#happy second night of hanukkah but i probably won’t post

[muckyschmuck]

(un)insightfully answering oc questions while i rewrite them (and everything i thought i knew)

[dickwheelie]

this is a few days late but it’s still technically Hanukkah, so! here’s a fic about Jon and Martin celebrating Hanukkah in the safehouse (shhh timelines aren’t real) because I like to project and I really like the idea of Jon being Jewish. a lot of us are having weird holidays this year, away from friends and family, so the boys having a weird one too seemed appropriate. in particular, Jon not having a menorah because I don’t have one this year either :(

the stuff in this is based on my own experiences celebrating Hanukkah growing up in a pretty secular household, so if you see anything that’s “wrong” then that’s why, lol. the prayer is accurate as far as I know though, it’s the same one my family and I sing every year.

(also this is not a good representation of how to make rugelach! if you really want a good recipe, hmu and if you ask nicely I might share my mother’s 😁)

enjoy and Happy Hanukkah!! 💙🕎✡️💙

___________

“I just feel bad,” Martin said, watching from the sofa as Jon put the challah in the oven. “You’re doing all this cooking, and I’m just sitting on the couch like a lump. And this is supposed to be your holiday.”

“Martin, for the tenth time, it’s fine. Besides, the holiday doesn’t actually start until sundown,” Jon called, cheerfully enough, from the kitchen. Jon liked cooking, Martin knew, and he didn’t really see it as a chore in the same way Martin did. Still, this was a special day for Jon (well, eight days, really), and Martin wanted to be of some use. He��d offered to do everything from peeling potatoes to rolling matzoh balls, but Jon, ever the control freak in the kitchen, had stopped him at every turn. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about not helping out as Jon bustled about, trying to make Hanukkah dinner for the both of them.

More than helping out, really, Martin just kind of . . . wanted to share this with Jon. The way Jon talked about it, it sounded as though he’d had more Hanukkahs alone than with friends or what little family he had. Martin wanted to make Jon feel like he didn’t have to be alone this year, and even if Martin was new to this, he was game to learn. Jon had already told him about the holiday and all the different foods he was making, but there was still some distance there, a disconnect, that Martin knew Jon wasn’t putting between them on purpose. It seemed to Martin more like a force of habit than anything else.

After setting the timer for the challah, Jon nodded, satisfied, and came over to join Martin on the couch. He slouched against him comfortably, and Martin automatically put an arm around his shoulders. Jon had a bit of flour on his nose, and Martin gently swiped it off, which made Jon’s face wrinkle up like a disgruntled cat. Bloody adorable, Martin thought.

“I get a bit of a break before I have to start on the latkes in a few hours,” Jon said. “Got to make those right before dinner so they’re fresh.”

“Can I please help with those?” Martin said, half-joking.

“Fine,” Jon laughed, “yes, Martin, you can help with the latkes.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Is there dessert?” Martin asked, offhandedly. He hadn’t noticed Jon getting out any sugar or making anything sweet that day. “Do people eat anything sweet on Hanukkah?”

“Well, there’s gelt,” Jon says. “Chocolate coins. But the grocer’s didn’t have any. Unsurprisingly.”

Martin laughed. “Yeah. Probably not a huge priority in the Highlands.”

“People also make rugelach, sometimes.”

“Arugula?”

Jon laughed, not unkindly. “Rugelach. Different from the vegetable. Very different,” he said. “It’s a pastry. A kind of holiday cookie, I guess you could call it. Sweet dough with chocolate or cinnamon inside. It’s simple to make, but I didn’t buy the right stuff for it, and honestly I have enough cooking to do.”

“Yeah? How d’you make it?” Martin asked, innocently enough, though an idea was brewing.

As Jon explained, he waved his hands in the air, miming the process. “You just roll out some pastry dough, cover it with chocolate or cinnamon or walnuts or whatever you like, cut it into strips, and roll them up.” He thought for a moment. “They look a bit like seashells.”

“Huh,” Martin said. “Seems easy enough.” He’d never made dough before, but how hard could it be, really. The hardest part, he figured, would be actually making the things in their tiny cabin and even tinier kitchen without Jon finding out.

Soon after that, the oven timer started beeping, announcing that the bread was done. Martin took advantage of Jon busying himself in the kitchen to slip out the door, giving him some offhand excuse about wanting to get some air, to which Jon waved him off.

In the baking aisle at the grocer’s, Martin quickly realized he was out of his depth. He stared at the display of flour and sugar and baking powder and all sorts of other stuff, utterly at a loss as to what one needed to make pastry dough. He tried, once again, to Google a recipe on his phone, but once again, there was no service and no wifi.

Well, there was always pre-made, frozen dough. Not ideal, but it’d probably work in a pinch. Much faster to make, too, Martin thought as he dropped a couple cans of it into his basket. The filling, at least, he knew he’d be able to handle; he grabbed a few bags of baking chocolate and a shaker of cinnamon, and brought everything up to the checkout counter.

Martin didn’t even know which lucky stars to thank when he arrived back at the cabin to find the kitchen empty, and Jon passed out on the bed in a post-challah, pre-latke cooking nap. Martin gently closed the bedroom door and immediately set to baking.

Going by Jon’s vague descriptions, he rolled out some of the dough into a flat oval shape, but the pre-made kind wasn’t meant to be used all at once, and the end result was a sort of lumpy mass. Digging around in the cupboards, he was able to find some flour, which helped make the dough less sticky, at least. Eventually, he was able to get it flat enough to cover it with the filling, like Jon had told him. Half of the dough he covered in cinnamon, liberally shaking it out all over the dough. The other half he covered with the baking chocolate, which came in little chunks, but he figured it would melt in the oven just fine.

Next, just as Jon had described, he cut the dough into even strips, thin and rectangular, and rolled each of them up, so the filling made a little spiral shape inside. The chocolate ones were a bit chunky and awkward-looking, but, well, it was the taste that counted, wasn’t it.

Martin turned to face the oven, realizing he had no idea how long they ought to bake for, or at what temperature. He checked the instructions on the tins of pre-made dough, deciding to go by whatever they suggested. It wouldn’t do for the dough to be raw, he figured.

Soon enough, the pastries were in the oven, and Jon was still dead to the world, none the wiser. Martin felt quite satisfied as he cleaned up, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well- and stealthily-done. He’d hide them in the oven, he decided, until after dinner, and then he’d surprise Jon. Smiling, he went to join Jon in bed, curling up next to him as he slept, until he fell asleep himself.

Martin woke groggily several hours later to Jon gently shaking him awake, telling him it was time to make the latkes. He’d already got the batter done, a thick, floury mixture of potato and onion, and a pan of oil was bubbling on the stove. Jon showed Martin how to drop spoonfuls of batter into the pan, patting them down to shape them into little fist-sized “pancakes.” He let both sides brown in the oil until they were nice and crispy, before transferring them onto a paper towel-covered plate to cool. It was simple enough, and Martin was able to finish up the batch as Jon set the table, bringing out the challah and matzoh ball soup he’d made, as well as sour cream and apple sauce to dip the latkes in.

Once the latkes were done (and Martin was quite proud to say they’d come out very nicely), Jon retrieved some red wine he’d gotten in the village and poured them both a glass. Then, as Martin was getting ready to sit down, Jon glanced around sheepishly, gesturing at an empty space on the kitchen counter.

“I, ah, normally I’d have a menorah to light. But obviously I didn’t bring one when we came up. And out here, well, it’s the same as with the gelt. No real place to buy one.”

“Oh,” Martin said, heart sinking. He reached out to squeeze Jon’s hand. “That’s a shame. I’m really sorry.”

“Really, I just wish I could show you,” Jon said, shaking his head as he took his seat at the table. “It’s really lovely. You light a new candle every night, and when they’re all lit . . . I’m sure it’d look nice here, especially.” He gestured at the space in front of the darkened kitchen window.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed, wistfully. He’d seen photos of menorahs before, and he could just picture it, he and Jon gathered around, lighting candle after candle as the eight nights passed.

“Well,” Jon said, turning back to face Martin at the table, “we may not have a menorah, but I can still do the blessing.”

“Blessing?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to do it while lighting the menorah, but, well. I’m sure this will do, given the circumstances.” Jon reached his hand across the table, and Martin took it.

“Alright.” Jon cleared his throat, almost self-consciously, and then began to sing in Hebrew, a melodic, practical tune that sounded comfortable and familiar on his tongue, like a well-worn shawl. “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu, l’hadlik ner, shel Hanukkah.”

Martin couldn’t really sing along to the words, but he nodded along to the melody, and when Jon was done he looked up at him and smiled, and Martin beamed back. They both raised their glasses and drank.

They ate heartily, or at least Martin did, because Jon kept shoving second and third bowls of soup at him, and insisting he finish off the latkes. Not that Martin was complaining, of course; it was all delicious, and Jon did praise him for how nice the latkes had come out.

They left the dirty dishes for later (or, knowing the two of them, tomorrow morning), and after dinner they went straight for presents. Though his options were limited without online shopping or anything outside of the tiny village, Martin had managed to find an adorable little painted china Highland cow in a local antiques shop.

“I know you think they’re cute,” Martin said as Jon lifted it out of the box.

“How did you know,” Jon deadpanned, but he grinned as he brought it up to his nose and stared at its little painted snout. “I love it, Martin, thank you.”

Jon had gone the homemade route, and knitted Martin a scarf. And a pair of mittens. And an entire bloody sweater.

“Oh my god, Jon,” Martin said, staring in disbelief at the mounds of knitwear before him. “How did you find time to do all this? How did you find time to do all this without me knowing?”

Jon looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, I’m a fast knitter.”

Martin shook his head fondly. Unbelievable. But he immediately took off the sweater he’d been wearing and pulled on the one Jon had made. It fit rather well and was as cozy as it looked. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, feeling the sleeves, knowing that every loop and stitch of the fabric had been purposeful. He could practically feel the care and love Jon had put into each one of them. “I love it,” he said, leaning over to kiss Jon at the corner of his eye.

“Well,” Jon said, cheeks darkening, “Happy Holidays, then.”

“Oh,” Martin said, rising from the sofa, “I’ve actually got one more thing. Sort of a last-minute gift.”

“Hm?”

Martin went over to the oven and took out the trays of rugelach. He’d checked them earlier to see if they were cooked through, but hadn’t gotten the chance to taste one yet. “Tried my hand at a bit of dessert,” he said, selecting a couple nice-looking ones and putting them on a plate for Jon to try.

Jon had followed Martin into the kitchen, and was staring at the pastries lined up on the trays. “Oh, well, thank you,” he said, surprised, taking the plate Martin handed to him. “What are they?”

Martin cocked his head at him. “Rugelach,” he said. Wasn’t it obvious?

Jon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Ah,” he said, voice strained with positivity. “Of course. Right.”

Martin was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Gingerly, Jon took one of the rolled-up pastries, and bit into it.

Martin tried one as well. It was one of the chocolate ones, and it was . . . crunchy. Very crunchy. The chocolate, it seemed, had only partially melted in the oven, and the pastry dough itself was a bit hard to bite through. Besides that, it wasn’t very sweet, the chocolate being too dark and the dough being too salty.

He tried a cinnamon one. Again, the dough was crunchy, and the cinnamon was overpowering without any sweetness to it. Martin considered the possibility that perhaps he ought to have added sugar.

Jon, for his part, was doing his best impression of a person who was very much enjoying the pastry they were eating, honest. “Mmm,” he said, demonstratively, as he swallowed one of the cinnamon ones. “Thank you, Martin, these are . . . delicious.”

Jon was actually reaching for seconds, which Martin knew he was only doing to make him feel better, so he reached out a hand and placed it on Jon’s, stopping him short.

Jon looked up at him. Martin shook his head wordlessly. Jon cracked a smile.

“They’re not good,” Martin said, putting them back on the trays one by one.

“Martin--”

“It’s okay,” Martin said, smiling back at him, “I know. They’re rubbish. I didn’t even use a recipe, of course they were gonna turn out--”

“Well,” Jon said, stubbornly, “you tried. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, Martin, really,” Jon said, bringing up Martin’s hand to kiss the back of it. “It was very sweet of you to put all this effort into it.”

“Next time, I’ll look up a recipe,” Martin said, bringing one of the trays over to the kitchen bin. Jon was quick to assist him.

“There’s seven nights of Hanukkah left,” Jon said, after a moment’s thought. “We can always try again. Tomorrow, we’ll get more ingredients, and I’ll show you how to do it properly. It really is easy, you just need . . . well. Sugar, for one.”

Martin laughed as he tossed the last of the batch away. “Okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“I mean it, though,” Jon said, looking at him fondly. “Thank you. For this, and for the cow, and for sharing the holiday with me. It’s . . . this has been really . . .”

Jon was gesturing in the empty air, struggling for the proper word, but Martin understood well enough. “Yeah,” he said. “And thank you, for sharing it with me.” He pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek.

“Happy Hanukkah, Jon.”

[pretty-perdita]

Perdita Mariel Faye -- Character Sheet

and people don't ever let you down / forever find a way to kill whatever love they've found / a heart beat and I want it too / manhattan is where she grew so i left and i let the flower be / and yesterday saw the flower on cable tv / much prettier than here with me / for all of the world to see

Archetype — The Ruler Birthday — July 6, 1994 Zodiac Sign —  Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 4, the individualist Temperament — melancholic Hogwarts House — Slytherin Moral Alignment — True Neutral Primary Vice — Pride Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Fire

Overview:

Mother — Abigail Faye (nee Lewinsky) (FC: Kristi Allen) Father — Michael Faye (FC: William Shatner) Mother’s Occupation — socialite/homemaker Father’s Occupation — private banker/wall street broker Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — second child Brothers —  Edmund (26, FC: Chris Pine) Sisters — Ophelia and Rosaline (17 in November; FCs: Camilla and Rebecca Rosso) Other Close Family — Penelope and Patrick Patts (children, 1 year olds) Best Friend — Anita Dearly; Georgette Midler (childhood best friend) Other Friends — Roger Radcliffe, Annette Grant, Raksha Bendiya, Enemies — Toulouse Bonfamille, Marie Bonfamille, Al McWiggin, Cruella deVil, Chester Glass, really so many people Pets — Viola, dalmatian. (Really Anita’s but she lives with her.) Home Life During Childhood — A Daddy’s Girl. She was the picture perfect angelic daughter, until she got her heartbroken. Then she turned into a rebel. Her and her mother had an awful, toxic relationship. Her mom was an alcoholic and was always judging Perdy (her looks, her attitude, her body, etc etc). Her father didn’t really do anything to stop it. She had a good relationship with her older brother Edmund, they are very close. Has a contentious relationship with her sisters, but she loves the little shits. Town or City Name(s) — New York City, NY USA; Cambridge, England What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Perdita’s house has five floors, but the top floor is just a little hallway and a bedroom with a bathroom attached. This was Edmund’s room until he left for the military when he was 18 (when Perdita was about 14.) Then, Perdita took it over. It was decorated with all white furniture and dark pink almost magenta accents. Always messy, her clothes thrown about and make up all over her vanity. After her boyfriend broke her heart, she changed everything to dark reds because she was dramatic like that. The furniture stayed white, though. Any Sports or Clubs — Martial Arts (she’s a blackbelt); was in clubs like student council and stuff when she was younger, but after her sophomore year she dropped out of most clubs. Schooling — Private Jewish school from Pre-K to middle school, some preppy school in NYC for high school, Cambridge University for college--double major in mathematics and literature. Favorite Subject — Math Popular or Loner — Popular Important Experiences or Events — The first time she got drunk. When her boyfriend broke her heart. When she saw her mother really, truly drunk the first time. Nationality — American Culture — Jewish/American Religion and beliefs — Jewish, mostly non practicing. She does the big stuff like Hanukkah and Passover.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Yael Grobglas Complexion — golden skin tone, she can get very tan and surprisingly does not sunburn easily. Has a decent amount of acne though her skin has gotten much better since being pregnant. Has breakouts though because she doesn’t take her makeup off properly (wears it to bed sometimes and wears it for exercising.) Hair Colour — golden blonde Eye Colour — blue Height — 5’8 Build — tall, very beautiful, long legs. Slender, has put on weight around her hips because of babies, but stays well-toned. Takes very good care of her body. Tattoos — none Piercings — ears (probably double holes and maybe a cartilage); used to have nose piercing but she took it out when she was like 19-20; used to have belly button piercing but not since she had babies. Common Hairstyle — down, in waves that she normally enhances with a curler (her natural waves are more tight than the loose ones she does). Hates putting her hair up and does it only on very rare occasions. Clothing Style — fashionable. Wears a lot of bright colors. Keeps up to date with fashion trends. Designer brands. Lots of accessories (is always wearing earrings/necklaces/bracelets/different handbags) Mannerisms — Rarely fidgets. Crosses her arms over her chest a lot because she does it when she’s anxious or feeling exposed. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Actually, yes. Perdita gets colds very easily and she has allergies so she’s constantly taking medicine for those. When she travels she tends to get sick. Physical Ailments — None, she’s pretty fit. Maybe a little anemic post-babies. Neurological Conditions — Post-partum depression (medicated). Allergies —  none really except general allergies in the spring/summer Grooming Habits — excellent. Perdita takes great care of herself. Her worst habit is going to sleep with her makeup on sometimes. Sleeping Habits — Perdita has turned into a back sleeper since the babies. She also sleeps very deeply. Being a single mom to twin toddlers, and the assistant to a high fashion designer is taxing. Eating Habits — she eats kosher most of the time. Also is very health-conscious (almost to a fault.) She rarely eats sweets. Exercise Habits — Perdita is getting back into kickboxing. She does a lot of yoga/pilates to keep her body #tight because she’s worried about the weight she gained while pregnant. She’s very body/health conscious.   Emotional Stability — haha. Well--if we don’t include her depression, Perdita is definitely solid mentally. She knows who she is. She is unapologetic about it. Internally, she’s quite insecure, but she mostly ignores that little voice (except for in her appearance, which she takes great care of and pride in.) Body Temperature — moderate. She can definitely get cold. She hates extreme temperatures in either direction because she’s rather “cold blooded” aka her temperature changes with the air around her. Sociability — Perdita is super extroverted. She’s very good with people. Knowing their weaknesses. Analyzing them. She uses her extrovert personality as a weapon. Addictions — none Drug Use —  none; used to do party drugs/smoked weed on occasion, used pretty bad in high school. Also, she takes prescribed anti-depressants Alcohol Use — drinks pretty regularly but rarely gets horribly drunk

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — bites her nails really lowkey, though she won’t admit it. Also she picks at the split ends in her hair all the time. Also is way defensive. She’s quick to snap at people. Good Habits — Takes care of herself and her body. Takes care of the people closest to her. Best Characteristic — Her fierceness. Worst Characteristic — She’s also a coward lmao Worst Memory — When she got her heart broken when she was 16. Best Memory — When the babies were born and the four of them were all happy and healthy and together. Proud of — her babies, her friends, the fact that she has come back from her post-partum Embarrassed by — not a lot, tbh. Except maybe like her ears. Driving Style — perdita never learned how to drive growing up rich in NYC pfft Strong Points — She doesn’t let herself be defeated. Even if she is inwardly crumbling, she refuses to break. She’s very resilient. Temperament — I promise you she’s level-headed--okay, well, level-headed on her way to hot-headed. She is chill until you annoy her. Also a very defensive person. Attitude — Holier-than-thou. She definitely thinks that she is better than almost everyone else. Weakness — her babies, loving people. Fears — being made fun of, being a loser lmao Phobias — none, but she’s really not a fan of spiders/other creepy crawlies Secrets — that she has post-partum. Only the quartet know about that. Regrets — Leaving Paul and taking the babies from him. Feels Vulnerable When — all the fucking time man. Pet Peeves — incompetent people Conflicts — her pride v her heart Motivation — to keep her family safe; to prove to her mother she’s worth something Short Term Goals and Hopes — to be a good mother, to get better (from her post-partum) Long Term Goals and Hopes — to be a good mother, to make something of herself. Sexuality — she’s p fuckin straight. Would make out w girls at like parties and shit. Day or Night Person — a night owl, tbh. Introvert or Extrovert — extrovert Optimist or Pessimist — realist.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Broadway!! Her favorite. She loves Anything Goes. That’s her favorite musical, but she likes pretty much all of them. Her favorites are the oldies though. The classics. She really likes Cats (ironically), Phantom, Les Mis, Hairspray...she also has a secret soft spot for some old country like Sheryl Crow and Shania Twain. Books — Perdita read a lot in college, as a literature major, she kind of had to, but she never really liked reading. It was perfectly fine and all, but she much preferred her math classes. Magazines — All the magazines. Perdita is a fan of gossip and has to always keep up with the latest fashion trends and celebrity scandal. Foods — Perdita really likes salads. No. She like--actually likes them. I know, she’s weird. Loves a good italian dressing, though and olives and spinach mmmm Drinks — Red wine. That’s her favorite. Though, she’s also a fan of prosecco. If we’re going nonalcoholic she hates orange juice, her mom used to force her to drink it because Perdy had a weak immune system. She loves lemonade and sweet tea though. Animals — She likes pretty animals--like horses and big cats and wolves. Also, a fan of dogs. But, mostly she’s pretty indifferent to animals. Sports — Paul lowkey totally got Perdita into football. Also, her dad likes to watch American football, so she always was watching sports growing up. Also baseball. Yankee fans, ofc. Social Issues — Perdita is a feminist, but it is a problematic kind of feminism. It’s hard to explain because she thinks women are better than men, but she definitely engages in toxic misogynistic (girl hate) behavior and stuff like that. Color — White. She loves the cleanness of it and how it goes with everything and is a daring color. Not many people wear white. Clothing — Fashionable. Designer as much as possible. Bold, bright colors. Always dressed to impress. Jewelry — Lots of gold, not as much a fan of silver. Earrings/necklaces/bracelets most days. She’s toned down the jewelry because babies like to pull on things. Games — Perdita actually loves video games. She’ll play pretty much anything. She loves racing games and shoot ‘em up games. Websites — Anything gossipy. Also a big instagramer. Ofc. Twitter too, probably. Facebook. Tumblr. All social media. Greatest Want — to be successful and to be loved Greatest Need — to forgive herself and to apologize for the wrongs she’s done.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — she lives in an apartment with Anita in the Benbow. 101, first floor. Household furnishings — it’s a ragtag bunch of furniture. They got donations mostly from Sarabi and Simba and the Grants. Lots of baby stuff, everywhere. It’s a bit crowded but nice enough. Favorite Possession — Her wardrobe that she managed to scavenge. Most Cherished Possession — The baby blanket that Edmund brought her when he told her to run. Neighborhood — they live in Benbow, near the university campus Town or City Name — Swynlake, Wiltshire County, UK Details of Town or City — magick-friendly, small, country, etc Married Before — No. Significant Other Before — Connor Madison, broke her heart when she was 16. String of lovers after that. Paul Patts -- father of her children. Children — Penelope Eowyn Patts and Patrick Aaron Patts. 1 year old. Relationship with Family — A Daddy’s Girl. She was the picture perfect angelic daughter, until she got her heartbroken. Then she turned into a rebel. Her and her mother had an awful, toxic relationship. Her mom was an alcoholic and was always judging Perdy (her looks, her attitude, her body, etc etc). Her father didn’t really do anything to stop it. She had a good relationship with her older brother Edmund, they are very close. Has a contentious relationship with her sisters, but she loves the little shits. Car — none. Career — assistant to Duchess LaBlanc Dream Career — a statistician for a large company Dream Life — together w Paul, married, with their babies. I cry. Love Life — Lol. Nonexistent at the moment. Still in love with Paul. Talents or Skills — A whiz at numbers. Also not a bad dancer. A black belt in karate. Intelligence Level — Very intelligent. Finances — She’s good at budgeting but she does not have a lot of money.

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — she didn’t work except for a few internships at big wig companies during university. Past Lovers — Connor Madison, broke her heart when she was 16. String of lovers after that. Paul Patts -- father of her children. Biggest Mistakes — leaving Paul. Biggest Achievements — Becoming Duchess’ assistant. Staying on her feet after being disowned. Having her babies.