipriotes’s collar bone, and says, “There are no men here.”

That’s the last bit of talking they do until morning.

gods and monsters series, part v

[tpanan]

My Sunday Daily Blessings

December 31, 2017

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........

The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph (Roman Rite Calendar)

Lectionary: 17, Liturgical Year B

First Reading: Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14

God sets a father in honor over his children; a mother's authority he confirms over her sons. Whoever honors his father atones for sins, and preserves himself from them. When he prays, he is heard; he stores up riches who reveres his mother. Whoever honors his father is gladdened by children, and, when he prays, is heard. Whoever reveres his father will live a long life; he who obeys his father brings comfort to his mother.

My son, take care of your father when he is old; grieve him not as long as he lives. Even if his mind fail, be considerate of him; revile him not all the days of his life; kindness to a father will not be forgotten, firmly planted against the debt of your sins—a house raised in justice to you.

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5

"Blessed are those who fear the LORD and walk in His ways."

Second Reading: Colossians 3:12-21

Brothers and sisters: Put on, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another,  if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all these put on love,  that is, the bond of perfection. And let the peace of Christ control your hearts,  the peace into which you were also called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly,  as in all wisdom you teach and admonish one another,  singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs  with gratitude in your hearts to God.

And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus,  giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Wives, be subordinate to your husbands,  as is proper in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives,  and avoid any bitterness toward them. Children, obey your parents in everything,  for this is pleasing to the Lord.

Fathers, do not provoke your children,  so they may not become discouraged.

Verse before the Gospel: Col 3:15a, 16a

Alleluia, Alleluia

"Let the peace of Christ control your hearts; let the word of Christ dwell in you richly."

Alleluia, Allelluia

Gospel: Luke 2:22-40

When the days were completed for their purification  according to the law of Moses,  They took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons,  in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel,  and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord. He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, He took him into his arms and blessed God, saying: "Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel." The child's father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother,  "Behold, this child is destined  for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted —and you yourself a sword will pierce— so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." There was also a prophetess, Anna,  the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom;  and the favor of God was upon him.

**Meditation:

Do you know the favor of the Lord? After Jesus' birth, Mary fulfills the Jewish right of purification after childbirth. Since she could not afford the customary offering of a lamb, she gives instead two pigeons as an offering of the poor. This rite, along with circumcision and the redemption of the first-born point to the fact that children are gifts from God. Jesus was born in an ordinary home where there were no luxuries. Like all godly parents, Mary and Joseph raised their son in the fear and wisdom of God. He, in turn, was obedient to them and grew in wisdom and grace. The Lord's favor is with those who listen to his word with trust and obedience. Do you know the joy of submission to God? And do you seek to pass on the faith and to help the young grow in wisdom and maturity?

The Holy Spirit reveals the presence of the Savior of the world What is the significance of Simeon's encounter with the baby Jesus and his mother in the temple? Simeon was a just and devout man who was very much in tune with the Holy Spirit. He believed that the Lord would return to his temple and renew his chosen people. The Holy Spirit also revealed to him that the Messiah and King of Israel would also bring salvation to the Gentile nations. When Joseph and Mary presented the baby Jesus in the temple, Simeon immediately recognized this humble child of Bethlehem as the fulfillment of all the messianic prophecies, hopes, and prayers. Inspired by the Holy Spirit he prophesied that Jesus was to be "a revealing light to the Gentiles". The Holy Spirit reveals the presence of the Lord to those who are receptive and eager to receive him. Do you recognize the indwelling presence of the Lord with you?

The 'new temple' of God's presence in the world Jesus is the new temple (John 1:14; 2:19-22). In the Old Testament God manifested his presence in the "pillar of cloud" by day and the "pillar of fire" by night as he led them through the wilderness. God's glory visibly came to dwell over the ark and the tabernacle (Exodus 40:34-38). When the first temple was built in Jerusalem God's glory came to rest there (1 Kings 8). After the first temple was destroyed, Ezekiel saw God's glory leave it (Ezekiel 10). But God promised one day to fill it with even greater glory (Haggai 2:1-9; Zechariah 8-9). That promise is fulfilled when the "King of Glory" himself comes to his temple (Psalm 24:7-10; Malachi 3:1).  Through Jesus' coming in the flesh and through his saving death, resurrection, and ascension we are made living temples of his Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16-17). Ask the Lord to renew your faith in the indwelling presence of his Spirit within you. And give him thanks and praise for coming to make his home with you.

Mary receives both a crown of joy and a cross of sorrow Simeon blessed Mary and Joseph and he prophesied to Mary about the destiny of this child and the suffering she would undergo for his sake. There is a certain paradox for those blessed by the Lord.  Mary was given the blessedness of being the mother of the Son of God. That blessedness also would become a sword which pierced her heart as her Son died upon the cross. She received both a crown of joy and a cross of sorrow. But her joy was not diminished by her sorrow because it was fueled by her faith, hope, and trust in God and his promises. Jesus promised his disciples that "no one will take your joy from you" (John 16:22). The Lord gives us a supernatural joy which enables us to bear any sorrow or pain and which neither life nor death can take way.  Do you know the peace and joy of a life surrendered to God with faith and trust?

The Holy Spirit renews our hope in the promise of God Simeon was not alone in recognizing the Lord's presence in the temple. Anna, too, was filled with the Holy Spirit. She was found daily in the temple, attending to the Lord in prayer and speaking prophetically to others about God's promise to send a redeemer. Supernatural hope grows with prayer and age! Anna was pre-eminently a woman of great hope and expectation that God would fulfill all his promises. She is a model of godliness to all believers as we advance in age.  

Advancing age and the disappointments of life can easily make us cynical and hopeless if we do not have our hope rightly placed. Anna's hope in God and his promises grew with age. She never ceased to worship God in faith and to pray with hope. Her hope and faith in God's promises fueled her indomitable zeal and fervor in prayer and service of God's people.

Our hope is anchored in God's everlasting kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy What do you hope for? The hope which God places in our heart is the desire for the kingdom of heaven and everlasting life and happiness with our heavenly Father. The Lord Jesus has won for us a kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). The Holy Spirit gives hope to all who place their trust in the promises of God. God never fails because his promises are true and he is faithful. The hope which God places within us through the gift of the Spirit enables us to persevere with confident trust in God even in the face of trails, setbacks, and challenges that may come our way.

Is there anything holding you back from giving God your unqualified trust and submission to his will for your life? Allow the Lord Jesus to flood your heart with his peace, joy, and love. And offer to God everything you have and desire -  your life, family, friends, health, honor, wealth, and future. If you seek his kingdom first he will give you everything you need to know, love, and serve him now and enjoy him forever.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, Copyright © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain © 1968, 1981, 1997, International Committee on English in the Liturgy, Inc. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

**Meditations may be freely reprinted for non-commercial use. Cite copyright & source: www.dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager © 2015 Servants of the Word