#owl viscount

[thelostgirl21]

Okay but...

Jaskier always wore blue-green doublets (various shades of teal, olive...) in Season 1, except for one episode...

That episode. The one where Geralt told him that if life could give him one blessing, it would be to take him off his hands!

On that episode he was wearing a bright red doublet over a blue-green shirt.

And, ever since, he's been wearing his red/burgundy coat, and has totally abandonned those blue-green color tones.

Besides red, he's been sticking to whites and browns and more earthly tones (his vests are also a mix of red and gold).

Red is the color of Radovid's Kingdom (note: the chaotic part of me almost wishes Redania's color was blue, just to mess with people's expectations!), often combined with white, gold, brown and black.

The wardrobe of nobles and people at court is dominated by those colors.

In terms of 100% accidental foreshadowing, I just think it's interesting that Jaskier was already on his way to adopting the colors of Radovid's own world when Geralt essentially "cast him off" from his.

(And that the very first time Geralt and Jaskier met, Jaskier's doublet had slits with just a tiny bit of red and gold seeping through.)

I'm starting to think that it might have been a good thing that Jaskier was only wearing a pair of pants and a shirt that first time he and Radovid met.

As revealing as that outfit was, Jaskier standing there in all of his bardic glorly with his long red leather coat, flashing hints of gold at Radovid, just might have clearly signaled to him that he'd just found himself a suitable mate!

Don't know if that was the intent or not, but Jaskier's outfit on the show also offers a nice nod to him actually being Redanian nobility (viscount), but with a much less formal vibe...

He basically looks like a Redanian noble that escaped into the wild and went feral!

Yup! Jaskier is now dressed like a feral Redanian viscount that keeps "wailing" (Joey's words, not mine!) outside to attract mates, stealing scraps of food from everyone he comes across, sneaking into people's homes to go sniff around your perfectly domesticated Redanian prince...

Next thing you know, your domesticated Redanian prince is stealing food from your plate, hissing and giving you attitude, then he suddenly runs away from his prince-sitters to disappear into a forest in the hopes of finding the feral Redanian viscount.

He finally manages to locate him when he hears the distant and familiar sound of him "wailing" a feral Cintran princess to sleep, makes noise to attract him outside, starts "wailing" back, and winds up mating with him in the back of a woodshed!

And the moment your domesticated Redanian prince is eventually found and brought back home - all dirty and stinky, no less - the first thing he stubbornly wants to do is run off into the wild again to go chase after that pesky feral Redanian viscount to go help him reunite with the rest of his feral pack, and hopefully be allowed to join it so they can mate more often!

[forgottenbones]

Boris Johnson's Book Made Me Suffer

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-

[seat-safety-switch]

While I was working on my car out in the driveway, I heard a persistent hooting. In accordance with my training as a shitbox mechanic, I immediately started trying to figure out what the noise could be. Suspension bushing? No. Serpentine belt bearings? Could be. Horn? Hasn't worked since 1981. Wheel bearings? God, no, I hope not. And then I realized the car was not running. The hooting was coming from an owl.

Eventually, the hooting began to annoy me. I felt as though I was being judged by this strange animal. Not amused by my incompetent attempt at re-tapping the wrecked threaded holes on the distributor, the fates had sent a creature to mock me from a nearby tree. Every time I started on a task, a hoot would break my concentration. It was all I could think about. The project had been completely forgotten.

Now, I'm no ornithologist. I'm not even an ophthalmologist. Whenever I tell this story to "owl people," the first thing they always ask me is what make and model the owl was. It is not lost on me that this is the same thing I ask people whenever literally any story about a car is told to me ("how could you not notice?") but I hope you can forgive me. This owl sounded hungry, hooting away at the night sky.

You know, I've been out late at night and hungry too, bud. I decided to kick the trunk of my long-unrunning Volare, dislodging several families of mice, who skittered out onto the driveway in a panic. One of the mice didn't make it to a newer, safer home (the Viscount parked next to it,) as the owl swooped from the sky and snatched itself a tasty dinner. Perhaps this would quiet the owl's incessant hooting.

No dice. The owl got back to their tree, and then asked for seconds. This ingratitude was beyond frustrating. Look, buddy, I gave your ass one handout already, that's more than all your ancestors got. Leave me alone. The owl did not leave me alone.

Anyway, officer, I would like you to show me the specific bylaw statute that says I can't build an owl perch in the middle of my yard. It keeps the mice out of my wiring harness, it keeps a beautiful animal of the wild fed, and also my neighbours with small dogs don't let them poop on my lawn anymore. And if you truly believe I "own" this owl, then you go tell him to buzz off. He's gonna eat your eyes for breakfast, go ask your boss what happened to the last guy.

[thekatebridgerton]

Kanthony revenge regresion au

So hear me out @sea-owl just hear me out. What if we did a Kanthony regresion revenge au.

In which, Kate's first life was more or less not involved with Anthony and Edwina's courtship. She was just focused on getting Edwina married off and didn't care who she married.

Then Edwina bagged the Viscount Bridgerton and Kate thought this was the jackpot, BUT it turned out that Anthony made Edwina miserable for the rest of her life by neglecting her and doing exactly what he said he would do in the books, and having mistress after mistress while Edwina wilted away at home trying to be the Viscountess that the Bridgerton brood needed. And Kate who had to live the life of a spinster aunt/poor relation to Viscountess Edwina spent the rest of her life witnessing kind and gentle Edwina wilt under Anthony's tyranny to the point where Edwina starts having mental breakdowns over not being able to provide Anthony with an heir, with only Kate to console her.

In her first life, years pass, the Bridgertons don't pay attention to Kate, but she sees them destroy their chances at happiness one by one, and because Kate thinks they're all contributing to making Edwina miserable, she doesn't help them. She sees Colin lose Penelope to Debling, Francesca stay in mourning, without giving Michael a chance, Eloise live her life as a bitter spinster, Benedict go from mistress to mistress without knowing that his true love is actually a maid working for Viscountess Edwina. Kate sees Hyacinth and Gregory make mistake after mistake and end up in unhappy marriages themselves and she doesn't pity them or help them one bit. Because in her heart she blames them for Edwina's unhappiness and her eventual death at the hands of robbers during an ill fated trip to Aubrey Hall.

After Edwina dies, Kate blames Anthony and spends a considerable amount of time and resources looking for a way to get revenge and makes a shady deal with some mystical druids to send her back in time to Eloise's first season, so she prepares Edwina better.

In this second run at life, Kate is determined to keep Anthony Bridgerton from marrying Edwina, not only is she royally angry at him for being a jerk husband to her sister in their last life, she's determined to whip him AND his degenerate family into shape. Anthony running off to meet Sienna during Eloise's presentation, Kate will have none of that, he's going to take responsibility over his lunatic family even if it kills her!. Cue sending Eloise a death threat the day before her presentation, sending the house in a frenzy and forcing Anthony to be there. HA HA, lets see how Anthony likes having his nerves destroyed. On the other hand, he does end up being there when she's on her morning ride covering her tracks (for the death threat thing) and she may or may not have told him he's a deplorable human being, so there's that.

But Kate has bigger things to worry about than Anthony being intrigued over the fact she has her morning rides suspiciously close to his house. Someone needs to tell Eloise that the thing with the printer boy isn't going to work out, asap, and honestly, this is the kind of sloppy Lady Whistledown work that got Penelope caught red handed by Debling in the first place so, two birds one shot right?. Twart Eloise stupidity, make Lady Whistledown owe her a favor, and oh right, keep Anthony Bridgerton from dancing with Edwina at all costs during the first ball of the season. As you can see, Kate Sharma is a busy woman. And if she has to dance with Anthony herself to point out that Eloise is running wild right under his nose, well good! he deserves it, also, she's going to step on his feet for good measure.

What do you mean Anthony still wants to marry Edwina? why?? Kate is doing everything she possibly can to keep him busy and away from her sister, doesn't this man have 7 crazy siblings to manage? where does he find time to send flowers??, ugh time to up the ante and force Anthony into taking even more responsibility over his siblings mess ups.

Because by week 2 of the season, Kate has about had it with the Bridgertons! so fine if Edwina is fated to marry into that family of crazy people then Kate is going to have some words with them. Anthony can keep inviting the Sharmas into his house to dine at his table, but that doesn't mean that Kate has to be nice to them. especially the resident second son AND the third, because seriously no wonder they ended up making her sister cry on more than one occasion, for the sake of Edwina, Kate is going to make sure that Anthony's pack of idiots know what should and shouldn't be done to impress a lady with delicate feelings. Also someone get Francesca a box of tissues, Kate may or may not have given her a whole speech about standing up for herself and looking for love on her own terms.

Week 4 of the social season, the good news for Kate? Edwina is seriously considering the proposal of a Bavarian prince, the bad news? Anthony has ditched Sienna and cancelled his membership at the local whorehouse, this is bad news because he's now trying to marry Kate herself...And according to Lady Whistledown all his siblings think she's top candidate for the position of Anthony's Unhappy wife #1. Do these people have a masochist vein she doesn't know about?

Kate doesn't want to marry Anthony. He's an idiot who wouldn't know how to treat his wife with respect if it hit him in the head. Besides all she's done since regressing back in time is interfere with the Bridgerton's lives and call them out on their bad personality traits. And their bad choices.. And their bad relationships. In Kate's opinion that's not exactly the basis for a healthy family dynamic. (Viscountess Violet and Anthony's 6 clingy siblings beg to differ. )

But then again, Kate is getting to know Anthony in ways she never did in her first life, he's been opening up about his life and about the burden of his father's legacy and his hopes and dreams. Could it be that Kate misjudged Anthony all this time, maybe Anthony didn't know how to make Edwina happy in Kate's first life, it wasn't that he didn't want to love Edwina, he just couldn't. He didn't know how to be a husband anymore than Edwina knew how to be a wife. And things broke down before they even began. Maybe just maybe he would be a good husband for someone stubborn and cutting like Kate, in ways he would never be for someone like Edwina.

With Edwina marrying prince Friedrich and Kate's reason to come back in time finally fulfilled, Kate must make a choice, she can go with Edwina to Prussia, and once again live her life dedicated to her sister. Or she can stay in London and give Anthony and his clingy siblings a chance. A real chance.

AN: what do you think

[hernakedmuse]

{{{{Emily Halliwell

Emily Serena Halliwell

Mother, Monica Halliwell (nee Chandler) is an American pure-blood witch from Ipswich, Massachusetts. She was born in a matriarchal witch family, the Chandlers are Salem descendants, her mother Hazel Chandler is a pure-blood heiress, an aurologist and owns a luxury crystal business for non-maj and magical community, and a travelling socialite. She is very independent and never desired marriage but children, and chose her lover, a curse-breaker pure-blood, Spellman Goldstein, cousins to Tina and Queenie Goldstein. He is adventurous man who travels all over and loves women and liquor, he's good natured but never desired to be a husband or father, but he's in love with the spirited and independent, Hazel Chandler and agreed to giving her three children. Together they had Monica, Lorelei, and Amanda. He gives them money and gifts and sometimes shows up, but lisn't much of a father, just how Hazel likes it.

Monica was a Thunderbird at Ilvermorny and top of her class, she excelled at every subject.

After graduation she went to no-maj second education, getting a bachelor's in Anthropology at Harvard University, then went to Oxford University to get a bachelor's in Arts and Humanities, she lived with her Great Aunt Zelda who was always busy so she had the townhouse to herself. She took ballet classes as well as acting, she loved the muggle world and had to know everything about everything. Her Humanities professor, the handsome and popular, Dr. Darren Halliwell was intrigued by the mysterious American beauty, he's a viscount of Cotswolds as well, and tried to ignore how he felt about his favorite student, but eventually late nights happened and they couldn't resist each other.

They were serious for years and moved in together after dating for two years, after two years she told him she's a witch and he still loved her, when she was 34 and he was 44 they married despite his family being against it, and she became the Viscountess of Cotswolds.

She became a potioneer, alchemist, and Magical physician. They lived together at his manor in Cotswolds, she opened up a new age shop called The Bell, Booke, and Candle, for muggles, and for the wizarding community, in Diagon Alley, she opened up a sort of an apothecary called The White Cauldron.

They eventually had their daughter Emily.

At their home, Monica has a black goat called Lucifer, her own familiar a black cat named Grimalkin, her screech owl Lilith, a jackalope called Hy-Brasil, Darren has his white bavarian shepherd named Mayerling they all love and protects the home.

Emily has a black and red fox, named Salem, a vampire bat called Pyewacket, and a two white bunnies named, Lancelot and Tristan.

Emily is very good with creatures magical and non magical, same for plants.

She also has a knack for potions and divination is strong with her, she's a very traditional witch.

Emily can speak to animals

She's also good at wandcraft she made her own out of a jackalope horn given to her by her grandfather Spellman Goldstein, from a pet jackalope of his that passed, she used the nail of a werewolf for the core given to her by her Aunt Mandy who had a female werewolf love that gave it to her, and it's twelve inches, carved pagan symbols and vines into the wood and sprinkled crushed dust from Amethyst in it. The wand is best at healing, divination, curses, and jinxes.

She's a Hufflepuff but was almost a ravenclaw

She celebrates the pagan holidays

She worships the goddesses

Emily brings muggle things to school like her phone and airpods and hides them behind her hair

It drives Theo crazy when he calls her name and she can't hear him and he blames the muggles for it

Despite her blood status and house, Emily's friends are mainly in Slytherin.

In third year, Lavender Brown was teasing Pansy for being a lesbian, and Emily told Lavender off, and she snapped and gave her a burning jinx which she got detention for and house points deductions, but she didn't regret it and showed no remorse. She told Pansy that her aunt is a lesbian and told her she has her back, Pansy and her became best friends instantly.

The Slytherin boys shockingly took to Emily quickly learning she defended her quickly, despite everything. They liked that Emily didn't judge them.

Theodore was practically in love with Emily since first year, he doesn't have a good reason just that she intrigues him and she's beautiful, and the more he watched her the more he loved her, and when Cedric Diggory tried to cheat on Cho with Emily in fourth year, he sent him off the Astronomy Tower...he almost died....almost.

Emily always had a crush on Theodore Nott, who wouldn't? He's hot as fuck, she heard he's half Italian and fluent, and when she became apart of the snake pit she found out it was true, he's also brooding and has a hard time to open up like some romantic character from the books she reads. He's like Heathcliff.

He doesn't ever take to anyone new, but he took to her as soon as Pansy introduced her, they found that they could talk about anything together, he listened to her random ramblings about selkies, or new "movies" and "tv shows", she shared her music with him and because he doesn't speak much and she speaks a lot, it was just perfect.

When he started calling her Italian terms of endearment, she was a definite goner and no man could compare, she wanted Theodore Dante Nott more than anyone in the word.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Young at Heart: The Prince (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed Word count: 1.6k

Masterpost

Summary: A bedtime story for the children takes an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: This beautiful idea came from none other than @angels17324 who knew exactly how Benedict would charm a lady under the guise of entertaining children. I had a lot of fun with this. 💙 Enjoy!

As punishment for their prank in the hallway, the boys were sent straight to bed after dinner and denied their usual bedtime story. They fussed and groaned as you tucked them into their small beds, closely arranged in parallel. Even though they had heeded your advice and insisted they were only following their uncle’s orders (much to Benedict’s horror, their parents’ chagrin, and everyone else’s amusement), they were being disciplined for failing to know better than to disturb the Viscount. 

Thus, the following night they were clamoring for a story, bouncing in their beds until you agreed to act out one of their favorite tales. Neddy pointed you to a well-loved volume of fairy stories and you allowed the boys to push their beds together, the three of them snuggling amidst a fortress of blankets and pillows until they resembled a nest of blinking baby owls. The atmosphere was ripe for magic, with the light of a full moon bathing the room in soft shadows. Your mind was drawn to thoughts of a midnight ball and a shimmering evening of dreams come true. With a candle at your side, you settled into a chair opposite the eager faces and knew precisely which story to turn to. 

The children listened with rapt attention as you relayed to them the sad origins of Ella, a kind heroine forced into a life of servitude by her wicked step family. They giggled as you adopted the whining inflection of the ugly stepsisters, and cheered as you described the array of woodland creatures who sang and danced to help Ella through her chores. Their mouths hung open as you described the transformation of a pumpkin into a carriage, mice into footmen, and rags into a sparkling gown. Performing all the characters’ voices and heightening all of the dramatic action, you led them through the story, feeling a growing sense of pride as their heads slowly began to droop and they burrowed deeper into their blankets. The shadows in the room had grown long and each boy was fighting to keep his eyes open when you reached the final scene.

“From house to house went the Prince. One young woman after another tried to put her foot into the glass slipper, but none could fit. And so the Prince moved on. At last, he came to Cinderella’s house. The first step-sister tried to place her foot in the glass slipper. She tried with all her might, but it simply would not fit. The second step-sister tried to place it on her foot but failed too. ‘Are there no other young women in the house?’ asked the Prince. That is when Cinderella stepped into the room.”

You reverted to the shrill rasp you had devised for the evil stepmother, “‘None who matter!’ hissed the stepmother.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Startled, you nearly dropped the book as you spun to see the source of the unexpected voice from the doorway. The tall figure stepped forward and the moonlit illuminated Benedict, walking toward you with a playful smirk on his face.

As you sat frozen in confusion, he began narrating the story for you. “‘Come here,’ said the Prince, and Cinderella moved to him, sitting in a chair.” He reached your side. Even with the dark and his height, you could see the cheeky points of light in his eyes. You cast a look back at the boys to find their interest mildly piqued by the appearance of their uncle, but they were undeniably hovering on the brink of sleep, reclining back on their pillows. 

“The Prince got down on one knee,” Benedict continued, his tone steady. You held your breath as he knelt to a knee beside you. He was playing the part, acting out the roles as you had. 

“And he tried the glass slipper on her foot.” He raised his brow in a gentle request for permission, which you granted him with a breathless nod. Lifting your skirt just an inch, his long fingers wrapped around your ankle and he held it lightly, miming slipping a shoe over the one you already wore. He beamed up at you with that lopsided grin that made you feel knotted inside. “It fit perfectly.”

When you realized the silence between you was growing unnaturally, perhaps inappropriately long, you cleared your throat, remembering yourself. You glanced quickly down at the book in your hands. “Then, from her pocket, Cinderella took out the other glass slipper.”

Benedict never broke your gaze, his hand still warm on your ankle. “‘I knew it,’ he cried. ‘You are the one.’” 

He was quiet enough that you weren’t sure if the children could hear him. But you also found that you were no longer concerned about the quality of your performance. All your mind could process was the tethering feeling of his soft grip, and the dance of light in his eyes which refused to leave yours.

Some rote part of your memory continued through with the story, though you ceased any attempt to adopt voices. “‘This cannot be!’ yelled the stepmother.”

Still grinning, Benedict concluded the tale. “But it was too late. The Prince knew that Cinderella was the one. He looked into her eyes, and he did not see the cinders in her hair or the ashes on her face. He had found the woman he loved, and they lived happily ever after.” 

The silence that followed was so complete, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His smile, his eyes, the ease infusing everything about him, it held you under a spell. Thank goodness for Barney’s small but dramatic yawn which snapped both of your attention back to the children. Benedict carefully placed your foot on the floor. The boys were all fast asleep, limbs sprawled over one another and blankets kicked aside. With a chuckle between you, Benedict held the candle overhead while you gingerly rearranged the children as best you could without waking them, tucking them each beneath their own blanket.

When you were satisfied that they would sleep undisturbed, you led Benedict back out into the hall. 

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered, unsure of precisely what to say. “Thank you for your help with the story. Were you listening the whole time?” You felt yourself start to blush and hoped the dim light would hide it. 

“Long enough,” he shrugged. “You have been untruthful with me.”

Bewildered, you shook your head. “I beg your pardon?”

He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You said you weren’t an actress, but I just witnessed an exceptional performance.” His quirked brow and unfailing smile clued you in. There seemed to be no limit to this man’s cheekiness, or perhaps it was charm. 

You chose to demure. You already felt odd enough, flustered by the lingering memory of his fingers pressing through your stocking. You would be friendly, but not engage in blatant flirtation. “It’s easy once the story is already written,” you explained. “I’m sure someone read to you like that when you were small.”

He softened. “My father did, yes. Once upon a time.” His smile broadened, coaxing one from you.

“He must have made quite an impression for you to memorize the story. I’d wager not many gentlemen could recite Cinderella if called upon.”

His smirk finally faltered. “I memorized it later. I read it constantly to my sisters when…well, when he passed. From that very book as a matter of fact.”

You bit your tongue. You didn’t know the precise details of the Bridgerton family history, but knew that the former Viscount had died too young and that Neddy was his namesake. To imagine he had left behind children still young enough to need bedtime stories, and to picture Benedict tending to them while managing his own grief, it seized something in your heart. You were ashamed at bringing up such memories and turned your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” The kindness in his tone drew your gaze back up to find him grinning thoughtfully. “Look how useful it is now that the house is full of children again.” Then he squared himself in front of you. “And now that I have found my stage partner, I believe we shall have to combine our theatrical prowess if we’re to keep those miscreants occupied tomorrow. A repeat performance at the puppet theater.”

Your heart climbed into your throat. His proposal made you equal parts terrified and excited. You had never ventured behind the nursery’s puppet theater yourself, but couldn’t deny how appealing it sounded to find yourself crowded into the tight space with him. You tried to keep your voice steady. You shouldn’t be imagining such things. “Mr. Bridgerton. I told you, I cannot improvise.”

He shrugged again, always airy with his demeanor. “Then we shall plan the story ahead of time. What is your schedule for the day?”

“Their parents are taking them to the lake actually, and then they will be mine in the afternoon.” You didn’t have much of an excuse to give him. In fact, some extra hands to help you entertain the children would be a welcome relief. 

He was glowing, creases etched around his eyes from his easy smile. “Perfect. We’ll rehearse and then surprise them.”

You arched a brow. “But if I’m in the theater, who will be minding the children?”

“Colin,” he said dismissively. “It’ll give him something useful to do.”

You wavered, chewing on your lip. There was no reason to refuse his plan other than the fluttering feeling he elicited every time he looked in your direction and your fear of enabling it. He clearly sensed your hesitation and dropped his swaggering stance, gently offering you the choice. “Only if you want to, Miss y/l/n. Perhaps it would be nice to break up your routine.”

You probably should have declined, but your heart spurred on your tongue before your mind could interfere. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the nursery after tea.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @desert-fern @fiction-is-life @kpopstanthot

[hippolotamus]

Sunday Sentences

Well, here we are then at the final not even remotely 7SS of 2023. Because I'm great at ignoring rules, I'm offering two POVs of come close (let me be home) from the same section today. Follows this snippet (all prev snippets here)

Buck

Not that Evan was specifically looking for him.   He should focus on Maddie, but he’s unable to tear his gaze away from Viscount Diaz and his, frankly, rather clumsy partner. The poor girl seems to be counting her steps under her breath, trying and failing to dance without tripping them both up. She resembles a newborn fawn using her legs for the first time. Evan chuckles to himself, noting the tight, annoyed sort of grimace on the Viscount’s face and the way he occasionally glances skyward as if some heavenly being might suddenly decide to help. His patience is admirable at least.   For one startling moment, Viscount Diaz ignores the ceiling and the fumbling girl, locking eyes with Evan across the sea of people. The expression is both spontaneous and intentional, filled with curiosity and an innate recognition. It makes his heart flutter and do something complicated in his chest, daring him to ask if he could cut in and relieve the young hopeful from making a bigger fool of herself. It makes him feel seen.  A voice in the back of his mind whispers about etiquette and rules and things that shouldn’t be meddled with. He ignores it in favor of taking a tentative step, feeling drawn toward the center of the room where honey brown irises stay trained on him as much as possible between turns and spins.

Eddie

Agitation builds in his chest with each partner, filling him up until he’s not sure he can breathe properly. One by one Eddie mentally crosses them off, deeming them inadequate. Dull blue eyes, too brunette, can’t waltz properly, reminds him of his mother, stepped on his toes, doesn’t speak latin, prefers having daughters over sons.   Some time near the fifth or sixth partner is when he notices. The sensation of being tracked. A familiar prickling that crawls up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Between twirls he attempts to locate the source and finds piercing blue eyes staring at him. Flashes of a mischievous smirk, a strawberry pink mark and cool breeze against his face invade Eddie’s memory. He still doesn’t know the man’s name or what his business is. Maybe tonight he can find out.   Eddie’s daydreams are interrupted by stumbling feet and a too small hand grasping his in an attempt to stay upright.   “Oh, my! I’m so sorry,” the young woman — Miss Clark or Martin, whatever her name is — apologizes.   “No harm done," He lies. "Are you alright?” Other than needing more dance lessons?  “Yes, Viscount, thank you.”  The song ends and he gratefully takes the opportunity to excuse himself. He needs air. The crowd, and the idea of spinning around one more husband-seeking idiot, is too much for him to bear at the moment.

tagged by the always lovely and talented @your-catfish-friend (go check their update to in my head btw) @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @wikiangela (posted a new Christmas fic today) @spotsandsocks @honestlydarkprincess @buckaroosheart @underwater-ninja-13 thank you loves 😘

no pressure tagging @callmenewbie (who just posted yesterday!) @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings mi amore @disasterbuckdiaz @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz (who posted a fic earlier today) @hoodie-buck @rmd-writes @apothecarose @welcometololaland @lizzie-bennetdarcy @jesuisici33 @giddyupbuck (who posted this fabulous 12 Days of edging fic) @exhuastedpigeon @lemonzestywrites @weewootruck @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @heartshapedvows @fortheloveofbuddie @messyhairdiaz @eowon @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @buddierights @911onabc @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @pirrusstuff @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @statueinthestone and anyone else who wants to share 💖

[inkpot-ghost]

The Ritual in Yellow Hill CHAPTER 2: The Illegitimate Son

(1,100+ words, fpov, medieval, low fantasy, supernatural)

CWs: None

Tag list: (lmk if u want to be removed or added I DON'T BITE >:3)

@knabunny @lunesartsworld @frouvia @totally-actually-really-exist

“Goooooood morning, Ringledaaaaan!”

I yelled in a harmony, as I opened the grand window of my bedroom and let the breeze in. Sunny day! I looked around and saw tons of colorful A-frame and pointed roofs almost packed together as they stretched out into the horizon where there stood one visible wing of the great castle, and so did tall, rigid mountains loom over the entirety of it all. The mountains enclosed this huge kingdom in a near perfect circle, including even the stretching farmlands in it as well. I’d know, because I learned in magic history class that, long ago, fellow sorcerers worked hard to build these spiky mountains out of their wands and staffs to protect our kingdom from outside evils! Pretty neat, isn’t it? And they even made sure to make these mountains high and intimidating, so no one could even dare to try to attack us! But if you know the few secret pathways well, then you can come in and out of Ringledan as easy as cake. Though trading with foreign kingdoms is kind of hard since only medium-sized carts maximum that can withstand harsh road conditions can get to and fro, Ringledan has plenty of people and, most importantly, resources inside the circle to keep us lasting for years! Well, I was sure… up until… Oh, I’ll talk about that later.

My adoptive sister, just a few years younger, came bursting into my room just to yell, “Ah, Tavian! The family rooster here to wake the entirety city!”

 I merely chuckled at her annoyance before she rolled her eyes at me, smiling, and briskly walked away. I got ready in my uniform robes and had breakfast with my family, talking and laughing with my six older and younger siblings. I was the third oldest even though I was the last to become a part of this family, a few decades ago when they found me at that cave. We were having a feast for the first meal of the day, even if the whole kingdom was experiencing a… famine.

“Knights and magic-users are to be in pairs? Hah! Are you sure you pick that sorcerer as your partner?” I heard my brother, future viscount, say to the second oldest.

He gave me a playful smirk that I reciprocated, and Ethelind the lady knight and second oldest replied, “You know he’s the only one I trust, despite the chaos. Where would magic-users be without chaos anyway?” 

She confidently sipped wine right after, and future viscount shook his head but couldn’t help but agree. 

Beside me, Felicity started coughing loudly into her handkerchief, and all of us, including the maids, stopped what we were doing to make sure she was all right. Oh, sweet Felicity, only four yet she’s contracted an unknown cold which caused her to be bedridden for months. Today, she insisted on eating with her family and miraculously got down here with a bit of struggle, all despite our parent’s warnings. Fierce Felicity… Luckily, her symptoms didn’t get worse, but unfortunately neither did they get better. My running theory is that it all started when she accidentally crushed all the eggs of an owl which were nested on the ground after she tripped and fell. She cried like a wolf right after, so I and a few other younger siblings ran up to her, and I heroically calmed her about the owl eggs, held her scarred hand in mine, tapped it gently with my staff and poof, the scar was gone, but it was after a few days when she really got the fever. Ethelind thought my theory was horse dung, but knowing Noctara, one should never mess with owls and their omens! Of course, in those few months I searched and searched for something to cure her and took her to the best doctors– magical or not– but she obviously still hasn’t gotten better, despite the claims some doctors made about their medicines or potions or spells. 

She told the maids she just needed water and after her sip, she stopped coughing, so everyone went about as usual. Then she pulled on my robe and asked me, “Tavi, what are those things you and Lady Eth have there?” and pointed to my chest which rested an insignia that had a symbol of a woman’s head with owl wings. 

I explained to her, “We got these a couple days ago, issued by the king and queen themselves.”

“Woah!” her eyes sparkled, despite their bagginess, “What are they for?”

“They’re to say that we were ordered to find out what’s causing our kingdom to have less and less food.”

“But… we have a lot of food–”

“Well,” I stumbled over my words a little, and the older siblings annoyingly just watched me to see how I’ll do. Eventually, I said, “This… area has a lot of food but a lot of other towns don’t, but we and the other knights and sorcerers are trying our best to help the people–”

“Why do they not have food? Are we running out of food?”

I breathed in sharply to tell her the truth, “Yes, my child, because for some reason the food animals keep disappearing and the crops aren’t growing as well as they used to anymore.”

She then lowered her head in sadness, so I continued, “Oh, but fear not, Lady Felicity, for we will slay the evil that’s taking away our roasted pork and grilled steak and they will stay in the shadows once and for all!” 

I carried her, tossed her in the air, and caught her. We both giggled and got told by our mother not to use the flying spell again (because the last incident graciously gifted us a broken chandelier). I was barely even implying to use it; Ah, motherly instincts. During our giggling, though, Felicity coughed again, longly, and I put her back in her chair. I gave her her glass of water but her cough made her spit it out. I patted her back sympathetically, then she said she had a headache and felt hot in a voice that sounded like she was holding back tears.

Mother went to get her but Ethelind chimed in with, “No, no. I’ll carry her to her room. I promise it’ll be quick!”

She and Mother had a short debate over who’ll bring Felicity to her room because Mother argued that Eth and me will be late for our shifts, but Eth rushed upstairs with Felicity before Mother was even done talking, and Mother shook her head passively, giving me a glare.

“Be good today. Is that simple enough for you two?” Mother asked me.

“Of course, Mother.” I replied with a bow.

Having a big, rich family is an amazing life. I have so many people I trust and love. Sometimes it’s hard when one of them has a mystery fever, but we make it work.

aughh tavian i hate you sm you should've been left to rot in that cave 😒 /LHJ 🫶 also posting writing in this vast vast sea is so fun and silly like #aspiring writer but everytime i do it i feel like im abt to explode 😭 but whatever ✨️

[newtonsheffield]

I just decided to read through the entire Lavender Haze tag instead of doing the work I'm supposed to be doing, and Kate is so real for declining to go see Tom Dorset's band play. Like as a teenager I would have thought that was the coolest thing ever and as an adult I'm like "no thank you, I'll take the rich, stable Viscount with heated bathroom tiles."

Oh, when she was younger, Kate's dated her fair share of musicians. Drummers and bassists and guitarists, she's been the girl who shows up to her boyfriend's terrible gig and pretends to be supportive.

Now she literally is only interested in this one man who comes into her shop to get his sleeve done, who looks like a stressed owl that accidentally wandered into a daycare.

He's really hot for one, and his voice is like a rich velvet and she can feel the muscles in his arms while she's tattooing him, and he's confident in who he is which is always very sexy.

But there's also something very sweet about him. It's sweet that he takes his siblings out and treats them, sweet that he worries about them. Sweet that she asked what his plans for the weekend were once and he said he was escorting his mother to her friend's Garden party, and he's going to his sister's piano recital and she realises that's what she wants. She wants to date a guy who doesn't treat looking after someone like a chore, he's happy to do it and that's why they're together.

She loves staying in with him on a Saturday night and watching home improvement shows, and taking trips to homeware stores on a Sunday because she wants a new throw for his couch. And Kate has kind of realised that it's possible to just enjoy existing with someone when it's that right person. Yeah, they go out for dinner and drinks and they go to concerts and to the ballet but she also loves just laying next to him on the sofa. Or sitting in her grandparent's living room with him. She loves that too, in fact, she almost loves that more.

Safe to say though, every single one of Kate's ex boyfriends are absolutely fucking stunned when they see the wedding announcement in the newspaper with a photo of the two of them. Ad they see Kate's new husband is Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton. Because there's absolutely no way a girl who's done her fair share of protest graffiti is married to a man with a peerage.

[nanoeggroll]

an incomplete list of media consumed in 2023

throwing this out there before january is over. includes some haphazard comments as usual!

Books: The Count of Monte Cristo The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (eh. quite readable but I didn't find it all that compelling) This is How You Lose the Time War The Last House on Needless Street (revisited as audiobook) Gideon the Ninth (the audiobook made me tear up a little? I did not expect that wtf) The Viscount Who Loved Me Movies: Dungeons and Dragons Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse Nimona Barbie Airplane! Red White and Royal Blue Bottoms (GOD what a wild movie) (rewatched) Master and Commander (boats!!!)

TV: Ted Lasso s3 The Owl House Bridgerton s2 Good Omens s2 One Piece live action (reignited my interest in the manga! cuties) Leverage Redemption s2 Deadloch (I love you Dulcie and Eddie) Our Flag Means Death s2 Love Between Fairy and Devil A League of Their Own (2022) (please please s2)

Anime/Donghua: Skip and Loafer Heavenly Delusion (dropped, may revisit) Heaven Official's Blessing s2 (dropped, pacing just feels abysmal) Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (I count this as an anime. I liked it more than the movie) The Apothecary Diaries (ongoing) Manga (notable mentions only since I binge too much random manga): Raise wa Tanin ga Ii (i'm obsessed with the female lead) Dungeon Meshi

Theater: Hadestown (obsessed with the difference in shape and size between the Hades and Persephone that I saw. tall skinny and short stocky was a good time visually) Frozen Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella (the Broadway adaptation introduces some new stuff that I find totally unnecessary. but a good time nonetheless) All the Devils Are Here

Games: Baldur's Gate 3 (oh boy did I play the hell out of this game) Graveyard Keeper Dave the Diver Ace Attorney Investigations 2 (loving edgeworth hours, what a treat)

[scourge-lover]

Anduin’s Present, Pt. 1

Going on vacation for a week so I’ll post this first draft of this snippet. Anduin’s birthday happens several months after the Divine Bell squishes him and Sapphire really wants to give him a present. 

Sapphire felt a bit out of place. She wore a simple black dress, though it was made of soft ebonweave. While others wore fashionable hats or style their hair, Sapphire’s hair remained an untamed mane of silver white, though she had braided owl feathers throughout it. In her hands was a carefully wrapped present of gold and blue with a simple bow. Holes were punched into the box at various points. Once or twice a sharp claw would slip through a hole from the curious inhabitant. 

~~~~

People flooded the entrance to Stormwind Keep like a rainbow hued river. Perfume and cologne mingled together in an overwhelming cloud that threatened to suffocate Sapphire. Around her, people flowed past with dresses and suits in every hue and pattern. Gold and silver flashed everywhere, sometimes accompanied by dazzling jewels. 

As they approached the entrance, Sapphire’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the guards. But her guardian did not seem too concerned. 

Lethumo stood confidently at her side. While she looked plain, Lethumo had gone out of his way to dress for the occasion. He wore the finest lavender mageweave suit with a cloak the color of fresh cream. Atop his head, he had placed a ruffled hat of rich violet with a foot long feather of sky blue. He fumbled for a few seconds as he looked for the invitation, but quickly drew it out of one his pockets and handed it to the guard with a flourish. 

“Viscount Lethumiel Nythasae of the Darnassian Nightwinds, and my daughter Sapphire of Snowfur.”

The guard looked unimpressed but handed back the invitation without issue. 

“Enjoy the party,” she said, before taking an invitation from another guest. 

Lethumo looked down at Sapphire. “See, told you.”

Sapphire made a little noise. She had been terrified that perhaps a guard or someone might look at her and see the monster within. She was a danger to everyone around her, but no one seemed to care. Even Lethumo, who had seen her as a soul eater with blood dripping from her fangs, did not fear her. 

Maybe everything was fine. She could just be overreacting. So she took a deep breath and followed Lethumo.

Stormwind Keep somehow exuded a welcoming but strong appearance. Stone walls were less vulnerable than flimsy wood like most human buildings seemed to be made of. it was still not as good as saronite.

The throne was packed with people. So many living bodies in an enclosed space made Sapphire’s heart flutter.

“Take a deep breath, saber cub,” Lethumo said, sensing her anxiety. Sapphire nodded, before taking a few deep breaths. 

Anduin stood just in front of the throne, with his father by his side. The large king looked fiercer than Sapphire had imagined. Varian, who her father once counted amongst his friends. Was he nicer than he looked? Everyone seemed to think so, but for Sapphire kindness was temporary. Had Anduin told him about the strange antlered “angel” girl that had visited him in Pandaria? Did he even remember her, or did he just think she was some hallucination brought on by the pain or the healing? 

Anduin looked a lot better than he had in that sick bed. He looked even more like a beautiful sunrise. He was speaking very animatedly to the people in front him with a wide smile on his face. The only thing Sapphire saw that showed he had been so grievously injured was the cane in his one hand, keeping him standing.

 Once when a group of people left after speaking to him and no one else seemed to be looking, Anduin’s smile quickly disappeared. Sapphire wondered why that was?

The young prince looked around the crowd aimlessly for a while, not really taking in any of the people. Then when he looked back near her, he suddenly looked confused. A second more, and Sapphire realized he had seen her. He stared straight at her, disbelief in his sky-blue eyes. Sapphire smiled. He had remembered her after all!

He remembered her, she suddenly realized with horror. 

She stumbled back, panicked. Lethumo caught her with one comforting hand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to stay here, can we leave?” She whimpered.

Lethumo glanced around briefly, then nodded toward the open hall to the left of the throne room.

“The royal library is down that way on the right, why don’t you go and calm down in there. I need to speak to some friends. Will you be okay without me?”

“Yes!” She pulled away from him and quickly went down that way, which opened up into an open-air courtyard with a small grassy area and some trees. A few guards were in this area, but none of them came over to stop her or tell her she couldn’t be there. She saw the doorway and immediately headed there. 

She did not even look at the wonderful array of books that lined the walls. She weaved her way through the rows of shelves and hid between some of them, kneeling down onto the cold stone floor. Sapphire looked down at the box in her hands. 

“Sorry, Jasper, looks like you aren’t getting a new friend today.”

A little meow came out from the box. 

[colemansdimple]

New vicbourne fic YAY!

So this fic will be lighter than my previous vicbourne fic. It will have a certain level of angst but ⚠️BE WARNED⚠️ this fic is written purely for VICBOURNE SMUT INDULGENCE only. So obvs it's NSFW! I've planned 5 very steamy chapters for it! Hope y'all enjoy!

Not an ordinary woman

By colemansdimple

Chapter 1

Queen Victoria and her guests were having dinner at the palace when the storm began. A powerful thunderstorm that scared even the most fierce present. It's been a year since she was crowned Queen at the age of 18, having spent all her life secluded by her mother and Sir John Conroy. The new Queen knew barely nothing of the world and of her own kingdom.

But that lack of knowledge didn't diminish the royal blood in her veins and so she always tried to impose herself and make her voice heard amongst all the old owls that were part of her private council. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone but herself, since everyone around her seemed to want to control her and therefore to control the realm.

All except one. The strangely handsome Prime Minister, the Second Viscount of Melbourne, or, as she liked to call him, Lord M. At first, she thought he was just another, trying to impose his will on her. But as they spent more time together, she realised he never belittles her or makes her feel incompetent. Although their age difference was big, they always understood eachother and they even shared common interests. Soon, Victoria began to ache for his presence more and more. She made him her private secretary and often asked him to stay overnight at the palace so they could talk and play card games until late at night.

And her Lord M didn't mind that at all. He also enjoyed their time together as much as she did. In fact, she was the only reason he had to get up in the morning now, being a childless widower. She became his personal obsession. In the beginning, he only saw her as the daughter he never had. But, as days gone by, his feelings began to change. He cursed himself when he first realized he might be falling for her. Him, a man so used to scandal, but one she trusted completely. He was ruining her trust, her friendship, with his desire.

It became harder for him to deny it. Specially when she begged him to stay overnight. They had so much fun until late hours that he feared he would forget himself and do something he shouldn't. Tonight was one of those nights. It was pouring outside as they had dinner, so Victoria insisted he shouldn't go back to Dover House. As usual, he complied. But this night felt different from the others. The air between them was full of electricity. He could feel it. She could feel it. When the hour grew late, he excused himself and said he should probably get some sleep so he could wake early to leave for Parliament.

She grabbed his hand on his way out and asked him not to go. When he looked into her eyes he saw everything he was already feeling inside. It was like a mirror of his own soul. Desire. Pure, unadulterated, desire. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, although she didn't quite know it herself, innocent as she was. So, with incredible restraint, he bid her goodnight and left for his own lonely bed.

Victoria felt destressed. Another night that he refused her. She began to think she was being foolish and that he only saw her as a child. Heartbroken, she left for her room, called Skerret in to change her clothes and laid in her bed. The thunderstorm roared outside. It took a while, but she finally managed to sleep. A particularly strong lighting woke her up. There was someone in her bedroom. A man dressed all in black, and in the light of the moment, she saw he was carrying a knife. She didn't hesitate and screamed for help. The man ran away followed by the palace guards.

Lord Melbourne was woken by his servant telling him that a man had broken into her majesty's room. He didn't even dress properly before running down in the direction of her room. He needed to know if she was safe. When he was getting close, he could already hear her high pitched voice. The tone she used when she was particularly out of sorts with anger. Normally, he would need to wait for being called in, but now he didn't think twice and opened the door himself. Victoria stood in the middle of the room arguing with John Conroy and her mother.

“I thank you for your concern Sir John but no harm has been done to me and I believe I know that better than anyone! I am Queen and I shall not cowardly run from my duty! I will stay at the palace where I belong! I won't hear anymore words on this matter and if I require advice I will ask for it!”

There she was, he sighed, relieved. Safe and sound thank the heavens! William Lamb stared at the woman he loved as she stood her ground courageously, once again, facing the old owls in front of her, his brave girl, her cheeks burning with outrage, he hair tossed from recent sleep, wearing only a simple nightgown and a robe. He had never seen her looking so informal before. In the back of his mind he saw her with the same red in her cheeks panting hard beneath him.

She looked almost like any ordinary woman at that moment. Oh if she really was...he would take her into his arms and hug her tightly and reassuringly, kissing her with all his might, proclaiming his love for her in all the possible ways until the end of his days. But she would never be an ordinary woman, and so he had to force himself to wake from his dreamlike state and announce his presence by coughing a little.

When Victoria saw him, she gasped a little, instantly forgetting all her rage. There was her Lord M and he looked so worried for her. She had never seen him so disheveled. He was wearing only a night shirt, simple breeches and a robe. His robe was partially open in the middle so she had a marvelous view of his chest hairs. She swallowed at the sight, feeling a now familiar warmth that spreaded from that place between her legs. He smiled to her and she couldn't help but to smile back. The other two in the room kept looking at them, confused at what exactly they were seeing.

“Lord M! Thank goodness you are here! There was a man in my room, but the guards went after him. They didn't catch him yet, but I'm sure they will! I was explaining to Sir John and Mama that I'm perfectly well and that I shan't be away from the palace and my duties. My guards are perfectly capable of protecting me. Please tell them I will not return to that prison of a house that is Kensington.”

But if you had stayed tonight in my bed I would be more protected, she thought, blushing a little. He noticed, as he always did, and he almost regretted his decision of leaving her that night. Until he had a sudden idea.

“Your majesty, if I may, what happened tonight was unforgivable. The Queen of England was almost killed under this very roof! I understand that your majesty must show bravery to your people but I also beg of you to consider your own safety first. It's clear that person had help from inside these walls, so you're not safe here. You were lucky enough to react in time! We must not allow something like this to happen again.”

“So what do you suggest Lord M?” she asked, switching to a softer tone of voice that made Conroy and her mother even more confused.

“I suggest, Ma'am, if it's what you wish, that you would follow me tonight to my own residence at Brocket Hall. There, you will be more protected. The House is somewhat smaller than this palace, and my staff are of the highest trust. We can take you there incognito and use an unmarked carriage. But we must hurry to make good use of the darkness of the night.”

“If you think this is the wisest decision Lord M, then I will comply. I can take Emma and Skerret with me, can't I? I won't be able to manage my daily routine without them, surely.”

“Of course Ma'am, whatever you wish, will be granted.”

They smiled to eachother once more. Oh she liked his idea! She liked it very much indeed. A time with her Lord M away from the palace, her mother and Sir John. That would be heavenly! And so, the Queen hurried to her chambers to prepare. Two hours later, they were both dressed and inside the unmarked carriage with Emma and Skerret. The journey was long and, although the thunderstorm had passed, it still rained, making it very difficult for the horses to stay on the path. They were followed by a small number of soldiers. One of those soldiers, however, suddenly broke their formation and approached the carriage. He was bearing a pistol. He took aim at the Queen and shot.

Luckily, William saw the strange movement at the window and quickly covered the Queen with his own body. More gunfires were heard around them and the carriage stopped. He peaked through the door and saw guards fighting armed men. They were being ambushed. Someone must have told them their plan to transport the queen. He didn't know what to do. Victoria hugged him tight and shut her eyes, taken with fear. He needed to protect her at all costs, not just because she was Queen, but because to him this woman was everything.

He looked over at Emma and a thought came to his head. Emma nodded, as she seemed to have the same idea.

“Go William! Take her in one of the horses and go! Her majesty's safety is all that matters! I will explain to the others! Take this bag and go! Now!”

Without wasting anymore time, he took Victoria's hand and guided her out of the carriage. They stopped close to nearest horse and he helped her mount it. He took his bag and one of hers on his back and mounted behind her, making haste away from the fight and into the night.

It took a while for Victoria to comprehend everything that was happening. Suddenly, she found herself on a horse with Lord M holding her tightly as the gunfire sound became lower and lower. She was tired and she was scared. Her last thought was of warm lips on her forehead. Then, she fainted.

When she woke up, they were ridding slower. They passed a small peasant village and were heading for the closest woods. She looked up and saw the firm figure of her Lord M. He looked incredibly alert, although a bit tired. She could feel his strong tights touching hers and the beating of his heart within his chest pressed closely at her back. She let her head rest on it and sighed. She closed her eyes again and wondered if she had imagined that kiss. They arrived in a small cottage next to the woods. There, William dismounted and helped her. He opened the door and led her inside, quickly closing it.

“This used to be one of my mother's houses, before she married my father.” he told her “No one comes here in a long time. No one knows about it. You will be safe here ma'am.”

She nodded and looked around her. It was a small house with two floors. She and William carefully explored the inside. Downstairs had a small kitchen with a table, chairs and a fireplace, upstairs, a single bed and a bathtub. The watercloset was located in the backyard, along with a small vegetable garden. Luckily it was still habitable. William found some wood, but thought better and decided not to light the fire tonight, the assassins might still be looking for Victoria.

“It's better if we try to rest a bit Ma'am. In the morning, I'll do my best to sort everything out for you.”

She stared at the single bed and back at him, arching an eyebrow, almost daring. He realised what she wanted him to do but he would not risk it. On their current state he might do something he will surely regret later.

“You take the bed Ma'am, I'll sort myself downstairs. Don't worry, I'll keep guard of you.”

She felt distraught. She wanted to sleep next to him and feel his warmth and security all night long. She couldn't think of sleeping alone in a strange bed god knows where. But she was a bit scared of it too, she didn't know much about men, except from what she read in her books. So she didn't know what to expect or what was expected of her, as a woman. Still, she wouldn't allow her dear Lord M to sleep on the dirty floor.

“Lord M, I must insist for you take the bed also. It's big enough for both of us and I trust you completely. Besides we don't need to...be close to eachother...all night...I won't tolerate you to sleep on the dirty floor. If you become ill I won't forgive myself!”

William sighed and smiled. He knew better than to argue with her. And it was very late. He was very tired and he needed the rest, so he could look after her better tomorrow. They began preparations for bed. An activity that quickly became more awkward by the minute, as each piece of his clothing was discarded. He took off his coat, his neck scarf and his boots. Finally, he unbuttoned his waistcoat, leaving him only in shirt and breeches. He wouldn't risk removing those also.

He imagined what Victoria might think if she saw his naked body. He knew he was an old man but until now he had never received any complaints about his shape. Although, he thought, he shouldn't have participated in so many dinner parties. He was growing a little belly.

All while he disrobed, Victoria was staring at him, closely, observing his every move from the bed with increasing curiosity. She watched as more of his perfect body was revealing itself, when he removed his waistcoat she could see again those cute chest hairs. She wanted to touch them so much it hurt. She also noticed his big strong arms. She wanted nothing more than to sleep embraced by those arms.

William realised that she was not making any movements and then he remembered women of her status usually needed aid to remove their own clothing. He closed his eyes tightly at the picture. Him, disrobing Victoria. Touching her naked body everywhere with his hands and mouth. Smelling and tasting her. He felt a pulse from his lower region. This would not do.

“I apologize Ma'am. I forgot that...err...that you might need assistance for preparing for bed.”

With this, Victoria quickly stood and turned around so he could undo the buttons of her dress, and when it fell to the ground, the laces of her corset. Her heart was beating like mad. Lord M's hand on her body! His breath so close to her neck. His fingers working her clothes with purpose, with experience. She closed her eyes and bit her lip to suppress a wave of jealousy of all the women for whom he must have done it so. All the women that had his hands, his fingers, his body on theirs. She knew now that she hated them all but at the same time she wanted to be them all. One by one the laces of her corset were released and it dropped to the floor with her dress, leaving her only in her chemise, undergarments and stockings. Her hair was released also and fell freely on her shoulders.

William thought he was dreaming. Undressing his angel, his darling girl. He felt as if he was unwrapping the most precious gift of all. With every new bit of her skin he discovered, his mouth watered. She was so beautiful he almost forgot himself. Almost took her in his arms and possessed her with his mouth and cock, which already throbbed for her. He mustn't repeat what he did when they were ridding, when he felt so relieved that she was finally safe, that he couldn't resist and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She saw the look in his eyes. They were dark with a hunger she never seen before. She breathed heavily and felt a new wave of heat from her most intimate part. She felt the need to run but only so that he could catch her. Oh how she wanted him to catch her and never let her go! She didn't know what exactly she could offer him, but everything he asked of her, she would give.

She laid on the bed and rolled herself to the left side, making room for him. William waited a while, steading his breathing, before laying down on the far right of the bed. They weren't close or even touching, but Victoria thought she couldn't ask for more. Not tonight at least. She feared she might be rejected a third time. And with them alone in that house, the humiliation would be worse. Still, she reached out for him with one small hand. He took it, kindly smiling at her. A short gesture, but a reassuring one.

“Sleep well your majesty.”

[lairofdragonagelore]

Ferelden: Therinfal Redoubt

Main quest: Champions of the Just

The fortress was utilised as a training ground for the Seekers where they could practice and hone their skills without any possibility of distraction or temptation. It was in use since at least the Storm Age before the Seekers were finally forced to abandon the fortress in 8:99 Blessed for financial reasons.

This post has compiled the most relevant information during the main quest for completion’s sake. Most of the time these quests have little “archaeological” value, but since I’m visually covering most of the game, I can’t put them aside since some of them are key in the lore and in terms of objects, statues and ruins, such as the Temple of Mythal.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]  

The Inquisitor keeps looking for the help of the Templars but we find an Order led by a Seeker who has been possessed by Envy, and templars that have been taking red lyrium and transforming. It’s interesting to notice that all these Templars under transformation always wear a red lyrium necklace.

This place is filled with andrastian statues of a Fereldan style

so, due to the constant repetition of finding this statue that I called Faceless figure holding a crown, which usually appears in places where andrastian statues are around, I'm getting more and more confident to interpret this one as The Maker. Crown of similar style has been depicted in stained glasses of the Chantry.

There are also owl statues decorating the stairs and corners, it’s the same owl we find in Skyhold decorating the war table room or the library. These appear in Fereldan castles mostly.

At the entrance of the fortress, we can see two typical Andrastes in Fereldan style, owls at the bottom of the stairs, and these Chantry guardians in Tevinter style.

They are placed at the sides of the fortress. They are made of metal, and its angular, pointy style always made me suspect they were Tevinter. The first time we see them are in Kirkwall, at the Viscount's keep, so it always made sense for me to consider them Tevinter. Plus, the staff they carry has a shape similar to the weapons of the Tevinter Golem.  And his helm is also similar to the Tevinter warriors’ with that protruding central spike.

However, it's a statue that appears in Skyhold when we pick Andrastian decoration. Finding it here, reinforces the concept that it's andrastian, even though its design seems closer to Tevinter [made of metal, pointy and angular, with strong similarities to Tevinter statues than Andrastian]. I personally don’t know what to think about this one anymore.

When we are trapped inside the Inquisitor's mind, we find these paintings on the wall that reinforces the idea of paranoia and conspiracy behaviour.

We also find this typical snake-glyph that I talked about in General glyphs and magical symbols.

Curiously, inside the mind of the inquisitor, which walks a place that, I assume, it's an imitation of Haven, we see these statues in places that are not in reality. In reality, these Skull buds with sword are usually in the underground, while in here, they appear in the ground floor. 

Clearly we can’t take this place too seriously since it’s all inside a mind, so it makes sense if it's a bit surreal. For example, inside a tavern of this fortress, we see a Keepers of Fears which triggers Envy's Dogma.

Once we get rid of the envy demon and recover the control over the inquisitor, we see that the situation inside the fortress has grown dire: the templars realise they had been led by a demon so far, and it has encouraged the highest ranks to consume red lyrium to encourage the rest to do the same.  This fortress’ main chamber has a symbol of the Circle of Magi with serpent-dragons. This object can be easily seen in the Throne of the Enchanter when we activate it in the decoration of Skyhold. Like in the Chantry street of DA2, we find these metallic statues with long beards and swords that I thought represent Hessarian, maybe kept so relevant in here as a way to inspire mercy in the Templar order.

At the background of this place, we can find a typical, Fereldan styled Andraste as a warrior.

At the sides of this central statue, we find several paintings of places of Thedas.

A curious statue is the one found at the sides of the stairs that allows us to reach the previous statue of Andraste. The structure is too blocky. It looks like more Fereldan-Andrastian instead of the usual Free Marcher style or Tevinter-like statues we have seen. There is some lines and style that match the old Fereldan style of designing Andraste  [the one we found at the entrance of this fortress]. 

This style matches a lot the same style of The Guide, but it’s different to the old Orlesian andrastian style, which made figures look like blocky wooden toys.  This one also has some lines that come from his mouth that seem to create an effect of beard.  It has rounded, big ears and a very collapsed nose.  To me, it inspires a dwarf in the style of the The Guide. But honestly, I don’t remember seeing it anywhere else. In otder to put it a name to tag it, I will call it the “Blocky bearded humanoid”.

As we explore the fortress, we find a jail where a codex is trigger [the wiki doesn’t have this codex so I had to transcript it]: 

The Prisoners of Therinfal A page from a log of prisoners jailed in Therinfal Redoubt over two ages ago. The paper crumbles to the touch:

-Knights-Templar Wellen, Poller, and Legain, kept for questioning after leveling charges of apostasy against one Marion Durge, found innocent after Seeker Tehan’s Investigation. Imprisoned 5th of Verimensis, 7:02 Storm.

-Ellin Devar, First Enchanter, arrested for possession of heretical material. After protesting innocence, tomes containing instructions on blood magic discovered hidden in his office, as well eight mage phylacteries. Executed 29th of Verimensis, 7:02 Storm.

-Petyr Lothir, accused of apostasy. Brought in for examination by Seeker Landsdale. Possessed no magic. Thought to be in the grip of a disease of the brain. Kept imprisoned for his own safety. Visitors allowed. Jailed 9th of Pluitanis, 7:02 Storm.

Which gives us an idea how rough the institution has always been.

When we are looking for the lyrium that will help the templars to control this situation, we enter to a very "helsdim" room which has a lot of statues of mostly alamarri and Ferelden nature: there are alamarri mabaris at the sides of the entrance. There are drawings of eyes implying a state of paranoia and conspiracy in the user of this place [which I think it makes sense; it’s Envy after all]

There is a bust of Celene on a table with many candles and two Ferelden howling mabaris.

The curious detail is that at the background, we see avvar statues: the Eroded dragon skull clipped in odds ways to make it look like a new statue. On the ground, there is also a vesion of a Keepers of Fear.

In another room of this fortress we find a pair of Free Marches eagles.

As we find red lyrium  for the first time in this place, Solas seems to genuinely wonder from where it comes from. This is such a good question [a question that the game is telling us to ask here], because red lyrium seems to have appeared in the Temple of Sacred Ashes just as a consequence of the explosion, unlike the Primeval Thaig, where we can assume that it may have been a work of time, with normal lyrium being slowly infected and decayed by something [Bianca assumes it’s only Blight, I suspect there needs to be more].

As we head outside, we see the two questioned statues made of metal, contaminated already with red lyrium , and towering over them, the one with long beard and sword

As we fight in this region we see that part of the fortress has fallen apart, probably as consequence of disrepair.

[bisexualterror]

46, 42, 41, 38, 31, 28, 27, 24, 22, 20

What do you need when you’re sad? 

music and a good dramatic cry into a bowl of ice cream

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

just five?? 😟 smh okay well other than you ofc

@margoshansons @waterloou @dumbnojutsu @nonchalantxfish @inkspottedtea

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

tie between scooby doo and the owl house!!

Do you have any phobias? 

insects 😭😭i run away every time i see one

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

getting a new laptop!! going to bed and dreaming of obi wan

How are you, really? 

well it all started when i was a wee little gal *disassociates*

no fr i’m much better since i’ve started being more mindful of my mental health, it’s still hard as fuck but i’m happier

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

probably children of blood and bone or the second bridgerton book, the viscount that loved me !!

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

LMAO I DONT REMEMBER i think it was last year , probably a fic

How much sleep did you get last night? 

we don’t need to go there now do we ??? i’m actually not sure but ik i overslept 😭

What/who do you miss? 

a long list of fictional characters, and approaching things with childlike joy

[wellpresseddaisy]

Those Cunning Folk

Part 4

Cadwaladr walked up to the house, having waited until the small child weeding went to the back garden. No need to appear out of nowhere and frighten everyone if he could avoid it. The whole place gave him the chills, though, with each house so similar. That sort of fancy he put down to an already too busy morning. He'd been to Buckingham House and Gringotts before he even laid foot in Surrey, and that was after waiting over an hour to get across the border. He'd put poor Mrs. Harris at Buckingham House into such a pelter with his announcement that he intended to bring the Viscount directly that he knew he'd need to slip something extra into everyone's pay packets that week. She'd been harassing housemaids and chivvying footmen when he left, the whole place a welter of holland covers and did they have any flowers to cut at this point and he's eleven ma'am he won't care for flowers I should check the nursery for suitable games and see to a substantial sort of tea if I were giving orders.

He waved a hand as he passed over the dirt on the walk and it tidied itself back into the planter bed.

He knocked crisply on the front door and waited. After a moment a very thin and very blonde woman opened it a crack.

"Yes?" She asked impatiently, taking in his unexceptionable suit with a gimlet eye.

"I'm here to speak to Mrs. Dursley regarding Mr. Potter. My name is Du, Cadwaladr Du." He began.

"Well, say your piece." She demanded.

"Madam, I doubt you want every neighbor to hear me say that you could be held liable for receiving a kidnap victim." Might as well go in whole hog.

She turned an unbecoming pale, her cheeks tinged with a high color.

"Get in." Mrs. Dursley held the door open only wide enough for him to squeeze in before shutting it sharply. "How dare you?" She demanded as soon as the latch clicked.

Cadwaladr took little notice of her ire and instead moved into…the front room? He'd no idea what you might call it, being more used to drawing rooms and morning rooms and sitting rooms. In any case, he sat at the edge of the sofa lest he ended sucked into the upholstery and stared her down until she sat.

"I did wish to begin more pleasantly." He removed his gloves and set them on his knee. "But you gave me little choice. Mr. Potter ought never have come into your guardianship. He is a child of my house, and as such he will be taken into my custody." 

"Which house is this?" Mrs. Dursley asked, mouth pursed.

"In England, House Black, Mrs. Dursley, through both his godfather and his great grandmother." 

"Headmaster Dumbledore said he was to remain here until his seventeenth birthday to keep him safe." She bit out, clearly unwilling.

"Headmaster Dumbledore does not control House Black, madam, and he never shall. Mr. Potter is, by right and by magic, my ward. You have, I fear, been wretchedly imposed upon. It cannot be easy raising a strongly magical child when one has close neighbors." A smidgen of understanding went a long way, although he found her thoroughly odious.

"We've done our best. You said we could be in legal trouble?" She fidgeted with her apron.

"Only if I wish to make trouble for you, ma'am. I most heartily don't." Lie. "I would like to collect Mr. Potter and have him in his new home today, though. The more time I have to introduce him to our way of doing things before school the better."

"Your way." The woman spat. "I'll call him in. You can take him and his owl immediately."

"We'll use this room for only a few moments, I'm sure, and then be off." Only a few moments because if he had to sit in this offense against taste for more than another five minutes he couldn't be held accountable for his actions. "Did you wish to see proof of my claim?"

"I don't care to, no. I'll call him in." And she went.

What kind of wretched, hideous, unfeeling…he didn't think there was a word strong enough to describe Mrs. Dursley, honestly. He could be anyone. The back door banged and he couldn't hold back a twitch. That a magical child would be subjected to a house that rejected the very essence of him repulsed him to the core. They were, he reflected, amazingly lucky they didn't have an Obscurus situation. The back door banged again and a moment later a small boy stumbled into the room, obviously shoved from the hallway 

Cadwaladr just watched him quietly for a moment, letting the boy eye him as well.

Harry saw an obviously tall man of indeterminate age with the dark hair and the silvery eyes of the Black Family. His eyes, though, Harry decided, looked like he smiled a great deal. 

"Hello Mr. Potter. I'm Cadwaladr Du." He began.

"Aunt Petunia said you were taking me away. Are you?" He set his jaw and waited for an answer.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Legally, I'm your guardian. You ought never have been sent here." Best to stick to the absolute truth. He could speculate, but it wouldn't help the child before him. 

"Then why would I be here at all?" He clenched his hands by his sides.

"I don't know Mr. --"

"Please just call me Harry!" It burst out before he could stop himself.

"Of course, Harry. I didn't want to presume. I don't know why you're here or why the family wasn't notified when your parents were killed. We should have been. Your great uncle Arcturus would have loved you." Well, probably. Arcturus had been a funny sort, but he'd liked children.

"Could we go, sir?" Harry asked after a minute of silence.  "Aunt Petunia said she wanted me gone before Dudley or Uncle Vernon got home."

"Shall we gather your things?" Cadwaladr stood and held out a hand to Harry. 

The look he received in return could have curdled milk. Good to know the boy still possessed some spirit.

"I beg pardon, Harry. I raised my younger siblings and sometimes I forget that people are old enough to dispense with hand holding. You wouldn't believe the look I got off my brother, who just turned twenty-five, when I did the same to him. Pure instinct, I assure you."

Harry thawed slightly and led the way from the front room. He was, Cadwaladr thought, a bit sensitive about his size. Which…had they denied the boy food or was he naturally small? There were Du cousins taller than Harry who were age eight or nine. He resembled the English Blacks most strongly, and Cadwaladr thought perhaps Regulus hadn't been precisely tall. And maybe he'd grow with good food and proper exercise and an environment where he was wanted. 

The room Harry showed him was depressing in the extreme. Broken down furniture, a dirty carpet and dingy walls (of obvious long-standing vintage), and broken toys filled the small room. Even the ventilation seemed inadequate. A large cage sat on the desk with a sleeping snowy owl inside and a cheap school trunk stood open on the floor next to it.

"Pack everything you'd like to take as you won't be returning." He ordered gently.

"Ever?" Harry asked, shoveling things into the trunk. 

"Ever." Cadwaladr promised 

He did not wince watching Harry. Given the state of his clothes (sizes too big, patched, and oddly gray), he couldn't blame the boy for cramming it in with so little care. Harry, to his credit, neatly folded his school robes and placed them on top of everything else. 

He grabbed a ratty bag from the floor and asked, "Should we take Hedwig, sir? Or will she know the way?"

"We'll wake her and send her ahead. She'll have a perch in your room, you know, or she can make use of the owlery. I just need to give her a frank so she can get through the exchange." Cadw smiled down at Harry. "You can call me Uncle Cadw, you know. I don't think I could survive being called sir for the next years. I'd keep looking over my shoulder for my father or my eldest brother."

That got him a shy smile. "Thank you. I didn't know what…"

"We've been left in a bit of a quandary, haven't we? No worries, Harry, we'll find our way right." Cadw promised. "Now, shall we send Hedwig to the exchange and get ourselves to London?"

"What's the Exchange?" Harry clicked his tongue softly to wake Hedwig. "Hedwig, could you wake up? We're leaving."

She woke immediately, perky and dancing on her perch.

"What an intelligent owl she is." Flattery could get one most places, Cadwaladr found. Hedwig preened.

"Now this, my lad," he held up a wax seal. "This is the Black Frank. It gives Hedwig the right to go through the Exchange, which is where post owls cross over between worlds, without needing to pay a toll."

"Between worlds?" Harry asked, frowning. "But Diagon is in London, right?"

"We'll stop at a bookstore, Harry. I think there have been a few books published lately that will explain a bit better than I can." He tapped Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage, shrinking the two. "We can read them together, if you'd like."

He tied a little pouch to Hedwig's leg and put the seal inside. 

"To Buckingham House, please, Hedwig, once you're through. I think you'll enjoy the hunting in the park." Hedwig chirruped, stopped only to preen Harry's hair, and was out the window, winging away to London.

Harry, when he tried to hand over the shrunken trunk and cage, demurred. 

"My pockets," he explained sheepishly. "They're all holes."

"Then I'll carry them in mine. We'll make sure you're properly outfitted, Harry. Now, have you got everything?"

Harry nodded.

"Would you like to say goodbye to your Aunt?"

"She told me to just go. She didn't want to see me again."

"Right." If he were a vindictive man, Petunia Dursley would be a creature as odious as her personality. "Well, I'm sure we wish these people exactly what they deserve from the world."

Harry snorted, pressing his lips together, and followed his new guardian down the stairs and out of the house. He never had to go back. Not ever. He had a feeling that if anyone tried, they'd be sent packing. His new uncle seemed easy enough to get on with, but Harry knew that sort. They had limits.

"I hope you don't mind that we're going to be supremely boring and take the train to London? I booked us first class tickets, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable a journey."

"I've never traveled first class before." Harry admitted. 

"Even on this side, it's a bit nicer. We'll stop and get you a bite to eat at the station. Once we make London, we need to go to Gringotts. They were terribly put out not to have talked to you. Now, if you'll take my hand and hold tight, we'll do something called apparating. You'll feel a bit squeezed, like you're going through a tube, and then we'll be at the train station. You do need to hold on tight, though." 

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. He hadn't experienced any magical travel yet and this sounded awful. He took the offered hand and held tight, squeezing his eyes shut. The world squeezed in around him, and he really did feel like he was being sucked through a straw. When the feeling stopped, he opened his eyes. They were around back of the usually bustling station.

He found himself supplied with sandwiches and  and tea (and a book) and ushered into a seat at one of the big tables in the carriage in short order. Cadwaladr sat opposite and picked up one of the newspapers, unfolding it and running an eye down the headlines.