#probably my favourite clump of the entire fic
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pro patria, chapters 85-91
I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood. Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived.
title: pro patria (85-91/?) stuff that happens: Althea, Logan, Ihan, and Anise confront Kellach and deal with the aftermath, and Althea goes home.
verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Logan Thackeray, Agent Ihan; Corporal Kellach, Countess Anise, Ailoda Langmar; Althea & Logan, Althea & Ihan chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56, 57-63, 64-70, 71-77, 78-84
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EIGHTY-FIVE 1 The doors to the throne room swung open, and a man with deep red hair and pale, sickly skin staggered through. He still wore the armour of a Seraph, though his surcoat was stained with grime and only the Six knew what else. Logan’s face went blank, which I thought might be his idea of acting, while Ihan, Anise, the illusion behind us on the throne, and I all stared. “Your Majesty!” Kellach cried, and to my very real astonishment, he fell to his knees. But it brought him a little closer. I held myself ready. In clear anguish, he croaked out, “My beloved queen.” 2 He’d brought anguish to a lot more people than himself, but nevertheless, his tormented face chilled me. If not for my knowledge otherwise, I would have thought him like Logan. For one terrible moment, my imagination superimposed the mottling of his flesh on Logan’s, the absolute horror in his expression. I drew a sharp breath, though Kellach didn’t so much as glance in my direction. “Jennah,” he gasped out. “You—you have to listen. I won’t hurt you!” 3 I’d believe that when I saw it. But I paid close attention nonetheless. “I … I just need your blood,” he said, and added desperately, “It will save Kryta!” Blessed Dwayna. He wasn’t thinking only of his own corruption; he’d followed the logic to its proper conclusion—if Jennah’s blood could heal him, it could heal the others who’d fallen under Zhaitan’s corruption. Perhaps all of them, if it were true. But it wasn’t. 4 This poor man, though. “Corporal Kellach!” I snapped out. “Drop your weapons and surrender. You’re not thinking clearly.” “No,” said Kellach, shuddering, his eyes still fixed on the false Jennah; she looked so much like the real one, down to her thoughtful gaze, that even I would never have guessed the difference. “I need her blood! Royal blood.” 5 Damn Alastia Crow. “Don’t you understand?” whispered Kellach, frantic hope in his face. “It can cure the corruption. Make us all free!” Were she not already dead, I would have begged Grenth to strike her down. Kellach, at any rate, had gotten a better vengeance than he knew. Better, perhaps, than he’d ever be capable of knowing. 6 “It’s not true,” I said, forcing my voice into smooth, steady tones, as soothing as I could manage, even while my stomach clenched. “Alastia Crow lied to you, Kellach. She did this just to endanger the queen.” His head shook wildly. “No! No, you’re wrong! There has to be a way!” 7 “Tell me!” he screamed. I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood. Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived. EIGHTY-SIX 1 Logan shook himself out of our collective horror to say, “Kellach. Put away your weapons.” “No,” Kellach whispered, his face going still more bloodless. His gaze flickered around the throne room, his eyes frantically searching each of our faces. In a rougher voice, he insisted, “This can’t be true!” “Kellach—” “I’ll kill you all!” 2 He lunged forward, sword drawn, and through some magic I didn’t care to understand, four large Risen materialized behind him. “For the queen!” shouted Logan, rushing forward to slash at the undead brutes. Ihan and Anise didn’t waste their breath on battle cries; the former darted about, stabbing anyone within reach, while the latter fired aether from three different personas, faster and more powerfully than I could dream of. I had no idea which was the real Anise, while I felt very certain that she knew where I really stood among my own clones. “Grenth take you!” howled Kellach, beating wildly on Logan’s shield. Logan knocked him away with a jerk of his shield hand and neatly decapitated the undead nearest him. Ihan sliced open the spine of another, and chaos magic flashed all around. 3 “I won’t … I won’t give in,” Kellach panted, and I honestly didn’t know whether he spoke to Logan or Zhaitan. Either way, he was doomed. But his breathing grew more ragged, even though he hadn’t taken much damage, and when I held up my sword to block any attacks and drew closer, I could see that his eyes were no longer wild, but pale and staring, except when he blinked rapidly now and then. “Must kill,” he mumbled, steps growing still more uncoordinated. “Need … blood.” My companions had the undead under control; I focused all my will on the magic coursing through my sceptre, intensified the flow of it to all I could bear, and pointed it straight at Kellach. This is for you. 4 My magic lashed out at him. Anise seemed to follow my line of thought, or hers took the same route. Her magic spilled into mine, the deep purple of our joined power throwing his face into unearthly shadow. Perhaps her strength, so much greater than mine, did the rest of the work. Perhaps Ihan’s dagger found its target, or the blue fire flickering about Logan burned some vulnerable flesh in all that armour, or perhaps all our attacks combined into one deadly whole. However it happened, Kellach collapsed to his knees once more. Then, his vacant expression growing desperate one last time, he crumpled the rest of the way to the ground. 5 Kellach’s body sprawled at Logan’s feet. Dismembered undead lay all around him—around us. It made for a revolting scene, and a terrible one. Nobody spoke. Nobody relaxed our guard; for all we knew, the apparent death might be a trick, or some new and poorly understood development of the corruption. Logan methodically cut the straps of Kellach’s armour, kicked off the plates of it, and drove his sword through Kellach’s chest. He bled, sluggishly, but gave no other response. 6 As if released from a curse, we all drew breaths together, the sound so natural and ordinary that it brought some semblance of order to the grotesque scene. “Burn the corpse and scatter the remains,” Anise said, earning a respectful nod from Ihan. Logan flinched. “We don’t want him to suffer any more,” I told him. “I know.” He exhaled, then squared his shoulders, knelt down, and reached out a hand, not quite touching Kellach’s body. The flames of his magic burst out. 7 Logan’s fire ignited Kellach’s clothes first, then flashed over his skin, then engulfed his lifelessly writhing body, the smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils. I couldn’t do Logan’s grisly work for him, and I knew that nothing I might say would help, but I stayed near, near enough to feel the heat of the flames on my own skin. Even Ihan and Anise kept nearly as close; we were all in this together. I only left him once, after Kellach’s corpse and the assorted remnants of the undead had been burned to ash. We needed a broom. Ihan and I swept the ashes into four separate pouches, and each of us took one to dispose of as we saw fit. And that was my initiation into the Order of Whispers. EIGHTY-SEVEN 1 Once we were done, Logan held out his hands, still encased in bright gauntlets, and stared down at them. “Poor Kellach,” I said, wholeheartedly meaning it. “His mistakes were rooted in his love for queen and country.” “So many mistakes,” he said, dropping his hands, “made for all the right reasons.” “Exactly.” I glanced around, checking for signs of what had occurred, but the throne room seemed pristine once more. Its very cleanliness unsettled me; Kellach might have never existed. 2 Logan still looked stricken. “The queen could have been killed by someone who loved her. Even—I mean, it really makes you think.” I bet it did. Not unsympathetic, I touched his vambrace. “It’s all right, Logan. The queen is safe,” I assured him. 3 “Focus on the future, and Kryta will stay safe, too.” Logan nodded, but seemed scarcely aware of it. Meanwhile, Ihan fastened his portion of the remains on his belt, to all appearances unperturbed. Then he grinned at me. “Well done, Initiate! You showed tremendous cunning and nerve. I’m proud you’re a member of the Order of Whispers.” 4 Mixed in with the remnants of horror, I felt a trace of gratification at that. Though not often lacking in pride, I hadn’t ever imagined feeling so over this. I’d fought competently enough, and kept my nerve throughout, but I hadn’t expected Ihan to care. Surely he would expect no less? “Thank you,” I said. This seemed to satisfy him. “Now, for the rest of your initiation.” 5 I swallowed. “Go to Lion’s Arch a week from today,” continued Ihan. “There, you’ll be contacted by an apple merchant.” A what? “Meet with him to get your first formal assignment.” My first assignment! Anticipation sparked in my chest. 6 “I look forward to it,” I said honestly, and thought of Kellach’s face, the creeping power of Zhaitan. “It’s time to be part of a bigger world.” Ihan smiled again, and said nothing more, instead striding over to watch Anise unweave her spell, perhaps hoping to learn something from the process. I returned my attention to Logan, who was looking at his hands again. “Logan, are you all right?” I asked. “You seem rattled.” Not that he didn’t have reason to be. 7 “I’m glad Jennah’s safe,” he said slowly, “but I realize now that her safety is temporary. Everything is temporary, unless the dragons can be stopped.” True, but I didn’t blame him. I’d only just grasped it myself. “The dragons can’t be defeated by one people,” said Logan, lifting his eyes, “or even one nation. There has to be another way.” That’s what the Orders were for—weren’t they? EIGHTY-EIGHT 1 Logan’s brows drew together even as he hung his head a little. “Do you think we can overcome our mistakes, my friend?” he asked. “Make up for the things we’ve done?” I didn’t know what mistake he meant, but I knew it wouldn’t shake my friendship. I gave a firm nod. “I know we can, Logan.” Offering a smile, I added, “Mistakes make us human.” 2 “It’s rising up again that makes us heroes.” I believed that with all my heart. Wasn’t that the story of our people? We’d been weakened by our pointless war with Kryta, vulnerable to the Charr, but we’d risen up again in Lion’s Arch and Divinity’s Reach. Then, while Adelbern wiped out what little remained of human Ascalon after the Searing, Ebonhawke rose in the south under Logan’s own foremother. Logan straightened up. “You’re right.” 3 He didn’t quite return my smile, but the lines of his face smoothed out. “I’ve been too focused on keeping the queen safe.” He drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I love being at her side! But maybe that’s not where I can best defend her—or Kryta.” I honestly would never have imagined him saying that. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong. 4 No, he definitely wasn’t wrong. But from Logan, he might as well have said the sky was purple and the Charr our friends. “An old friend named Caithe asked me to meet her in Lion’s Arch next week,” said Logan, leaping by some inexplicable train of thought. “I think I’ll take her up on that.” I really had no idea what that had to do with anything, but I was all for friendship. I smiled up at him again. “I think that’s an excellent idea—I’ll see you in Lion’s Arch!” 5 He told me a little more about Caithe before we parted; she was a sylvari who had been a scout in his old guild, Destiny’s Edge. She’d never accepted the dissolution of the guild. When I asked Logan if he trusted her, he vacillated, before saying that she didn’t understand that the guild was gone forever. “Why does she want to meet you in Lion’s Arch and not in Divinity’s Reach?” I asked, though I could imagine that sylvari might not care for their reception in our home city. “Lion’s Arch is where it all began,” said Logan. “She likely wants to use a familiar place to dredge up sentimental feelings.” Well, that took some nerve, at any rate. 6 I respected nerve. “She’s stubborn,” added Logan. I respected stubbornness, too. “What does Caithe want?” I asked. “It’s likely she’s discovered something new about the dragons,” Logan said, and sighed, but he did look intrigued. “If I can convince her to tell me, it might benefit Kryta—and the queen.” Well, I could imagine why the guild had broken up. 7 “Caithe wanted to meet you in Lion’s Arch,” I said, thinking of my own forthcoming journey. “Anywhere in particular?” Only afterwards did it occur to me that he might not want me present during the actual meeting—likely a fraught one. “The Trader’s Forum,” Logan said easily. “It’s where we first formed Destiny’s Edge.” “I’ll meet you there,” I promised, to his evident relief. “Travel safely.” EIGHTY-NINE 1 We lingered even after that, talking a little of the queen and Logan’s feelings for her. He praised Lyssa for Jennah’s survival, and though we ourselves had carried out the plan, I could believe that Lyssa had aided my magic—both Anise’s and mine. She might not speak to us any more, but she was there, nonetheless. I assured Logan that the gods would watch over us all, and on that note, we parted. Once Logan left, undoubtedly to find Jennah, Ihan walked back over to me. “Your wits are sharp as knives, Initiate,” he said. “The Preceptors were right about you.” 2 The what? “Who are the Preceptors?” I asked. Ihan, with a nod at Anise, placed his hand at my back and gently led me towards the doors out of the throne room. “The Master of Whispers leads the order, but his identity is a secret. Three Preceptors carry out his directives.” When I asked who they were, he told me that their names were Halvora, Valenze, and Doern, and that I’d meet them soon. I certainly didn’t recognize the names. 3 “They were right about me,” I said slowly. “Do you mean that they knew about me before I was appointed Advocate of the Crown?” “Of course.” “And they liked me?” I said, a little incredulous that the flailing hero of Shaemoor would appeal to an organization of spies and manipulators. Ihan inclined his head. “What did you all even know?” At his expression, I paused. “Oh, you can’t tell me.” 4 “Not all, certainly,” said Ihan. “What would you like to hear?” “Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You were born in Ebonhawke in the year 1304, the second daughter of Lord Edmund Fairchild and the former and future minister Ailoda Langmar. Your ancestry is approximately three-quarters Ascalonian and one-quarter Krytan. In 1310, your family removed to the Rurikton district of Divinity’s Reach, where you were brought up and educated as both an Ascalonian and a subject of Kryta.” 5 It was all true , but— “You performed well academically,” he continued, “but did little with your talents until the apparent death of your sister in 1323, when you took over the bulk of your family’s affairs for a year. As a natural mesmer, you afterwards began training in chaos magic under Countess Anise, and proved gifted, which aided you when you unexpectedly rushed to the aid of the village of Shaemoor early this year.” “Well, yes,” I said, “though I’m not sure—” “You further developed your skills as you investigated a political plot that culminated in a trial by combat and established your close alliance with Logan Thackeray. When not involved in politics, you began performing selfless acts of service around Queensdale and later, Kessex Hills.” “It’s not quite what it sounds like,” I said. 6 “Many of them quite minor,” added Ihan, “but some requiring a great deal of effort on your part, such as a large-scale attack on a massive creature of the Underworld. You proceeded to investigate the questionable ambush that led to your sister’s supposed death in battle, helped Thackeray apprehend the captain who betrayed Lieutenant Fairchild’s company, and discovered the survivors. At that point, you returned to your hobby of refining maps for the Tyrian Explorers Society, until you were recalled to serve as Advocate.” “Well, if that’s not everything, I’m not sure what else there is to know,” I said. “You tend to befriend people unlike yourself,” he answered; I suspected he meant Faren. “You also tend to rely—in both society and battle—on a strong talent for mimicry and for concealing your own thoughts and actions until opportunity arises, when you act quickly and decisively. Both of these qualities interested the Order.” 7 “I suppose I’m an odd creature by way of a hero,” I admitted. “We have long had our eyes on you,” said Ihan, which I took as yes. “And there’s more?” “You possess qualities which I imagine you are not yourself aware of,” he told me. “Qualities and predilections, I should say, which are not all beneficial. Those, you must discover and conquer. Be warned, though: based on our knowledge of you, this first task will test you and your loyalties in ways you do not imagine—and is intended to do so.” NINETY 1 Well, that sounded menacing. It was probably meant to, too. Hadn’t I already passed my initiation? Just not a custom-tailored initiation, I guessed. “I’m very loyal,” I protested. “Yes,” said Ihan, his face giving away nothing. “We know.” 2 I set that aside, since I couldn’t do anything about it. “What’s the next step, now that I’m a member of the Order of Whispers?” I asked. As we stepped out of the hall of the palace into the daylight, Ihan squinted at the sky and said, “The Preceptors arranged a contact for you in Lion’s Arch. His job will be to mentor you in our modus operandi.” Already suspicious, I said, “Who will be my mentor?” “That’s need-to-know information, Initiate,” said Ihan, steering us towards the Salma District. I had no doubts but that he knew exactly where I lived, and probably where I slept, too. 3 “Don’t worry,” he added. “He’ll contact you when you reach Lion’s Arch.” All right. An apple merchant would contact me in Lion’s Arch, when I would receive a task that would test my loyalties in ways I couldn’t imagine. That sounded fine. Perfectly fine. “I’m eager to hear from him,” I said. 4 Before he left me at the gates to the Salma District, Ihan told me to take notes on Logan’s meeting with Caithe; the Order kept detailed information on the members of Logan’s old guild. Destiny’s Edge must have been something. I wondered if this was my test—choosing to betray Logan’s trust for the Order, or the other way around. But I didn’t see Logan’s trust and the Order’s demand for information as quite contradictory, at least not yet. For all I knew, Logan didn’t care one way or another if the Order knew about Caithe, which they clearly did already, and he was all for helping the orders of Tyria fight the dragons, anyway. I’d see what happened, and make my choice then. “I look forward to a long career in the Order,” I said. 5 “That’s a week from now, of course,” said Ihan, glancing down at me. It wasn’t all that far down; if I could get used to anything, it would be not straining to look up at Logan. Maybe my contact would be on the smaller side, too, or a sylvari. Then again, they might be a Norn. “What do you plan to do in the meanwhile?” he asked. I thought about it, though I already knew the answer. 6 “I’m going to Ebonhawke,” I said, setting my jaw. “I want to see it again before—” Before the Order swallows me up, I almost said. Well, not almost, but I thought it. “—I get too busy.” “Ah,” said Ihan. “Yes, it’s natural to be curious about what you come from.” 7 “We have a base of operations there,” he added, “so we’ll stay in touch.” “Good,” I said, though I’d go anyway, unless expressly forbidden. “I’m thinking about going to the Ascalon Settlement afterwards; I always meant to see it, but I wasn’t capable of the journey.” “It’s a challenging one,” said Ihan. “Even for you.” I had no intention of getting myself killed out of curiosity, even curiosity that sprang from my connection to my people and my birthplace. “I’ll take care.” NINETY-ONE 1 Thankfully, Ihan assented to the second plan as well as the first. In fact, he said, “Then you’d better take this.” He dug around in his apparently bottomless bag; it gleamed with pale yellowish light every time he opened it up, and after a few moments, he pulled out a beautiful bronze sceptre, red-jeweled at its base, gradually widening to a little mechanism of some sort, and topped by a group of different-sized circles. The circles all glowed with the same light as that filling the bag, little bolts of lightning crackling across them. I caught my breath as Ihan held it out to me. My fingers did not quite tremble when I took it in my hand. Even without casting a spell, I could feel its strength. 2 The sheer quantity of aether I could pour through this sceptre—I’d never touched a weapon so fine. I lifted astonished eyes to Ihan’s. “Thank you,” I said unsteadily. “I … thank you. I didn’t expect it.” “I’m aware,” said Ihan, his mouth quirking. “But I’d rather not see a promising initiate immediately killed by pirates.” 3 “Then why are you letting me go?” The sceptre hummed pleasantly under my fingers, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to sheathe it with my other weapons. “If you can’t survive Gendarran Fields,” said Ihan, “then you won’t survive the Order. But properly armed, you have the wit and the strength to survive everything on the way to the settlement. And it’s good to test your skills and sharpen them before entering into a new phase of your career.” I looked down at the sceptre, then up at him, then back at the sceptre. “I see.” 4 “Good luck, Althea Fairchild,” Ihan told me, extending his hand. I reached out with my free hand, and took his in a firm grip, shaking it. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever do it again, see him again, or if this first mentor—of sorts—would simply vanish into the shadows. I might never know if he lived or died. If the gods willed it, though, I would. Maybe our paths would cross someday. I said, “Good luck, Ihan.” 5 With that, he walked over to a nearby crowd and joined it. When the crowd dispersed, he was gone. I took a deep breath, then turned back to the gate and walked into Salma, where everything was comfortable and familiar. Kormir knew when I’d be back for any significant length of time, and I could hardly tell my mother that I’d joined a continent-spanning organization of spies and assassins. As I made my way to the manor, it felt half-unreal, but for the pouch of ashes at my waist. I shivered. Poor Kellach—and poor Logan. 6 My mother, of course, didn’t like the idea of me going back to Ebonhawke. But then, she didn’t like the idea of me going anywhere outside of Divinity’s Reach, so I reminded her of the cease-fire with the Charr and the treaty in progress, said I’d keep her updated, and promised to take no unnecessary risks. We had different ideas of necessary, Mother and I. After reassuring her, I packed my bags with what went for practical in my wardrobe, tied my hair back, and headed out to Rurikton. I didn’t go immediately to the Ebonhawke gate. Instead, I walked slowly to Langmar Manor—and more importantly, the Langmar cemetery. Kellach was no Langmar, of course, but it was the best I could do for him. 7 I sprinkled Kellach’s ashes in the fresh plot where Deborah’s headstone had rested: my portion of Kellach’s ashes, that was—just thinking of that had me shuddering again. But perhaps he could rest in the Mists peacefully now, free of Zhaitan’s grip; perhaps even the Risen he’d brought with him could, too. We’d done what we could, however grisly the doing of it had been. From there, I made my way to the rear of the district, gazing up at the crackling gate. It had been so long. Handing over a few coins to the Asura by the gate, I straightened up, checked the fit of my weapons and my bag, and then— Then I walked home.
#ascalonian grudgeblog#anghraine's gaming#anghraine's fic#ascalonian grudgefic#althea fairchild#agent ihan#logan thackeray#countess anise#corporal kellach#ailoda langmar#guild wars 2#pro patria#probably my favourite clump of the entire fic#i didn't plan the fic in groups of seven chapters so there's no pacing logic to where i divide them up#but i was really glad where this one started and ended :)
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little women part two: christmas parties
Summary: The Bridgerton sisters are closer than most but the trials of womanhood might just tear these little women apart.
A/N: Sorry this took so long, please let me know if you enjoy - hopefully the next part won't take two months
Please note: 1) the Bridgerton boys will not be in this fic and 2) a significant portion of the dialogue is lifted from the Little Women (2019) script.
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7 YEARS EARLIER
The Bridgerton girls gathered in Daphne and Eloise’s shared room, the younger girls watching their sisters prepare for a Christmas party. Daphne’s hair was wrapped in curling papers, which amused Y/N to no end.
Daphne couldn’t help but admire herself in the mirror, excited to dress up for the first time in months.
“And I know just who I want to dance with.” She bragged to her littlest sister.
Y/N gasped and looked to Eloise, “Who are you going to dance with then?”
“You know I don’t dance.”
Francesca piped up, “I can’t dance.”
“Why can’t we all go to the party? It’s not fair that only you get to!” Y/N whined.
Daphne interrupted her complaints by standing, leaning on the youngest to pull her shoes on. It was a significant effort, one that Eloise needed to point out.
From where she was heating a pair of metal tongs to speed up the curling process, she sighed, “Just wear your regular shoes.”
“These fit last winter!” Daphne huffed.
Y/N poked through her favourite sister’s jewels and makeup, giving Eloise a discerning look.
The brunette held a finger out, “Don’t touch me! I already feel silly, I don’t intend to look it too.”
“You could be pretty if you tried!” Y/N jumped up to play with her sister’s hair.
“Don’t want to.” Eloise pulled away, forcing Daphne back into her seat. She then wrapped a section of Daphne’s hair in the hot tongs.
Francesca watched her sisters fondly, “I do wish I could hear the music.”
Y/N began to dance around the room humming her own song.
Francesca looked at her blonde sister’s hair and frowned.
“Should they be smoking like that?” Her voice wavered.
Eloise nodded confidently, “It’s the steam from the dampness, don’t fret.”
Y/N stopped dancing and wrinkled her nose, “Something smells like burnt feathers.”
“Hush now, look and you shall see a perfect curl!” Eloise pulled the tongs away with a flourish, taking a burnt clump of hair with them.
Screams erupted from the girls, Eloise with fright, Daphne with horror, Y/N with mirth.
Francesca, bless her, was confused, “Why is her hair off?”
“You’re ruined!” Y/N shouted.
“Daph, I’m so sorry!”
“What have you done?! MAMA! I can’t go! Look what she’s done to my hair!”
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Cowper estate was a marvel to look at, Lord Cowper being an immensely wealthy man. His wife had an eye for interior design and their gardeners were some of the best in the country.
Daphne cheered up almost immediately as she and Eloise walked closer to the house. The festivities had already begun and she was certain it would be a night to remember.
She was, however, worried about Eloise’s … lack of decorum. She practically lectured her sister as they got closer.
“Don’t stare, don’t put your hands behind your back, don’t shake hands, don’t whistle-” She was interrupted by a beautiful, pale blonde.
“Daphne Bridgerton! You look adorable!” Cressida Cowper placed two delicate kisses on the other blonde’s cheeks, ignoring Eloise entirely. She pulled Daphne from her sister leaving Eloise all alone.
The younger Bridgerton moved to the back of the room, leaning against a wall and pulling a string on her dress.
When she looked up again, she saw Daphne giggle with her dance partner. There was no way she’d want to leave now.
Bored of just standing around and doing nothing, Eloise dipped behind a curtain, hoping to find the library. Instead she found a rather cosy nook, probably for ladies to freshen up or for men to have their drinks and talk openly.
Either way the fire was toasty and the chaise right in front of it seemed rather comfortable. Beelining it to the lounge, Eloise sat down heavily, only to spring up again.
She’d almost sat on a boy!
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in here!”
He stood as well, “Oh no, don’t mind me! You can hide in here with me.”
“I won’t bother you?”
“Not at all, I don’t know many people here, so I’ve hidden myself away.”
“So did I.”
The two stood there, unsure of what to do next.
The boy surged forward with a hand outstretched, “Miss Bridgerton, isn’t it?”
“Sorry my sister says I shouldn’t shake hands. But I’m not Miss Bridgerton, Mr Laurence. I’m just Eloise.”
He smiled gently, “And I’m not Mr Laurence, I’m just Laurie.” This time the silence was more comfortable.
“Which sister?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Which sister?” He mimicked shaking hands with someone.
“Oh!” she led him to the curtains, “My sister Daphne, the one in the blue dress.”
Laurie was only half paying attention to said sister when he commented, “Very pretty.”
They stepped back into the room, “She reminds me to be good so Father can be proud of me.”
“Where is he?”
“He died. Fever.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He knew the pain of losing a parent all too well.
Hoping to shift the mood back into cheeriness, he offered a hand.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
“I can’t.” Eloise played with her fingers.
“Why not?”
She looked at his chin so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact, “You won’t tell?”
“No, never!”
She turned around, pointing near the hem of the fabric, “I scorched my dress, see? Daph told me to keep still, so no one would see it.”
Laurie’s expression brightened, “I have an idea.”
The two snuck out to the porch and began to dance up and down, ducking past the windows and bouncing around wildly. Sometimes they would just swing each other around in circles, giggling like children.
A knock at the window interrupted them, Daphne trying to shout through the glass.
“I’ve hurt my ankle!”
“How will I get home?!” Daphne cried, wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulder.
“You’ll have to get a carriage or stay here all night.” Eloise teased.
Daphne huffed, “Carriages are too expensive.”
Laurie heard them from his spot at the front door, “I can take you. You’re only right next door.”
Ever the modest woman, Daphne shook her head, “You’re too kind, but we cannot accept.”
“No, no, you must take mine. I insist.”
“No, it’s so early! You can’t mean to leave yet.”
“I always leave early.” When Daphne gave him a suspicious look, he pressed. “I do, truly.”
“What choice do you have?” Eloise really didn’t want to carry her sister home.
The Bridgerton household was significantly smaller than the Cowper’s but the immediate warmth radiating from it was like a mother’s embrace.
When the carriage arrived, the girls’ mother answered the door, softly laughing at her poor daughter’s predicament.
“Goodness gracious, Daphne! What happened!”
She let them in and swapped places with Eloise, helping Daphne to a seat.
The little sisters came running towards them, crashing into a hug with Eloise.
“She is a wounded soldier Mama!”
“I’ve just sprained my ankle.”
Laurie watched the organised chaos with a glimmer of fascination in his eyes.
Lady Bridgerton knelt before her eldest, “Daphne, you’re going to kill yourself for fashion one day. Rose! Some ice please!”
“Tell us all about it!” Francesca pulled on Eloise’s sleeve.
“And what’s he like?” Y/N whispered shyly, looking at Laurie.
Noticing her daughters’ new friend standing rather out of place, Violet waved him over.
“Sorry dear, come in! I apologise for the chaos, Mr Laurence, we aren’t usually like this.”
“Laurie, please.”
“Can we call you Teddy?” Eloise called from the stairs, arms wrapped around Y/N on the step below.
“Yes you certainly can!” He said, stepping a little closer.
“I’m Y/N.”
Her face warmed as the handsome boy greeted her, “Hello, Y/N.”
“Oh, Laurie, you must be part of the girls’ plays!” Violet bustled to the kitchen to check on Rose and the ice, “They could use an extra actor, although you’ll have to fight Eloise for the male roles or play a girl.”
Eloise threw a soft punch at Laurie’s dark arm.
When Violet returned, she gave some ice to Daphne and laughed at her own joke before she could even say it.
She turned to Laurie, “How are your ankles? Do you need ice too?”
Laurie returned her smile, “No thank you ma’am.”
“Oh, dear, just call me Mama. Or Violet if you’d prefer.”
She pressed a soft hand to his cheek. Laurie clearly hadn’t felt the warmth of a mother’s touch in years. It almost brought a tear to her eye.
Violet moved to her other girls, she and Y/N asking Eloise about the party. Daphne was gossiping with Francesca and Rose. It was a beautiful picture, one Laurie wished he could capture. Six warm, loving, kind women, who’d accepted him with no questions asked.
Later that night, he trudged through the snow to his own miserable house. He turned back for one last look at the Bridgerton home. All was quiet, except for Eloise. She was pacing by the window of her bedroom, writing with a fury. The candlelight highlighted her delicate features, and he found himself hoping that one day she would look at him with the same passion she held for her work.
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Lover Dearest *Updated*
A/N: Hey guys! I’m not sure how long some of you reading have been a part of this blog but since I’m returning from a two year hiatus, I’m going to go ahead and assume most of you are new. Hi! I was a fanfic writer for Criminal Minds and Supernatural back in 2017. I went through a lot of personal stuff around the time I stopped posting and my mental health was at an all time low. But! I’m back with a peace offering. Lover Dearest is one the first fics I’ve ever written. It was inspired by the song by Mariana’s Trench. It has always been one of my favourites to go back and reread and I’ve always wanted to see if I was able to rewrite it and make it a little longer for you guys. I used a lot of the same language and elements so it’s not an entirely different fic but I did make it a little longer and more descriptive for you! Hopefully, you guys like it! This is the first piece I have written in about three years so please keep that in mind and go easy on me lol. Alright, now let’s get into it!
TW: DRUG USE. DEPRESSION. SUICIDE MENTION. Intense language.
@dontshootmespence wanted a tag! <3 I’m sorry in advance... I have my next fic planned out and I promise it’ll be fluffy goodness!
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Spencer’s POV
This place is a hole, and I don’t wanna go. I wish we could stay here, Forever alone.
You rolled over in your bed, the shrieking of your alarm clock echoing in your brain like you had the worst hangover in the world. You lifted your arm and tapped the off button with the tips of your finger before bringing both of your fists to your temples, curling up into your blankets; your body shook. It was 6pm, you had fallen asleep a few hours prior. You laid there, sore all over and still for what felt like hours, though it was likely only a few moments. You were groggy again and not long after the initial phase of disorientation wore off, you were struck with the familiar feeling of guilt, the cloud of emptiness that begged your body for more life. You hated every part of you that continued to enable yourself to self destruct but yet you feel like you couldn’t stop it; you knew that there was only one way to fix what you were feeling and it was waiting for you in the bedside table drawer- calling your name, driving you closer and closer. This time that we waste, but I still love your taste. Don’t let him take my place, don’t just sit there.
You groaned as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, then to standing. Your body felt heavy as you began to stumble over to the drawer, even though it was probably the lightest it’s ever been, given the fact you were an adult man standing at six feet tall. Your mind was unusually quiet which normally would concern you but you felt there wasn’t much use for your mind right now. If it was so smart- why couldn’t you have saved her? You have always wanted to learn everything you could about Alzheimer's; you thought maybe if you could find a way to understand everything there was to know about the disease, you could figure out how to stop it in time to save her. But you couldn’t. You let the woman who gave you life- die, lost inside her own mind. Much like you were right now. You knew your friends were worried about you but you tried not to let them see to what extent you were truly hurting. Thinking of her hurt so much, you’d rather feel nothing.
Sometimes, I wish you would leave me. I’m not sick of you yet. Is that as good as it gets? I’ll just say it; I could slip into you, it’s so easy to come back into you.
Your hands shook as you pulled the drawer open, revealing a vile of dilaudid along with some syringes, alcohol swabs and some small cotton threads. You sighed and grabbed what you needed and headed for the bathroom. It was your go-to space for what you were about to do. The nausea came almost immediately after the injection so you needed to be ready and near the toilet, just in case things were to go in that direction once again. You finally reached the sink and held onto the sides, you hunched over but stared at your face in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself. Those dark and sunken eyes have seen a lot of darkness over the years but nothing could have prepared you for the way she left you. It’s the hardest ;thing you’ve ever gone through. All the cases, all the times you almost lost against an unsub, nothing could compare to losing your best friend.
I stared for a while, and waited for words. Seen but not heard, and struggled to try.
My tongue’s turning black, but I’ll take you back. You’re still the best, more or less, I guess.
There was a part of you that knew this was wrong. That part of you ached and pleaded for you to give in and call JJ or Derek, or even Hotchner. But this side of you knew you could never do that to them. You could never let them feel this pain that you felt. Instead of facing the truth, in fear of being that disappointment, you hid your pain away but that’s what addiction is, right? Not being able to stop these thoughts? You took one last glance at yourself, just to see who it was looking back at you. It wasn’t you. This man was old, pale and fragile. His face was covered with patchy skin and dirt, where his hair wasn’t thinning, it was clumped and matted. Is this the man everyone else saw? No one ever commented on it, did they see it too? This man was hurting, begging for help but no one could hear. You almost felt as if this was better. No one would forgive you for this anyway.
You laid your arm against the porcelain sink, feeling a slight shiver run down your spine as the chilled glass made contact your skin. Your eyes bounced in between all your bruises, past markings and scars. You prepped your arm and took a deep breath in, slowly piercing the needle through your skin and pushing the poison into your vein. Your exhale was a whimper and your head fell. You knew you should stop but you needed more, you felt at peace- like, nothing could ever harm you ever again and you were free. It was so beautiful and you were sure it was Heaven. And she was there with you, holding out her hand for you to hold. You reached for her. Before you connected, you were brought back to reality. You lost your remaining strength and the needle fell with you onto the floor as you collapsed onto your knees. You cried out so loudly, people walking on the street below your apartment could probably hear. You gripped the toilet bowl and vomited intensely before your vision closed in and you dropped to the floor.
And it hurts me to say, that I want you to stay. But it might be alright if you go.
So leave me. I’m not sick of you yet. Is that as good as it gets? I’ll just hide it. I could slip into you, It’s so easy to come back into you.
You weren’t sure how long you were out for but you did know that you were in a lot of pain. It felt like knives stabbing in and out, over and over, all over. Your head pounded against your skull and the ringing in your ears intensified as you leaned over the toilet bowl again, releasing nothing but bile. That’s when you noticed the blood, it was everywhere but you didn’t know where it was coming from.
“Fuck.” You started to panic. You suddenly realized the severity of the decision you made. You didn’t want to die here like this, it was a mistake. It was an accident! Your heartbeat quickened as you tried to fight the urge to pass out once more. You scanned the room looking for your phone but you couldn’t see it anywhere. You used every muscle in your body to carry yourself across the floor on your hands and knees. You were determined to make it to your bed again but the pain was so intense. You collapsed again when you exited the bathroom. When you awoke, you were laying in a pool of your own sweat, vomit and blood. You looked and noticed you weren’t that far from your bedside table. You needed to push on. Reaching for the surface, you knocked your phone to the floor. Luckily, JJ was in your recent calls as you were talking to her earlier that morning. You pressed her name and laid beside your phone on the floor, “JJ…” you cried softly.
…
“Spence? Hello?” She spoke. She listened to your quiet, broken voice speak to her. You told her everything. “I’ll be right there. We’ll get you through this. Please hold on.”
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#tw#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#criminal minds#cm fanfic#cm fanfiction#cm#matthew gray gubler#lover dearest#prettyboyeffect#fanfiction#fanfic#creative writing
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drarry recs!
this is by no means a definitive list! as a disclaimer, I read some of these over a year ago and they may vary in quality, but I liked them all. fics by the same author are all clumped together but this is in no particular order. i have big preferences for certain authors. faves are bolded. super faves are italicised and bolded. under the cut because this is very long
Another Mask Behind You by lettered
“Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)”
The Fall of the Veils by lettered
“This is the fic where Muggles find out about wizards, wars are fought, Apparition is abolished, political conspiracies abound, Draco is asexual, and Harry has Legilimency sex with him.”
The Pure and Simple Truth by lettered
“Harry, Draco, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, and Pansy go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy―you guessed it―go to a pub. I could go on. In fact, I did. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Pansy, Ron, Blaise, Luna, Goyle, Neville, and Theodore Nott go to a pub. In various combinations.”
No Other Superstar by lettered
“Draco is sort of fucked up. Harry is sort of fucked up and really really famous. Together they fight crime! Not in this fic, though. In this fic they have sex.”
The Bound Prince by slashpervert
“In HBP, there is a pivotal moment where things could have gone very differently for Harry and Draco. In the bathroom sixth year, Draco is upset that Harry has caught him crying and throws a hex. It escalates and ends in blood, with Harry nearly killing Draco by accident. In this story, instead, unvoiced attraction to Harry motivates Draco to take a chance and kiss him. Once sparked, their mutual desire and exploration becomes the driving force in the alternative ending to the series. Draco's "mission" from Voldemort turns out to be more complex than that presented in canon and their solution even more difficult.”
This is just shy of a million words if you want something to really get into! Be warned that it is emotionally devastating at parts, and you could stop reading after the first fic in the series.
Simulacrum by slashpervert
“Draco sends a gift to Potter and finds himself in a difficult but erotic position.”
This ridiculous magical sex toys smut and nothing else but I love it jkdjdnfjkasl
To Give Everything by slashpervert
“Draco finds The Room, a torture chamber in the Hogwarts dungeons and longs for someone to submit to him. Harry finds he needs that and more.”
After Hours at the Ministry of Magic by birdsofshore
“It isn't precisely how Harry planned to spend Christmas Eve: trapped in a lift with his ex-boyfriend, somewhere between the third and the fourth floors of the Ministry of Magic.”
Higher and Higher (Temptation) by birdsofshore
“Only Harry Potter could manage to put on a magical collar on impulse and find himself unable to take it off again. Now following Draco’s direct orders gives him intense pleasure, and Draco has a whole heap of troubles to deal with, not least the way Potter looks when the collar has him gasping with bliss. The whole situation would test the morals of a saint... and Draco’s no saint.”
I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore
“Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.”
One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore
“Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.”
Hungry by birdsofshore
“The first thing Harry knew about it was when he woke up lying on a bed in the hospital wing, with his arm firmly stuck to the scrawny, milk-white arm of Draco bloody Malfoy.”
All Life is Yours To Miss by Saras_Girl
“Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.”
Saras_Girl’s Fluffy!verse
this is just a lot of fluffy oneshots! they’re mainly under 10k and I’ve noted where they get longer. my personal favourites are:
Code-Cracking For Gryffindors
Hermione Granger and the Case of the Cherry Blossoms
Rainfall
Talk to Me (15k)
The Haunting (10k)
Turn by Saras_Girl
“One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.
This story contains some het, a lot of slash, some epilogue-friendly stuff and a lot of AU. It is vaguely inspired by the film ‘The Family Man’ but in reality, is a variation on a concept that is, quite frankly, well old. I implore you to just trust me and enjoy the story.”
On a Clear Day by Saras_Girl
“Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he’s not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly.
This is a post-war, feature-length oneshot told entirely from Draco’s point of view. It is canon-compliant through DH but obviously disregards the epilogue. [What epilogue?]”
just. draco sings the smiths??? and i cried
Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl
“When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected. [Smoochfest 2012]”
Frost on a Park Bench by Saras_Girl
This is Draco's park. Harry Potter has no business being here.
Reparations, Foundations & all that follows by Saras_Girl
“Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.
When one door closes, another one opens – with a bit of a push. Life, love and complications.”
my favourite favourite thing I’ve ever read is probably Còmhla, the very last fic of this series, but don’t read it without having read the rest of it
This Summer by Saras_Girl
“This is a summery romantic comedy featuring my favourite ensemble cast, in which Harry is confused, Draco is Draco, and Hermione attempts to eat all the things.”
Big Dick, Come Quick (pdf or epub) by calanthe
“Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.”
The Logic of Dreams by Frayach
“J.K. Rowling meets Philip K. Dick. War hero Harry Potter suddenly finds himself guilty of a murder he hasn’t committed of a man he has never met. And worst of all, he has no means of confronting his accusers, all of whom are former Death Eaters. Could this be a set-up? Or something even worse? Loosely based on the short story The Minority Report”
On the Couch by Frayach
“It’s a Mind Healer’s worse nightmare to lose a patient to suicide, but Mind Healer Nick Nichols can attest to the fact that a murder/suicide is even worse. If only Dr. Freud had come up with a sure cure for love.”
it feels weird but trust me
let me see you stripped (down to the bone) by traintracks
“"So," Malfoy said. "Are you in? Or are you out?" He turned and looked at Harry squarely. Harry remembered the slow way Malfoy had slid his hand down his own stomach, into his pants – the outline of his long fingers gripping and stroking his own cock. The way his head had fallen back, exposing his pale throat. How he had owned them all. He took a deep breath. "I'm in," he said.”
Harry Potter and The Sexual Awakening by jrayoh23
“Harry Potter gets outed by Rita Skeeter in a recent Daily Prophet article and decides to take matters into his own hands. He decides to write a tell-all that everyone wants, the story of how he came to terms with his sexuality. What no one, especially Draco Malfoy, expects is this book doubles as a love letter to someone Harry calls, L.B.
In the midst of being assigned to read and review Potter's new book, Draco realizes that some of the stories Potter tells in his book seem a little too familair. Thus, bringing up old feelings about the man.”
Light as Iron, Singed as Pearl by Snegurochka
“The owner of the elite BDSM club M. had not gained his reputation as the most coveted Dominant on the scene by taking on just any riff-raff submissive who asked. It would take an unexpected letter to convince him to accept a new client, but it might turn out to be the biggest mistake he ever made.”
The Hogwarts Rebellion by Lumelle
“When someone apparently casts an enchantment upon Hogwarts that causes hearts to float around in the air whenever someone is near a person they have a crush on, it seems like a harmless enough thing.
Of course, this only holds until it hits a Potter and a Malfoy. After that, things get interesting.”
okay so this is technically a scorbus fic but it’s the cutest, fluffiest thing I’ve ever read and there’s some drarry and i love it
Double Take by kcstories
“The Yule Ball didn't go according to plan. An intrigued Draco follows a desolate Harry into a hidden room. Things will never be the same again. (An alternate take on Harry's fourth year).”
Side-Along by lumosed_quill
“If this wasn't a curse then it was Hell. Because surely, in Hell, all roads would lead to Harry Potter's living room.”
How to Handle an Enemy & Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop
“Everyone knows that it's no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate…
After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a). the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error when he decides to make use of these facts...”
The Potter-Malfoy Problem by who_la_hoop
The room of requirement's gone mad — at least, that's what Harry thinks. There's no way that Draco Malfoy 'requires' him, of all people, but why does it keep dragging Harry there like he's some kind of furniture, every time Malfoy enters it? Throw in Pansy the pervert and a clipboard-wielding Hermione, and things can only go from bad to worse. And that's not even mentioning the pirates...
there are plently of good fics by the authors included in this list but i’ve not got around to reading them all so have a look if you need new fics! i don’t often stray from ao3 so if you have recs from elsewhere please lmk!
i have read some straight up weird, kinky, and/or angsty fics but i didn’t feel like including them here, message me if you’re interested! i feel like i’m definitely forgetting some fics, so I’ll be coming back to edit this
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