#historically inaccurate is historically inaccuracy
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HEAR ME OUT
IT IS THEM
My husband delivered him to me
#Marie Antoinette 2022#Marie Antoinette#Louis XVI#historical ship#frev#I know this series has historical problems#but I love how they portray louis#so cute#historically inaccurate is historically inaccuracy
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chris sturniolo ,, the seventh letter
! contents ! ; major character death, heavy angst!!! literally all hurt zero comfort!!!!! war (set sometime in the mid - earlyish 1900s??), probably soo historically inaccurate i tried to research i think.
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠăăă ăËăăăă . â
â.
#7Â
July 28th Somewhere in Sicily.
'I hope this reaches you well.Â
Itâs cold here, Mattâs stationed elsewhere â somewhere warmer, safer, I hope. I worry for him. Nick is here. I miss you, howâs it at home?Â
I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much. To get on that train with the knowledge I wouldn't see you for what could be years? Itâs still all too much for me to bear. Even here, where the wind is harsh and I'm still sleeping a layer away from dirt and a wall away from death, all I can really think about is what wouldâve happened if I'd have kissed you before I got on that train.
Though I'm sure this wonât last long. I have faith. With you waiting for me, I will continue having it.
It wonât do us any good pondering. So I'll stay thinking about how I will kiss you the second I come home.
I donât think I have ever been this tired. I hope tomorrow will be easier, and I hope all is well where you are.Â
Donât worry so much about me, I beg. Celebrate our birthday with my family, will you?
All my love,
Chris.'
The letter sat tear stained in your shaky hands. The pristine paper yellowed, dirt marks from what was undeniably Chrisâ hands when writing it on the corners, scribbles of hearts drawn lazily where he could fit them.
The death of Christopher Sturniolo was, undeniably and undoubtedly, the most painful thing to ever happen to you. The news, revealed on a sunny day, air warm and laughter echoing through the streets as the family mourned and spoken to you by two men whoâd knocked on your front door, brought you to gut wrenching sobs immediately.
âMaâam?âÂ
You wiped at your eyes, ridden with sleep and stress, and nodded in confirmation as they clarified your identity.
âWere you ⊠in any sort of relation to Christopher Sturniolo?â
Were?
âYes,â you spoke, brows furrowed as you shifted your weight on your feet, leaned up against the doorframe with a tilted head and an accusing look, âI am,â you clarified, the look on your face showcasing the tell-tale signs of concern, the beating in your chest suddenly loudening.
âWe really are sorry to be the ones to break this to you, but heâs tragically - âŠâ
The ringing in your head interrupted the rest of what they had to say. Hot, salty tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head,
A shallow and a shaky breath. âNo, no, youâre wrong.â You pleaded, words small and broken by the sobs already slipping from your lips. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding, right?
âWe truly are sorry,â the other spoke, voice low in remorse with his hat held low to his chest with one hand, the other outstretched with a worn out envelope and a sincere look on his face. The distant laughter lingered, the joy which only moments ago brought a smile to tug at your lips, and you selfishly wanted nothing more than for it to stop.
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă. ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠăăă ăËăăăă . â
â.
florence ,
most of my war knowledge is from 9th grade history! excuse the terrible inaccuracy probably. can u tell i tried to be vague
this is so short aswell literally like 470 words. but i am a sucker for angst and i fear its what i find easier to write </3 i also lowkey forgot i could post things that i've written so i have countless bits in my docs rn!
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#angst#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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Thetis: Why do people think I have distaste for you, Patroclus?
Patroclus: Because it was easiest to paint you that way. Youâre a Nymph who was bound to mate with a mortal man. It was easy for them to spin that into hatred for me, hatred for humans.
Thetis: They have me mistaken. I love most humans. Some of you do some⊠questionable things, but then again, so do the gods.
Achilles: Everyoneâs kind of messed up in their own way, arenât we?
Patroclus: itâs what makes us unique. Even so, I thank you Thetis, for being supportive of your son and I.
Thetis: You mellow him out. You help him. How could I not support you?
*we love supportive mom Thetis here.*
#patrochilles#achilles#patroclus#patroklus#greek mythology#achillesandpatroclus#tsoa achilles#ancient greek#historical inaccuracies#quotes#madeline miller#the song of achilles#tsoa spoilers#inaccurate greek mythology#achilles and his grief#chiron#mount pelion#tsoa
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i feel like every day i see a post about someone talking about some historical inaccuracy they commonly see in historical or fantasy-esque settings, but it's always said in such an aggressive, rude way
like. it's never "I'm passionate about [historical thing] and I want to share my fun knowledge about it in case you might want to implement this knowledge yourself!"
it's always "every time i see this INACCURACY it PISSES ME OFF so i'm going to angrily tell all you STUPID idiots THE RIGHT WAY to write about this thing >:("
like. sure. okay. i think i'd rather just. keep doing what i'm doing, thanks.
#it's also one thing to complain about an 'inaccuracy' in historical fiction#it's another to complain about it in fantasy like. sorry i didn't research how purple dye is made in my story of witches.#sorry i had an inaccurate horse breed in my story where Death is a real person who walks around and talks to people.#lulu talks
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Why are Colin and Penelope alone again?!? And outside of her family home as well! Meaning they travelled together alone?!?
Being engaged doesnât free you from the constraints of being chaperoned!
All of this will just be making Penelope seem really immoral!!!
#the historical inaccuracy show is inaccurate#I am so annoyed#where are the chaperones#Bridgerton#anti bridgerton#live blogging#s3e5
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we discussed why Ridley Scott's film is unlikely to be the way we would like it to be
so I have a question: what films/series about Napoleon more or less correctly represent real history? or just good in your opinion
oh man, I'm a bit of a picky person when it comes to Napoleonic films/series, but not in a logically consistent manner so people get a little confused sometimes. Which is fair.
I'll give you two rec's:
My favourite Napoleon movie is Monsieur N. I think what makes it work is that it's a historical AU, basically, and fills all my favourite tropes. Premise is that Napoleon, through a weird magic (?) thing, switches fates with his valet/spy Cipriani and manages to escape St. Helena.
As one can guess, it's only loosely, loosely based in history. The ages of some people are altered (Betsy Balcombe is aged up significantly so she can be an appropriate love interest for Napoleon; Barry O'Meara is in his late thirties/early forties for no apparent reason etc.). I feel like Albine got shafted in being cast as a bit of the Conniving Courtesan. Montholon is positioned as a poisoner, even though by the time the film was made that theory/story had been pretty heavily debunked. They omit Napoleon's crap treatment of Fanny Bertrand after she rebuffed his advances. Napoleon's still played too seriously - but that's a fault in literally almost every production ever.
That said, I love Bertrand in this. Gourgaud makes a rogue appearance and is suitably chaotic. I like Sir Hudson Lowe as well - I feel that Richard Grant was cast perfectly. The visuals are beautiful. It's just gorgeously filmed (I love the first confrontation/meet scene between Napoleon and Lowe - the playing with light, the choice of clothes, the switching through languages etc. it's masterful).
The historical inaccuracy aside, I actually liked the relationship between Napoleon and Betsy. I'm just like "clearly it's another Betsy Balcombe. Funny that two people have the same name on this small island!"
(Obviously, in reality, she was a literal child when she knew Napoleon. He was an uncle/older brother figure to her and she was clearly a surrogate daughter/niece to him. They pranked each other and teamed up to prank Lowe on the regular alongside playing silly games and mucking about.)
I love that it's a multi-lingual production so you have English, French and Corsican being spoken, as appropriate for the characters/people. The sound track is fitting. It's appropriately atmospheric.
So yeah, I am very fond of the film. But it's just a fun, stupid romp.
You can't go in expecting a Real Historical And/Or Accurate Account of Napoleon on St. Helena. Thankfully, the film never positions itself as such a thing. It's very clearly a What If + Fanfiction. I recommend going in and treating it like a slightly more serious Knight's Tale in its approach to history (vibes & essence over facts). If you do that, you'll have a blast. If you go in looking for Historical Napoleon or whatever, you'll hate it.
I also may or may not have a Thing for Philippe Torreton (who plays Napoleon). So. That might also inform my affection for this dumb film.
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I remember enjoying the 2002 French miniseries Napoleon (with Christian Clavier and Isabella Rossellini). As with all series and films, it has its issues (there are definite inaccuracies), but I liked it overall. I feel they hit the emotional beats between Napoleon and Josephine really well.
(While she's not older than him in it, at least the actors the same age and she's not like 16 years younger than Napoleon /eye roll.)
The scene when she reams him out during their divorce is powerful (she does this great thing about how he always wanted to make it clear that he's separate from the ancien regime and Not Like Those People but what is he doing now? He's marrying one of Marie Antoinette's relatives. And like, she is calling him out for his political inconsistency, and making the point that it's a bad decision in terms of Optics, but it's also so clearly much more than that. It's well done). Napoleon's reaction when he learns that she's died is heart breaking and well rendered/believable.
There is also humour and convivial moments that are often lacking in historical biopics with him, which I appreciate (love the "you need to take the Austrian uniform off the scarecrow or we'll have an International Incident on our hands" scene).
There's a rogue Coulaincourt who makes an appearance! Nice to see him. Same with Lannes - glad he makes an appearance. Though there's no Duroc or Junot, unfortunately. (Granted, I understand the need to keep the cast to a reasonable amount of people.)
So yeah, it's an entertaining series. It's a bit of a "classic" in the sense that I feel like anyone who has gone through a Napoleon Phase watches it.
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Truly, the best representation of Napoleon is in Bill and Ted's Most Excellent Adventure. You're welcome.
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I hope this helps!
#thank you for the ask!#napoleon bonaparte#there's the Marlon Brando film that a lot of people like as well#I thought it was fine#Napoleon#that 1970s or 80s Waterloo movie is meh imo#ask#reply#monsieur n#napoleon (2002)#film#I remember being on a date with someone who saw Monsieur N & they kept going on about how they hated it bc they felt it was inaccurate#and I was like: You do realize it's a historical AU that's not meant to be accurate right? It's like complaining about the inaccuracy of#the medieval period as represented in A Knight's Tale#that's what you sound like right now. Like someone complaining about the rendering of Chaucer in the pop culture hit A Knight's Tale#Monsieur N was never meant to be a Serious Film. It's beautifully filmed and a lot of fun but it's not History#napoleon in film
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Catherine [of Aragon], [Princess] Mary, and Anne Boleyn are enemies of Cromwell and do not fare well at her hands. In fact, [Mantel's] focus on Cromwell seriously undermines the claim her account is more authentic than Michael Hirst['s].
Writing Mary I: History, Historiography, and Fiction
#hmm...#i mean#i don't think focus on one singular historical person as narrator (well . sort of. it's third person POV) automatically renders a work#'less authentic'#by this logic the only 'authentic' series is an ensemble#POV which i suppose the tudors is closer to but that's a very strict and limited criteria...#tbh this is just me pettily posting this quote bcus im so vindicated when this is said#in scholarly compliations lmfao#i agree with the conclusion but not the argument towards it if that makes sense. i have my own sort of...#(i think it's incidental that this is the case. you can still strive for authenticity in a first person close POV historical novel#it just doesn't occur often. see: tobg)#i've seen this as a criticism of BSR and it doesn't track#bcus the fleabag-style makes it explicitly clear this is all from AB's pov#'it's iNACCURATE that it says henry never loved coa FUCK this show'#'accuracy' re: feelings is a difficult premise in the 1st place but also#you cannot argue it's 'inaccurate' that ANNE thought that. bcus we don't know what she thought#the structure of the series is inherently her being interviewed and so it's clear this is the writers' guess on how she#justified her path to herself#and i actually found it to be a plausible one. again. accuracy or inaccuracy cannot be argued. you're talking about someone's feelings#/beliefs about someone ELSE's feelings (hers about henry's)#it's actually quite credible. considering we know that she did claim *she* loved henry more than catherine#that speaks to her feelings on#the matter ...which melds well to their interpretation on what else she might have felt on the subject.
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Or perhaps before the 17th century Europe was only white people (unlikely). Who the fuck cares? You put orcs and giants and elves and magic on screen but a POC character is going to break suspension of disbelief? There are so many beautiful, talented black and POC actors and actresses, but we will only show almost identical in appearance white people (I say this as a white woman in a predominantly white European country) because someone decided that elves can only be white! Cast those beautiful, amazing black actors!
It wouldnât be historically accurate for my story to include BIPOC!
This is an argument often made about European-style fantasy media like Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, and Disneyâs Frozen. Audiences, often white, assume that due to the majority-white setting, adding any visible number of BIPOC to the story would be unrealistic.
What these critics fail to realize is that BIPOC do in fact live, and have lived, in these settings, and records of BIPOC presence in places assumed to be majority-white have been buried, written out, or not taught due to white supremacist and/or colonial bias in the field of history. There are historical European settings that were far more diverse than is often portrayed. Consider:
The Moorish Empire exerted an extensive influence over life and culture in Southern Europe from Spain from 711 to 1492
The Ottomans were heavily involved in European affairs up until the treaty of Karlowitz in 1699, but still considered a part of Europe even through the 19th century
The sheer size of the Roman Empire ensured the continued movement of people from various backgrounds within the Mediterranean well until the end of the Byzantine Empire.
âHistorical accuracyâ should not be used as an excuse for media to be exclusively white in its casting. While there are places which are or were predominantly white, there will always be factors like global trade and immigration that bring multiculturalism to their doors.
And even if the presence of a certain demographic is unrealistic for a certain setting? Consider that weâve accepted far worse inaccuracies in historical fiction in the name of artistic license. Consider that our understanding of human history is, and will always be, incomplete.
Further Reading:
Historically Diverse London, âHistorical Accuracy,â and Creator Accountability
Making a Black Pride and Prejudice Resonate
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This Q&A is an excerpt from our General FAQ for Newcomers, which can be found in our new Masterpost of rules and FAQs. If you're new to Writing With Color and/or want more writing resources, check it out!
-Writing With Color
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Ridley Scott, regarding his new Napoleon movie, is being aggressively defensive about its inaccuracies with historians. He's gone on record saying "When I have issues with historians, I ask: âExcuse me, mate, were you there? No? Well, shut the fuck up then.â" This is a classic argument of people with no idea how historians do their work, how historical accuracy is determined and evaluated, and - in Ridley Scott's case in particular - how important it is to properly portray historical accuracy in other media.
The reason why Ridley Scott is being so aggressively dismissive of complaints about historical accuracy is due to past beef leading to a problem he likely has.
This is a movie that, by din of being touted as a 'nonfiction' movie about a historical figure, is basing much of its marketing on historical accuracy by default. The trailers show it's not, and reviews by historians say it is riddled with dozens if not hundreds of inaccuracies. Napoleon's portrayal is frankly a surface level depiction and nowhere near the nuance that historians were hoping for.
Scott's defensive about it. He need not be. If he had a historical consultant then he could go "I'm not an expert on the time period, but I have someone who is, ask them about it" and fob them off on his movie's historical consultant. It's a whole Thing. He doesn't have one, however, so he has to defend it personally.
You see, Ridley Scott probably didn't hire a historical consultant for Napoleon. The last time he had one - Kathleen Coleman for Gladiator - she was so upset over the inaccuracies he pushed through and how little her work affected the film, she requested her name be taken off of it.
Why this is important is because so many more people will watch a movie made by Ridley Scott than I or any other person could write. More people will watch Scott's Napoleon in the States than five hundred books about Napoleon combined worldwide.
More people watched Dunkirk than ever read a book about the Evacuation of Dunkirk. The movie Breaker Morant did so much for public perception about the execution of a genuine war criminal people in Australia still on occasion call for a pardon for Morant.
Fundamentally, mass media like movies will always have more impact of a popular perception about somebody, a time period, an event. That's why Ridley Scott making an inaccurate movie and going 'oh, you weren't there, you didn't see it with your own eyes, so how could you know, I don't have to listen to you' is a problem.
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The trace of you
Author: bvidzsoo
Pairing: psychiatrist!Jeong Yunho x patient!female reader
ê€ Warning: bullying, mistreatment, ptsd, mentions of insanity & abuse, mental health talks, psychiatric diagnose, unethical thoughts and actions ê€Â Word count: 25.1k ê€Â Rating: mature ê€Â Genre: dated around the late 1800's, psychiatrist x patient, lots of yearning, mutual pinning, forbidden love, inspired by Alias Grace, angst ê€Â Summary: Being caged inside your home for a wrongdoing you can't even remember seems to not have the effect people have been expecting. With the arrival of a foreign doctor with studies unheard of before, your life takes a new turn. Will Doctor Jeong prove your innocence, or will he fall into your web like everyone else? Are you sane, or is he just as insane as his patients?
A/N: Helloo, my lovelies! ^^ Wrapping up this story took way too long due to me having some unplanned health issues that are still (?) kicking my ass...anyways, keep in mind while you're reading this that there are probably historical inaccuracies to this story, especially to South Korean history that I briefly read through when constructing Yunho character's background. The dresses MC wears also aren't the most accurate, but I hope you can look past that and imagine instead whatever you'd like. I watched the mini-series Alias Grace and was rather inspired by it, so you will find similarities to it within this story. I am no medical professional, so the diagnosis MC is given might be inaccurate even though I have taken my time to research these things. Let me know if I should tag anything else as a warning, and I really hope you enjoy this story as I have tried making it a bit different. Let me know your thoughts about it, I am always excited to read your feedback! <3 Oh, and, I hope Santa brings you something sweet tonight, this is my not so small present for you all! ^^ divider
           The old clockâs ticking seemed to only get louder by the second. The sheer curtains were pulled to the side to allow more sunlight inside the tea room, the grand doors opened to let in the late fresh summer breeze. The white hydrangeas lining the paths leading towards the back garden were gorgeous and carried a strong scent with them, I could smell it from my spot on the soft faded pink cushion of the sofa brought all the way from France. The tea room had been remodelled not long ago. There was something about it that gave old cottage vibes, but it has now been upgraded to a more fashionable Parisian feel. It was pretty, with hues of light peach and a darker coral, however, I used to like more the cosy feeling of the sage green and baby blue colours that had decorated the room once. Karina liked it more this way, she had said something about the lighter colours giving the impression of a bigger room. I did not understand why the tea room was required to look grander than it already was, but I didnât question her judgment. It was best if I didnât, not out loud, at least.
The servants were quietly waiting outside the room as my mother paced in front of us, Karina perched on a fancy chair with an abandoned book in her hands. I knew the ticking of the old clock and the silence was driving her mad, but I remained silent as I gazed forward, eyes on the gravel path. I longed to walk in the meadow close to our house, but I wasnât allowed to roam around on my own. Even inside my own home, I was under constant surveillance. The doctors have said it was for my own sake, but it felt like I was in a continuous cage. It was suffocative, I couldnât sleep some nights due to it, not even after drinking Mrs. Humphreyâs delicious camomile tea. My last hope resided in summer, in the warm breeze that kissed my cold skin, everything a lush green where I looked, to keep me sane. As sane as it could, since I was deemed a madwoman long ago.
Unlike the others who hired chauffeurs and dated carriages with old horses, this doctor arrived by a fancy patent motorcar. It wasnât him driving it, at least the servants had whispered that to each other, but his long wool coat looked expensive too. My mother finally stopped pacing and Karina sighed in irritation when there was a knock at the front door. One maid stepped forward and opened the door for the doctor, gently greeting him. I couldnât hear his voice, I was trying to catch the song of the birds outside, but I could feel the shift in the air. It was warmer inside as if the sun had stepped through our threshold. It warmed my skin like none other. Finally, the doctor was led towards the tea room, my back to him as my lips moved in a whispered song that comforted me. If I ignored the coil of my stomach and the sheen layer of sweat over my brows, I could convince myself that I was fine. That whoever came to check on me wasnât another vicious man eager to torture a damned soul like mine.
âMy apologies, maâam, I am unfamiliar with these roads.â The manâs voice was deep yet soft, like honey, thick but inoffensive. At least if I told myself that, it calmed my rapid heartbeat. As I continued sitting rigidly, my fingers wrung together, the tremors never disappeared. It was something natural, the other doctors have concluded, something they couldnât fix about me. Another thing they couldnât fix about me. It was fine, I knew I had been damned a long time ago.
âOh, it is no issue, we are glad you made it, Doctor.â My motherâs voice was filled with deep relief as the crease between her brows finally disappeared, hands locked behind her back as she rushed towards the entrance. Karina was surprisingly silent, but her expression spoke volumes. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had parted, fingers barely clutching the book in her hands anymore. I gulped, trying to steady my irregular breathing. I knew what was coming, the same questions and objects this doctor, too, would use to check my stability. I dreaded it all, I wanted to scream and throw a vase and make it shatter against the ground, but I would only be deemed even crazier. My eyes shook when I heard footsteps approach, heavier than those of my mother or Karina, it was the man. The Doctor. He was coming further inside, I could feel his eyes trained on my nape, no doubt curious and with a glint madder in his eyes than in mine, here to dissect me, pick me apart just to never fix me. I saw polished black shoes stop before me, and the lump in my throat almost made it impossible to speak up.
âMiss Harold, my name is Doctor Jeong Yunho.â Then, unlike any other doctor had done, this oneâs knees bent until he was crouching in front of me, looking at me. His eyes were round and kind, a dark brown unlike my icy ones, and they were filled with warmth and softness I hadnât seen in any other man. His nose had a perfect slope and his fair skin was sun-kissed, the apple of his cheeks a rosy red. His lips werenât too big but pouty and full, asking to be traced gently by soft fingertips. I shuddered, completely taken aback by his youth and beauty. The man was from faraway lands, yet judging by his speech, you couldnât tell until you saw him. He was gorgeous, he was breathtaking, âWould you feel safe if it was just the two of us in this room?â
No, I wanted to scream. My fingers tightened against each other, I gulped and hesitantly nodded, our eyes spilling into each otherâs as if a spell had them locked together. His features were serene and sincere, not a frown on his beautiful face to create creases, just a soft smile pulling at his lips. It was disarming and frightening at the same time. Then, the doctor smiled even wider as he stood back up, his height intimidating. My heart raced as I watched him, unable to take my eyes off him. And he was still looking at me as he spoke up, âIf you could excuse us, Iâd like to speak to Miss Harold in privacy. It wonât take long, I promise. Iâm only here today to familiarise myself with her.â
âGood, yes, Doctor, whatever you need.â My mother sounded reassured as she gripped Karinaâs arm, yanking her out of the tea room as she seemingly didnât want to go. Her eyes were fixed on Doctor Jeong, and her cheeks were blushed, âWould you like a cup of tea before we leave?â
âNo, but thank you, Mrs. Harold.â The doctor hummed, his voice warm, as he sat across from me. He had no leather tool bag, nothing. He only carried a ragged satchel bag, a dark green with patches made to it, and it seemed mostly empty. My heart couldnât settle down, not yet. Maybe his tools were hidden in the pockets of his long black coat. He hadnât taken it off, and he looked like he wasnât planning on staying for long. I couldnât decide whether that thought reassured or unsettled me even more. Silence stretched on as we stared at each other, my throat dry, but I made no moves to drink from my fine China cup. I gulped when the doctor finally moved, reaching inside his bag. Here it came, the torture for the next hours, he was just like all those other doctors. I could feel tears prick at my eyes and my chest felt on fire, my lungs constricting, but the world seemed to stop moving when the man finally retracted his hand from inside his ragged bag. He held no tool to harm me, instead, a slightly withering daisy was gripped daintily between his long fingers.
âI plucked this for you on my way here, Miss Harold.â The doctor spoke, leaning forward to extend his hand towards me. A daisy, from a man like him. A man who felt like the sun itself, warming my cold particles, how unusual. When I did not move to take it from him, his happy expression seemed to fall slightly. Before he could feel more disappointment, I quickly leaned forward and grabbed it from his hand. Our fingertips brushed for a second and the doctor gulped, loudly. I loved wearing my copper hair in a simple bun, lined with fresh daisies. How coincidental that I had made myself a daisy crown just this morning, and now, the doctor had brought one for me. It wouldâve been endearing if it was from a suitor, but I havenât had one since I was sent to the asylum.
âEverything has a price, Doctor, what must I offer in exchange for this?â I found my voice, less shaky than I had expected. My insides were twisting in every possible direction, my heart hammering so fast it made me feel lightheaded. I wondered whether Iâd remember the doctor tomorrow morning still. It wouldnât be the first time I experienced sudden memory loss.
The doctor frowned, sitting back on the couch stiffly, âPerhaps, your honesty? Will you answer my questions?â
âWill you measure my head and poke at my skin like all those other doctors?â
âNo, Iâm not here to physically evaluate you. Iâm here to glance inside your mind.â
âThat unsettles me more than getting cut open to determine whether my blood is still red or not.â
âHad they done that to you?â
âYes, you should rather ask what had they not done to me, Doctor Jeong.â
The doctor gulped, his dark eyebrows pulled together now and his lips downturned. He fished for something in his pocket, and a small pair of spectacles were placed low on his nose. It made him look more mature, more serious. I wondered if he wore it so that the other doctors would take him seriously, or whether because his eyesight wasnât the best.
âI wonât cut you open, Miss Harold, I wonât even touch you during my examinations.â My heart skipped a beat despite hammering uncomfortably against my chest, and I wondered why. His words, however, did bring a little comfort.
âHow will you determine what is wrong with me, then?â I raised my eyebrows, my fingers popping when I released the tension from them. I laid my palms flatly against my sage green dress, and the doctorâs eyes fleetingly glanced at them.
âBy talking, by listening to your stories and thoughts.â The doctor spoke of a practice I hadnât heard of before, âIf you trust me, that is, your secrets will be safe with me.â
âWill they be?â I smiled, a little ashen, âThe committee will want to hear what I said, there are no secrets we can keep with each other, Doctor Jeong.â
The doctor hummed, an almost amused smile pulling at his lips, âMy profession requires me not to disclose anything personal, so, even if the committee wants to hear it, I wonât relay our conversations word for word, Miss Harold.â
I gulped, analysing the manâs face. He looked sincere, his eyebrows didnât twitch and he wasnât sweating despite the coat still around him. It was summer, and it was warm outside, albeit not inside the tea room, that is why the grand doors were opened to let the warmth in. This room reflected a lot about how I felt on the inside, always cold and hollow, waiting desperate for the warm sun to fill me up with its hotness until it burned me away. I wanted to burn, I wanted to be freed of all I had to endure until now.
âYou need my honesty, but are you willing to be transparent with me?â My question seemed to take the doctor off guard as his eyes momentarily widened. Then, he clasped his long fingers together and placed his arms on his thighs, leaning forward in his seat.
âAs long as it helps us move forward and remains professional, I can be transparent with you, Miss Harold.â
âYou mustâve read the reports about me, do you think Iâm mad, Doctor Jeong?â
âIsnât everyone a little mad, Miss Harold?â
âI donât know, you are the doctor between the two of us, Doctor Jeong.â
âIndeed, and I claim that nobody is without faults or sins.â
âThen you must be a religious person, no?â
âMy profession contradicts my beliefs, yes, but I do believe there is something stronger and greater than us, Miss Harold. If we ask for forgiveness, we shall be pardoned.â
âFather Leon would love to have you at his service, Doctor Jeong.â
The doctor chuckled, a small smile settling over his lips as I realised I hadnât looked away from the man since he had sat down on the couch. That was news. I never looked anyone in the eyes, as I didnât feel comfortable. I had been told by previous doctors that they could see straight to my soul, my wicked mind and rottenness in the blueness of my irises. Now I never looked long enough to let them see what was inside my eyes, but this doctor didnât seem to be afraid of me, of what he might find inside my eyes. Could he not see the darkness of my soul? Or was his faith so strong he preferred to spot the brightness before he was proven wrong by the wicked that permeated those like myself?
âDo you believe in God?â Doctor Jeongâs voice was louder than before, more filled with emotion as if my answer was crucial to him.
âI suppose I must. Everyone says the devil was the one to make me act like this, and I wonder where had God gone to let the devil do this to me.â Doctor Jeongâs cheeks became a darker colour as he licked his lips, mouth parting, but no words left it. I hummed, placing my right hand over my left one. Doctor Jeong wore one single band of silver ring on his middle finger on his right hand. He couldnât have been married, then, I concluded.
âPerhaps youâll find an answer to your question once I have done my job here.â Doctor Jeongâs tone caught a solemn note, but I said nothing as he grabbed his satchel bag and adjusted the collar of his white shirt. I watched the motion, eyes glued to the fair skin of his neck even as the man stood. His ears were flushing red too, I wondered why. I suppose the summer warmth had gotten to him at last.
âYou are leaving already, doctor?â I asked as I looked up, standing when I realised he was about to depart. My mother had raised me with good manners, I would have even walked him to the front door if it werenât for Karina suddenly barging inside, her jawline set tight as she sent me a fierce look of displeasure.
âEager to have him all to yourself, sister?â Karinaâs voice dripped with venom as she rushed further inside, rudely grabbing the doctorâs arm. What if he didnât want to be touched? Karina lacked the awareness to consider that for a second. The doctor remained silent as he looked between me and Karina, and I just chuckled, looking down to the floor.
âI already have him all to myself, no need to be eager about it too.â The forced smile on Karinaâs face wouldâve satisfied me, but now I wanted both her and the doctor gone from my sight. My heart was racing again and I couldnât breathe well, the tremors of my hands wouldâve made me spill my tea if I were to drink from it. Perhaps Matilda could accompany me around the gardens, I wished to become one with nature for the remainder of the day.
âI shall see you tomorrow, Miss Harold.â Doctor Jeong bowed his head slightly before he let himself be dragged away by Karina, who sent me a glare that wouldâve scared anyone else but me. I let them leave as I crumbled back onto the sofa, suddenly feeling faint. I couldnât decide whether the doctor would pick my mind apart or not, and it was scarier that I had no idea how heâd do it.
           The air felt oppressive and thick, yet I could see the doctorâs motorcar approaching in the distance. Matilda had been kind enough to accompany me on my walk around the gardens, but she had rushed me back inside the tea room when my mother sent a butler to alert us that the doctor was fast approaching. Now, sitting on a chair by the open grand doors, I could see the dark clouds gathering around in the distance. It was as if they were trying to chase the doctor away, but he kept approaching until the motorcar's engine died down and his heavy footsteps echoed around the house. There was a knock at the door as my eyes watched a small white bird on a branch of a tree, my mind absent. The heavy footsteps approached further inside, and I turned my head to look up at the doctor.
âHello, Miss Harold.â He said with an easy smile on his lips, holding his satchel bag in both hands. He didnât wear a coat today, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His nape was sweaty as the top buttons were unbuttoned. The heat had finally gotten to him, it could get rather cruel in this part of the county.
âHello, Doctor Jeong.â The smile came easily to my face. Despite only meeting him yesterday, my heart wasnât racing like before. Perhaps it was the absence of his leather tool bag and the fact that the man was so young and innocent-looking. Before we could proceed, however, there was a knock at the door.
âDoctor Jeong,â Karinaâs unmistakable voice called out with a shake to it, âWould you like some tea before you start yourâŠexamination?â
âThe heat is already killing me, but thank you.â He declined with a gentle flick of his wrist, yet Karina lingered in the doorway. She was only looking at the doctor, her favourite dress ironed out and tightly cinched at the waist. I turned in my seat and watched her with amusement. She wasnât subtle at all.
âMay I help you?â The doctor asked, sounding confused as Karina stood still and slightly jumped, looking down abashed.
âNo, Iâm sorry.â Then she finally departed, closing the door behind her as Doctor Jeong had asked. I slowly looked up at the handsome doctor, finding his eyes with ease as his spectacles were close to slipping off his nose again.
âWonât you sit, Doctor?â I pointed towards the chair, which was placed a decent distance away from mine, just by the other door. The breeze had picked up into a strong wind now, it blew inside and rattled the sheer curtains. I welcomed it with closed eyes while the doctor settled in, the rustling of paper caught my attention as I slowly fluttered my eyes open once again. It was silent for a second as I looked at the doctor, who was already watching me. His pouty lips were parted and his ears seemed to be red. As my eyes travelled all over his fair skin, I noticed the glint of something silver underneath his white shirt. It appeared to be a necklace, and once he leaned forward to retrieve a pencil from his satchel bag, I spotted a silver cross hanging off it. He really was a believer, then.
âDid you want to sit here?â The doctor asked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. I hummed, clasping my hands together in my lap as the tremors slightly subsided. My heart was at ease, it finally wasnât frantic like during breakfast and my walk in the gardens.
âYes, I find nature most beautiful during this time,â I answered the doctor, turning my head to gaze at the white hydrangeas. Their scent was so strong I could almost taste it in my mouth.
âSo, you like storms, Miss Harold?â The doctor asked and I chuckled, turning my head away when there was lightning in the distance.
âNo, doctor, Iâm terrified of storms.â I smiled as the doctor paused, he was jotting down my words in his notebook, I came to realise. He quirked an eyebrow, so I continued, âMy father died saving me after I had fallen off the ship, the storm was terrible.â
The doctor hummed, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as he quickly noted what I had just said, âAre you afraid of water, then?â
âNo,â I shook my head, our eyes meeting and staying locked as if we had been hypnotised by each other, âIâm only afraid of the destruction a storm can cause, even on land.â
âHave you seen many of those?â
âYes, our neighboursâ barn was destroyed just last month, it was terrible.â
âHave you helped him?â
âAs much as a woman can help, yes, I offered them my servants to help rebuild the barn.â
âThen youâre caring.â
âI suppose, if you say so, Doctor.â
âDo you not consider yourself a caring person, Miss Harold?â I smiled, watching the doctorâs expression even out as his pencil pressed a hole into the thin paper of his notebook.
âAs a doctor, do you care for your patients?â I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious since I hadnât met anyone like him. If he dissected the mind, he must care for his patients, no?
âWithin the limitations of my oath and law, yes, I do care for them.â Then the doctor seemed to consider his next words, licking his lips as his eyes bore into mine. They were wide and dark, and it was easy to get lost in them, âAll I wish is to do is find a cure for them, to see them walk free of their shackles.â
âCan you cure madness, Doctor Jeong?â My voice sounded small, almost afraid. The doctorâs eyebrows furrowed as he averted his eyes, messily scribbling something down in his notebook. As I peeked at it, I realised the alphabet I was familiar with blended with one I did not know. Perhaps it was his mother tongue, then.
âEvery person has a trigger, Miss Harold, if I find yours, I can cure it.â Then, he bit his bottom lip, and the added words were silent, âIf youâll let me.â
Silence stretched on, and I felt my heart race for the first time since I had seen the doctor today. It was unsettling, I felt my cheeks warm up. The redness from the doctorâs ears seemed to spread down towards his neck and chest, I wondered if his skin was as smooth as it looked at first glance. Then, without considering my next words, I let the truth slip past my chapped lips.
âI want to be free, sir, I donât want to live like this for the rest of my life.â I had been young when I was convicted. My fate could have been much worse, but the men my father had been once acquittanced with owed him one, so they came to my aid. My sentence was very generous, the judge deemed me mad and unfit to be locked up in a womenâs penitentiary, and instead, I was bound to constant surveillance for the rest of my life. Even when I slept, Matilda was there with me. Or my mother when the maid was too tired to continue keeping watch.
The doctor wetted his lips again, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The pencil was clutched tightly between his long fingers, and his tone had dropped lower too, âI can rid you of your burden if youâre honest with me, Miss Harold, I can set you free. But for that, you have to tell me everything that happened and made you do what you did.â
âWhy wonât you say it, Doctor? Have you not read the reports? I was the talk of the whole town, still am, actually.â
âSomething isnât right about the reports, have you been truthful in your testimony?â
âWouldnât I be breaching the law if I wasnât?â
âPeople lie all the time, Miss Harold.â
âMay God forgive me for my sins, then, Doctor Jeong.â
A vein in the doctorâs forehead bulged as his jawline strained, mouth open but no words leaving his pretty lips. He huffed, then leaned back in the chair, eyebrows furrowing deeply as he wrote messily in the notebook once again. I smiled as I watched him, his black hair fell into his eyes as he looked down. His spectacles threatened to slide down his nose altogether, and I itched to fix it for him.
âLetâs start at the beginning, then, shall we?â The doctorâs tone had turned uncharacteristically soft as if he was talking to a frightened child. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked up once again and I gulped, feeling unsettled under his sudden undivided attention. His left palm pressed into the side of his thigh, his fingers tapping his black slacks rhythmically. I gulped, then nodded.
âWhat would you like to know about me, Doctor Jeong?â
âTell me about your childhood. Your likes and dislikes, who is most dear to you and why. Have you loved before? Do you feel lonely now? Just tell me everything that crosses your mind.â
He wanted to know everything about me. It felt unravelling, dangerous. He had said my secrets would remain with him, would he note them down in the language only he spoke? Or would he tell the committee right after he was finished with his examination? Taking a deep breath, I turned my head to gaze outside once again, my lungs deflating as I exhaled long and loud. The lightning was closer now, the little birds were nowhere to be seen. Something coiled in my guts as my fatherâs face flashed behind my eyes, his warm smile and his kind tone still so present in my mind. If he were still here, perhaps nothing wouldâve happened. There would be no Karina and Mr. Brooks, I wouldnât be condemned for life.
âMuch like I am afraid of storms, Doctor Jeong, Iâm afraid of solace. It hadnât always been like this, while my father was alive, I had never felt alone for even a second. Heâd take me to the woods on horseback, weâd pluck flowers for my mother and heâd teach me everything he knew about the fauna and the poisonous mushrooms. Heâd read stories for me before bedtime, and he had even taught me how to read. He was my favourite person, now itâs my mother and Matilda. Sheâs a young maid, we had found her hiding in the stable last winter. She was almost frozen to death, I thought I might be giving her a second chance at life if I took her in as my personal maid. She doesnât speak much and I canât tell whether she hates me or not, but I know she loves it when I take her on walks in the garden. I think sheâs a little bit like me. Out there, in nature, we can both pretend to be free, just two girls roaming between flowers and giggling about the future.â The doctorâs hand seemed to be moving with my words, it was as if he tried to capture and note down everything I said. For that sole reason, I didnât speak quickly, I let the words settle both in his mind and on his paper.
âI suppose my childhood isnât anything special, I come from an aristocratic family, you must imagine what it was like. I was raised to have good manners and bow in front of men, but not without having an opinion and a mouth to voice them with. My father had been a fair man, he and my mother had always made every decision together, so he raised me to find a man who sees me as his equal and his other half. There had been moments when I had rebelled, I think that is only normal, but I was never a moody or explosive child. You can ask my mother about that, sheâll tell you so too.â I said as the doctor nodded along to my words, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I took a deep breath and watched his face as I continued talking, âThere was only one thing I loved as much as I loved my father, and it was ballet. But that, too, was taken away after I was admitted to the asylum. Ever since then, I havenât touched my pointe shoes. I had even asked Matilda to hide them deep inside my closet, my heart breaks anytime I catch a glimpse of them.â
A lump formed in my throat just from speaking about it, I could feel tears in my eyes as I watched the tree branches move violently with the strong wind. The willow tree looked gorgeous in the wake of the storm, and I wished nothing but to step under it and close my eyes, let the wind destroy my bun and rip the fresh daisies out of my hair. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dark flashes of memories I had tried to forget so badly. The asylum was a cursed place, filled with evil people who only caused more harm. I hated it and everyone that was associated with it. I could feel the doctorâs eyes on me, and he gulped, inhaling sharply. I glanced at him, and he looked amazed for some reason.
âCan you tell me about the asylum, Miss Harold?â My muscles tensed despite the doctorâs soft tone, and my heart started racing painfully in my chest. I thought wringing my fingers tighter together would stop the tremors from worsening, but it didnât. I felt lightheaded as my own shrill screams echoed in my ears, but I couldnât speak. My bottom lip shook as I took a breath through my mouth, and shook my head frantically, âAlright, itâs alright, Miss Harold. We wonât speak of it, take deep breaths.â
The doctor leaned forward in his seat and I rigidly turned to face him, my eyes wide in fear as I waited for him to strike. Maybe his mask would finally slip, maybe the tools were hidden inside his satchel bag. The notebook, his scribbling, my storiesâŠmaybe they were all just distractions. And yet, the doctorâs eyes remained kind and ridden with worry as he seemed to breathe through his mouth as well, as if he was mirroring my actions. I closed my eyes as the first thunder shook the ground, and inhaled deeply, keeping the air in my lungs until I couldnât no more. I released the shuddered breath and opened my eyes again, only to see the doctor gulp, loudly. His pupils were dilated and made his eyes seem completely black, his fair cheeks flushed deeply as his long fingers tightened around his pencil once again.
âPerhaps we should end the examination here, Doctor Jeong.â My voice was strained as I gulped around nothing, âThe storm is here. You should head home before it worsens.â
As if nature had agreed with me, the air filled with electricity as lightning struck not far away, the thunder loud and following shortly after. Doctor Jeongâs jaw tightened, but he nodded, humming approvingly. He swiped his bottom lip with his thumb before he grabbed his satchel bag, adjusting his spectacles as they did slip off the slope of his nose. Thunder wracked the earth again as a colder breeze billowed past us, ruffling my dress and the hair that had fallen out of my bun. It also moved Doctor Jeongâs messy hair, jelled back and out of his eyes in an attempt to make him look classy. As the doctor stood, slipping the notebook inside his satchel bag too, I mirrored him, smoothing down my dress.
âI call what we do here sessions, Miss Harold, and not examination.â The smile was easy on his lips and I hummed, flinching when the wind slammed the grand door of the tea room against the wall. Perhaps it was time to close them, âI shall see you tomorrow?â
âOf course, Doctor Jeong, please take care on your way home.â My eyebrows furrowed in worry as Doctor Jeong nodded, opening his mouth to say something just as the door to the tea room was yanked open. The man in the doorway was unfamiliar, but he looked worried.
âMr Jeong, we should go now if we donât want to be stranded somewhere on the road during the storm.â He must be the doctorâs driver, then. My mother appeared behind the driver, looking as worried as if the doctor was her own child.
âWe have guest rooms, Doctor, you could always stay.â My mother was a kind and loving woman, her intentions hardly questionable, âI would hate it if something were to happen to you.â
âThank you, Mrs. Harold, but I shall be on my way.â Doctor Jeong smiled widely, then faced me once again, and bowed his head much like yesterday. Perhaps it was their custom to take farewell like that, so, I bowed back to him. The doctorâs eyes widened for a second before his smile widened just slightly, and then he and his diver were gone, my motherâs expression was worried as she watched them leave from the front porch. Big droplets of water started falling from the dark clouds, and I quickly closed the grand doors as Matilda rushed inside to assist me. The rhythmic fall of the rain was a glaring reminder of my irregularly fast heartbeat.
The eyes were windows to oneâs soul, or so Yunho had been taught. He had dealt with many cases during his practice period, and now as a certified psychiatrist, he had gained even more popularity in the West. He had no choice but to move at a young age, the world was an ever-changing place. He was young and curious, he wished to explore and find people that needed his expertise. But there was something so mesmerising about her eyes which left him unravelled and flustered like nothing else. Her words dripped with honey, and Yunho could swear he heard angels singing, accompanying her soft tone whenever she told stories. He was captivated. He ached to write down every single word she uttered, he felt desperate to pick apart her brain, to look inside it, to fix her. He was desperate to understand what had triggered her manic episode, he was desperate to tell the committee that she was innocent. But he was a doctor first and foremost, and his job forbade him from any personal attachment towards his patients. But whenever he looked into her icy blue eyes, the breeze brushing the fallen copper strands of her hair against her sun-kissed cheeks, he felt his very own soul stir and reach out in desperation to connect with hers, to possess it. She was a madwoman, and he was a man desperate to stay sane in her company.
           Another thing I completely wished to be free of was dinners, where I was forced to sit with my so-called happy family. The bags under Mr Brooks's eyes had been getting darker and darker lately, and the creases in his forehead were an obvious sign that something was worrying him. But it wasnât my place to ask questions, so I continued to silently notice the small changes in his mood and behaviour. He had stopped pampering Karina, which was completely unheard of, and she was loud and clear with her complaints. She had wanted a silk nightgown just last week, but her father had denied her of it. He didnât mention the cause, he only said she already has more than enough nightgowns. The clinking of silverware gave me something to focus on as my eyes were cast on the brussels sprouts on my plate, pushing around it as I didnât enjoy their bitter taste. But Mrs Humphrey had cooked dinner with love, so I didnât want to leave anything on my plate tonight. The silence around the table was broken as my mother grabbed her glass of wine, her kind eyes settling on me.
âY/N, my dear, how are your examinations going?â I paused, feeling everyoneâs eyes in the dining room on me. I gulped down the food I had in my mouth and tapped with a napkin at my lips, letting my hands fall in my lap as I hummed. Doctor Jeongâs words rang clearly in my mind, what we were doing was called sessions.
âThey are called sessions, âma, and they are going well,â I spoke gently, hoping sheâd find my words reassuring. I knew she was constantly worrying about me, always fussing and around thinking I wouldnât notice. I might be absent-minded a lot these days, but Iâm mostly aware of my surroundings still. Mr Brooks nodded once, looking pleased as he wolfed down the steak Mrs Humphrey had made to be spicey, just like Mr Brooks liked it.
âThat is lovely to hear,â My mother beamed at me, meanwhile Karina scoffed under her breath, âDo you find communication with the doctor difficult, perhaps? Or is everything clear between you two?â
Mr. Brooks nodded along, one eyebrow raised as he watched me curiously. I adjusted myself in my chair and plastered on a little smile, âDoctor Jeong is well-versed and rather attentive. He notes down everything I say in his notebook, and meanwhile, I have noticed he scribbles along in his mother tongue as well, I find no difficulties understanding him. Heâs coherent and speaks English as if he was born around here.â
âThatâs a very reassuring thing to hear, my dear.â Mr Brooks spoke up with a smile, the corners of his lips tugging up. Karinaâs jawline was set tight as she let her fork clamper down loudly against her plate, her eyebrows raised mockingly.
âWhy are we letting her spend time alone with that doctor, again? How is that helping her?â Her tone was high-pitched, filled with blatant jealousy that Mr Brooks and my mother remained oblivious to.
âSweetheart, weâve discussed this already,â Mr Brooks said with a tired sigh, giving his daughter a disapproving look, âY/N needs a new medical approach, and Doctor Jeong is the best in this field. He came all the way here from South Korea when he was still just an apprentice. Iâve read up on him, heâs solved cases of mass hysteria and other mental issues no doctor could even come close to. Letâs not have this conversation again, Karina.â
Mr Brooks was mostly calling me insane to my face, but his words held no malice and I knew his intentions were pure. I couldnât resent him for wanting to find a cure for me, something that could finally fix me. He had no obligation to look out for me like this, I wasnât his daughter by blood, yet he had only treated me with kindness and understanding my whole life. He was a good man, perhaps a bit too absent from the household, but I could see in his eyes that he loved my mother dearly, and that was more than enough for me to accept him into our home. He couldnât replace my father, but he filled the void that sometimes got too much.
âI think she just needs attention,â Karina hissed under her breath as she slammed her fist on the table, making the maids behind her jump, âWhat are you waiting for, stupid cunts?! My glass is empty!â
âKarina,â My mother muttered, her eyebrows pulled together as she gave her a displeased look while the poor maid scurried to fill Karinaâs glass with wine, âA lady shouldnât use such vulgar language, nonetheless in front of her elders.â
âYeah, whatever Mrs Harold.â She scoffed as she glared at the maid, taking big gulps of her wine. I watched with distaste, catching Leiaâs gaze for a split second. Her eyes were tear-filled and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking up, it would only start an argument I didnât have the mental capacity for right now. But Karina wasnât done as her sharp gaze fell on me, her tone harsh when she spoke again, âI know you enjoy spending time with the doctor alone, it makes you fantasize, doesnât it? Youâre just playing with him like with everyone else around you, sister, arenât you? How long do you reckon until you get him riled up enough to get underneath your skirtsââ
âKarina!â Mr Brooks's voice was loud and stern, his eyes set on his daughter with disgust in them, âHow dare you say such things to your sister? In front of me and her mother, nonetheless! You should be ashamed, is this who I raised you to be?!â
Karina chuckled, humourless, âRight, father, you didnât raise me at all, perhaps that is why I am like this. Maybe you shouldnât have admitted mother into an asylum because she didnât know how to silence a crying baby, hm?â
The silence that settled over the table made my skin crawl. If anyone wouldâve dropped a pin, everyone couldâve heard it in the dining room. I released a shaky breath, the tremors worsening as Mr Brooks seemed to be struggling with containing his rage in front of my mother. Her mouth was open and a hand pressed against it, eyes shaking with pain and incredulity as she looked between Karina and her second husband. I took a deep breath and pushed my chair back, grabbing my plate to try and stabilise myself, to stay in the present. Eyes fell on me, and before Leia could come to approach me, I shook my head with a small smile, âIâll let Mrs Humphrey know she outdid herself once again, then I will be retreating for bed. Matilda will accompany me, sleep well tonight, mother.â
As I left the dining room, I heard Mr Brooks weakly whisper a good night, then Karinaâs sobs as she raced up the stairs, slamming the door to her room loudly. The chatter and good mood died down the second the kitchen door swung open, Leia following inside after me. Mrs Humphrey looked concerned when she noticed me holding my plate and went to stand up and take it from me, but I quickly shook my head.
âNo, stay seated, Mrs Humphrey, dinner is absolutely delicious.â I said with a smile, and the other servants and maids seemed to relax as well, âWould you mindâŠif I finished my dinner here, with you?â
âOh, come here, my dear.â Mrs Humphreyâs frown was deep as she beckoned me over, making space for me between herself and our butler, Jesper. He was still a young boy, his eyes filled with a youthful spark, full of life and happiness. He offered me a small smile and placed mushrooms filled with cheese on my plate, knowing I loved them. I chuckled and thanked him, then looked over the table and realised I felt most comfortable when around these people. They were simple, they were happy, and they made the most of their days. They were free, away from societyâs judgemental eyes, and they lacked the prejudice the other aristocrats hadnât even tried to hide around me. I felt like I belonged at this table, and as the happy chatter picked up again and Jesper made small talk with me, with Carla eagerly interjecting sometimes, I could feel my tense muscles relax and the void in my chest disappear. For a little while only, while I was still at this table, enjoying my dinner with the people who looked at me as if I was just a human too.
           The doctor was quickly growing on me. I couldnât trust him, not yet, it would be too soon. Itâs been only a week since he started visiting me for our sessions, but I started believing that he wasnât playing a character when around me. He was genuine, his eyes sparkled curiously with each question he asked, his frown was always worried and it downturned his pretty pouty lips, and when he smiled, something warm seemed to flood my chest. I could only compare it to the sun, for I have never felt such warmth when gazing upon a man before. Not even when suitors were lining up in front of our house, asking for a chance at marrying me. The doctor was considerate and kind, he hung on to my every word. It was his profession, I knew he was only doing his job, but I couldnât help but imagine he was a man interested in me, his notebooks filled with poems and sketches of me. It was a far-fetched fantasy, but it managed to warm my cheeks anytime I dwelled on it.
I was out in the back garden as I found myself thinking about the doctor again, excited to see him today as well. We had left off at a rather culminating point of my story yesterday, I wondered if he was as eager as I was to hear the rest of it. Matilda wasnât feeling well today, and as my mother was in town, Carla was the one supervising me. I didnât mind the change, she was a chatty girl and easily kept me from detaching from reality. Here, in the garden, as I thumbed at the leaves of the flowers, Carla was still speaking about an encounter with a fairy. A supposed fairy as she believed in God and deemed the little creatures spawns of evil.
âTell me, young miss, do you believe it was Satan sending those fairies my way?â Carlaâs voice was full of wonder, âHave I done something bad to attract his attention to me?â
âI donât believe so, Carla.â I answered her quietly, my eyes following a bee as it flew from flower to flower, âYou go to church every Sunday.â
âPerhaps I should go from now on every Wednesday and Sunday, too.â Carla huffed, hands on her hips as she tried avoiding the bee that was flying towards her. I chuckled, straightening up. The scent of the hydrangeas was familiar as I closed my eyes, inhaling it deeply into my lungs so that they would stay there for a long time.
âI donât believe fairies are inherently evil, Carla.â I mused as the breeze brushed upon my cheeks, already flushed from the great heat. My dress was thin and simple, I couldnât wear pompous dresses during summertime, they were too hot. I would often feel lightheaded from the strong sun, the thick dresses would only make me faint. The white fabric was soft against my skin, and the white ribbons brushed against my nape as my hair was pulled into two small buns at the base of my neck. I couldâve performed on stage looking like this, but even so much as looking at my pointe shoes wouldâve hurt my soul. I didnât let the memories resurface despite the sudden melancholia that wished to break through my emotions, âFairies are small creatures that protect nature, maybe you had done something they didnât approve of. Did you disrespect their land, perhaps? Or did you step on a flower they had blessed before? Fairies are territorial beings, and they are also quite vengeful. But if you ask Father Leon to bless you after service, Iâm sure youâll be just fine, Carla.â
The scoff that followed my words wasnât coming from Carla. I didnât open my eyes as I became aware of heavier footsteps approaching, I had completely missed the engine of his motorcar. I felt Karina stop behind me, but I turned my head towards the sun, basking in it. I couldnât touch the celestial without burning to a crisp, but perhaps the one it had sent to me in human form was really here to save me. A clear of throat made me blink my eyes open, and I turned to look over my shoulder.
âIf you have nothing else but fairies to talk about, then I donât see why Doctor Jeong should entertain your madness any longer.â Karinaâs eyes narrowed at me, âYou belong in an asylum, sister.â
I smiled, a little amused, as an ugly grimace appeared on Carlaâs face upon Karinaâs comment. The maid made to open her mouth, which wouldâve landed her in trouble, but the doctor beat her to it, âThank you for walking me here, Miss Brooks. But Iâd like to be left alone with Miss Harold, now.â
âRight,â Karina muttered, shooting me a jealous stare, âShe gets to have you all to herself, as always.â
Then, she turned around and raised her skirt above her ankles to storm off. Carla nodded her head and followed after Karina, not in a hurry so that the woman wouldnât pick a fight with Carla as well. The doctor sighed, pushing his small glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking a little bit bewildered. Then, he looked at me and the crease from his forehead disappeared. I was already smiling at him, my hands behind my back to hide the bad tremors. I had felt faint all day, but the doctor was here finally and I could finally take my first breath of fresh air of the day. I couldnât help but smile widely at him, and watch as the flush from his ears quickly travelled down to his chest. Even more buttons of his loose white shirt were undone, the silver cross sitting against his chest now glinting under the sunlight. His trousers were high-waisted and the shirt was tucked neatly into it, a leather belt pulled around his waist. And there, in his right hand, was something white. I tilted my head in wonder as I looked at it, curious about what it was. The doctor liked bringing small gifts, mostly silly, but memorable.
âHello, Doctor Jeong,â I spoke up, and the doctor released a loud breath.
âHello, Miss Harold.â His voice shook slightly, then his fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel bag, âHere, I have something for you.â
Then he extended his right hand out towards me, and my eyes widened in surprise. I could tell the ballerina was made out of a napkin, I hadnât seen anything like it before. My hands shook despite trying to ease the tremors, and my fingers hesitantly curled around the present as our skin brushed together. The doctorâs cheeks flushed rapidly, and I found myself unable to look into his warm eyes. I wondered if it was the heat that made our hands so clammy. I looked at the ballerina in my hands, melancholy overtaking me once again. I longed to dance around in the garden, Mrs Humphrey and my mother as my audience now that my father was gone, but it only brought back bad memories. I was too faint to twirl around now, my legs werenât as strong as they once used to be. I would fall even before doing my first pirouette, it was depressing.
âHow are you feeling today, Miss Harold?â
âFaint, but itâs from the heat, Doctor Jeong.â
We stood unmoving, our eyes boring into each otherâs. I didnât want to move to the tea room just yet, perhaps I longed to sit under the willow tree. The doctor made no moves, and so I said nothing about heading for the house. We were in eyesight if anyone were to look through the kitchen window, and we werenât doing anything wrong.
âThank you for the gift, Doctor Jeong, did you make it yourself?â I asked with round eyes, unable to keep the smile off my lips. The doctor flushed darker and averted his eyes, thumbing at his wet bottom lip.
âYes, I thought it would cheer you up. I hope I wasnât wrong.â His tone was tender and just a little hesitant, the doctor was almost cute like this.
âIt did cheer me up, sir, I was thinking about ballet just now.â I paused, and waited for the doctor to look up into my eyes, âIt seems you can already read my mind, I wonder how you do that.â
The doctor smiled, his forehead exposed as his dark strands were brushed away from his eyes, âWe are making progress, then, reading your mind isnât as easy as one might think.â
âAnd why is that?â I asked curiously, fiddling with the napkin in my hands.
âBecause itâs very complex, you like to speak in riddles, and you evade most of my questions.â Then the doctor chuckled and I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes in embarrassment, âYouâre cunning, but Iâm good at catching all the little hidden messages.â
I grinned at the doctorâs words, my suspicions confirmed. I knew I could play around with him, he seemed like a very smart man. Hearing he could read between the lines was more than satisfying. My heart skipped a beat, but it didnât start racing like before.
âDo you like hydrangeas, Doctor?â
âTheir scent is too intense for my liking, but they are pretty flowers, Miss Harold.â
âThey symbolise purity and gratitude, even vanity in some cases.â
âWhat do they mean in your case, then?â
âGratitude, Doctor Jeong, towards you.â Our eyes met again as I looked away from the white flowers, a sudden calmness settling upon my racing thoughts, âI hope the end of my story will be satisfying to you.â
The doctor gulped, loudly, then motioned towards the house, âWould you like to continue inside? Did you remember something of importance, perhaps?â
âCan we sit under the willow tree?â I raised an eyebrow, âMrs Humphrey can see us from the kitchen if thatâs of worry to you.â
âSure, if youâll feel comfortable.â The doctor nodded, fishing for his notebook and pencil as I hummed, leading us down the pebbled path, the willow tree was just by the end of it. The territory the house resided on came with a small pond, I liked watching the still water while sitting by the trunk of the willow tree. The doctor followed after me quietly, and he watched me settle down into the green grass, dress splaying out around me. It had ridden slightly up, exposing my shins as I pulled them underneath myself. The doctor seemed to be frozen, eyes glued to where my legs had been just seconds ago. Then, he gulped loudly and settled down next to me. He sat a little closer compared to the usual distance between our chairs, but his presence was soothing. I smiled as I faced him, eyes falling on his long fingers as he got comfortable, opening his notebook to where we had left off yesterday.
âI donât remember anything new, doctor, but we havenât reached that part of the story yet.â I smiled, then turned my head to gaze out at the pond, âWould you like to hear what happens next?â
The doctor exhaled, âYou told me this noble boy barged inside your house in the middle of the night? He mustâve been madly in love with you to do such a thing.â
I chuckled, eyes focusing on the dragonflies above the pond, âI suppose he was at one point, yes. But men are easily converted, I find love like my mother and father had once shared hard to find, doctor. Our love didnât last long, but Iâm getting ahead of myself. It was a cold spring evening and he had been visiting, drinking with Mr Brooks to ask for permission to marry me. My mother was present too, of course, but she couldnât say much against Mr Brookâs words. In the end, the proposal was accepted and the man left, only to come barging inside hours later.â
âWhy did he do that?â
âBecause he was drunk, and because he had something to say.â
âDid you hear him out?â
I chuckled, facing the doctor. His eyes were wide as he was watching me, pencil pressing against the white paper, âYes, I did hear him out, but his words made no sense. He said something about a lavished lifestyle and a farmhouse, and something about being happy together even in a later age, it was endearing but very inadequate.â
âSo, what did you do, then?â The doctor wasnât even writing down what I was saying, it made me chuckle. The corner of his lips lifted subconsciously, he looked amused too.
âNothing, I just kicked him out and told him to come back when heâs sober. His drunken words meant nothing to me. I did not want to marry a man who made foolish confessions in an inebriated state of mind, besides, he was a gentleman. He should have known better than to barge inside a ladyâs home well past midnight, no, Doctor Jeong?â I quirked an eyebrow, my question seemed to snap the doctor out of his staring. He cleared his throat and looked down at his notebook, pausing for a few seconds before he jotted something down. I couldnât read it, it was in a foreign language.
âN-noâI mean, yes, Miss Harold. That was rather inappropriate of him, I must imagine the discomfort he had created for you.â He had barely finished his sentence when a giggle bubbled past my lips.
âOn the contrary, Doctor Jeong.â I grinned, ducking my head down to hide my amusement as confusion crossed the doctorâs features, âIt was the most fun Iâve had in a while. Mrs Humphrey, my mother, and I had stayed up for hours giggling about it afterwards. We even made jokes about it and Mrs Humphrey let us drink her very secret brew that tastes like flowers but could knock out even a sailor with just two jugs. I have no idea what it is, but itâs very strong.â
The doctorâs eyes were filled with awe as I laughed, memories of easier times never failing to bring me in a good mood. It wouldâve been easier like this, if things stayed put and if Karina wouldnât have meddled with everything. I have faced hardships before, but having the person I considered my sister to betray me had stung like none other. In the end, neither one of us got what we wanted, just a lot of animosity and a tension-filled relationship. Sometimes I wanted to ask Karina if all of it was worth it, but I knew not to entertain an already greedy person.
âAnd how does this memory make you feel now?â Doctor Jeongâs tone was airy, and he wasnât looking at me as he was scribbling in his notebook. I pondered for a second before I placed my hands on the grass, gripping it tightly between my fingers. Sometimes the tremors stopped when I grabbed something too hard.
âBittersweet, but mostly happy. Iâm grateful I was able to experience all of that at least once in my lifetime, others arenât as lucky as I am. I am well aware of that.â The doctor nodded along as I spoke, but then he paused writing and looked at me with a frown.
âAnd when you think of that man? How does he make you feel, Miss Harold?â I gulped, not having expected that question. But it was easy to answer, Iâve pondered many times over this specific question, there wasnât anything the doctor could surprise me with anymore. I smiled softly but knew the doctor could feel the shift in my mood.
âMostly angry that I wasted years on that man when I couldâve found someone more decent, more loving.â Then I shrugged and watched as the doctor licked his lips, adjusting his spectacles on his nose, âDo you believe that God has everything planned for us, Doctor?â
âMostly, yes, but we have enough free will to change the direction of our lives.â The doctor answered, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. I hummed, plucking the grass from the ground forcefully. My knuckles ached from how hard I had gripped onto it.
âYou canât run from what is meant for you, Doctor Jeong, we wouldâve never met if I wouldnât have gone mad.â But Doctor Jeong didnât seem to be too convinced by my words. He chewed on his bottom lip, sweat rolling down between his pecks. I gulped, then averted my eyes from his exposed fair skin, and instead focused on his beautiful round brown eyes, âAre you glad we got to meet?â
The manâs eyes widened at my forward question, but I meant no harm nor did I have questionable reasons to ask such a thing. The doctor cleared his throat, playing with the pencil in his hands as he thought his answer over, âIâll be glad once you are back to being yourself, until then, I cannot allow myself to feel any sort of satisfaction.â
âDonât you think my madness is part of me, now?â I muttered, gazing off towards the house. The curtain in the kitchen moved, but I knew it wasnât Mrs Humphrey. She was out in town with my mother at this hour. Doctor Jeong inhaled sharply, then closed his notebook loudly. The paper made a noisy sound, making me look over to him. The man looked aggravated as if my question had bothered him immensely, but I was merely curious about how he viewed me.
âPerhaps we should continue tomorrow, Miss Harold, and we must proceed with the story. The committee is pressing me with questions, they are very curious to hear the full story.â The doctor was avoiding my question, that was unusual. He stood, brushed the dirt off his trousers, then hastily grabbed his satchel bag and clumsily placed the notebook and his pencil inside.
âThank you for indulging with me, Doctor Jeong.â I looked up at him, and had to shield my eyes from the sun, âI love sitting under the willow tree.â
âI will keep that in mind, Miss Harold, have a nice afternoon.â The doctor then bowed his head and I mirrored his actions, then he was rushing back towards the house, looking a little rigid. Karina stood in the doorway to the tea room, a tray filled with cookies and lemonade in her hands, but Doctor Jeong merely nodded at her and left the house in haste. Karinaâs glare could be felt even from the distance, and I gently stood to head back inside, keeping the arrangement in mind. I wasnât supposed to be unsupervised, I knew Carla would be in the laundry room if she had nothing else to do.
Yunho couldnât sleep. He kept reading over and over his notes, all the small hidden messages making his head ache. His stomach growled in hunger, but he was physically unable to stand from his study and ask the housekeeper to prepare dinner for him. The girl was frail, she was soft-spoken but witty. She liked to keep him on his toes, and she was great at making him lose track of what was most important. He felt like he was making no progress, yet the committee kept pressing him for an answer. Father Louis was understanding enough not to ambush him with questions daily, but the rest of the officials werenât. They wanted a diagnosis of Miss Harold already, they didnât want to understand that Yunho couldnât give his verdict in anything but a week. Building trust took time, getting to hear the unfiltered truth from someone who loved to play with her words took patience. Yunho was a patient person, but he wondered how long he had until heâd break. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt as if she was watching him, standing over him, smiling at him. Her skin was sun-kissed and sometimes her cheeks were burnt from staying out in the sun for too long, but Yunho knew her skin would be soft. When he had twisted and turned his napkin into shapes, absentmindedly, he realised he had made a ballerina out of it. Thus, he had made his first mistake as a professional. He had allowed himself to sympathise with Miss Harold. He had allowed himself to notice her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and that she smelled an awful lot like those hydrangeas that Yunho was allergic to. And he had allowed himself to notice the tremors of her hands, making him yearn to hold her frail hands between his with the hopes of soothing her nerves. Yunho wondered if she yearned for him like she had yearned for her once lover.
           The clouds were almost black as they expanded over the horizon. The wind was too cold for us to keep the grand doors of the tea room open, so they remained closed as I sat on the soft sofa, gazing out through the glass. Matilda had left the curtains undrawn for me, and a few scented candles were lit to ease my muscles' tension. I couldnât focus lately, these past three days my mood had quickly reclined. I know the doctor had noticed it too, but he didnât prod more than it would be considered rude. I was reluctant to tell him the cause of my moroseness, he wasnât here to listen to me weep about how unfairly Karina treated me. She had been ruthless these past three days. I knew she had a vendetta against me, but ever since the doctor started coming here, she had been progressively getting worse and worse. I could handle it until I couldnât. If I ignored her and got lost in a deep spot in the back of my mind filled with happy memories, I would end up with a backhanded slap to my face. If I talked back and stood my ground, I would only fuel her fire, giving her power over me. Karina was clever, she knew when to strike. If my mother was around us, she was an angel. If the servants were watching, sheâd be sharp and arrogant towards me. If Mr. Brooks was present, she didnât bother hiding her disdain, but she wasnât as straightforward as around the servants.
She didnât hold back one bit if it was just the two of us. My eyes were lost on the gloomy visage, eyes tracking the swaying vines of the willow tree. It was even more beautiful in the eyes of the storm, I couldâve stared at it for hours on end. My mind was silent like this, absent of all the turbulent thoughts that shook me to my core and kept me up at night, when Matilda, poor girl, struggled to stay up and look over me. Just last night, she had fallen asleep, and I was grateful because I had a moment to myself where I could secretly slip away and walk through the gardens in hopes of clearing my mind. It wasnât a smart decision, however, because I couldnât remember anything after I stepped through the threshold of the house. I just know sometime later I was gasping for air as my arms were restricted and my throat was scratchy, Mr Brooks desperately trying to hold down my trashing body. My white nightgown was dirty with mud and the ends of it were dripping wet with pond water. It wasnât foreign that I would lose consciousness if something lay heavily on my chest and gnawed at my thoughts, but it had been long since I had lost track of myself so deeply. Not since the incident, at least.
And Karina was enjoying it, her lips pulled into a nasty smirk as my mother cried by my side, asking Matilda and Leia to bring cold towels and help me clean up. Mr Brooks had looked tired as he gently helped me back to my room and tucked me into bed, his eyes pained and suffering as if I was blood-related to him. His expression made me feel guilty for worrying not just my mother, but also him. I felt terrible, yet I couldnât control my mind or my body when these episodes happened. Even now, as I sat on the sofa waiting for the doctor to arrive, I felt lightheaded and on the brink of losing consciousness. My body felt light and heavy simultaneously, and I could feel my pulse in my neck. My lips felt chapped no matter how much tea I drank, and my throat was tight. I wanted to see the doctor, I needed to tell him why I had done what I had done. I had always been too afraid to confess the truth, not wanting to hurt my mother and break up the second family she cherished. But I also couldnât continue living like this, not when Karina prayed for my downfall. Her harsh words from yesterday were still fresh in my mind, and I had to blink the tears away for a second.
âI know youâre just a whore, desperate to find another man to toy with.â She had spat with flushed cheeks, a cup filled halfway with wine in her hand, âDo you seriously think that doctor wants to touch you? Youâre a deranged woman now, Y/N, nobody will want you. Not even Doctor Jeong Yunho, you whore. I wonât let you have him too, you always get what you wantâbut not this time, Y/N, mark my words.â
And just when I had thought she was done, she had marched up to me and grabbed me by the throat harshly, making me gasp, âIf he doesnât send you to an asylum, I will kill you myself, Y/N. Youâre an abomination and a disgrace, even your own mother hates you, whore.â
The knock at the door startled me, I had been lost deep in thought. I turned my head and noticed Matilda giving me a small smile, âYoung miss, the doctor is here to see you. Would you like me to prepare anything for you two?â
My heart skipped a beat, but I couldnât tell why. Perhaps because I knew heâd take my mind off things, even if I was forced to relive the past I tried to bury deep down, sequences I couldnât even remember anymore. Or, maybe, it was because I desperately wished to gaze upon his soft face, lose myself in his warm and round eyes peeking at me over his small spectacles. I couldnât decide which was the reason, but I needed his presence to calm my turbulent mind and body finally.
âThank you. I will welcome him inside, and you can take a break.â I stood up, hands balling into fists as nausea washed over me, âWe wonât need anything, but I hope you get some sleep, Matilda. Youâve been watching over me for three days.â
âThat is my duty, young miss.â Then she bowed her head before I could tell her she needed to take care of herself, and she took her leave. I smoothed down my long-sleeved dark blue dress now that the weather wasnât as warm as days ago. I hadnât pulled my hair into a bun today, even if it was not ladylike, I wished to feel my copper strands brushing against my cheeks when I moved my head. It shielded my face like a curtain if I didnât want to be seen, I hoped Doctor Jeong wouldnât mind.
Sucking in a deep breath and bracing myself, I left the tea room in search of the doctor, who should have been in the foyer, getting rid of his coat and dress shoes, but instead, he wasnât there. I paused for a second to listen for his voice, and a smile pulled at my lips when I realised he was in the living room. Perhaps we could hold our session inside there today, I could play the piano and show him my favourite piece, if that, of course, was deemed fine by the doctor. As my fingers brushed against the wooden door, about to push it further open, I realised the doctor wasnât alone. Karinaâs sweet giggles flooded the room before she continued speaking.
âSurely, Doctor. I am pleased to hear you do not burn yourself out by coming here daily. I can only imagine how tiring it must be to listen to my sister, sheâs rarely coherent. You must have noticed, given that you are a doctor, that she often has no idea where she is or who she is talking to. She tends to get lost in her own mind and blabber on about nonsense.â Karina then paused as my heart raced, my eyebrows furrowed in distaste, âShe looks completely normal upon first glance, but it quickly becomes obvious sheâsâwell, sheâs insane, you know?â
âIâm sorry, Miss Brooks, I cannot be discussing this with you.â Doctor Jeongâs voice was neutral, and cold, unlike the tone he used with me, âBut as a licensed doctor, given that I am one, I can tell when her surroundings influence her mood, or why she is in a bad headspace.â
Karina scoffed, sounding a little offended, âAre you insinuating anything right now, Doctor Jeong? I donât need a license to be able to tell that my sister is insane. How long until you realise sheâs just trying to trap you here, twirl you up into her web of lies and fantasies? If you think you can help a mad person, Doctor, I fear you should seek help too. Sheâs beyond help, sheâs desperate and pathetic, and as I have stated, sheâs madââ
âI am not mad!â Before I could stop myself, I let my anger take over me as I barged through the ajar room, âI am not insane, Karina, youâre always putting words in my mouth! Who has ruined everything I have ever had, huh?! You, you did, so donât call me your sister. I am not your sister, and I will never be, you filthy skank!â
Karina gasped loudly, her hand flying up to her mouth. The doctorâs eyes had widened too, clearly taken aback by my outburst. I had been soft-spoken and kind in front of him, careful to not show anything he could incriminate me with in front of the committee. Karina had gotten what she wanted all this time, I suppose. Now, the doctor would make an early report that wasnât favourable for me without even hearing the truth, or as much as I could remember of it. I gulped, feeling ashamed as tears filled my eyes, but I tried to keep myself from crying. Karina wailing like a banshee next to Doctor Jeong was more than humiliating enough to force me to keep myself in place.
âEnough,â The doctor snapped, his friendly and soft features morphing into something of anger and vexation. For a second, I thought it was directed towards me, but then he turned his head and his warm chocolate brown eyes fell on Karina, now sharp, âThis is the last time I let you off the hook, Miss Brooks. If you donât stop treating your sister so poorly, I will have to write you up on the board as the main suspect that causes Miss Haroldâs turbulent manic episodes to occur, is that what you want? Do you wish to also be psychologically evaluated? I can do that, I can get one of my colleagues to come out here and question you, but you might be surprised to find yourself deemed insane too.â
Doctor Jeongâs words visibly shook Karina as she crumbled into an armchair, fingers sinking into her hair as she shook her head at the doctor, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks pathetically. My heart was racing in my chest, the doctor was all I could see. His flushed cheeks from anger, his whitening knuckles around the strap of his satchel bag, his rapidly rising and falling chestâJeong Yunho had stood up for me, taken my side. He was my doctor, he was supposed to look out for me, but he wasnât obligated to protect me from claims that might be true. I didnât feel insane, I never had, but Karina might still be right. Maybe I was a danger to society and Doctor Jeong hadnât discovered why yet. It was only a matter of time until I exploded in his face, showing him my true colours. I had no idea what I was fully capable of, that part of my memory was still absent, but I could never forget the feeling of pure satisfaction and elation as I watched Karina lay on her back, gasping for air as blood trailed from her nose down to her mouth, chin, and then neck.
Doctor Jeong sighed loudly, his eyebrows furrowed as he licked his lips, shaking his head in almost disappointment at Karina. Then, he faced me and his features instantly softened. My heart raced again, and I hid my hands behind my back. Then, without many words, he came closer to me and nodded with his chin towards the stairs, âWould you mind if we skipped the tea room today, Iâd like a more private setting.â
I gulped, feeling lightheaded once again, âNo, the storm ruins the pretty visage either way.â
The doctor hummed as I turned around and took off towards the stairs, his strong footsteps loud behind me. My hands trembled as we ascended the creaky old stairs, my fingertips tracing the old railing. Doctor Jeongâs fingers were close to mine, tracing the same pattern as mine, so close yet so far away at the same time. I exhaled softly and tried to keep a clear head, but my nausea was getting worse as I led the way to my bedroom. My mother wouldâve been outraged by the idea of leading a man inside my room, but this was the doctor, he was here to help. I couldnât think of a more private room than my own bedroom, the heavy door closed and locked once we were inside. The doctor seemed to tense when he heard the lock, his back to me. I felt exposed, a little naked, now that the man was in my intimate space. There wasnât much to my room except for a desk filled with books and poorly done sketches, and a vase filled with daisies and tulips. The doctor headed for my desk, meanwhile, I headed for my bed. The sheets were satin and silky as I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed, letting my hands sink into the fabric. With a questioning glance, the doctor turned my chair around to face me and sunk into it with a heavy sigh.
âI apologise.â My eyebrows rose in surprise as I tilted my head in question, âFor letting your sister speak like that of you, I should have never let her go that far. I shouldnât have even let her corner me like that and-andâit doesnât matter. I understand if you need space after this, I might be able to convince the committee to give me a few more weeks.â
âSheâs not my sister.â I whispered as I wrung my trembling fingers together, looking down in my lap, âKarina is not my blood sister, Doctor Jeong. I might have viewed her once as a sister, but not anymore.â
The doctor fumbled around for his notebook and pencil, which had gotten smaller from having sharpened it so often. The doctorâs eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed the spectacles up on the bridge of his perfect nose.
âDoes this have to do anything with what happened on that day?â The doctorâs voice was gentle, understanding even. I bit my lower lip and nodded slowly, feeling my head swarm around uncontrollably. Would he know what to do with me if I were to pass out? He is a doctor, after all, but Matilda is the one who knows me best, perhaps I shouldnât have locked the door.
âShe-she reallyâhurt me that day, and Iââ My throat felt dry as my lungs started heaving for air, âI donât knowâmaybe I did want her to di-dieâI canât do this right now, Doctor Jeong, Iâm sorry.â
Doctor Jeongâs bottom lip was between his teeth as he suddenly let his notebook rest on the desk behind him. He leaned forward, lowering his head as he tried to make eye contact with me. I gulped and kept my gaze focused on my tremor-ridden hands, âListen to me, Miss Harold, we donât have to talk about it today. Iâm just here to chat, I can tell you are not feeling well. Your mother informed me through a letter that you had hurt yourself last night, may I know what happened? Can you tell me? I wonât even take notes, just this one time.â
I gulped, slowly raising my eyes to look up at the doctor. He wore a tight beige shirt today with a dark blue vest over it, his pants snugly fitting his long legs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his fair and smooth skin, veins bulging through. The wristwatch on his left hand looked fancy, the leather a very dark blue to match his vest. Doctor Jeongâs dark hair was swept back once again, but it looked fluffier today. I itched to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, wanting to feel its softness for myself. I tensed my muscles before I could do anything stupid like that. The doctorâs cheeks were slightly flushed, and his tooth was leaving a small white dent in his bottom lip. Because he was leaning forward, there was less distance between us, but still respectable. Like between doctor and patient.
âIââ I chewed on my bottom lip before taking a deep breath, âI havenât been feeling well lately, Doctor, so I couldnât sleep last night. I went for a walk andâŠI donât remember what I did or what happened. Sometimes I lose consciousness while Iâm awake, itâs frightening. I woke up with a muddied nightgown and a cut on my arm, Matilda had patched me up though.â
âHow often does this happen?â
âNot that often.â
âDo you have an idea what may cause it?
âWell, yes. I think itâs Karina, sheâs been antagonising me for the past three days and Iâm so tired of it all. I just disassociate when I see her approaching me now, Iâm sorry.â
The doctor sighed, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. His spectacles had slipped lower once again, âDo not apologise, you havenât done anything wrong. Iâm just glad youâre alright, Miss Harold.â
âThe thought of you visiting daily keeps me afloat, Doctor Jeong, I have something to look forward to now.â I smiled, widely, and the doctorâs eyes widened before he blinked rapidly, looking stunned. Afraid the moment of lightness would pass by before I could grasp it, I continued, âWould you mind telling me your story today? What itâs like where you are from? How you were as a child? Is thatâŠis that unprofessional? Are we not allowed to speak about you, Doctor?â
Doctor Jeongâs gulp was loud, then he took a deep breath and slowly leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading wide. He looked conflicted for just one second, but upon a glance at my face, he gave in. I couldnât help but beam at the doctor as he chuckled, taking his spectacles off to place them on the desk behind himself.
âWhere should I even start?â He hummed, looking towards the window, lost in thought. He was gorgeous, and he was kind. I hadnât met a man like him before, I wished to trace my fingers along his jawline, but Karina was right. I couldnât be a whore, not with this man, âAs a child I was energetic and always blabbering on about whatever was inside my mind. I liked to ask a lot of questions, but I was reprimanded often for being too curious. Life isâŠdifferent in South Korea at this time, very much different compared to how things run here. I am lucky I managed to sail so far away, my family has made great sacrifices for me to end up here. Iâm not even able to send them often letters, itâs too risky.â
âWhy?â
âBecause they are in hiding, our belief in God is frowned upon, Catholics arenât safe there now.â To prove a point, Doctor Jeong grabbed the silver cross underneath his shirt and brought it forward, clutching it tightly in his hands, âI can bravely say it here despite the other religions that exist, nobody has tried to murder me for it, so far. Besides, I cannot tell whether they still live where we did before I managed to sneak onto a French ship and escape. The elite class isnât like the one here, itâs falling apart and I cannot be sure that my family are still part of it today.â
My eyebrows furrowed as an ashen look crossed the doctorâs face, âDo you miss your home?â
âYes and no,â The doctor answered truthfully, âI was young when I sailed here, I had nothing and no one until my foster father found me. He was a Dutchman, very kind but unforgiving. I got lucky because he was a doctor and I came here to study advanced medicine with the hopes of once returning home and spreading the word, but I cannot go back, not yet. Theyâd shun me away, shame me and possibly kill me. South Korea isnât welcoming of strangers yet, and in their eyes, Iâd be one too for leaving our homeland only to return with new doctrines. Even if it means saving hundreds of lives. Not that I work with the physical body, but everyone needs someone who can soothe their soul once in a while.â
âYouâre beyond courageous, Doctor Jeong, I admire you.â I sounded breathless as I closely listened to the doctor, making sure no word he uttered slipped by my ears. I wanted to know more about him, who he was and why he chose to be here. I couldnât imagine being on my own, out on the streets, away from my mother, âI promise not to waste your time here, Iâm almost at the end of my story.â
âI know, Miss Harold,â Doctor Jeong smiled softly, âRather an acquittance than your doctor, Iâd like to tell you that I look forward to our sessions. You are easy to connect with, and you donât make it hard for me to glimpse inside your mind. I cannot say I understand each choice youâve made, but thatâs the beauty of having free will and individual thoughts, it sets us apart and makes us unique.â
I couldnât help but blush as I averted my gaze from his intense one, feeling shy all of a sudden. The doctor wasnât calling me specifically unique, but the implication was there, and I couldnât help myself but imagine, âWhat about your home? What was that like, Doctor Jeong? And your family?â
For a second, he was silent. It made me think I had offended him in some way, but then his eyebrows slightly furrowed and he looked serious, âSince I am not talking to you as your doctor, you should just call me Yunho, if I mayâŠY/N?â
Hearing my name fall from his lips had my heart racing and my breath shuddering. I gulped, feeling speechless for a second as my eyes bore into Doctor Jeongâs, wondering if the man knew what it meant to drop such drastic formalities. But I obliged because I wanted his name to roll off my own lips like mine had done on his, desperate to fortify this frail bond between the two of us, doctor and patient, âRight, of courseâŠYunho.â
Doctor Jeongâs eyes fluttered shut for a second, his gulp was loud. I watched redness coat his ears down to his neck, his fingers digging into the wooden armrests. He was still wearing the silver band around his middle finger, I wondered whose it was. Was it from someone back home? Or was it from his foster father?
âRight, Y/N, well my home certainly was smaller than your house, and also built with different architecture in mind. And people donât wear these fancy suits at home, we have our own traditional clothes that we proudly wear. I still have the one I arrived in tucked away as a means to never forget where I come from.â Doctor JeongâYunhoâsmiled softly, eyes glazed over with memories as he spoke quietly, almost as if to himself, âI have a younger brother, heâs the loveliest. I didnât want to leave him home, not even my father and mother, but we wouldâve been discovered if we were to run away together. My mother sent me off sobbing, clutching me to her chest and wondering if weâd see each other ever again. My father was a stoic man, but he had cried too. He had enough faith in me and God to know Iâd make it out alive and become what they sent me away for. I left a dear friend behind too, but he promised to follow me one day. I do not know if weâll see each other, perhaps heâs wandering around on a completely different continent, but at least I have something of his with me.â
My eyes flickered towards the silver band Yunho was absentmindedly playing with, his lips set in a tight line. So, the ring was from someone he dearly loved and cherished, I wished I could reach out and pat his hand to offer him comfort. But Yunhoâs solemn look switched into one of contentment as he looked at me again, âOur house was in a lovely neighbourhood, filled with silence and the chirping of birds each early morning. Our servants were few, so they lived with us, and they had quickly become part of the family too. I would play in the dirt with my brother when our mother was busy in the kitchen, overlooking the cooks while also helping out. Our father worked long hours but he always returned with fresh flowers for my mother and some sort of western delicacy nobody was allowed to know about. I would often take walks on the beach, if thereâs anything I miss terribly, itâs the wide sea and the calmness it brought with itself.â
âI love sailing,â I muttered, tucking my hands underneath my thighs as I hummed, âDespite whatâs happened to my father, I find solace in the sea. It silences my fears, much like taking walks in the garden does. I feel like I belong to nature, that I can easily become one with it.â
âNature is a beautiful place,â Yunho hummed, swiping his thumb against his bottom lip, watching me closely, âYouâd love exploring the world.â
I chuckled sadly, âI would, Yunho, but Iâm forced to rot away in this house under the very eyes of my servants and family. I canât even be left alone here, sometimes I want it all to stop. Tell me, have you travelled a lot?â
Yunho looked abashed as he shrugged one shoulder, âEnough to see all sorts of places, people, and cases. Not each one had a happy ending, but I had learned something from each of them, so it was worth it in the end.â
âI wish to see the world, Yunho. I donât want to be caged in here anymore. Could you set me freeâno, will you set me free, Yunho?â
âIâIâll try, I really will, Y/N. If you tell me the truth, I can help you and write a promising report on your case. But you have to be transparent with me for that to happen.â
âWhat if they donât agree with you? See me as unstable and a danger to society, what then? Will I require a caretaker still?â
âIâm afraid, yes. Perhaps youâll have even more severe surveillance, Iâm sorry. I truly promise to do my best, but you have to trust me.â
âAnd what ifâŠwhat if you became my caretaker?â
The silence that followed my question felt heavy, it felt wrong. I shouldnât have asked that, but I was desperate to know how far Doctor Jeong would go to prove I wasnât insane. And perhaps, a hidden sadistic part of me wanted to know just what exactly the doctor would do for me, to me.
âThat would imply you are very unstable, I donât think Iâve ever heard of such a thing.â Doctor Jeong breathed out, reaching for his spectacles.
âBut would you become my caretaker?â I whispered, gazing up into his eyes with yearning as the doctor abruptly stood, âI wish to see the world, the places you go to. I wish to see South Korea once youâre allowed to go back, Yunho. Would you take me with you?â
He was packing his things frantically, breathing through his mouth loudly, âI cannot tell, Miss Harold, it implies great responsibility to look over someone unstable. Given if you were the object of my desires, I wouldnât even consider becoming your caretaker, but Iâm your doctor and itâs inappropriate.â
âIsnât it only inappropriate if you make it that?â I stood, facing the doctor before he could run off. He looked conflicted and angry, so I backed off, âMy apologies, I have taken you for granted and stepped over our boundaries as doctor and patient. I hope I havenât made you too uncomfortable, Doctor Jeong, thatâs not what I wished to do. I hope you can forgive me.â
âI will be back tomorrow, and you must tell me what happened, Miss Harold.â With a nod of his head, the doctor was at my door, quickly unlocking it, but he didnât twist the knob right away. He took a deep breath and released it with a whisper, âAnd I would become your caretaker, if I could.â
His footsteps echoed through the house just as lightning struck in the distance. I walked to the window and watched the doctor get onto the motorcar as his butler drove away, trying to avoid the storm. And then, just like that, the world started spinning as blackness threatened to coat my vision.
           My knuckles were bloody from having picked at the skin consistently since I was awake. The tremors from my hand have extended to my whole body, my head felt underwater. I couldnât understand what was happening around me, but I jumped each time thunder rumbled the earth. I know I had been placed on a chair in front of the window in my bedroom, Matilda sitting in the corner with my mother regularly checking on me, but I couldnât tell what was being said to me or done around me. I didnât have an appetite this morning, and getting out of bed was harder than ever before. I knew something was wrong, that something had disturbed my peace of mind, but I had no idea what this sudden change in my mood meant. I tried to break through the veil of haziness and speak to Matilda, tell her that my head was throbbing and my joints ached from how wrung up my body was, but my lips formed no words. I tried using the breathing technique Mrs Humphrey had once taught me, but nothing was working. I wasnât able to control my body, and it was only making me more anxious.
The door to my room opened, but I continued to look out the window absentmindedly, bracing myself for the loud rumble when lightning struck again. After the doctor left yesterday, it hadnât stopped raining ever since. I knew he couldnât make it today, but he was determined enough to push through the storm and visit me. Unless it was a serious issue that needed to be urgently taken care of, the doctor never cancelled our session. The thought of seeing him when I felt so unwell managed to calm my racing heart, but until he was actually standing in front of me and I could gaze into his deep eyes, I couldnât help but take shallow breaths as my muscles tensed up even more.
âLook at you,â It was Karinaâs voice unmistakably, âtrembling and sweating like a dying child, arenât you? Who are you acting for, hm? The doctor isnât here, Y/N, no need to act all pitiful like this, nobody in this house cares about you.â
Her voice was crystal clear for some reason, it made my ears ring as I released a shuddering breath. My mind was so askew that I couldnât even answer her, I just needed a warm embrace and a deep voice to whisper that everything was fine. Did nobody care about me? That was so depressing, it brought tears to my eyes.
âBesides, heâs not coming today.â I failed to inhale as Karina continued to speak, âHe sent a letter to your mother that he couldnât find a carriage in time, so he isnât coming. How tragic, all this acting only for him to not witness itâŠâ
The sound that left my mouth was quiet, but unmistakably a whimper. Matilda shifted in her armchair and cleared her throat. I could see Karina through the reflection of the window, she was smirking maliciously as she stared at the back of my head. She looked so pleased with herself, that it made tears stream down my cheeks. I wanted to say something, but the lump in my throat was getting tighter and tighter, I realised I had stopped breathing. Why wouldnât Yunho come? Was he like Karina too, did he not care about me? Did he lie to me yesterday? Was I worth so little that he couldnât take on being my caretaker? Why must this be my fate? Why must I be forced never to leave this estate, this house, trapped under the eyes of people who either hate me or pity me? I wanted to sob, but the more I tried to breathe, the quicker I realised dark spots had started appearing in my vision.
âI donât know what you two do during your little sessions, but the committee has given him one more week before he has to make his final report,â Karina chuckled, I heard her coming closer, fingers gripping the back of my chair, âAnd then, heâll be all mine. I already talked to my father and he considers Doctor Jeong a nice suitor, how exciting. You canât have him, Y/N, and he wonât have you either. I see the way you look at him, you are pathetic.â
Karinaâs warm breath fanned my ear and cheek as she whispered her last words, cackling like an evil witch in all those fairytales my mother had told me about. My mouth parted to inhale deeply, but the spots grew darker, becoming more.
âMiss Brooks, please,â I heard Matilda plead as she sprung up from her seat, âLeave young miss alone, she isnât feeling well.â
âOh, shut up, you silly goose!â Karina snapped at Matilda, throwing her a disgusted look, âYou and everyone else who feeds into her delusions should be admitted to an asylum, get a grip! Sheâs fine, she just needs her daily dose of attention, stupid girl.â
Hearing the word asylum cracked something further inside me as I sprung up from my seat, eyes wide and body cold. I looked at where Matilda was standing, but all I could see was the face of the man who found great pleasure in cutting me open just to leave me bleeding and helpless. A scream tried to tear through my throat, but I lost my balance as I tumbled to the floor, fingers digging into the floorboards painfully. Someone shrieked as my stomach heaved, but there was nothing to empty. I could hear the manâs words, his tone unbearable and scratchy as he told me I was worthless and a whore, hungry for male attention ever since my father had died. It made my skin crawl, it made me feel dirty and disgusting as I tried to scrape at my arms.
âMrs Harold!â I could hear the panicked screams, but I couldnât tell where I was anymore. I felt caged and in danger, like someone was leering over my shoulder, waiting for me to pass out so I could be targeted. I whimpered when I felt hands on my back and tried to slap them away, but I was forcefully hauled up to my feet. A wail finally tore through my lips, and I started trashing around when I felt myself being lifted off the floor and carried somewhere.
âNo! No, stop!â I screamed, my voice nothing but a screech as my nails sunk into whoever was carrying me, âDonât take me back there! I havenât done anything, please! Noâno! I didnât mean toâI donât knowâwait, no, please, Iâm sorry, stop!â
My body sunk into something very soft and warm as fingertips pressed into my skin, forcefully prying my eyes wide open. My lungs heaved for air as I tried to get away from whoever was touching me, but I couldnât, they were stronger. They were always stronger, I could never get away. They would never leave me alone, I was always their little experiment. They would cut me open as if I was a rat, they would ask me questions and whip me even if I told the truth, they liked to touch me and make me beg for them to stopâŠI wanted to die. I couldnât do this anymore. Why would they torture me like this? Did my mother not love me? Had my fatherâs ghost abandoned me?
âPlease.â I managed to whisper when my body finally froze up, all fight leaving it. My muscles and joints ached, my heart thumped wildly, and I couldnât hear my thoughts anymore.
âMy baby, please, stop.â A female voice pleaded above me, âNobody is hurting you, tell me whatâs wrong, baby. Iâm here, your mother is here, please.â
How could my mother be here? The asylum didnât let anyone visit us. My eyes burned when I opened them, but I couldnât see well, they were filled with tears. There, looming above me stood the one man I yearned for. His eyes were kind and brown like the most expensive Swiss chocolate, his skin fair with a rosy flush to his cheeks that made him endearing, small spectacles slipping down the perfect slope of his petite nose. The doctor was here.
âYunho, save me.â My voice was barely audible as I croaked out my words, but I noticed my motherâs eyes widening before I drifted off to the darkness that had come to claim my body. Here, nobody could hurt me.
But even in my dreams, the miscreants wouldnât leave me alone. I couldnât tell where I was due to the darkness that enveloped me, but I felt frozen down to the bone. My summer dress did nothing to keep me warm, and the little friction to my arms only caused me to shiver more. I tried to call out to see if anyone was there with me, but my vocal cords wouldnât even croak. My heart was racing and my eyes burned, I could tell I was in danger but I couldnât see because of what. The impending doom I felt, however, said to me that I needed to run and that I needed to run now. So, I didnât wait around as I grabbed the skirt of my dress and aimlessly took off, unable to see anything due to the permeating darkness. My feet hurt from all the little rocks that cut into it, and then something touched my cheek that made me cry out. It was warm, almost scorching hot against my frozen skin. There were whispers around me that I couldnât make out, or understand even if I concentrated on them, but then one of them started making sense. It made more sense than the others, its timber familiar and warm, kind. Then, I could feel fingers tracing my left cheek, a calming hum easing my tense muscles until I could finally take a deep breath. It burned my lungs, it felt as if I was inhaling for the first time.
âOpen your eyes, Miss Harold.â Then, just so that I only could hear it, the familiar voice whispered, âIâm here.â
A gasp tore through my lips as my eyes flew open, jolting me awake as I sat, frantically looking around. It was a lot darker in the room than the last time I was conscious, and the rain was hitting the roof of the house harder than before. Matilda, my mother, Mr Brooks, and Mrs Humphrey all stood at the foot of my bed, different emotions reigning on their faces. As I made eye contact with my mother, she let out a loud sob as she fell into Mr Brooksâ arms, and I felt my lower lip trembling. I hated seeing her in a state like that, worrying over me. Before I could cry too, my head was gently turned to the side until all I could see was the doctor. My mouth opened in shock as the doctor looked at me with sad, but worried, eyes, a wet rag clutched tightly in his other hand.
âYunho.â My throat felt scratchy as I reached out incredulously, wondering whether I was just hallucinating. I noticed my bloody knuckles were bandaged now, ointment placed on the nightstand table next to my bed, âYou are here? Really here?â
âYes, Miss Harold.â He smiled gently, hesitantly letting me touch his jaw, âHow are you feeling?â
âSick,â I said before I could mule over my answer. My stomach was aching and my head was thumping, âI donât know what happened to me, Doctor, I cannot remember.â
âDonât try to remember now, your body and mind are overwhelmed,â Doctor Jeong then gently guided me to lay down in my bed once again, âYou need to relax, Miss Harold. You fainted, and Miss Matilda has told me you havenât eaten all day long, thatâs unhealthy.â
âIâm sorry.â I felt like a child being chastised by their parent for the first time, except that Doctor Jeongâs face didnât look even a little bit angry like my motherâs had back then, âI thought I would throw up if I ate anything, still do.â
The doctor hummed, then slightly turned to look back at the others in the room, âMrs Humphrey, can you bring me that tea I asked you to brew? It will greatly help Miss Harold right now.â
âItâs storming outside, why did you come?â My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the doctorâs serene face, his spectacles were missing and his hair was a wavy mess on top of his head. Looking further down, I realised he wasnât wearing his fancy suit. Instead, the doctor wore a beige tunic with the strings undone, showing a silver of his collarbones and chest. His silver cross dangled between his pecks whenever he moved forward to check for my temperature, letting the cold rag ease the thumping of my head. The doctorâs boots were still on his feet and looked muddy, but nobody was paying attention to that as he sat on the edge of my bed, taking care of me.
âIâm a doctor, my duty is to ensure my patients are healthy and safe.â Then he glanced back at my mother and Mr Brooks, Matilda had left the room with Mrs Humphrey, âYou scared everyone, you scared me, Miss Harold.â
âThank you for coming, but what you did was unsafe, Doctor Jeong.â I gulped, eyebrows furrowing in worry, âHow will you get back home?â
âHe will sleep here tonight, sweetheart.â Mr Brooks answered for the doctor, looking just as worried as I felt, âCanât let him go out in this bad weather, itâs risky. I will ask the maids to make dinner for you, Doctor Jeong. The guestroom is already being prepared, your butler can sleep with the rest of the servants, if that is alright.â
âYes, thank you for your hospitality.â Doctor Jeong bowed his head, smiling at Mr Brooks, âIâm sorry to say this, but Miss Harold should rest now and the more of us are in the room, the bigger the risk of overwhelming her is.â
âOh, of course.â My mother whispered, her eyes glossy again, âRest, my dear.â
I hummed as I watched her and Mr Brooks leave, leaving me alone with Doctor Jeong as the door closed after the two exited the room. I sighed long, looking at the doctor as he removed the rag from my forehead to wring it in more cold water. We said nothing as he placed the rag back onto my forehead, gently removing wet hair strands from my cheeks. He sat close to my body, but his eyes avoided looking into mine. I gulped, trying to find the right words to say just as there was a knock at the door. Doctor Jeong told them to come in and Matilda came inside with a tray and a cup of tea. She offered me a sad smile as she placed the cup of tea on the nightstand.
âGet some rest tonight, Matilda.â
âBut you are not feeling well, young miss.â
âThis is an order, how long until you faint from exhaustion? Please, I wonât leave my bed tonight, you shouldnât either.â The maid looked hesitant, but didnât say anything other than a quiet âthank youâ, and then she was out of my room, closing the door after herself.
âSomeone should check on you tonight, though.â Doctor Jeong said quietly as he helped me sit up, puffing up the pillows behind my back. He grabbed the cup of tea and handed it to me. It was still hot, its scent herbal. My nose twitched as I took a whiff of it before tasting it, cringing away from it, âIt tastes horrible, I know, but itâs very good for your health. Drink it.â
It tasted so bitter I thought I would throw up on the spot, but it was supposed to make me feel better, so I toughened up and drank it as quickly as possible. The doctor watched me as I placed the cup on the nightstand, looking a little amused. I wrung my fingers together and placed them in my lap, looking down at my hands. I felt guilty for having forced the doctor to come all this way in such bad weather, yet he was looking at me with kind eyes and a soft smile.
âHow do you feel now?â He asked, turning his body more to face me.
âSlightly better, my head isnât thumping as violently as before, thank you.â I answered, sinking back into the pillows and cushions, âI thinkâthis could be a grave accusation, but what if Karina is the reason I am like this?â
I couldnât meet the doctorâs eyes as I chewed on my bottom lip, my thoughts whirling around too quickly for me to comprehend them. The doctor froze for a second, then I saw a hand reach out, only to settle on the blanket next to my thigh. I could feel Doctor Jeongâs body heat through the blanket, I wished he had placed his hand over my thigh instead.
âWhy do you think that, Miss Harold?â
âMay I call you Yunho?â
âOf course, Y/N.â
For a second, I paused and looked up with a smile. Yunho was already looking at me with a small smile on his lips, and I huffed a little embarrassed. Seeing him dressed so casually was doing something weird to me, my heart raced from excitement as I felt shy all of a sudden.
âJust like on that day, she was saying bad things to me again, antagonising me. I know she hates me, but I get so angry around her that sometimes I canât even form words.â I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as Yunhoâs fingers twitched next to my thigh, âI wasnât feeling well all day, but then she started speaking and I justâshe brought the asylum up and I was back there again, being terrorised and touchedâI canât talk about it, Iâm sorry, Yunho.â
âLetâs not talk about it, then.â Yunhoâs jaw was clenched as he licked his lips, his forehead creasing as he leaned slightly forward.
âI donât remember anything after that, even her words are muddy.â I felt helpless as my eyes bore into Yunhoâs understanding ones, âMatilda was there the whole time, you can ask her what happened, Iâm sure sheâll tell you everything. She hates Karina as much as I do, she wouldnât lie for her.â
âIâll keep that in mind, Y/N.â Yunho nodded once, then tilted his head to the side. I gulped, feeling nervous for no reason, âDo you think youâll be able to sleep tonight? Are you feeling tired?â
I hummed, playing around with my fingers as I looked down at my lap again. Yunhoâs fingers were tapping the blanket, his breaths audible but even, âI feel spent, and I know I will be able to sleep, but IâmâŠscared to fall asleep alone.â
âI understand, Iâll let Mrs Harold know. Perhaps she could keep you company.â
âYunho?â
âYes, Y/N?â
âCan you stay until I fall asleep?â
My voice was quiet as I glanced up at Yunho through my eyelashes, feeling my cheeks heat up. He looked taken aback, then something I couldnât recognise crossed his features for a split second. He exhaled through his mouth and gulped, loudly. He hummed, deep in his chest, and flattened his palm against the blanket as he shuffled his feet around until his muddy boots hit the ground. I realigned my pillows and crawled a little further away on my bed, to make more space for Yunho as he made himself comfortable, still on the edge of it.
âBut I cannot stay once you are sleeping, Iâm sorry.â
âI know, itâs alright, Yunho.â
Our smiles were small but appreciative. Yunho nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes raking over my face as I watched his cheeks flush a deep shade of red. It wasnât warm in my room, but I suppose the sheets could make him feel warm too. His hand balled into a fist, grabbing a tight hold of the blanket as I glanced down at it.
âSweet dreams, Y/N.â
âYou too, Yunho.â
Every waking moment he spent thinking of her. Even in his dreams, she appears as a vixen, tempting Yunho to do unforgivable things. He knows he cannot, heâs her doctor and sheâs a patient in desperate need of treatment. Yunho knows this, she isnât his first case. Heâs met people with manic episodes before, potential dissociative amnesia too, but something sets her apart from the rest. Yunho has never once in his life wanted to reach out and cradle one of his patients to his chest and tell them everything would be alright now that he was there. But when he saw her, so frail and generous, soft-spoken and kind, he couldnât help but feel anger whenever she told him of Karina. Yunho had a feeling she wasnât like that unprovoked, and the more he heard of Karina and her schemes against his patient, the more convinced he was that Karina had lied in the first place to get her into that asylum, far away from the safety of her home. Yunho knew what went down inside an asylum, heâs treated many mentally unstable patients before, straight inside those horror houses, and his blood boiled anytime he saw pain and terror strike upon her face whenever the asylum was mentioned. Yunho didnât want to know, truth be told, what had happened to her there because he was sure heâd march up to that asylum and strangle every man who had hurt her. He was a doctor, his ego and fame protected him from making a mistake, but when she had led him inside her bedroom, Yunho was close to throwing it all out the window, quite literally. Her unique scent of hydrangeas had been so potent inside her bedroom, and her sitting daintily on the cushions of her queen-sized bed had his thoughts going haywire. Yunho wanted to touch her, not just tell her that she was safe and sound with him, but show her too. He was wanting and wanting, and he wondered if her story would have a happy ending. Could he save her from the madness they plastered over her head? Or would he dig her a bigger hole once the committee hears his verdict of her mental state? But what Yunho most importantly needed to sort out with himself, was the question thatâs been mulling over in his head ever since she had uttered it. Would he be willing to become her caretaker? Just to keep her safe and away from Karina, of course, Yunho was a professional, above all. He told himself he didnât have second intentions with her, but the more days passed by spent in her company, he couldnât tell for sure anymore.
           Karina was right about one thing, the committee had given Doctor Jeong one more week to sort out everything. He was right, I couldnât beat around the bush anymore, besides, we had gotten close in my story to that faithful day. Doctor Jeong knew this, I knew it too. Because he was afraid of overwhelming me again too soon, he had given me two days of bed rest before heâd return to resume our sessions. The two days had gone by and I was nervously waiting for him in the foyer. After the storm passed, the heat returned even stronger. I didnât wish to stay in the house, it aggravated me anytime I glanced towards the stairs, Karinaâs injured body lying by the foot of it too clear in my mind. The doctorâs patent motorcar was louder today than other days as it rolled to the front of the house, where he was welcomed by Mr Allen, the gardener. He was an elderly man who had grown fond of Doctor Jeong like many others in the household. Myself included, which would explain why my heart was beating uncontrollably once again, sweat brimming my eyebrows.
âWill you be alright?â Leia asked as she shuffled past behind me, fresh bedsheets in her arms, âI donât think Matilda will survive one of your episodes.â
Leia had no mal-intentions, she was just honest down to a pulp. I chuckled, glancing at her as she had stopped in the doorway to the laundry room.
âI might not survive another episode, too.â Leiaâs eyes widened guiltily, but I continued to smile, âIf the doctor writes a good report about me, Iâll finally be out of your hair, Leia. Pray for it.â
âI donât believe in God, young miss.â
âDonât let Doctor Jeong know that.â
Speaking of the devil, his knuckles rasped against the sturdy front door as Leia grinned, disappearing inside the laundry room. I opened the door before the doctor could knock again, welcoming him with a bright smile on my face. He paused, looking taken aback.
âGood morning, Doctor Jeong.â I greeted him, stepping aside to let him walk inside.
âGood morning, Miss Harold, you seem to be doing fine.â He returned a small smile as he shrugged his blazer off, wearing another tunic but fancier this time. It was a deep green, paired with his brown trousers which made him look like he was a huntsman returning from a long hunt to his wife, jittery to have her in his arms. I gulped, feeling embarrassed by my thoughts when I realised, I had imagined myself as the wife Doctor Jeong would return home to. It was inappropriate, but the thought was intrusive and fast before I could stop it.
âThank you for letting me rest, it has helped.â I hummed, raising a hand when the doctor went to step out of his polished shoes, âDo you mind if we sit underneath the willow tree today?â
âNot at all,â The doctor beamed, taking me off guard, âI was just about to suggest it, you know we cannot postpone todayâs topic. Being in a place you love might bring comfort, I hope, at least.â
âYou are thoughtful,â I smiled, then led the way towards the tea room, the grand doors were pulled open, letting inside the fresh warm breeze. Mr Allen was in the doorway, trimming the bushes, but he made way for us when he spotted us. I offered him an appreciative smile as he raised his hand in a silent greeting, a straw of wheat between his teeth as he tipped his hat towards Doctor Jeong. The doctor bowed back to him politely before we made our way down the gravel path, headed towards the willow tree. The warmth today made me feel hot despite the thin summer dress I wore, its sleeves short with a sweetheart neckline. It was a sage green, a pretty contrast against my copper curls. Without needing to ask, Matilda has made a daisy crown to wrap around my bun. I felt pretty and safe covered in my favourite things, sitting underneath the willow tree as frogs ribbited down by the pond, bees buzzing by. The doctor got ready as he opened his satchel bag, taking his notebook and new pencil out. As we sat, I noticed our thighs brushing together, the doctorâs now musky cologne invading my senses. When he placed his notebook on his left thigh, twisting his upper body to face mine, the pages of it brushed against my own thigh too.
âIn our last session, you spoke about visiting your fatherâs grave with your mother. You made him a daisy crown since he loved the flowers just as much as you do, and then, when you returned home, your once lover was waiting for you in the foyer.â Doctor Jeongâs tone was gentle but impersonal, he was a professional after all, âYou stopped after you said you were fighting and it gotâŠviolent? You must elaborate on that, did nobody hear it? Did nobody help?â
I sighed, picking at the grass, âIt didnât get violent in the sense of a physical altercation, but our words were harsh and unforgiving. He called me many names that day, he broke my heart, Doctor Jeong. I know you are curious about what was said, and because it leads up to what happened between Karina and me, I shall tell you.â
The doctor was jotting down my words in his notebook, his hand flying over the page. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he pushed at his spectacles with his other hand. He hummed and briefly glanced at me when I remained quiet for too long. I had to brace myself, so, I took a deep breath and gazed at the doctor instead of at the house, finding my nerves calmer if I gazed at his beautiful face, and his chocolate brown eyes whenever he held eye contact.
âMatthew, the man I had once loved, was my fiancĂ©. He had asked for my hand while my father was still alive, our love story goes way back. Weâve grown up together due to our fatherâs being friends, and chancefully had fallen in love too. He was always sweet and loving, he respected me, and always heard me out. I suppose that is what attracted me to him most, I could see a glimpse of how my father treated my mother in him. But we had our ups and downs too, he was way too jealous and hated it when I spoke to other men, meanwhile, I had no problem if he had female friends. After my father diedâŠit was hard for me to come to terms with it, I was sad every day for a very long time. I didnât want to see anyone but my mother, not even Matthew. He knew I needed time, but he was getting impatient, he was bringing up marriage more often than not, but I wasnât ready yet. I had just lost my father and the thought of not walking down the aisle with him by my side just hurt too much.â I paused and licked my lips, pulling my knees up to my chest as I felt the doctor shift and lean even closer, âAnd then as my mother and I healed together, she found Mr Brooks. It took them a while to settle down, paperwork and whatnot got in the way as well as people talking nasty behind their backs, but when I found out Mr Brooks had a daughter too, I felt hopeful. I thought I would finally find a true friend, someone to share everything with. Karina was lovely at first, very kind and funny, I could easily consider her my sister even if we werenât related by blood. But then, one evening we went out to a pub where she finally met Matthew, and things justâŠchanged.â
Doctor Jeong hummed, still writing as I let my eyes take in his focused expression. His forehead was creased slightly as he chewed on his bottom lip, his neck flushed from the heat. I had also shifted more into his space subconsciously, and I had to refrain from tracing his brows before sinking my fingers into his smooth-looking hair, âYou see, it wasnât Matthew who had changed, but Karinaâs attitude towards me. She became snappy and rude, she didnât make it obvious, but I knew she was looking down on me. She barely talked to me now when my mother and her father werenât around, but she somehow always found time to ask about Matthew. At first, I thought nothing much of it, I figured she mightâve not liked him too much and was looking out for me in an obscure way, but then I found their letters. Mr Allen was bringing in the post and I told him I would sort them out, so when I saw Matthewâs letter, of course I had assumed it was for meâŠexcept, it hadnât been. It was addressed to Karina, and there were all sort of weird questions about me as if whatever Karina had said before had upset him.â
âHas Karina been sending him letters behind your back?â Doctor Jeong looked confused as he looked up at me, his round eyes narrowed and void of kindness. When the doctor was this serious, he looked almost frightening. But I knew he was kind and caring underneath that mask, so I didnât care. I hummed and nodded, absentmindedly picking at the scabs that had formed over my bruised knuckles.
âYes, and she was lying to him, saying very ugly things about me. Still to this day, I donât understand why she did all of that. Leia says sheâs blinded by jealousy and wants to be better than me, but unless Karina says it, I donât want to believe it. Anyways, I didnât confront Karina right away, I hurried over to Matthewâs house to talk to him.â I huffed sadly, looking at the doctor again, âHe was just about to mount his horse and leave for the city, but when he saw me, he knew we had to talk. It turns out, Karina has been lying about me for months now, saying I was seeing other men behind his back and somehow even made up some evidence of it. She had sent him handkerchiefs that had been my fatherâs, claiming they were of those I wasâsleeping with. She even told him I was badmouthing him and that I was only marrying him out of pity, and because my father had made me promise I would marry someone richer than my family. Butâit was all lies! I loved Matthew, I always have! I wanted to marry him and have a nice household, but Karina took it all away from me. What he said to meâŠit had hurt a lot, and it still does, so I wonât repeat his words, but he broke off our engagement and told me to never appear in front of his eyes. I had loved him, YunhoâŠâ
My throat clenched as I took a shuddering breath, eyes filled with tears. Yunho had stopped writing and looked at me with pain in his eyes, bottom lip between his teeth, âIâm sorry, you deserved better.â
I hummed with a sad chuckle and quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. This was it, this is what Yunho had been desperately wanting to hear for a month now. I lowered my legs and looked at Yunho with a neutral expression, making his eyes widen minutely, âI know, but itâs okay. If God is watching like everyone claims him to be, Karina will be punished, and so will Matthew. I was a mess after that conversation with Matthew, and I cried all the way back home. My chest was clenching and my heart was thumping wildly, I thought that was what heartbreak felt like, and I still believe so. When I stumbled through our front door, Karina was justâŠthere. Waiting for me in the foyer with an amused smirk. She didnât even feign innocence as she asked what happened, she could clearly see Matthewâs crumbled letter in my hand. I wonât deny it, I said some very ugly things to her. I didnât even let her speak as I exploded on her, Iâm still surprised the house staff didnât try to stop me. I have said this in my report too, but I struck first, I slapped her and pushed her back when she started laughing. She was only doing it to make me even angrier, and it was working.â
My muscles tensed as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, keeping it in my lungs as Yunhoâs jaw was clenched, his eyes focused on my face as I continued talking, âI needed space, so I backed away before I could do anything really hurtful. My head was thumping and my body was shaking, I felt like I was suffocating. Karina just continued laughing as I hurried to the stairs, wanting to lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep. She was following after me, now cackling instead of laughing, and then she said somethingâsomething that Iâll never forget, âAll that courting and playing around each other just to never even fuck him? Donât worry, youâre not missing out on anything, sister, heâs not even good in bed.â I saw red when I heard her say that, my thoughts were a mess and I didnât even doubt the accuracy of her words. I just reacted, I know I slapped her again as I stopped on the stairs, but I couldnât say anything as I was close to sobbing, so I just ran up the rest of the stairs, but she was still following after me. She was saying something, and I was screaming at her to shut up, but she wouldnât. And IâI just really wanted her to shut up, to not look at me with those eyes and I justâI donât know, Doctor, I donât know. My whole body was shaking and I couldnât see clearly, my head was aching and I couldnât even hear anymore, I justâI just remember suddenly coming to myself again when there was a shrill screech. And then I remember Matilda looking at me with terror in her eyes as she called for Jesper and Mr Allen to come help, to call for a doctor.â
âIn your report, you saidââ
âI know what I said, Yunho, I said I turned around and gave her a backhanded slap, yanked on her hair and bashed her head against the wall before pushing her down the stairs.â Yunhoâs eyes were shaking as our faces were close, âBut I donât remember doing any of those, the lawyer told me to say that to protect myself from a serious accusation. Matilda lied for me, and so did Mr Allen. In the end, Mr Brooks paid the judge and I was simply classified as insane, the case was swept under the rug and Iâve been forced to live like this ever since.â
âI knew there was something wrong with that report,â Yunho muttered under his breath, âBut why did you lie?â
âI was young and scared,â I sighed, my eyes searching Yunhoâs face for any judgment, but it wasnât there, âI thought they would lock me up if I didnât make up a story. But in the end, I was locked up in my own house for six years, a prison still, just different. I fainted in the court too, I donât remember much from there either.â
Yunho looked troubled as his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his bottom lip thoroughly chewed on, and his spectacles pushed up on his nose. With his free hand, he reached forward, but stopped just before his fingertips could touch my hand and instead balled it up into a fist and lowered it back into his lap. His jaw clenched as he gulped, shaking his head as he looked down at his notebook.
âI have a scar on my abdomen,â I whispered, hand pressing against my covered stomach, âfrom having fallen over and cutting myself, do you believe me, Doctor?â
When Yunhoâs jaw just clenched and he didnât look at me, I gulped nervously and reached towards my sleeves to pull them off, to let the dress pool at my waist, but one fleeting glance at me had Yunho reaching forward with a panic-ridden face, his eyes widening, âStop, what are you doing? I believe you, Y/N, I do.â
His hands were big and warm, wrapped completely around mine as the sleeve of my dress swiftly slipped off my left shoulder. His thumb rubbed my bruised knuckles, and despite the sting, I welcomed the affectionate gesture as it covered my arms in goosebumps. I released a long breath, my eyes boring into Yunhoâs. His eyes were easy to read, he looked conflicted and confused. I had no idea if he believed me, but I wanted him to. Hurting Karina was wrong, but she deserved it, and I was glad I managed to make her hurt at least once compared to how many times she had hurt me. But I remained silent as Yunho leaned even closer, our faces a breath away from each other. He gulped, loudly, then frowned. As I opened my mouth, he looked alarmed and scrambled backwards, letting my hands drop into my lap as he gasped, grabbing for his things frantically. I didnât understand what was happening, but when I tried to help, he just pushed my hand away. My heart hammered in my chest nervously as sweat rolled down my temples, and I stood so quickly I got whiplash. Doctor Jeong was just about to take off towards the house when a desperate question left my lips.
âWill you save me, Doctor Jeong?â My voice was trembling just as much as Yunhoâs hands, âWill you become my caretaker and take me away with you, will you?â
My questions went unanswered as Yunho ran off, not even bothering to go inside the house as he followed the cobbled path to the front of the house. The engine of his motorcar was loud as I slumped back against the tree with a dizzy head.
            The committee was more eager than I had thought at first to wrap this whole thing up. Just two days after my last encounter with the doctor, a letter came at an early morning hour that the verdict would be given today. I was nervous, but I braced myself for the worst possible ending, which would be me being sent back to the asylum. I doubted I would survive that once again, so I could only hope the doctor had taken pity on me and would be generous in his report. My mother had been buzzing around the house all morning, making sure everything was perfect for the arrival of the committee. Cookies had been baked, fresh tea was brewed, the ground floor aired out with every corner dusted off, and the tea room was decorated with vases of freshly picked flowers. The grand doors were opened, creating a serene surrounding as I sat on the sofa by myself. Nobody was inside the room except for me, something which was rare. I gaze forward, at the visage, trying to commit it to memory. I wondered if I would get to see it tomorrow too.
Matilda had dressed me in a dainty white dress to feign innocence, with my hair pulled in a low bun, and daisies hanging out of it. It felt as if the ghost of my father was here to cheer me on, to offer me some braveness before everything would unfold. And it would, way too soon. There were loud knocks against the front door before it was opened, and six people piled inside our foyer. My mother and Karina quickly walked inside the room with my mother sitting next to me, meanwhile, Karina took her spot in her favourite armchair. The image was eerily similar to the first day the doctor had arrived, it made my heart race. The rest of my future was in the hands of another man, and I couldnât do anything about it. I knew what I had done to Karina was wrong, but a small part of me knew that she had deserved it. My muscles tensed when Mr Brooksâ voice carried inside the tea room as he led the committee and Doctor Jeong inside. My jaw clenched and my hands balled into fists as they each walked in, eyes on me as I remained unmoving.
The committee consisted of the town mayor, the judge who had handled my case, the townâs richest married couple, and Father Louis, the head of our church. My stomach churned as the familiar faces sat down surrounding me, leaving space for Doctor Jeong at the front. Mr Brook sat next to my mother and held her hand, making my mother sigh loudly. I didnât want to look at anyone, I was afraid to see what they hid in their eyes. The doctor seemed tense as he rolled his shoulders a few times, then cleared his throat and accepted the tea from Mrs Humphrey, who had insisted on staying in the room, in the back where she didnât bother anyone. I couldnât focus on anyone else but the doctor as he finally seemed like he was ready to speak up. He faced the room and his eyes took in everyone, staying on me for a second too long. I could see Karina sneer from my peripheral vision, but I didnât care. I was just as curious to hear what Doctor Jeong had to say as the committee.
âDear committee, Mr and Miss Brooks, Mrs and Miss Harold, and of course, Mrs Humphrey,â Doctor Jeong bowed his head lightly, âThank you for coming, and Iâd like to thank the committee for entrusting me with this intricate and peculiar case. I must say before I begin, that I have encountered cases like Miss Haroldâs before, but neither one has been as complex as hers. I trust my personal judgement and everything I have learned up until this point, that my verdict is the right choice, and that if the committee sees it fit as well, it shall proceed with Miss Haroldâs sentence accordingly.â
Doctor Jeongâs fingers were wrung together in front of him, his dark blue suit was perfect. He looked dashingly handsome with his wavy hair falling all over his forehead and into his eyes, his spectacles perched into the pocket of his vest. His warm eyes found mine for a second before he looked around the room again, nodding to himself. He took a deep breath and continued his speech, starting to pace around the front of the room. Him standing in front of the garden and the path that led to the willow tree was dreamy, âWe all know that Miss Harold had lost her father when she was young, which would be hard news to swallow for a person at any age. I assume that his early death left Miss Harold traumatised in a way that could go unnoticed unless looked upon by a professional, which didnât happen. Her stress and repressed pain had accumulated, waiting for a small spark to ignite the explosion, which did happen as we all know it. I spent a month daily by Miss Haroldâs side, listening to stories of her childhood, and her adulthood, all leading up to the moment weâve all been curious about. During my time studying her, Iâve come to observe that she is a very kind soul, attentive, and a generous person. She is soft-spoken and very sensitive to everything that happens around her, it is rather hard for me to imagine she could even as much as hurt a fly.â
I gulped, feeling my heart hammer in my chest as Yunho spoke with much conviction, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped moving around, his eyes settling on Father Louis, âHer mental state, however, fluctuates a lot based on her surroundings, she easily reacts to the change of weather and the change of mood of a person. People like Miss Harold arenât only in touch with their peers, but with nature as well, as insane as that might sound, itâs a rather special attribute to have. Sheâs had bad days during our sessions, and I had the chance to further observe the cause of this. As a psychiatrist, I do not enjoy lightly throwing out diagnoses, but I have to ensure the health of my patients. Miss Harold suffers from manic episodes that get triggered by certain words, environmental changes, and people. In Miss Haroldâs stories, I have found one person who seemed to be always around her when these episodes happened, making me confident in my theory that she is Miss Haroldâs trigger.â
The people in the room gasped as they looked around. My heart was hammering, I could feel my pulse in my throat, but I couldnât help but let out an amused huff. Karinaâs eyes were wide and her knuckles white as she gripped the armrest of the armchair, fear painting her face. It felt satisfying looking at her, and if I hadnât known the doctor better, I wouldâve missed the satisfied smirk on his lips there for a millisecond, âIf this wasnât about the health of Miss Harold, I wouldnât be throwing out names so unabashedly, but this is to ensure her safety and health. Miss Brooks seems to like to pick on Miss Harold whenever she gets the chance, and she likes provoking her sister. Before anyone could deny my claim, I was witness to such a thing happening, Miss Brooks herself has said some very rude things about Miss Harold that no lady should utter, less about their sister, even if not related by blood. That being said, I cannot throw all the blame on Miss Brooks since Miss Harold is traumatised and doesnât know how to handle it, or how to control her outbursts.â
Then, as if there was nobody else in the room with us, Doctor Jeongâs eyes found mine, his expression softening. Karina had started crying next to me, but I couldnât care less as my mother was glaring at her, the committee didnât look very pleased either.
âWhat she said in her reportâŠâ Doctor Jeong loosened his necktie a little, licking his lips, âTurns out to be true. In a fit of rage, she disassociated and acted upon instinct. I do not know if she had told anyone, but Miss Brooks had come between Miss Harold and her fiancĂ©, breaking off their marriage. As someone who had been in love once, much like all of you in this room, Iâd like to assume, we all know what it means to experience our first heartbreak. For someone who had grown up with this boy, loved him with their whole heart, and was supposed to grow old with them, to hear their engagement was broken off based on some lies made up by Miss Brooks not too soon after Miss Haroldâs has lost her father mustâve been devastating. Thus, the trauma she had experienced before due to her fatherâs untimely death combined with another tragedy has made Miss Haroldâs mind break, lose its bearings, making her unable to tell right from wrong.â
I couldnât breathe as my eyes bore into Yunhoâs, filling with tears. I had expected him to go against me for having lied in my report, or to try and go around the topic without bringing it up much, but no, he was actively lying for me and keeping up the image that I had a lapse of judgement all this time. My motherâs hand found mine as she squeezed it reassuringly, tears streaming down her cheeks. I glanced at her fleetingly, my body buzzing with life as my hands trembled. I wanted to see the faces of the committee members, but Yunho was all I could look at. There was a heavy sigh in the room, it couldâve come from Mr Brooks or someone else, I couldnât tell.
âIâm very close to giving my verdict, so allow me to say this before that,â Yunho smiled softly, looking towards the committee with a gentle look on his face, but with a steely look in his eyes, âMiss Haroldâs is a human like all of us in this room, and she is allowed to make mistakes. Sheâs been punished for her mistakes, probably unfairly, and we mustnât make the same mistake again. I have concluded, that Miss Harold needs an environmental change for her to fully heal. This house no longer feels homey to her, she feels caged in and watched all the time, plus now you all know that Miss Brooks wonât leave her alone either. As a verdict, I have concluded that if the committee and her mother agree, Miss Harold could be assigned a new caretaker. AndâŠbefore you make suggestions as to who could fit this role best, I would like you all to consider me as her new caretaker for the next year. I am a doctor, I know what to do and how to act in case she is having another episode. I will be leaving the country in a month to return to France, where my foster father has requested my presence. The environmental change would benefit Miss Harold greatly, that is, if you trust me, of course.â
I felt close to fainting by the time Yunho had stopped talking. Him, Doctor Jeong Yunho, my new caretaker? Could that be possible? Would the committee even let it happen? I had no idea, but I wanted to fall in his arms and sob as I thanked him for his effort, for listening to me, for trying to save me from this place. The committee erupted in whispered mutters amongst themselves, but Father Louis seemed more than pleased with Yunho. His brows were sweaty as he dabbed at them with the back of his wrist, his arms covered with the sleeves despite the heat. My mother wasnât moving next to me, and Mr Brooks had turned his body away from Karina, who was trying to catch her fatherâs gaze insistently. Then, there was a tsk as the judge rose to his feet, all eyes falling on him.
âThank you. Doctor Jeong, for your in-depth analysis and for the tabs and reports youâve been keeping on Miss Harold this month, we appreciate it.â He rubbed at his chin, his hair already silver from age, âWe have selected you, Doctor, to treat this delicate case because we have heard of your expertise. You have never once failed to treat your patients accordingly, and I find no reason to doubt your verdict, however, wouldnât it be risky to take Miss Harold away from here? Couldnât that trigger her madness even more? And if Mrs Harold wonât agree, she cannot go. Either way, we cannot let her go unless you promise to report back to us monthly, Doctor Jeong, and once the one year is up, you must return her home. She shall be reevaluated, then her fate will be decided for the future.â
When Yunho and my eyes met again, I knew my fate had been sealed. France, a new beginning by his side, sounded like a far-fetched dream that was now within my reach.
Yunho was a professional, except when it came to her. The lines had blurred long ago, he couldnât tell who was the doctor and who was the patient when it came to her. All Yunho knew was that he could never let her go, not when she clung to him as if her life depended on him. Her lips tasted like honey and her moans were the prettiest music he had ever had the chance to hear, her skin soft and warm and her body so pliant underneath his. All it took was one touch from her for his whole being to crumble, he felt drunk on her, insatiable. Yunho knew he couldnât let her return home, not now that heâd found Mingi too, not when the three of them were living in a tucked away village in a homey cottage, away from prying eyes. Yunho finally had what heâd been yearning for his whole life. His family was back, right within his reach, and even when he missed his home, heâd gaze upon Mingi and her, and realise that his home was here with them. And she was sweet like nectar, Yunhoâs guilty pleasure that he just couldnât get rid ofâdidnât want to get rid of. He was a bad man for preying upon the innocent and unassuming ones, but may God forgive him for his sins, he was just a man after all. He knew he was bound to become insane like his patients one day, but Yunho was already a madman for her, and he didnât care. Profession be damned, only the four walls of their cottage would truly know the truth, much like her amnesiac brain that had no desire to return to a land and home thatâs treated her so horribly once. Here, Yunho was a complete man and he had wowed to protect what was hisâŠno matter what it took. Mingi and her were staying there with him, forever.
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betrothed ~ emperor geta;gladiator ii
word count: 3607
request?: no
description: in which her parents want to arrange a marriage with one of the two emperor brothers, so she is taken to meet them and is surprised when she gets along so well with the younger brother
pairing: emperor geta x female!reader
warnings: swearing, use of y/n, period typical misogyny/views of women, arranged marriage, historical inaccuracies, definitely going to be an inaccurate depiction of geta because i know that man is going to be a vile villain but y'know
masterlist (one, two, three)
You followed your parents through the halls of the palace. They were walking with their heads high, proud, meanwhile you were trailing behind them, cowering. You had been told just moments before your arrival that your parents intended to marry you off to one of the emperors; brothers Geta and Caracalla. They had offered you up to the brothers for marriage without your knowledge, and now they were bringing you to meet them so one of them could choose to marry you.
You knew eventually your parents would arrange for you to wed. It was an expectation from the moment you started bleeding, meaning you were able to carry children. There were no guarantees you would like your husband to be. That's not how marriage worked. But you never expected to be married off to a man you were terrified of.
Besides the fact that Geta and Caracalla were co-emperors of the entire Roman Empire, you had heard that they were both violent and terrible men. There was no better option in this betrothal, only fear.
Your parents stood before the two emperors. They both already looked bored by the whole affair. You tried not to shrink back further under their glares. Your parents bowed, and you quickly followed as not to be scrutinized further.
"Your majesties," your father spoke. "We present to you our daughter, (Y/N)."
Your mother nudged you forward. You stumbled to the fore front, all attention now on you. You awkwardly bowed again, murmuring, "Your majesties."
"This is who you expect us to marry?" Caracalla sneered. "I've seen whores who have looked prettier. More experienced, too."
Caracalla smirked at his younger brother, but Geta was still staring at you, studying you. You couldn't stop trembling under his intense gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother clenching her jaw. You weren't sure if she was upset over Caracalla's insult, or over your continued awkwardness.
The eldest brother sighed and rose from his seat. "She is yours, brother. I feel no need to fight you over her when I can find myself a better wife."
He left without another word, while Geta was still looking at you. He finally spoke to ask one of his servants to take you to your room. You turned back to your parents, wanting nothing more than for them to change their mind and take you away. Of course they couldn't even if they wanted to. They just smiled at you and allowed themselves to be escorted away by another servant.
You followed the young lady with you to a room that was set to be yours. It was a large room, filled with everything you could ask for. Under different circumstances, you would be enthralled by this new room, but all you could think about was your imminent future. Would you still be in this room after you and Geta were wed? Or would you have to move to his room?
The thought of having to share a bed with him made you feel faint.
You heard someone enter the room as the servant started to leave. You turned to find Geta, stood tall and broad in the doorway. The servant bowed, but Geta's attention was solely on you. He moved from the doorway and motioned for her to leave. Suddenly, you were alone with him.
You remembered yourself and moved to bow. Geta held up a hand. "No need for that. We are to be wed soon, which means you will be the Empress of Rome."
You nodded, but the reminder of your future title left you unable to speak as you were focusing on trying to stay upright.
His eyes were raking over you again. "You are a quiet one."
"I-I am sorry, your majesty," you said, your voice soft and quiet. It seemed to amuse Geta.
"We will change that. My wife will not be seen as cowardly and weak." You merely nodded again. Geta took a step towards you and you tried not to flinch. He stopped and something seemed to soften in his face. "I know what is expected of us once we are wed, but I want you to know that I will not touch you without your consent. You can continue to stay in this room as long as you please. I just ask you to accompany me when I call upon you. Is that agreeable?"
You found your voice finally to say, "Y-Yes."
He nodded, then left without another word. Once you were sure you were alone, you let yourself cry.
~~~~~~
You and Geta were married days later. It was a beautiful wedding, and your parents were allowed to be in attendance. You smiled and pretended to be happy in front of the audience, but in private you were still crying over the whole arrangement.
Geta kept his word; he did not touch you or force you into his room without your consent. He kissed you once on your wedding day, but that was the extent of it. And because he kept to his word, you kept to yours and joined Geta whenever he called on you. It was mainly for official events - meetings, tournaments, and the like - where he needed his wife to be present.
The one time he had asked for your presence for something unofficial was by accident.
You had taken to exploring the palace on your off time. It was so large that even after almost a month of being there, you were still finding new areas to see. You weren't allowed out of the palace on your own as Geta said it was too dangerous, but there were plenty of days when you wished you could see the grounds, and not just to see the gladiator tournaments.
You were wandering the halls on your own when you suddenly ran into Geta. You didn't expect to see him as you thought he was having a meeting with his brother and the general. You also didn't expect the smile that he gave you when he saw you.
"Hello, my darling," he said.
"Geta," you said, stopping yourself before you instinctively bowed. "I did not expect to see you so soon."
"My meeting was cut short." Geta sighed and shook his head. "My brother has quite the temper sometimes. It is why I usually handle these type of things."
You couldn't help the look on your face in response to his comment. To your further surprise, he laughed.
"I know, I do not seem much better. But I promise you when you have seen me lose my temper, it is mostly warranted. Caracalla will lose his temper because he is not being spoken to directly, even though there were several of us there."
When he stepped towards you, you didn't back away the way you would have when you first met him. He offered an arm to you and asked, "Will you allow me to accompany you, my darling?"
You felt you couldn't say no since you both had an agreement, but you also felt a surprising desire to have him accompany you. So, you took his arm, and he started to walk with you.
"How would you like to see the grounds?" he asked.
"I thought it was too dangerous."
"Only if you go on your own. We cannot risk our enemies finding the Empress on her own. They could harm you, take you, or kill you."
You tensed beside him. You were still getting used to how dangerous this new role you had was.
He noticed your tenseness and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I will not let anything happen to you. Trust me, my darling. You are safe with me."
And you believed him. Had he not been keeping that promise, even before making it? He had made sure you didn't leave the palace unsupervised, he was always by your side during public events. This may not have been a love marriage, but it was clear you both had respect for one another.
Seeing the outside of the palace for something other an a gladiator fight was lovely. The view - which you got from your room anyways, but this was different - was breathtaking. You often forgot how beautiful Rome was. It was easy to see so much of the land since the palace was placed higher above everyone else (you tried not to think about the implications of that).
"Do you ever leave the palace?" you asked him. "Besides for your official meetings and such?"
"Not usually," he responded. "It is too dangerous for me to go out on my own, and what would the point of going out with my guards be? I could not truly enjoy being out."
"That sounds awful," you commented, mainly to yourself. This may be a new role and new rules for you, but this was something Geta had been putting up with his entire life. He was the son of a previous Emperor, he was raised in this exact palace. He was probably under a watchful eye his entire life, very rarely ever getting moments alone.
He seemed amused by your comment, though. "Would you want to leave the palace? Obviously, as I said, we cannot leave alone, but we could always go for a walk with the guards."
You simply looked up at him. You were astonished by how nice he was being. Granted, you hadn't spent much time with Geta away from the watchful eyes of his armies or his people, but you had heard plenty about Geta before meeting and marrying him. Everyone called him and his brother ruthless and vile men. You had met plenty of people who would spit at the ground at just the mention of their names, and others who would curse upon them. Caracalla certainly lived up to his reputation, but so far, Geta only did when he had an audience.
"Is there something the matter?" he asked.
"I...am surprised by you," you admitted.
"Surprised by me? What have I done to surprise you?"
"You are...kind."
Any other person would probably be offended by the fact that being kind was a surprise. But Geta was well aware of the reputation he and his brother had, so he completely understood why you were shocked to learn that he had a kinder side to him.
He stopped walking and turned to face you. He had taken your hands in his and ran his thumbs over your knuckles. "Being in such high power, there is a certain image you must uphold so that you do not appear weak to your enemies. That is what our father told us when we were young. He taught us to be ruthless so that others knew not to fuck with us or our families. Caracalla took to that more than I did. He has a temper, he enjoys violence, although he would never put himself on the front lines during a war, and he believes he has the right to anything and everything he wants because he is an Emperor. He sometimes forgets that that is a title he shares with me."
"Everyone says you are both the same," you pointed out.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "All for show, my darling. If I was to show myself as being weaker than my brother, then I would be a target."
Geta moved an inch closer to you. You found yourself inhaling sharply at his sudden closeness, but not in fear as you may have once done.
"It is why I will be forever grateful that Caracalla did not want to marry you," he said. "From the moment you were brought before us, I could tell that you were not like he is; not like how I pretend to be. If Caracalla had wed you, he would not have been as...kind to you as I have been."
You knew what he meant, and the thought of it made you shudder.
"I was willing to take him in combat to marry you if I had to," Geta admitted. "Which I knew he would turn down anyways because, like I said, he is not one to fight his own battles. But I would not doubt him to try so that he could be the one to wed and have an heir first."
It was a lot to take in. You had come into this marriage thinking you knew everything about Geta, but you were learning just how wrong you were to think that. And you were certainly more than happy to be wrong.
You were suddenly much more aware of his closeness to you and the feeling of his hands on yours. It made your heart beat a little faster, and your body light on fire. You wondered if he felt it too, whatever "it" was.
"Thank you," you said, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper. You weren't sure what you were thanking him for; for being honest? For being kind? For protecting you?
Either way, he did not question it. He merely smiled down at you and said, "You are welcome, my darling."
~~~~~~
The next time you were called upon was a few days later for another gladiator tournament. Geta and Caracalla had acquired a new gladiator (Geta had told you not to question how this "acquiring" happened, and you were more than happy to follow his word), and it seemed they wanted to put him to the test immediately. Caracalla was practically giddy with excitement over it, while Geta remained as composed as he could.
You had followed them to their perch - high above the arena and closed off to anyone who was not one of the Emperors or their people. There were two seats for both Emperors, and both were big enough to seat two people. You took your place next to Geta, the side of your body pressing against his as you sat. The small contact alone made your body tingle, but now was not the time to get lost in these new feelings. You had an audience, and in front of an audience there was an image to uphold. You had come to learn very quickly how to act when you were in front of others - head held high, stone faced, follow whatever Geta said to you.
The crowd below you were cheering in excitement. Caracalla was already on the edge of his seat, impatient for the fighting to begin. You, on the other hand, were just waiting for the moment it ended.
You hated the gladiator fights. You didn't like the violence, and almost every time you had come since marrying Geta, they had ended in death. You often had nightmares about what you had seen inside the coliseum.
The crowd roared as the gates opened and the new gladiator entered. Across from him, another gate opened and three other men - past winners of these tournaments - stepped out.
You gasped. "Three against one?"
"Three winners," Caracalla said. "We must see how well our new fighter can do."
"That is hardly fair!"
"Nothing is fair in combat." He had a shit eating grin on his face, and you wished nothing more than to punch him directly in that grin of his.
But, since you couldn't do that, you did the next best thing and retorted, "What do you know of combat?"
Your words seemed to do enough as Caracalla's painted white face started to turn pink with anger. Geta caught your eye and smirked at you, making you feel even more proud of yourself.
The fighting started, and it was quite clear that the new gladiator could hold his own. He took down the first of the three with no problem, taking his weapon and incapacitating him within seconds. The second man put up more of a fight, but eventually he went down as well. The third was smarter. He had been waiting for his chance to go one on one with the new gladiator, saving his strength and his energy. And once it was just the two of them, the third man struck with a vigor.
You gasped as the new gladiator was wounded, blood spraying from a gash on his leg. Geta reached over to take your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. It did little to reassure you as your eyes stayed glued to what was happening below. The new gladiator had fell to his knees, but was still fighting the best he could. The third man was stood over him, sword in hand. It was clear to both of them, as well as the entire audience, who the winner was. They were just waiting for the say.
Geta stood from his seat, letting go of your hand. He looked over at his brother, who was nearly falling out of his chair with excitement. But when he looked to you, he saw a completely different reaction. You tried to rarely show emotion at these battles, but you had found yourself with tears in your eyes over the unfair odds against the new gladiator. He was about to lose his life because Caracalla and the other men involved with creating these tournaments did not care to play fair.
Seeing your upset seemed to soften Geta. He turned back to the two men who were waiting below and held out a fist.
The audience went silent as Geta flipped his thumb upward, signaling for the new man to be spared.
There was a moment, as if waiting to make sure Geta was serious, before the third man sheathed his sword. The new gladiator hunched over, his leg still bleeding from his wound. Someone would come and get him and patch him up, you were sure, but neither of you stuck around long enough to see. Geta had turned back to you almost immediately and extended a hand to you. He helped you up from your seat, then looped an arm through yours to guide you back inside.
"You spared him," you said, still in disbelief.
"You did not want to see him die," he responded, as if it were common sense.
"But...every other time..."
"Every other time has been a fair fight. As you said, it was unfair for him to be up against three previous victors. He will be treated, and should he survive from the wound on his leg, he will continue to train so that he can fight again. This time, more fairly."
You couldn't believe what he was saying. He had spared a man for you. Because you said the odds were unfair, because seeing this man die would've upset you too much.
He did this for you.
Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by Caracalla calling, "You have gone soft, brother!"
The two of you turned to see Geta's brother storming towards you. His face was now completely red with anger as he pointed at his brother. "You have made a mockery of us."
"I hardly think sparing one man's life makes anyone think any differently of us," Geta scoffed.
"It makes us look weak! It will make them all think that we are too weak to call for the death of another man."
"It was an unfair fight, brother. I was not going to let our new gladiator lose when the odds were against him in such an unfair way."
Caracalla's eyes flickered to you for a moment. You had to stop yourself from shrinking behind Geta.
"So she is the problem then?" Caracalla said. "This bitch has made you soft."
Before you could register what was happening, Geta had Caracalla up against a wall with a dagger to his brother's throat. The guards were watching, unsure what they were meant to do.
"Do not speak of my wife that way ever again," Geta hissed. "If I ever hear of you demeaning her, or me, again, I will make sure it is you who ends up in the arena next. Do I make myself clear, brother?"
Caracalla nodded quickly. You thought you could see tears briming his lash line, but you weren't completely sure. When Geta let him go, he crumbled to the floor. His guards were quick to surround him, while yours and Geta's followed the two of you. Geta's dagger was sheathed and his hand was in yours again in a matter of seconds.
"Was that smart?" you asked him. "Could he use that against you at all?"
"I do not care what he intends to do about my threat," Geta muttered. "I will not have him insulting my wife like that, especially not to my face."
You stopped walking, pulling Geta to a halt. He looked back at you, confused. You pulled him to you and pressed your lips against his. He seemed surprised, but he certainly wasn't about to push you off of him. You had known for a while that the feeling growing within you was love, but now you were finally realizing that Geta truly did feel the same way for you. He was willing to spare a man's life, and to threaten his brother's, in your honor. That was so much more than just a mutual respect.
You pulled away first, albeit reluctantly, to tell him, "I wish to stay with you in your room tonight. And maybe...for the foreseeable future, if you will have me."
Geta's face lit up. He gently cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for another gentle kiss. "Of course, my darling. I wish to have you for as long as you wish to be with me."
#emperor geta#emperor geta imagine#emperor geta x reader#joseph quinn#joseph quinn imagine#joseph quinn x reader#gladiator ii#imagine#one shot#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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âI wIsH wE sTiLl LiVeD iN tHe TiMe WhEn We CoUlD dReSs LiKe ThAt EvErY dAyâ
That time is now because that is the most historically inaccurate thing Iâve seen. Nobody wouldâve worn that during the renaissance the time where people can wear that everyday is now. Wear what you want.
#I may be more bothered by the historical inaccuracy but I think this message might be more useful for people to see than me ranting about#corsets and how you wouldnât have worn one over your clothes like ever#fashion#historical clothing#historical fashion#how do I tag this so it gets to the people that wish they could live in one era so they could wear era inaccurate clothing#just#wear what you want#just donât claim itâs from some era when it do so so clearly isnât and youâd know if youâd seen even ONE portrait or painting or sculpture#or a depiction of anyone wearing clothes
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Patroclus: The man I love was prophesied to die after killing his rivalâŠ
Younger Patroclus: Who was his rival?
Patroclus: The man who killed me.
#patrochilles#achilles#patroclus#patroklus#achillesandpatroclus#greek mythology#tsoa achilles#ancient greek#historical inaccuracies#quotes#the song of achilles#madeline miller#tsoa spoilers#inaccurate greek mythology#tsoa
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How I found you was, someone on Tumblr mentioned your Hades LP to the tune of âthis guy went into this long rant about how you canât put modern sexuality labels onto ancient people, yadda yadda yadda, and then he wrapped it up with âThat said, Achilles was extremely gayââ and I looked you up because I decided I wanted that energy in my life. It was a good choice.
Historian Brain: applying modern labels and conceptions of gender and sexuality to people from ancient history is fraught and problematic. It imposes a modern lens on the past which obscures the true complexity of their identities and the complex ways in which people's emotional and sexual selves have had to navigate culture through the ages.
Bring Achilles forward in time to the modern day and we don't even know if he would identify as a man, much less with any of our categorizations of sexual and romantic attraction. Gender and sexuality are labels we apply to complex human experiences and those labels are always to one extent or another socially negotiated and unavoidably reductive. They must be refined and re-invented continuously to reflect our reality, and that process works backwards in time as well.
The existence of queerness in history should be explored and indeed highlighted, because history writing suffers from a long tendency of systemic queer erasure, but that spotlight should emphasize the historical complexity and fluidity of our identities. It is as problematic and inaccurate to label Achilles gay as it would be to call him a libertarian or hold him up as a model of masculinity in a modern context. Such inaccuracies should be avoided and critiqued appropriately in scholarly writing. Our past deserves to be understood in terms as nuanced and complicated as our present.
Person brain: they mixed their ashes in their fucking burial urns, that is the gayest thing I have ever heard in my fucking life
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đđđ đŻđđ: đđ đŹđđđđ đđ» đ„đđđđđ¶đđđ
CWs â Â fluff, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, arranged marriage, descriptions of birth (not the reader), blood and mild gore (they donât call it the dark ages for nothin!), one-sided pining
Wordcount: 5.1k
Note: Remember like three weeks ago when I lied to you all and said Iâd have this out in a few days? I had to plan out a bit of the actual plot so thatâs what took me so long. But I finally did it, so eat up! Also, I really do NOT know how medieval royal weddings worked but the shallow google searches I made werenât good enough so letâs all hope this isnât horribly inaccurate, though Iâm sure it is. Do we care, chat?
Every day leading up to the wedding was a day that you saw red. Greeting your traitorous mother in the mornings made you see red, sharing a meal with your power-hungry father made you see red, and listening to the two of them prattle on about how you ought to behave once you were queen? That turned the world absolutely crimson. Each night, you crumpled up and clutched your skirts under the dinner table with shaking fists, creasing them with deep wrinkles that would take days to iron out, but all the while you continued to hold your head high, speaking only when spoken to just as you were taught as a girl. Your strained, thin-lipped smile was only let go of in the privacy of your own bedchambers, when it was replaced with a cold expression and even chillier disposition. Somehow, drifting apart from your family day by day wasnât as painful as you had imagined it would be. It was easy, really, because there was nothing left for anyone to talk about. After all, your mother had always taught you that if you had nothing nice to say, you shouldnât say anything at all. However, your sudden âdemureness and obedienceâ, as they put it, did not go unnoticed.Â
Your parents were positively delighted with your recent change, or âimprovement,â in attitude. Your lady mother congratulated you for finally agreeing to fulfill your societal role as a subservient wife and motherâ an aspect of life of which you had previously been a bit resentfulâ and your father perpetually reminded you how beneficial this marriage would be to the rest of your bloodline. Even your younger brothers seemed excited for you, constantly coming up with new questions to pester you with regarding life as royalty. The only thing keeping you sane was the knowledge that soon youâd be living far, far away from your conniving parents, free to do whatever you wished. Whichever benefits a royal connection brought them would be nothing compared to your own guaranteed lavish lifestyle. Youâd soon have your own castle, your own servants, and even your own soldiers! Oh, and the husband, too. You kept forgetting about that part.Â
In some ways, the fact that he was a leper was a great relief to you. That meant youâd most likely be spared many of the wifely duties you had so been dreading; mainly, consummating the marriage. At your age, only 14 years old yet, there was nothing that interested you about the male body, giving birth, or raising children. It was not so long ago that you had helped raise your own little brothers, and the idea of going through all of that again made you feel so trapped. Not to mention the fact that giving birth was extremely dangerous. And painful. And frightening. That thought caused a memory you had been repressing for years to resurface from the depths of your mind, like a buoy in the ocean. It was the tortured screams of your mother the night your youngest brother was born. Had you not known better, you might have thought she was being ripped in two, and the labor lasted for so many endless, terrible hours, which felt more like days. You remembered the midwives rushing around, and the maids leaving your motherâs room with armful after armful of blood-soaked sheets and sloshing buckets of burgundy water. As they passed the place where you were hugging your knees in the corridor, a drop fell at your feet and sunk slowly into the stone floor, leaving nothing but a small round stain.Â
Once it was time to leave your family home for the castle, you said goodbye to the view from your window, which you had become well-accustomed to. It was probably the thing youâd miss most, besides your brothers. You closed your bedroom door for the last time and meandered down the familiar, dimly-lit corridor, taking note of the particular stone which was still adorned by that tiny dot of brownish red. A shiver ran down your spine. You opted out of doing a final sweep to make sure youâd packed all of your belongings, because soon enough, youâd have better things to replace them with, anyway. The knights theyâd sent for you had loaded your bags onto their horses about an hour ago and set off for your new home. Now, the only thing left to transport was you.Â
Another knight was waiting for you outside with a large white horse. He watched as you hugged your mother and father stiffly, pretending not to notice your motherâs tears as she kissed you on the forehead like she used to when you were younger. Before you were a lady. Before you were the queen of Jerusalem. Your father said nothing, but his somber expression and the distant look in his eyes and the loose grip he had on your hand as he kissed the top of it told you everything you needed to know. The knight helped you mount the horse and get comfortable sitting behind him, and you waved goodbye to your family as you were carried away, truly intending it to be for everything you had ever known. But whatever sadness you might have been feeling was overpowered by sheer determination. Now, at 14 years old, your life was finally beginning. Â
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The knight who sat in front of you on the horse did not turn out to be a very good conversationalist. The only responses you could draw out of him were along the lines of âYes, Your Majesty,â or âNo, Your Majesty.â You were hoping for someone a bit moreâŠengaging, perhaps, as you were feeling an odd mixture of excitement and anxiety that grew with each and every gallop towards Jerusalem. And anxiety always made you talkative.Â
âIs it fun at all, being a knight?â You shouted over the clip-clop of the horseâs hooves, breaking the long silence that you had been enduring since the beginning of the journey.Â
âI beg your pardon, Your Majesty?â
âYou know, protecting the kingdom and such. Isnât it exciting? I find the idea to be absolutely thrilling! Donât you think so?âÂ
He paused for a moment, and then replied flatly, âYes, Your Majesty.âÂ
You pursed your lips, waiting in silence for a few moments, expecting him to elaborate, but no such luck. Was it really so hard to share a gory battle tale or two to pass the time? You knew knights were known for having excellent integrity and virtuousness, meaning they would never say something that could potentially scare a lady, but couldnât he humor you just this once, while you were alone? But maybe he doesnât want to talk about it, you thought, imagining how burdensome it must be to know the feeling of cutting someoneâs head off. So, you graciously changed the subject and mentally patted yourself on the back for being so kind and just. It simply wouldnât do, as future queen of Jerusalem, to force sensitive information out of this poor, traumatized knight for your own fleeting amusement. Maybe a few months earlier and it would have been acceptable, but alas. You sighed.
âThis noble steed of yours is breathtaking. Does he have a name?â you questioned, admiring the animalâs snow-white pelt, entranced by the way its powerful muscles rippled beneath it.
âI do not know, Majesty. This horse belongs to the king. It is the only one His Majesty trusts, so he instructed me to collect you using it.â Another memory flashed through your mind, this time of your first meeting with your future husband. He had been riding this very horse that day, its stunning color matching that of his robes. Your heart fluttered at the idea that heâd cared so deeply for your safety, although it shouldnât have surprised you. It was not as if he had parents forcing him into this marriage. He was accepting you in holy matrimony for some other reason, a reason entirely of his own. His own choice. A blush crept up the back of your neck, and you were suddenly thankful for the fact that the knight was facing away from you. You cleared your throat nervously.Â
âWell, whatâs it like, working for the king? Is he nice?âÂ
You felt the knightâs huge sigh before you heard it, your arms that were wrapped around his midsection rising and falling in tandem with the breath.Â
âYes, Your Majesty, the king is veryâŠnice.â
âIs that all?â you muttered, rolling your eyes at his reservedness. You got the hint. You understood he didnât want to talk, that much he had made very apparent, but that was just too damn bad. As queen of Jerusalem, you wanted to get to know your subjects, and who better to start with than the one sharing a horse with you?Â
âWill I have my own chambers, or shall I share with the king?â You asked, holding back a giggle at the expression you were imagining the knight had on his face.Â
âI am sure you will be provided with your own chambers, Your Majesty, but the choice of whether to use them or not will be entirely yours and your husbandâs,â he replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice. You let out a loud laugh, which actually startled him a little, and then followed it up with another.Â
âI wonder if he snores!â you said, between giggles. The knight smiled, shaking his head. After that, the journey to Jerusalem was easy.Â
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The next time you laid eyes on the king was when you were getting married, standing opposite each other in an architectural marvel of a cathedral, both dressed in extravagant clothing and expensive jewelry. His silver mask had recently been polished, and it shone beautifully in the sun, but still not as beautifully as his blue eyes. They were as you remembered them, only a bit brighter. His gold-trimmed robes were as white as ever, freshly washed and perfumed for the occasion. Even the gloves on his hands looked new and clean. You admired them as the priest rambled on in front of you. If God was listening right now, you thought, heâd surely be bored to tears. There was one part of the day you had enjoyed, though, which was the preparation for the wedding. You had been doted on by countless maids all morning, lining your eyes with black powder and weaving your hair into an intricate, interlocking braid pattern. The gown was altered to fit you perfectly, and the large, bell-like sleeves fell around your arms like wings. You were finally beginning to feel like a real queen.Â
The ceremony seemed to drag on forever, but you passed the time by maintaining eye contact with King Baldwin. You drowned out the rest of the world and focused only on him. When you smiled, he smiled back. You could only see the corners of his eyes crinkling, but you knew what that meant. You cocked your head to the side, trying to imagine what his smile really looked like. During that evening you spent with him, you hadnât gotten the chance to see it. Just as soon as he had taken off the mask, he had to put it back on. The consequences of your parents seeing Baldwinâs face would have been disastrous, but thankfully, their loud footsteps and jovial voices had carried quite well down the corridor, warning you of their arrival. Regardless of how short they were, those few seconds youâd spent admiring his bare face were enough to conjure up a half-formed image of what his smile might look like. However, that image disappeared when you saw him cock his head to the side, too, just as you had. You blinked twice.Â
He blinked twice, too.Â
Was he copying you on purpose?Â
You shifted your feet, and he mirrored you, his robes shimmering like the ocean as they fluttered around him. You bit back a giggle. He was. Flames of mischief danced in his eyes, and something else, too, ignited there when you grinned at him.Â
ââŠthat these rings shall forever remained blessed, O Merciful Lord. Amen,â said the priest, approaching the king with a book, two rings laid on top of it. Suddenly, Baldwin became very serious, plucking one of the rings between his slender, gloved fingers and holding it gently. You stared as it glistened in the sunlight, which was penetrating the stained glass windows and casting colorful shadows around the altar. He slowly stepped towards you, making your heart begin to beat faster. His head stayed bowed as he presented you with his open palm. You held your breath and lifted your left hand, gingerly brushing your fingertips against his palm, now understanding what was about to happen. He effortlessly glided the ring onto your fourth finger, where it rested beautifully. The diamond glittered like water, mesmerizingly. Baldwin wrapped his fingers around your hand, now holding it as gently as he could, and the priest was now presenting you with a ring. You followed Baldwinâs lead, pushing it onto his fourth finger, which was waiting outstretched for you patiently. You stood mere inches apart, fingers of your left hands interwoven as the priest finished the prayers. The ring, as breathtaking as it was, was somehow still only secondary to the cerulean eyes of your now-husband, which were like two rich sapphires lined with delicate blonde hairs.Â
ââŠAnd may God bless, preserve, and keep you, that you may have life and love everlasting. I pronounce that you now be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.â
The cathedral filled with polite claps and murmurs of âamenâ as Baldwin released your hand and you turned to face the pews. Next to you, much to your surprise, he quickly dropped to his knees, his body angled towards you, clasping your fair hand between his. You gazed down at him through your lashes, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn. Boldly, Baldwin drew one hand up to his masked face, grasping it by the nose and swiftly pulling it to the side so that it was hiding his face from the crowd, but revealing it to you. He lifted your hand to his pink lips and pressed a searing kiss to it, liberally letting the physical contact linger, all the while maintaining eye contact with you from under his furrowed brow. You covered your mouth with your other hand to try and hide the toothy grin spreading across your face. He saw it anyway. The next thing you knew, he was grinning, too. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laughed. He laughed. You realized that you no longer had to imagine what his smile looked like.Â
After the wedding ceremony, you were promptly bombarded by happy civilians wishing to congratulate you, or simply to catch a glimpse of their new queen, and Baldwin was whisked away by his mother, who seemed to be perpetually by his side. It seemed that she was not quite ready yet to surrender the role of Baldwinâs caretaker to youâ but you had no gripes with that. You figured youâd grow into the role of loving, doting wife, as opposed to starting it right away, and unfortunately, the idea of changing his bandages each night before bed still made you shudder. In reality, his mother was not exactly thrilled about the marriage, either. She hadnât found you or your family quite noble enough for her precious son. However, she was smart enough to see that it was unlikely that anyone else would ever volunteer their daughter to marry a leper, so she begrudgingly allowed the union.Â
From the crowd, two plainly dressed women had introduced themselves to you as Matilda and Amelia, claiming that they were to be your servants. They would apparently be with you at all times, tending to your every whim and aiding you during your ascent to the throne, as well as bathing you and dressing you. Matilda was an older, more severe woman who had immediately intimidated you; her lips were drawn together thinly and permanently pursed, creating deep wrinkles around her mouth, and the rest of her face was an intricate web of creases and lines. Her graying hair was pulled back tightly, exposing her thinning hairline and sun-spotted forehead. Even her hands looked harsh, the skin rough and dry, cracking in some places, like mud that had been baking under the summer sun for too long. Amelia was quite the opposite; a timid, pretty young thing with wide brown eyes, fair hair, and a delicate frame. Sheâd barely had the courage to tell you her name, and rushed into the curtsey to avoid having to make eye contact with you for too long. She seemed to be around the same age as you, if not even younger.
After the attendees from the wedding had mostly dispersed, Matilda brought you back inside the castle to finally see your bedchamber, which you were to have all to yourself. She and Amelia led you through winding corridors and beautiful flowering courtyards, pointing out all the most significant landmarks along the way, such as the great hall, the kitchen, the maidâs chambers, the library, the chapel, the towers, the gardens, and the hundreds of guest bedrooms with conjoined washrooms. The last thing she showed you before your own room was the kingâs quarters, which were directly across from yours.Â
âNow, Amelia, go draw us a bath. Thereâs no need for two of us to be standing around here idly while the Queen inspect her chambers,â she ordered, and Amelia nodded, scurrying away to the washroom silently.Â
As Matilda threw open the giant oak doors of your room, you couldnât help but gasp, suddenly rooted to the spot. It was glorious. Taking up the majority of the room was a massive bed with four handsome posts, all carved with intricate floral patterns and stained a deep brown. The mattress was topped with overly-stuffed burgundy throw pillows and a comforter to match. Connecting to the four posts was a frame, from which wine-colored velvet curtains hung to give you some privacy. The same fabric was used to shroud the windows, which were floor-length and leaded. At the foot of the bed lay a pile of bags and wrapped itemsâ all of your belongings from home! On the wall across from them was a large dressing table, covered in jewels and precious metals and bottles of fine-smelling oils. A small, round stool with a cushion on it sat underneath. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldnât help but abandon Matilda in the doorway, running and throwing yourself face-first onto the bed, just like you used to at home. You giggled and kicked your feet up into the air, unsurprisingly beginning to sink into the plush mattress. Immediately, you felt your body melt against the malleable, pillowy surface, deciding that you definitely approved of its fine quality. Your bed from back home simply couldnât compare. However, your glee was short-lived, because it was abruptly interrupted by a stern voice.Â
âYour Majesty! You must cease this behavior at once and right yourself! That wedding gown is priceless, and you mustnât risk causing it any damage!â Matilda scolded, pulling you up by the arm and frantically kneeling to check the delicate garment for any possible tears or imperfections. You winced and apologized quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your juvenile behavior. She was right. As a matter of fact, most things in the palace were probably priceless, and it wouldnât do to act so impulsively, to be so unladylike. Even you, in your youth, knew better than that. You crossed your arms over your chest, beginning to feel rather insecure upon realizing just how much you had to learn about life as royalty.Â
âCome, child, it is time to undress. You must be bathed and prepared for your wedding night,â Matilda called, holding out a hand, her voice much more soft and gentle this time.
You gulped, not wanting to think about that, preferring to cross that bridge when you got to it. She bustled over to the magnificent dressing table, pulling out the stool for you to sit on. You obliged, seating yourself in front of her and watching in the mirror as her spindly fingers deftly unwound your intricate braids. It was relaxing, the feeling of her experienced hands nimbly dancing around your scalp, so you let the buildup of tension from the day slowly seep out of your muscles, loosening up more and more every second that passed. Soon, she was finished, and helped you to your feet, ordering you to keep your arms out straight as she undressed you. She pulled out pins from here and there, untied laces all around, and in a matter of minutes you were ready for your bath.Â
The water was warm and steaming as you stepped in, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the feeling. Rose petals floated across the surface of the water, giving the entire washroom a fresh scent. As you expected, Amelia was waiting for you silently, brush in hand, ready to scrub you vigorously from head to toe. You braced yourself, expecting the rough bristles to be painful, but once she began working attentively, it wasnât so bad at all. Yes, they were scratchy, but thatâs exactly what you needed to get rid of all the dirt and dead skin. She lathered you in delicate smelling soap and added some more fragrant oils to the water, letting you soak until your skin had absorbed all the moisture it possibly could. Not a single inch of you was neglected by the time the water had grown cold, at which point you got out and were dried with a fluffy white towel.Â
Next, you were ushered back into your chambers and changed into a pretty blue gown made of satin, which apparently âcomplimented the color of the kingsâ eyes perfectly,â according to Matilda. You felt your gut twist at the mention of him, at the prospect of being alone in a room with him and that piercing gaze again. Now that you were man and wife, everything was different. You had a duty to fulfill, and it seemed to be unavoidable, despite how young and vulnerable you were. Despite how averse to it you might be. Your mother had told you all about it, about how it would only last a few minutes if you were lucky, and that you just had to breathe deeply and count the seconds until it was over. How it happened to every woman at some point in her life, and that what follows would be completely and utterly worth every second of endurance. How rewarding it was to raise a child, or two children, or as many as your womb could bear. But no matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you were still scared. You didnât want that yet. You were only 14.Â
But before attending to your marital duties, first, there was dinner. You were seated at the complete opposite end of the table as Baldwin, as far as physically possible away from him, despite the fact that he was the only person there you had ever spoken to. You were too far away to be able to tell if he was even looking at you from under his mask. Next to him was his mother, who proceeded to shoot you sideways glances the entire night. The rest of the table was filled with noble men and women whom you did not recognize, their titles unfamiliar to you and the lands they hailed from even more obscure. You picked at your food and tried to stay as silent as possible to avoid making a mockery of yourself on your first night as Queen of Jerusalem. Sooner than you had hoped, dinner had concluded, and you were taken aside by Matilda, who pulled you into an empty corridor as the guests began filtering out of the castle.Â
âChild, do you know what is expected of you on your wedding night?â She asked, her voice low so that nobody except the two of you could hear the subject matter at hand. You took a deep breath and straightened you back in an attempt to appear more mature, before replying,Â
âYes, I will lie down and be still and hope that I am blessed with a child.âÂ
The woman smiled at you and clasped your shoulder, seemingly approving of your answer.Â
âExactly right, my dear. The king will call on you when he is ready, so you may go back to your room and occupy your time with an activity of your choosing until you are collected.âÂ
You nodded solemnly and thanked her before slowly making your way back to your room, trying to take as long as possible in an attempt to actually slow down time. Upon deeper reflection during this walk, you came to the conclusion that it was not being alone with the king that you were afraid of, but rather the act of consummating the marriage, which was, of course, something he had every right to do with you that night. It was the correct course of action. It was what all newlyweds did, no matter how young and afraid they were. Did he know what he was doing, you wondered, or was he just as oblivious as you? You couldnât imagine the young king being oblivious about much of anything, in all honesty. He was far too intelligentâ something you had seen for yourself over that game of chess.Â
Once you arrived at your room, Amelia was waiting at the door for you, an even more wide-eyed look on her face than usual. Uh oh, you thought to yourself.Â
âHis Majesty the King has requested your presence in his chambers, Your Highness,â she said quietly, bowing her head as she spoke. How did he get here so fast? You thought to yourself, terror rising in your chest. Amelia watched in half fear and half amusement as you frantically wiped your clammy hands on the bodice of your dress and ran your fingers through your hair, which was cascading down your shoulders freely. She was young, too, and unwed, and the idea of a wedding night was something that made her stomach churn as well, so she offered you a sympathetic look and watched as you dragged your feet across the hall, knocking on the imposing oak doors of the kingâs bedchambers.Â
đ đ đ
Baldwin had never been so jittery in his life. As he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for you to arrive, he fidgeted with his gloves, pulling them off by the fingers and then pulling them on again, over and over. All throughout dinner he had been gazing across the table at you, ignoring his motherâs neverending ranting as you stared down at your plate. Though you were only a blue blur with a vaguely maidenlike shape from where he was sitting, he was still completely enchanted, his heart beating in his throat every time you looked up in his general direction. He wondered if you could tell he was looking at you. Since the hour you were wed, he was able to think of nothing but you; your dazzling smile, your gorgeous hair, your playful sense of humor, the way the light in the cathedral illuminated your eyes. As the servants bathed him in strong-smelling medicinal herbs and wrapped the raw areas of skin with fresh bandages, he daydreamed about your voice, your laugh. And now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting your imminent arrival, he thought of practically everything except you.Â
He panicked about the state of his body, the pressure of consummating a marriage, the burden of fathering a child at such a young age. He panicked about the weight of ruling an entire kingdom all by himself, no longer able to entrust the brunt of the work to Raymond, and of being a suitable husband. He panicked about how many years he might even have left, if his illness continued to progress. But every worry, every fear, every doubt left his mind as soon as he heard you knock on his door.Â
He leapt to his feet, hastily pulling his left glove all the way back on and bounding over to the door, throwing it open wide with a grin on his face, to reveal⊠you, standing there, gaunt and sweating, looking like you had just suffered a bout of cholera. The smile on his face fell a bit, but it couldnât be wiped completely clean. At least he could finally be with his bride, his love, his queen.Â
âGood evening, Your Highness,â you murmured, your head bowed, pointing down at your shoes, as well as the freshly polished ones directly across from you.Â
âGood evening, my Queen,â he breathed, heart beating quickly as you shuffled into his room. He closed the door behind you, letting it shut with a âclickâ before following you over to the middle of the room, where you hovered like a ghost, still staring at the ground and clasping your hands tightly in front of you. A tense, silent moment passed, and still, you didn't move. Whatever was left of his smile faded from his unmasked face, and the panic from earlier began to return, crashing over him in icy waves. Why wouldnât you look at him? He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from leg to leg.Â
âAre you feeling very well tonight, my lady?â He asked tentatively, shuffling a bit closer.Â
You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly turned, stiltedly making your way over to the bed.Â
âLetâs just get this started then, shall we?â You said tersely, laying down on your back on the plush covers and screwing your eyes shut tightly.Â
âI am ready.âÂ
King Baldwin stared at you blankly, frozen in the middle of the room, and completely panicking. No, no, no, this was all wrong, this was not how he wanted it to goâŠhe absolutely did not want to force you into it, to do anything you didnât also wantâŠand you clearly didn't want it. You were lying there, as stiff as a board. This was the final straw for him.
He wasnât ready for it yet either, he decided. He would just have to lie to his mother. When she discovered that the queen was, in fact, not pregnant, he would blame it on his own body, claiming to be infertile. It was probably true, at any rate. He took a deep breath, feeling shame and embarrassment at not being able to consummate his own marriage rise to his cheeks, and spoke three words,Â
âYou may go,âÂ
And those were the last three words he spoke to you for the next three years.Â
Note: I'll give you a kiss if you can count how many times I reference you being the "Queen of Jerusalem" in this chapter.
#baldwin iv#kingdom of heaven#baldwin iv x reader#king baldwin iv#king baldwin iv x reader#baldwin iv one shot#baldwin of jerusalem#highnoonsunlight#baldwin iv fic#slow burn#one sided pining#wedding night
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I saw a post going around about costube historians analyzing period film costumes for accuracy and it kind of got under my skin, so I'm sitting down and writing ... not exactly a response to it, but a discussion of the topic.
(It would be a direct response except that I don't actually watch costube, because quite frankly I can't watch/listen to people discuss things I already know. And I don't want to be like "they don't do X!" when maybe they really do X and I'm just not aware. But a lot of the complaints hit the same points that have been brought up against fashion historians for reviewing costumes for decades. I would also note that I have looked into specific videos where there were claims of terrible costuber behavior and watched them and found nothing.)
If you're going to analyze a period film's costuming in any way, you should still interact with the historical aspect to some degree. If you want to talk about the use of bold stripes in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, for instance, and you don't mention that they were in style during the period the film appears to be set in, it's kind of weird.
Likewise, yes, if you're critiquing primarily from the angle of historical accuracy, you should also engage to at least some extent with the reasoning behind the inaccuracy. If a reviewer doesn't do so at all, then yes, their review is probably not as good as it could be.
People pointing out an inaccuracy (or many inaccuracies) are not inherently scolding the costume designer. Even if their tone is something other than sweet. Sometimes they are scolding other people involved in the production, like the director who mandated a particular costume, or just a general notion of TPTB. Usually they are divorcing the art from the artist, though, and just reviewing the costuming from their particular viewpoint and knowledge base for a likeminded audience.
Sometimes, yes, they are complaining directly about the costume designer. This is not a crime. Some costume designers (for instance, Sandy Powell) have an incredible grasp on fashion history and excellent taste when it comes to diverging from it. Others simply don't have as in-depth of an understanding and make design decisions sometimes based on stereotypes and myths. Some costume designers will explain their decisions in interviews or blog posts and make it clear that they didn't make a truly informed decision about accuracy because they didn't know enough about the period. It's important for both sides of the equation to stop painting the other with too broad of a brush ("ivory-tower elitists who have no idea of a production's needs or budget" vs. "costumers who know how to sew but not how to do historical research").
If you're allowed to complain about a writer or a director or an actor doing something you don't like in a movie, you're also allowed to complain about a costume designer. You're allowed to have aesthetic preferences, and even to talk about them without hedging every five seconds to make it clear that others can disagree, although some of this is beneficial with any critique. Why would it be otherwise?
This seems really obvious to me, but maybe it's not? But "they costumed that female actor in an anachronistically sexy way because sex sells" is a feminist issue. The assumption that women's bodies should be sites of less-clothed allure while men's should attract by being more covered (with more layers than in modern dress, with cravats, etc.) is sexist. Complaints about female characters being costumed inaccurately are often being made along these lines, and pointing out that the producers insisted on it or something does not mean it's suddenly unproblematic that every female character deemed fuckable has to have low necklines at all times and modern shiny hair.
It's true that fiction isn't non-fiction and shouldn't be taken that way, but it's also demonstrably true that viewers do take cliches in film aesthetics as accurate when they see them enough times. People cite Scarlett O'Hara's 18" waist. They believe there were no bright colors before the 1920s and that women couldn't have put their hair up unless they were wealthy. These beliefs have consequences when it comes to public perceptions of history, and if films perpetuate them it's perfectly reasonable to point out that they support ideas about e.g. gender roles that trads express today.
It's also simply funny when a film's hair or costuming or makeup is supposed to evoke a lack of artifice but actually requires quite a bit of artifice because people don't naturally have perfect hair and skin and so on.
If you don't like reviews of period films that focus on the accuracy of the costuming, maybe ... don't watch/read reviews by fashion historians and historical costumers? At least unless they're vetted for you by someone who doesn't mind that?
#fashion history#historical fashion#costube#the original post I saw made me want to write a dozen reviews solely about the accuracy of costuming
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