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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 6 months ago

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Portrait of a Dead Girl

Summary:

Alina Starkov was given to Duke Aleksander Morozova of Os Alta in marriage when she was fifteen years old. Within a year, she was dead. The official cause of Alina's death was marked as putrid fever, but many at the time believed, and many in the future will go on to believe, that she was poisoned by her husband.

This fic is completely inspired by The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrel, which is a work of historical fiction based on the real lives of Duchess Lucrezia d'Este (née de' Medici) and Duke Alfonso ii d'Este of Ferrara. You don't need any prior knowledge of The Marriage Portrait or history to read and enjoy this fic, but know that my writing is very much going to mimic that of O'Farrel in format and although I'm hoping to write the story in my personal usual writing style I will definitely be borrowing a lot of my descriptors, symbols, and so on and so forth from O'Farrel - there will be some of mine too though :)

Archive warnings: rape/non-con, underage, major character death

Warnings for this chapter: neglect, brief references to rape/non-con, I'm not sure how to explain this one other than cultural assimilation (?? please correct me if I've got that mixed up), death, loss of parents (brief mention), miscarriage, loss of children, child marriage, forced marriage, misogyny, loss of a sibling

AO3 link

If anyone would like to be tagged let me know :)

NOTE: I originally only posted the link to chapter one instead of the full text, but since I've decided to post the full text of this one please let me know if anyone would like me to post the full text of this first chapter as well! I intend to continue it like this going forwards :)

Chapter Two: The Inherent Mistake of Alina Starkov

Os Kervo, seventeen years ago

Milana Starkov could abide by a lot of things. She could abide by crossing into a new country to marry a man who’d seen her once, when she was but thirteen, through a parted curtain, and decided that she would be his wife. She could abide by learning Ravkan so their letters did not need to be translated, though her husband had not learned a single word of Shu. She could abide by changing not only her surname, once Kir-Choya in a distant past, which had cost her the only connection she had to her now lost parents, but her first name as well - to a more suitably Ravkan-sounding diminutive. She could abide by her children being raised in the Ravkan traditions only. She could abide by living and breathing and being Ravkan, for her husband and for her children and for her people. She could abide by all of these things, because they were for a purpose. And if there was one, singular thing that Milana Starkov could not stand, it was purposelessness. Under her eye, every room of her husband’s - and now her - dvorets was renovated and put to use; no space could remain idle, no minute of the servants’ or her women’s or her children’s days could be left empty, no wall could remain devoid of decoration, no space could not be left without intent. Nothing could do nothing, and neither could she.

Unless Milana was asleep, she was always engaged in some task or other. She wrote letters, learnt languages, made list after list, oversaw her children’s care and made sure that they were being kept to the schedules she devised for them.

The day that she made the mistake, the mistake that would her to having wild, mad little Alina as her future child, so different from the calm, polite normality of her siblings, Milana was sitting in the map room with her elbow set against the table and her chin perched neatly in her palm, studying a chart that she was holding close to her face - she was slightly short-sighted, but she would never admit this to anyone. It was, she could just about manage to admit to herself in private thoughts, the singular flaw that she possessed. Her women stood a distance behind her, hovering as close to the open window as they could get as they tried to breathe through the clingy, suffocating heat that had continued to hold its grip over Os Kervo even as the autumn months ought to have begun their approach. Milana glanced up briefly to see one of them fanning herself, the lack of breeze even with the window wide clearly getting to her. It felt a little like someone was holding a pillow over the city just for the fascination of watching them all struggle beneath it, like diverting sunlight through glass to burn a column of ants. The women, Milana was sure, were desperate to leave the stuffy, panelled map room, but she wasn’t ready to go quite yet. She was busy. She always kept herself busy.

Milana tracked her eyes over the map slowly, as though she were actually trekking through the fields and rivers and mountains laid in front of her, like she needed to maintain a cautious and wary step. Ravka was alone on the map, single words directing the eye away from the blank beyond the borders marking them absently as Fjerda above and Shu Han below. Part of Milana wanted to ask for maps of Shu Han, but that would not be practical - there was no purpose in looking at maps of the country that was no longer her home. And anyway, Ravka was an enjoyable map to study. She followed the Sokol River with her eyes, fascinated by the how it managed to curl straight down from Rysevost and how the two tributaries it became managed not only to reach out towards Kribirsk and Keramzin, but to continue on through the Unsea to reach Os Kervo and Ivets before they reached the ocean. It was quite magnificent, she thought - as was the Unsea itself. She wondered how the rivers could possibly pass through the mountain range so unimpeded - such a spectacular force of nature was water. They must dip beneath the ground, she supposed, and run hidden underneath the rocks before remerging on the other side. She quite wanted to cross the Unsea herself one day, but she knew she was unlikely to. It was so named for its impenetrable, uninhabitable nature; no carriage could manage the journey, one could only walk - if you wanted to struggle - or ride - if you wanted your horse to struggle. With no purpose for such a journey, Milana knew that it would never come.

She made easy peace with that fact. After all, she had her purpose now and she was excellent at fulfilling it. Milana was a woman confident in her knowledge that she was exactly what she needed to be; she knew that she was beautiful, she knew that she was blessed to have a body that had already produced a good string of heirs and was young enough to continue to do so, she knew that she had a quick wit and sharper mind. She knew that she was a rarity, and she prided herself for it. Without taking her eyes off the map she adjusted herself, feeling the brief sense of relief in her ladies’ belief she intended to leave the room being quickly crushed as she resettled, and ran an idle finger through one of the dark locks of hair loose at the front of her face. The Saints had blessed her with quite truly wonderful hair, thick and dark and needing little attention - though she gave her attention to it anyway with rosemary oils and scalp massages - and they had not stopped there. Milana’s eyes were a brown so glimmering it appeared golden, her skin was smoother than porcelain, she was tall but not inappropriately so, her nails were strong and easy to care for, her lips were soft and suited her prettily in both smile and pout, her teeth were little pearls.

She dropped her hair and planted her finger onto the map, a small frown growing on her pretty face. The space beneath her finger was not far inland from the coast, the tiniest touch North of Os Kervo, and it was blank. There were no neat scratches and lines for her to translate into images of fields and villages and farms and houses. There was nothing at all - except for a few irregular patches of water. It was purposeless, and Milana did not abide by purposelessness.

Her mind began to teem with ideas for this land - it was her husband’s, after all, so surely they could put it to some good use? They could drain it, or irrigate it; they could grow crops, they could build a city; they could install a series of lakes to breed fish; they could build an aqueduct; they could -

The door opened behind her, and her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of confident, assertive boots crossing the floor. She didn’t turn straight away but she did smile to herself as she listened to that well-known stride approaching her, holding up the map for the newcomer to see. The light through the open window seemed to bleach it between her soft grip, illuminating the towns and cities and every scratch on the page as though something magical was happening, as though the sunlight was between her very fingers and within the folds of the map itself, lit from within.

A hand landed on her waist, and then another on her shoulder, and then came the gentle press of lips against her neck.

“What are you up to, my busy little bee?” her husband murmured into her ear, so she could feel his breath against her cheek.

“I’m wondering about this land,” she said, tapping the map, “Do you see?”

He made a vague sound of acknowledgement but was clearly distracted, wrapping his arm around her middle and pressing his face into the mass of hair pinned up along the back of her head, his fingers finding the loose front piece that hers had just a moment ago. Milana found herself pressed between him and the hard edge of the table as he moved slowly forwards, but still she persisted:

“If we were to drain it, I’m sure we could put it to work in some way. Farm there, perhaps, or build upon it, or-”

She broke off because her husband’s hand was now tracing the edge of her skirt, finding the edge of the fabric and lifting it up, up, up. His fingers traced her knee, her thigh, and further. Much further.

“Gregor,” she chided, lightly, her eyes straying to where her women had been standing by the window.

But she needn’t have been concerned - they were already on their way out, as were the aides who had followed her husband into the room. They clustered at the exit as they all tried to push through the narrow doorway, eager to vanish from here as quickly as possible.

“The air is bad there,” she continued to tell him, as the door clicked shut, still referencing her map as though nothing else was happening, “but if we were to-”

Gregor’s hands gripped her shoulders, turned her round, and took the map from between her fingers.

“Yes, my darling,” he said, discarding it onto the table behind her, “Whatever you want,”

“But Gregor, only look-”

“Later,”

She felt a young, girlish giggle escape her lips unbidden as he found her waist and hoisted her onto the table.

“Later,” he whispered, leaning over her.

“You promise me?” she asked, grabbing his hand and refusing to be pushed any farther back until he spoke, “You’ll give me leave to make use of that land. Promise me,”

His hand fought hers teasingly; they both more than knew that it was just a game, that he was easily three times as strong as her and could have taken what he wanted without her complying if he’d wished to, if he had been an altogether different man.

“I promise,” he said, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers, “I promise,”

Milana released his hand and they lay back as one, the map lost beneath them. She could feel every bone of her spine moving against the hard table, each one of them partaking in its correct role, each one fulfilling its purpose. She kissed him, gripped his neck, sighed when he did. This, though she did not mind, was not something she had ever refused him. She had far more sway than other wives in situations like hers and she was grateful for how much liberty he gave her with her maps and her ideas. She didn’t doubt that could have stopped him if she’d wanted to, that he would respect a boundary she erected if she asked him to, and she would find that to be true in their future together, but she did not need to today. She wanted this, though perhaps for different reasons, just as much as he did.

Milana already had four children by now, having carried three of them, and she intended to carry as many more as her husband could give her. It was her purpose here, after all, was it not? A large ruling family was what was needed to keep the province safely under their control, and she was here to provide that for them all. Before she and Gregor married, this particular dynasty had been in danger of dying off, but now the sovereignty and power were safe and assured - all thanks to Milana. Thanks to the two male heirs she’d borne, who could be trained to one day step into Gregor’s shoes, and the two daughters who could be secured into advantageous marriages - the younger borne by Milana, the elder taken in before that, when Milana became entirely and uncontrollably infatuated with a tiny, beautiful little baby that nobody had seemed to want. An eldest son adopted in this way would have caused complications - in inheritance, in claim to titles and money and land - but an eldest daughter, and a beautiful one at that, raised from infanthood with the correct environment and values and manners and practices, to be one day married off in just a secure an alliance as any biological offspring, for she was as strong a tie to this house as any of them? Yes, that was perfectly acceptable.

As Milana laid on the table now, she kept her mind on that thought - because she wanted to conceive again, and because she did not want to dwell on the unbaptised soul she lost last year. Would it be received by the Saints? She didn’t know, but she did not think that it was likely. No - no, she would not think of that. She would think of her children, of the children she was yet to bear and was looking forward to carrying. She would fill that nursery up to its eaves, she would never stop. No more children would slip away from her unbidden - she would not allow it. She arched her back, she pressed her lips against her husband’s neck, and she thought of the land just North of here, the empty marshes that she would drain and find a purpose for.

In the time to come, Milana would regret that train of thought. It had been drummed into her so many times, repeated in both Shu Han and Ravka, repeated by mediks and priests and wise men, that the mother’s thoughts during conception are vital in the impact that they have upon the child. So nine months later, when Milana discovered that her fifth child, the baby she had named Alina, was unlike any of her siblings she realised her mistake. Her inattention on the moment, her distraction, her focus on that purposeless land. All of it had created this: a baby who would never still, a baby who screamed and writhed and threw off its swaddling bands with reckless abandon, a baby who would not sleep or rest or ever be comforted, a baby who would never settle to feed with the wetnurse, a baby whose eyes were always open as though seeking for distant horizons. This baby was unlike any of its siblings - even Zoya, who Milana had of course not controlled her thoughts for since she had not carried her, was more like the others than this new creature was.

Was it Milana’s fault? This wildness? She never admitted it to anyone, but this child terrified her - it seemed as though it existed only to disprove her belief that she was an excellent mother, that she produced offspring as healthy in mind as in body. For one of her children to be so difficult, so immovable, so unruly, chipped away at the very essence of Milana, stood against her very purpose here in Os Kervo. After an entire morning spent in the nursery trying to embrace the screaming Alina, who refused to be comforted by her mother’s presence or anybody else’s, Milana realised that her noise was impacting the other children - that they pressed their hands over their ears and shied away from her incessant bawling. She was suddenly seized by the fear that the behaviour of this baby would influence the others, and made a spur of the moment decision. She decided to remove Alina from the nursery altogether, and place her in the care - temporarily, of course, she told herself - of one of the cooks as her new wet nurse, who was more than happy to take her on as her own child was almost two and ready to be weaned. Milana did her duty by the child, sending one of her ladies down to the kitchens every day to enquire about her wellbeing, but for some time - just until she’s settled down, she told herself - mother and daughter, sister and siblings, child and nurse, barely saw each other.

And so Alina spent her early days lying in a laundry tub, being peered upon by a little girl who wanted to play with her, who learned how to make her giggle, who called for her mother every time the baby’s face creased into a cry. When Alina began to walk there came a near miss with a falling pan of boiling water, and that was the line - she was brought back up to the nursery.

She hated it.

She found herself so far removed from the steam and comfortable racket of the kitchens, so far from the little girl she knew and staring at four blinking faces she had no memory of, cared for not by the cook who’d nursed her but by some new woman she didn’t know, and set herself upon screaming for two straight days.

At first she refused the arms and laps of any of the nursery women, would not let them feed or dress her, and longed only for the home she had made in the basement, for the girl she probably believed to be her sister. Ana Kuya, the Ravkan nurse who had raised Milana, who was raising Alina’s siblings and would now raise her as well, repeatedly reminded Milana that she had warned her of this; that no good would come from what she had angrily and insistently referred to as Alina’s Banishing.

It took a long time to get any trust or love from lonely little Alina, and it did not help that her siblings kept such a strange, wary distance from her. She preferred to spend her time alone as she grew up, sometimes simply sitting at the window and staring out of it for so long that Ana would wonder if she’d fallen asleep and, upon seeing that once again she really was doing nothing but staring wistfully at the skyline, become concerned that something was the matter. But Alina seemed content enough in her own company, and as her new brothers followed her into the nursery she carried on as she always had done.

When she was six, Alina should have sat for a portrait just as her older siblings had before her, and her younger siblings would go on to afterwards, alongside her mother. But the child had wriggled so much, been so impossible to still, so continually fidgeted even after she was chastised that in the end Milana had grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back to the nursery, proclaiming that she wouldn’t have a painting done after all. When she was eight, Alina went through a strange phase of refusing to ever wear shoes - even when Ana Kuya smacked her for disobedience. And when she was fifteen and about to be married, she made an enormous and unnecessary fuss about the bridal dress that Milana had commissioned herself. It was a glorious combination of dark blue silk and what had originally been silver embroidery but, to better suit Alina’s colouring, had been replaced with gold, and Milana was deeply proud of it - but, perhaps because by this point she truly only exists to be contrary, Alina burst into Milana’s rooms unannounced and shouting that she would not wear it.

“I won’t!” she cried, face reddening, “It doesn’t even fit me,”

“The dress is being altered for you,” Milana said firmly, trying to mind her temper, “You know this,”

But, of course, Alina just had to push too far.

“Why,” she snarled, “should I have to wear a dress that you commissioned for Zoya, when Zoya is dead?”

Milana flinched.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I should marry her fiancé?” Alina continued, either ignoring or not noticing her mother, “Do I really have to wear her dress as well?”

Milana set down her quill in her hand, she’d been midway through her correspondence when Alina appeared, took a fortifying breath, and stood to cross the room towards her daughter. She thought again of Alina’s conception, the way her eyes had fixed on the maps hung on the walls behind her husband - Kerch, Novyi Zem, the Wandering Isle. She thought of the way her mind had been on strange and foreign seas filled with dragons and sea monsters, on adventures and discoveries, on land and finding it a purpose. What a mistake for her to have made - and how she had been haunted by it, punished for it. As she approached her, Alina looked up at her mother and her face opened up with some kind of hope, maybe expectation.

This is my mother, Milana knew she must be thinking, and she loves me. She loves me, so she will save me from this - from this dress, from this marriage. From all of it.

“The dress is being altered for you,” said Milana, without changing her tone, “Please return to your rooms, Alina,”

For a moment they stood looking at each other. How similar her features are to my own, Milana thought, and also how vastly different my features are to hers.

Alina turned around, and left her mother’s rooms.

#thanks for reading!#portrait of a dead girl #shadow and bone #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #grisha trilogy #alina starkov #zoya nazyalensky #genya safin #malyen oretsev #mal oretsev #anti darkling #anti darklina #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fandom #grishaverse fandom #grishaverse fanfic #ao3 link

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quoteoftheweekblog · 3 months ago

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23/9/24 - ALI SMITH

'Pauline who?' (Smith, 2017, p.150).

REFERENCE

Smith, A. (2017 [2016] ) 'Autumn'. London: Penguin.

*****

'Pauline Boty, 1960s Pop Art painter.' (Smith, 2017, p.150).

...

*****

TOP READER LEADER

…

THE COUNTRY GIRLS TRILOGY

I have finished the Edna O’Brien trilogy. I enjoyed the first two volumes, but the third was rather grim. The title is ironic - ‘Girls in Married Bliss’ - as the marriages are not blissful.

…

CLEAR

This is set in the early nineteenth century when Scottish landowners were evicting their tenants on the mainland and islands to replace them by sheep. A man is sent to a remote island to evict the last occupant. It is beautifully written, and very convincing, except for the ending which I found rather unlikely.

…

DEMON COPPERHEAD

I have also picked up ‘Demon Copperhead’ again and have become absorbed in it again.

📚📚📚📚📚

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THE GATHERING STORM

… the latest Morland Dynasty book which covers the Hindenburg disaster, the abdication and the approach of WW2.

📚📚📚📚📚

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THE MARRIAGE PORTRAIT

JUST FINISHED THE ‘MARRIAGE PORTRAIT’ BY MAGGIE O’FARRELL WHICH I REALLY ENJOYED ALTHOUGH IT’S A GRIM STORY ABOUT LUCREZIA, DUCHESS OF FERRARA.

📚📚📚📚📚

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A PATH OF SERIOUS HAPPINESS

IT IS THE LATEST IN A SERIES OF 12 so far, called ‘The Hawk and the Dove’.

The books are centred around the fictional Benedictine monastery of St Alcuin’s in Yorkshire, and are set in the 14th century.

In this book Abbot John has sent two monks apparently ill matched in character, (the only ones he could spare), on a long journey. They are off to Cambridge to collect Brother Felix early from his year of study for ordination as he is finding it hard to cope.

The road is full of twists and turns in every sense. As usual I couldn’t put it down.

Here is the flippant Brother Philip considering how to engage with his serious, brooding travelling companion, Father William:

‘Mindful that Father William found his attempts at cheerfulness yesterday more than a little tedious, Brother Philip decides to try singing today.

Evaluating his brother in Christ as a man of serious mind, he rejects the jolly Maying songs with their central theme of lively widespread copulation, trying instead the Luke-Wake Dirge, which is easy to sing quietly, and suitably sober in its focus on death and dire warnings and the threat of hell.’

It’s quite long.

📚📚📚📚📚

…

BOOK GROUP

*****

QUOTE OF THE WEEK 2011 - 2024

…

13 EPIC YEARS

*****

FROM THE ARCHIVE

…

2/8/21

*****

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thechiclibrarian · 1 year ago

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Review - The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrell

How could I begin to describe this novel? This is the first book a read by Maggie O'Farrell and all I can tell you is that, from now on, she will be one of my go-to writers. This means, I will read and recommend anything she publishes.

The marriage portrait is the history of Lucrezia de Médici, the daugther of Cosimo de Médici, one of the most powerful man in Florence during the Renaissance. When she was a young girl (around 13-14), she was obliged to wed an older man - Alfonso de Ferrara- who was originally intended to marry her older sister. The story begins with Lucrezia's fear of being murdered by her husband, who by the day is starting to act erraticly and basically growing tired of her for not being able to bear a child, an heir to his duccy. The novel goes back and forth between Lucrezia's present - a year after her wedding- and her past. This flasbacks will allow us to get to know her but also, give us a glimpse of her uniqueness which would be determinant for her and how her story will develop. From early age we get to know a very particular young woman, with a view of life that sets her apart. Evidently, the world she was born into was not made for her.

Some things that I belived to be worthy of mention:

It caught my attention how some physical features of Lucrezia are quite symbolic. She was a redhead, with long and wild hair. This description inmediately evoke the image of Lilith, the one painted by Rosetti, or maybe the one by Collier. An idea of feminity often associated with evil and sin. Let's keep in mind that Lilith was Adam's first wife (according to some tales) and she was then proscripted from Paradise because she had dared to defy not only God's will, but Adam's.

The following quote, I think summarizes best the punish she is about to face for her sins:

"No excitement, no dancing, no music, no creative endeavours, no reading, except for religious texts." "Oh, and I recoomend that her hair be cut." "Her hair?"

"It is the colour of fire, Your Grace," he says, as if the idea is distasteful to him, "and there is so much of it. Very heating, very inflaming. we need to cool her, remember, to contain her. Cutting of her hair will help, I assure you."

I also find utterly remarkable this technique/literary resource O'Farrell used to write this novel. To take the portrait of an unknown young woman and, in a way, give her life. We won't really know Lucrezia's real life, if she was unhappy, how she felt about being oblige to wed at such a young age, but O'Farrells tale brings her back and imagines a story of possibles, of what if's. She brought her back from a certain oblivion. I believed Tracy Chevalier did something similar on her novel 'Girl with a pearl earring', but I do not know how to classify this type of technique. If anyone knows how is it called, please let me know.

Overall, I found this novel to be absolutely splendid. It invites you to dive into a time when humans were finding their way into the world (again!) through art, be it from painting, sculptures, literature and so on…All of this era was buoyant with color and also with the excitement of new discoveries and new world views.

But they were also dark times to be a woman (when is it not?) and it is funny to realize that some things are not really changed at all; and even tough women have gain more respectability and rights, there are moments when I think there is still work that needs to be done, and with books such as this one; books that portrait the oblivion some women have fall into all along history (whether be real or not) and just never forget the millions of women whose stories are still waiting to be enjoyed and discovered.

#the marriage portrait #maggie o'farrell #books & libraries #currently reading

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lucreziasredwyne · 1 year ago

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seffora-merryweather:

In Lucrezia, Seffora saw something of the sisters she had lost. The steadfast mind and the kind heart. How grateful she was to have a guiding presence like hers in her life. Especially now that so much more was expected of her, that a new path was laid out before her. A friendly presence, the young lady thought with gratitude. Lord Tirius Rowan had thus far been a most dedicated mentor, nurturing Seffora’s mind with nearly as much care as he did his children.

Lady Lucrezia nurtured the emotional side of the Merryweather lady, helped strengthen a confidence that had been in the shadows for a long time; helped to bring light into the inner world within the Lady of Longtable, whether she took notice of it or not. For that, Seffora would always be thankful.

Make the choice with head and heart, the Mistress of Ships suggested, and the lady found herself nodding gently along those words. “I do not wish to separate them,” she added after a moment, “For a time I thought following my heart wasn’t sufficient. That it was naive or weak in some way”. Men operated with logic, men could set aside their emotions and weren’t weakened by their hearts if they did things right. Such was the belief Seffora had for some time. And she with her heart that called for empathy and curiosity and kindness was somehow lower than them. She didn’t hold that as true any longer, not as she worked to unlearn such a harmful perspective.

“Not anymore,” she said, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. A heart that felt and dictated one’s path wasn’t a burden. Both head and heart were needed, not one above the other. One had to nurture the other.

“I thank you kindly for your advice, my lady. I truly do,” Seffora said, her voice soft and genuine. Lucrezia needed not act the way she did around her, but the fact that she chose to was something the Merryweather lady didn’t take for granted. “I’ve no family left,” she added, saying what the Mistress of Ships hadn’t, though not without a sinking feeling in her stomach. “I’m grateful for whatever guidance a woman like you might offer”. A wise woman. A steadfast woman. A kind woman.

“I must admit I’d not considered marriage as something to do promptly, but I understand a lady in my position ought to marry soon”. House Merryweather was turning over a new leaf, and it was up to Seffora to dictate its new path. A path closely and loyally tied to the true Tyrells of the Reach. Her mind went to Lucca, of course. It was surprising, how easily he made her feel seen and understood. How he’d already helped her navigate her grief and had been there to share in the simple joys of life as well. He was a good man. A loving father. Seffora wouldn’t be able to ask for more in a partner.

“I’ve considered Lord Lucca Tyrell, my lady,” she admitted, some shyness creeping up as she did so, but ultimately she was able to speak it with confidence. “I’ve greatly enjoyed his company these past weeks. I believe him to be a good, honest man,” Seffora said, paying attention to Lucrezia’s reaction, seeking any clues of what the Mistress of Ships thought of such a prospect. “You know him well, I believe”.

∞

If one looked at her hands beneath the burgundy lace sleeves she wore, one would see the fact that she continued to fiddle with her hands the same way she always did in the response of compliments or praise; a habit she had picked up at the tender age of six, when the various elder women of the Old Way would sit and gush about something as simple as the girl pouring tea in the traditional manner. Whilst she appreciated all the words of gratitude that came from Seffora Merryweather, words that were painted in hues of gratitude, she truly did not think it necessary.

Such was the power of women who supported one another, without needing to sound patronising or as though there was the need to get the final say.

That, and the fact that as a member of the council, Lucrezia Redwyne served the realm rather than her own status. Her status came from her name, rather than a seat at a table that was utterly replaceable depending on what was needed. It bothered her not - only, she served the realm, and thus served the interests of the newest Lady of Longtable. There was a slight laugh that came from the Lady of the Arbor, a sense of nevous laughter almost; not entirely sure how to accept the girl’s words. “Thank you, my Lady. You need not say such things; as lovely as your intentions are. It is what any decent soul would do - as I am sure you would for any who asked you for advice.”

She offered the woman a slightly shy smile, clearly speaking words that were not entirely being spoken; she struggled with such things, and did not mind Seffora Merryweather seeing her slightly flustered. Only, as the woman continued to speak on matters to consider when thinking of a match, she found herself listening silently. Inwardly, she was already trying to attempt to guess if there was anyone the Lady of Longtable would consider.

She should not have been surprised by the answer. It made the most sense. It felt like an obvious flag, flying in her face; and yet, there was an expression of genuine surprise as a brightened smile crossed her features, coming over her entirely. “Oh. Oh, how did we not see it?” She asked, a slight wall dropping between the two women; more of an insight into Lucrezia’s lively personality. “It makes much sense, Lady Merryweather. I can see it. He too would protect your birthright as your own, rather than his own.” They must have been compatible. if she believed Lucca to be honest, good man.

And Cedric Tyrell ended up with Longtable in the family. She almost laughed. Crafty. “Do you intend to mention it to him...or?” She trailed off.

#c: seffora #seffora 002 #seff and lu tag tbd

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justnat15 · 4 years ago

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A Baby’s Proposal

Hey y’all! Just here with a Triple Frontier fic with our favorite pilot, Frankie Morales. This is my first fic after a while and my first one for this fandom. Please let me know if there are mistakes!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Warnings: None? Pretty much just fluff.

Summary: A movie night after a long day at work goes a little differently than planned thanks to Frankie’s baby girl.

It had been a long day at work. You'd been busy and on your feet almost the whole time. And so now you wanted nothing more than to go home and relax, maybe take a hot bath to sooth your aching back. But then, as you pulled into your driveway, you remembered you had plans with your boyfriend Frankie and his friends. It was Friday, which meant it was movie night and this week was your turn to host. Two other vehicles, belonging to the Miller brothers, were already parked in front of your house. They were probably inside playing with Lucia, your boyfriend's baby girl.

Speak of the devil. Frankie came around the front of the house just as you were parked and exiting your car.

“Hey love, welcome home.” He greeted you with a hug and a kiss. You moaned when his warm hands landed on your lower back, right where the pain was. Frankie chuckled and pulled you closer, gently rubbing your back. “Long day, cariño?”

You merely groaned in response, leaning further into his comforting touch. His thumbs pressed just right and you melted, relying on Frankie to support you. He chuckled and adjusted his grip on you so he could pick you up and carry you into the house.

“Hey! Luci, look who's home?” Benny crowed when Frankie and you entered the home. The young blond man held up Lucia to see you. The little brown-haired girl squealed and bounced in her Uncle Benny's arms.

Frankie laughed and set you down so you could take the baby girl in your arms. You smiled and held Lucia close. “Hey baby girl! Did you miss me as much as I missed you today?” You buried your nose in her curls that were so much like her daddy's, taking in that soft clean scent that only babies have. “My little Luci-Goose,” you pressed loud kisses to her little hands, drawing excited giggles from the infant.

“Mama, mama, mama,” Lucia squealed happily, patting your cheeks excitedly.

You gasped, turning to Frankie. “Frankie, she just, just,” you stuttered, tears filling your eyes.

Frankie nodded, his eyes also watering as he stepped close to hold you and his daughter. “That's right, princesa, that's your mama. That's Mama, my smart little girl.”

“Holy shit! Will, get in here! Luci just spoke!” Benny yelled out the door to the backyard where the elder Miller brother was manning the grill.

Will rushed in. “She did it? I missed it?”

You looked at the brothers, cradling the little girl close to your heart. “Were you planning this? Because that sounds like you were planning something.”

Will scratched the back of his head and Benny blushed, both brothers looking sheepish. “We may have been teaching her to call you mama. But she is a little ahead of schedule,” Benny chuckled. “She's too smart.”

You were still confused. “Ahead of schedule? Frankie, do you know what's going on?”

Frankie took off his hat and ran a hand through his curls that matched Lucia's so perfectly. “About that, it was supposed to be a surprise for our anniversary next month, but the little princesa is just too smart and quick.” He stepped back and reached into his pocket, softly saying your name. “Ever since you came into my life, into Lucia's life, things have been perfect. I know that there are times when we struggle and fight, but I forget about them every time I see you hold my baby girl. You didn't have to love her as much as you do, but I think you love her more than me some days.” That drew a chuckle from everyone. Tears were starting to fall down your cheeks as you watched your loving boyfriend kneel down in front of you. “Like I said, I wanted to wait. Will and Benny were helping me teach Lucia to call you Mama because that's who you are. You're her Mama, and we want you to stay forever. Mi amor, will you marry me and adopt Lucia?”

You sobbed, unable to speak due to how overwhelmed you were with emotions. Adjusting Luci in your arms, you nodded and held out your hand to your now fiancé. “Yes, yes, yes!” You were finally able to speak. “Yes I will marry you and adopt Lucia as my own. There is nothing that could make me happier.”

Benny cheered and reached to take a giggling Lucia from you so Frankie could more easily embrace you after putting the engagement ring on your finger. You flung yourself into his arms, passionately kissing him.

“I love you, Francisco Morales. I love you and your precious daughter more than anything in the world,” you murmured against his lips.

“Don't look, Goose. I think Mama and Daddy are going to make you a sibling,” Benny groaned as he covered Lucia's eyes. Will laughed loudly at his younger brother's antics and Lucia's attempts to push away his hands.

“Mama!” The little girl cried, reaching for you.

“Come here darling. I'll save you from your mean Uncle Benny.” You took your curly-haired baby and blew raspberries on her cheeks. “Mama's got you, baby girl.”

Benny slapped a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “If anyone's the mean uncle, it's Will, not me! Luci-Goose, back me up here!”

“Mama,” was the reply as Lucia nuzzled closer to you, not paying attention to anyone else as long as she was in your arms.

Frankie wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to his daughter's head. “That's right, baby. But now we work on saying Dada, okay?” He kissed your cheek, holding you tight to his side.

Benny groaned again. “Okay, enough of this touchy mushy stuff. Are we watching a movie tonight or not?”

You laughed at the man's antics and nodded. “Yes, Benny, we'll watch a movie tonight.”

Tags: @lucrezia-thoughts

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x fem!reader #reader insert #triple frontier #frankie morales fic #A Baby's Proposal fic #Frankie morales x reader #justnat writes

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

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Random Flash Rogue Headcanons

Ideas that pop up a lot in my fanfics and fanart:

-Mick Rory was a farm kid.

-Roscoe Neyle Dillon is the son of Reginald Norton Dillon, a well-to-do banker, and Rosa Nicole Dillon, his rather pliant, weak-willed wife. Reginald held his son to punishingly high standards and was quick to criticize, berate, and threaten his son when he failed to live up to them. Rosa never intervened.

-Roscoe grew up in North Ridge, a suburb of Central City. He is on the autism spectrum, but grew up before it was widely recognized. He was constantly bullied by his peers and was disliked by most of his teachers because of his odd behavior. He had a number of special interests but the most prominent was, of course, tops.

-Roscoe is one of only three Rogues to attend high school and one of only two to have attended college. Lisa and Hartley also both graduated from high school, and Hartley also went to college. Roscoe studied (possibly has a degree in) physics.

-Roscoe’s parents currently live in Bridgeville.

-Mark (Marco) Mardon is the son of Patricia (Paloma) and Matthew (Matias) Mardon, and the younger brother of Clyde (Claudio) Mardon. His parents immigrated from Guatemala when he was a month and a half old and Clyde was about a year old. Both parents were college-educated, which made the process simpler than it otherwise would have been, and the family initially settled in Dunhurst, a suburb of Central City. However, they were never accepted there, and they eventually left the town after persistent harassment from the Clan of the Fiery Cross.

-They resettled in Bridgeville, and Matias and Paloma went to great pains to hide the fact that they were immigrants, Americanizing their names and refusing to let their sons speak Spanish outside of the home. Patricia became the head of the local library, and Matthew took a job as a teacher of geography at the local high school. The family eventually settled fairly comfortably in the middle class.

-Clyde was only 11 months older than Mark, so they were always in the same year at school. He was handsome, intelligent, popular, and athletic. Mark, by contrast, was painfully average. He couldn’t live up to the standard set up by his parents’ golden child, and eventually, he stopped trying, knowing that he would never measure up. He and Clyde were very close, but their relationship was often strained by the fact that Mark was so often compared unfavorably to Clyde.

-Mark dropped out of high school at 16 and ran away, eventually drifting into petty theft due to his lack of direction. Clyde, meanwhile, graduated high school early and earned a degree in meteorology. He started work on the Weather Wand when he was still in college, but didn’t finish it until he was 23. He died not long after of congenital heart failure, and then his shiftless younger brother strolled in and took the wand for himself.

-Samuel Joseph Scudder was born to Percival and Martha Scudder. Unfortunately, Percival contracted cancer a few months before Sam was born and died when his son was only 7 months old, leaving his wife with dozens of medical bills. The Scudders had never been particularly well-off, so Martha was forced to move into an apartment complex on Baker Street, colloquially known as Skid Row, where she would raise her young son.

-Martha was a talented seamstress, so much so that she was eventually hired by the Rathaways. While this provided steady work, the Rathaways were extremely demanding employers, and so Martha wasn’t able to be at home with her son as much as she would’ve liked.

-Young Sam loved cowboy movies and superhero comics. He was especially fond of the JSA and gathered a collection of JSA comics that he still owns (currently, he hides them in the Mirror Realm so the other Rogues won’t find out about them). He was also a boy scout and eventually became an Eagle Scout. He was highly intelligent and generally did well in school, and he was close friends with Jennifer Conners, who lived in the same apartment complex he did. When they entered high school, the two started dating, and even fantasized about getting married.

-Unfortunately, life on Baker Street was less than ideal. Sam was embarrassed by the shabby state of his clothes and possessions, had to watch as his mother tried to figure out how to pay their bills, and was surrounded by violence. Fights were common in the apartment complex where Sam lived, and, when he was 15 years old, he and Jennifer bore witness to Jennifer’s father being brutally shot as they came home from school. Both were traumatized. Jennifer began a years-long struggle with PTSD, and Sam’s anxiety levels went through the roof. Not wanting to burden his mother and knowing that they didn’t have enough money for therapy, Sam turned to cigarettes, and then alcohol, in the hopes of relieving his anxiety. As he spiraled into addiction, he got mixed up with the school’s party crowd, and dropped out at 17. He drifted into a life of crime and was sent to prison at age 19 for robbing a convenience store. In this prison, he would mostly break his alcohol addiction, but his smoking habit only got worse. More importantly, however, while serving his sentence for this crime, he would discover the Mirror Realm.

-Sam loves his mother, but he avoids her because he knows his actions disappoint and worry her. His ex-girlfriend, Jennifer Conners, though continually struggling with PTSD, managed to graduate from both high school and college, and currently works as a school counselor. Sam avoids her, too, but still holds a bit of a candle for her.

-Mrs. McCulloch’s first name is Eva. She is devoutly Catholic, and, as a result, Evan is also devoutly Catholic (albeit a very confused Catholic). He goes to Mass at least once a week, believes priests are basically infallible, and will threaten to kill you if you so much as look at a nun funny. He goes to Confession at least once a month and would probably go more often if each session didn’t last three hours.

-Giovanni Giuseppi (James Jesse) is the son of Helen and Alessandro Giuseppi, both of whom are the children of Italian immigrants. He has a very, very, very large extended family, most of whom are in the circus with his parents. Many of them speak Italian; while James isn’t fluent in the language, he can understand it quite well and speak it well enough to get by. The whole family is very emotionally demonstrative and physically affectionate, which is part of why James has no concept of personal space. His relatives include his Zia Catalina (who runs an Italian restaurant), his Nonna Gianna, his Nonno Antonio, his Nonno Aberto, his Nonna Lucrezia, his Zio Luca, his Aunt Stella, his Zio Angelo, his Zia Loretta, his Zia Lucia, his Zio Armani, his Aunt Karen, his Zia Bianca, his Zio Rocco, his Zio Romeo, his Aunt Olivia, his Zia Etta, his Zio Dante, his Uncle Fred, his Aunt Susan, his Uncle Harold, his Aunt Lydia, his cousins Bobby and Susie and Maria and Carly and Matthew and Frank and Julia and Freddie and Joseph and Lucy, and his cousins’ kids, Angela and Charlie and Stefano and Gian and Marsha and Rose and Kaitlyn and Steve. He’s not entirely sure how he’s related to most of them. James’ family is all technically Catholic, mainly because they’re all Italian, but only about half of them are practicing Catholics.

-James invented the airwalker shoes when he was 13 years old.

-There was a very large age gap between Leonard and Lisa’s parents when they got married. This is because Larry/Lewis Snart was a 40-year-old creeper who got a 15-year-old girl pregnant. Shirley married him because she had nowhere else to go; her parents kicked her out when she got pregnant. She dropped out of high school soon after, and, after several years of abuse, she ran away, leaving Len and Lisa alone with Larry/Lewis.

-Len is about 5 years older than Lisa; he dropped out of high school at 14 so that he could support her and left home at 18. He continued to send money to her after he left, even after she became a professional figure skater.

-Lisa’s teenaged years were one long nightmare. She was a beautiful young woman, but because of her background, her mother’s reputation as a loose woman, and her father constantly calling her nasty names, she was demonized by the “nice, proper” people of her neighborhood as a temptress, someone who would lead their sons astray. (This in spite of the fact that they were often the ones making advances on her.) Her father also became increasingly abusive towards her, as Leonard had left the home and, as she got older, Lisa started to remind him of his wife. In response, she threw herself into her figure skating and tried to shut the rest of the world out. By the time she was 16, she was already one of the most talented skaters in the Midwest, and when she was 17, she left her father’s house and moved in with another girl on her skating team for the rest of high school. She graduated with a B+ average and was promptly snapped up by a professional figure skating team. Lisa had managed to escape-at least physically. Her teenaged years left her convinced that her beauty was something dangerous; something evil, and it took Roscoe over a year to break down her defenses when they met. However, once he did, she fell deeply in love. Finally, she had found someone who would never abandon her.

-Roscoe, for his part, was equally in love. After years of being seen as a socially awkward weirdo, he had found someone who thought he was sophisticated and intelligent; someone who didn’t laugh at his tops and who didn’t seem bothered by his quirks. It was intoxicating.

-Geraldine is 20 years younger than Hartley; she was born to replace him as the heir to the Rathaway fortune.

-Hartley’s parents were in their thirties when he was born. Both of them came from long-established “old money” families; their marriage was more the result of a business deal between Hartley’s grandparents than any sort of romantic relationship. Prior to her marriage, Rachel was a Kane. Her uncle was the father of Jacob Kane (father to Kathy Kane) and Martha Wayne (nee Kane), making her the first cousin of Bruce Wayne’s mother. Red hair runs in the Kane family, and she passed it on to both of her children.

-Similarly, Hartley’s paternal grandmother was originally a Queen before marrying into the Rathaway family. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg: Hartley’s at least a distant relative of most of the wealthiest people in the DCU.

-Geraldine is on the autism spectrum; she’s able to mask her symptoms well enough that her parents haven’t decided to pull the “let’s fix her with expensive surgeries” trick that they used when Hartley was born deaf.

-Hartley’s parents engaged him to a girl named Kathryn Kendell, the heir to a fast food corporation, when he was 18; nothing came of it because he got himself disowned before the marriage could actually happen.

-Hartley’s parents are intensely controlling and basically make all the decisions in their children’s lives without actually asking them for their opinions.

-Len Snart is prone to ulcers.

-Albert and Rita Desmond have an infant son named Alan. He likes to chew on his father’s Philosopher’s Stone. Alvin adores his “astral nephew” and kept showing up at Albert’s house uninvited to see him. Eventually Albert got tired of Alvin breaking in and put him on their baby-sitting list. Rita is less than thrilled by this but is at least pleased that Alan keeps Alvin from trying to ruin Albert’s life.

-George Harkness has two half-brothers: an older brother named Tom Harkness, the son of Agnes and Ian Harkness, and a much younger brother named Walter Wiggins, the 12-year-old son of W.W. Wiggins and his wife. (All these characters are canonical, but it’s never actually been officially stated that this is the case.)

-Jai West idolizes Jay Garrick and plans to take up his costume someday.

-Josh Jackam-Mardon’s weather-controlling abilities are directly tied to his mood. When he’s happy, it’s sunny and he makes rainbows. If he’s cold, the temperature will increase. If he’s hot, the temperature will drop and it might even start snowing. If he’s sad, it rains. If he throws a temper tantrum, it creates a thunderstorm-and if he’s really upset, a tornado will form.

-When Barry Allen was 13, he paid the admission fee that was required in order to meet the members of the JSA for both himself and a 9-year-old Sam Scudder. It’s one of both men’s fondest memories, and neither realizes that the other was the boy who met the JSA with him on that day.

-Axel Walker is the son of Alan Walker and Alice Strickland. His father is a used car salesman who left his wife for Axel’s stepmother, Barbie, when Axel was 7 years old. Axel does not like Barbie and isn’t particularly happy with his father, either. Axel’s mother is Jewish. As such, so is Axel (although Axel doesn’t practice his faith much, if at all.) He can read a bit of Hebrew and speak a bit of Yiddish.

-Eobard Thawne is convinced that he is an expert in 21st-century technology. The result: “This is a historical device called a toaster. It served as a primitive form of climate control!”

-Abra Kadabra, by contrast, spends most of his time in the 21st century baffled by the devices used by these primitive savages. What sort of communication device doesn’t send a perfect three-dimensional copy of your body to the person you’re talking to? What kind of food-preparation device takes twenty minutes to cook a meal? Why don’t their hygiene devices instantly clean their bodies of dirt and odors instead of requiring water that’s never a comfortable temperature? HOW DO YOU OPERATE THIS ‘REMOTE CONTROL’? This makes him a very annoying house guest.

-Mick Rory is an accomplished cook, home repairman, and knitter.

-Albert Desmond is often so lost in thought that he puts his keys in the refrigerator.

-All of the Rogues are more scared of Iris Allen than they are of Barry. And with good reason.

-Owen Mercer is good friends with Joan Garrick.

-Sam is developing the early stages of emphysema but refuses to admit it because it would mean having to try to kick his smoking habit.

-Mick Rory’s body is covered by third-degree burns, and his voice is unnaturally raspy because of all the smoke inhalation he’s undergone over the years.

-Mark Mardon is a horrible klutz. If he can trip over something, he will end up doing it. This is part of why he likes being able to fly so much.

-Len Snart and Sam Scudder are huge fans of Central and Keystone City’s sports teams. Linda Park-West is among the few who can rival their civic pride in this regard. Evan and Digger are both big fans of rugby and cricket. Hartley is solely a baseball fan; the other Rogues don’t much care about sports unless betting is involved.

-Mark Mardon watches the weather channel solely so he can make sure that the reporter’s predictions are wrong.

-Digger loves the great outdoors and can hike for hours.

-Mark Mardon is terrible at cards but gambles constantly anyway. He’s lost more money than he’s ever stolen trying to win bets. James, by contrast, is a master cardsharp.

-Sam and Roscoe spend more money on clothes (and more time in the shower) than the rest of the male Rogues combined.

-Dexter Miles knows the birthdays of everyone in the Twin Cities. No one knows how he knows this, he just does. When it’s a Rogue’s birthday, the museum opens a exhibit exclusively about them for a few days. The Rogues don’t know this is intentional and it’s really starting to freak them out.

-When the Rogues found out that the Flash Museum hires people to dress up as them and teach young visitors about science, Sam Scudder waited for a day when the museum’s ‘Mirror Master’ called in sick and showed up in his place. All the visitors to the museum that day were agreed that he was the best “Mirror Master” the museum had ever had.

-James once went to the Flash Museum in full costume and stood right by one of the statues of him. He even posed in exactly the same way. He was immediately informed by a patron that he was much too blonde to be the real Trickster. James found the whole experience very amusing.

-Roscoe insists that all the statues of him at the Flash Museum make him look fat. Lisa thinks that’s ridiculous and says that they’re almost as handsome as the genuine article. Len agrees that the statues make Roscoe look fat and thinks it’s hilarious.

-All three of the Flashes have, of course, been to the Flash Museum while in costume. Like James, they are often told that they don’t look anything like the real Flashes. Barry and Jay are baffled by this; Wally thinks it’s funny.

-Mick Rory donated his chili recipe to the Flash Museum’s diner. It’s one of the more popular dishes amongst people who love spicy food.

-Wally is trying to convince his wife to get the kids a pet cheetah. “Come on, honey! It’ll be good for the twins to have a pet who can keep up with them!”

#headcanon #flash comics #flash rogues #dc comics #fanfic #long post

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dacreshoney · 4 years ago

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Medici Imagine - Y/N Maddalene de Pazzi

@magicalsaladnacho Lorenzo De medici request - where reader is a Pazzi but Lorenzo falls for her and they convince her to marry him instead of their proposed Giorlamo Riario. unknowingly she is marrying him for love and not for their greed.

Summary: you are Y/N Maddalena d Pazzi, sister of Francesco and Guglielmo, you have been friends with Bianca de medici since you were children, you were very fond of her and Guglielmo, often helping them sneak out to meet each other and hiding their secret for Jacopo. Your family are holding their famous ball in honour of their bank, in which they notice a certain someone has the eyes for you. The Pazzi family try to make it work inter favour, unknowingly to them that you feel the same as Lorenzo, what will this do to the future of The Pazzi family and Florence?

Lorenzo x reader

Fanfic: Medici

Tonight was the infamous grand soiree that The Pazzi family held every few months after a great accomplishment in the bank, the family were achieving higher than they ever thought with Francesco back in the business. And you well, with your beauty and knowledge, you brought the family a lot of wealthy suiters and buyers, little you didn't liked being your families pawn in their games for money and power you knew this was your part in which you had to play. Bianca had come round to help you with your gown for the ball, you'd often meet each other in your homes, you had been friends since being little children, you were a little older then Bianca, by 2 years, at 19 years of age you were one of the most beautiful maidens in Florence. Everyone wanted you, but you didn't have eyes for any of them. There was only one person who'd ever made you feel like you weren't some stupid little girl in a world of power hungry men, who made you feel as if you only mattered. Lorenzo de medici was definitely a catch, but he had many women at his beck and call, the continuous flirting was just a friendly thing you had for years, you knew nothing would come of it. He was your best friends brother after all and older than you at the age of 23.

“Y/N, hello, are you even listening to me, what are you thinking of?” Bianca said as she pulled at your corset, tightening it, every inch of it hugging your curves, you may have only been 19 but you had the body of a goddess. You snapped out of your daydream, looking at yourself in the mirror, your raven dark hair and piercing eyes to match. “oh, nothing Bianca, just much to do before tonight that's all, my uncle has set me some tasks to do, in which I need to ask your brother Lorenzo a favour”

Bianca giggled, as she turned you to face her, finishing off the last touches to your beautiful gown, “Lorenzo huh, you sure Jacopo asked you to speak to him or are you seeking him out for your own pleasures” Bianca grinned, you gently pushed at her shoulders, her mocking was a daily thing of hers, the idea of you and Lorenzo together made her happy, for whatever reason that was I do not know. “you Bianca are a sore tease, where would you ever get such a thought” you winked, turning to face the mirror on your mantlepiece, you had often looked at yourself in this same mirror, if only your mother could see you, would she be proud of you, the woman you are becoming. Your brothers Francesco and Guglielmo often spoke of how much you resembled her, your mother was just as beautiful and admired by many men. You stood there for a moment taking it all in, before Bianca hurried you to come downstairs, the guests were arriving.

You made your way through to the courtyard of the Plaza, the air filled with the smell of strong cologne from all the old men gathering together, you made your way down the spiralling stairs, cradling the banister with your hands, your brothers smiling up at you and making their way towards you. Francesco reaching out to grab your hand, placing a gentle Kiss on your hand and spoke, “you look beautiful dear sister, we see we already have every man with their eyes on you, lucky for us..” Guglielmo interrupted as he took you in his arms, “she isn't a chess piece Francesco, she's our sister, treat her like it”. You smiled at him, Guglielmo never teated you like some part of the Pazzi game, you were his sister and you were very special to him, even with him being a year younger than you he tried his best to take care of you. “at least one of you treats me like a human, thank you Guglielmo” you all walked towards Jacopo, who just stared at you nodding, you knew he wanted the information on the leases of the medici bank in his hands, however this was not you plan, but Jacopo was a difficult man in which you had to try your best to please. “now dear sister, you know what you part in this is right” Francesco urged, Guglielmo dropping his head and looks at you with care. You pulled your arms away from them promptly, looking Francesco right in the eyes with anger, “yes Francesco, I know what I need to do, now please, just go”.

The night went on, Lorenzo was no where to be seen, his brother however Guiliano and his mother Lucrezia stood by the fountains with Bianca, enjoying their wine as they raised a glass over to you. As you turn, you spot Lorenzo coming in through the double gated doors, his hair windswept, but still looking as good as ever. He always had a sparkle in his eye, as you turned, your hair curved your face just perfectly, your smile curved and locking your eyes straight with his, never losing focus.

You tried to make your way over to him before a couple of men stand in your way, pushing themselves on you, you could smell the ale on their breaths, you did well not to gag at the smell, you pushed one man as far as you could before aiming for the knife in your sleeve, before you could, Lorenzo urged his way over to you, shoving all three men away and standing his ground right in front of you. “I suggest you men leave, Y/N maddalene de Pazzi already has a date for tonight” Lorenzo spoke, all three men hurried away from you, Lorenzo turned to you and placed his hand on your face, his palms cold from breeze outside.

“date huh? I though Lorenzo de medici didn't date” you laughed, pulling yourself away from him, as to say goodbye but urging him to follow you to the balcony. You knew all of Lorenzo’s weak spots, your eyes were your biggest weakness for men, you were always told that your eyes were they key to mens hearts so use them wisely.

Lorenzo POV:

My god this woman, first I come to her aid and then she uses them eyes on me, she knows my every weakness but is this just a game to her, she is a Pazzi after all. But I couldn't help but feel the way I do for her, come on Lorenzo snap out of it, she is a Pazzi, you can't go there. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself this I couldn't bring myself to let these feelings go, but I am Lorenzo de medici and she is the purest soul I've ever met. Y/N oh how you've made me want to be a different man, all I do is for you, but I can't tell you now how I feel, that's even if she feels the same way. Surely not, she's got so much ahead of her, she is young, what would she want to do with a man like me. I watched her as she left, her raven locks falling at her shoulders, I could smell her scent as she pushed herself away, the lingering smell of roses entered my lungs. Lord Jesus Christ I had to have her. I need to tell her how I feel before it’s too late.

Y/N Maddalena POV:

With that you knew you could feel Lorenzo’s eyes Burning in the back of your head, watching your every move. You made your way to the balcony, it was the most beautiful sight over Florence from there, you often would go there to think and be alone, you heard the footsteps from behind you. Lorenzo placed himself beside you, so close but neither of you touching, but the urge was there. You knew what your place was, you knew what you had to do but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Jacopo had told you to lead Lorenzo on to gain information in regards to the medici bank so they could use it against him to tarnish the medici family. The confidence in Jacopo that a man like Lorenzo would ever fall fo just a little girl like you, that man could dream, but this could mean you losing to safety of your family or losing the only man that ever made you feel good, even if it was only in your eyes. You knew you had to tell him what was about to happen but You start to tear up, Lorenzo placing his hands on your chin to turn you to face him, you sniffle as you tried to wipe away the tears, before you could Lorenzo spoke softly and in worry

“Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying my love” ... “tell me, what's wrong?”

You held your head to Lorenzo’s chest, collapsing into his arms, he was shocked and happy you felt this comfortable around him, but more worried as to who or what had caused you this distress.

“Lorenzo I need to tell you something...” you spoke, but Lorenzo immediately stopped you, “no not before me, I've been meaning to tell you for a while now Y/N..” Lorenzo moved his hands up through your hair, moving it through every strand on your head, you held back with your words, intrigued by what Lorenzo had to say.

“for a long time Y/N I have pushed off these feelings for you because I've known you ever since you were a child, a childhood romance some would say, we grow out of them my father used to say, but this, with you its something else, it isn't just those flirtatious passings we have, the teasings, its the fact you are always there for me and my family, you are there to pick up the pieces, to comfort us and I can never thank you enough for what you did for Bianca when our father died. I think I love you and deep down I know I always have”

and that was it, he finally said it, those feelings rushed to your head and made your heart pound, those tears of sadness and regret were now happy ones, but before you could ease Lorenzo suffering your brother Francesco appeared from the curtains, he had been listening the whole time. He could use this to the families advantage, he grabbed you by the arm and escorted you to the courtyard where Jacopo was waiting with Riario, both smirking.

“what is this Francesco, let me go” you spat, urging your bother to let go of his grip of you. Your brother took his place by Jacopo, but before he could whisper to tell him what he had witnessed, Jacopo was to make an announcement. Lorenzo moved pass the crowd of ladies and gentlemen to see you standing there with your uncle, distressed and confused.

“today I am not only here to celebrate the business of The Pazzi bank, but to also congratulate my beautiful niece Y/N, who has gladly accepted Riario’s marriage proposal” Jacopo encouraged everyone to clap, you stood there in silence, knowing Lorenzo will have heard every word, eyes wide when you caught his, the pain you felt shattered you.

before Francesco whispered to him.

“Lorenzo has just confessed his love to Y/N uncle, we could use this to our advantage and reel him in, don't you think we should call off this arrangement and use Lorenzo instead” Francesco implied, jacapo smirked at the thought and spoke with such evil in his eyes,

“no Francesco, we keep this little arrangement and Lorenzo can lose a good ally in the Rairio family by pursing our beautiful Y/N, until she breaks his weak little heart” jacapo raised his glass to Y/N, who was stood there distraught, catching Lorenzo standing there, broken.

#medici #medici imagine #lorenzo #lorenzo de medici #lorenzodemediciimagine #daniel sharman #medicixreader

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40sbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 12: Out of Luck

hope you enjoy this chapter! we are finally getting some actual lorenzo x reader content lmao

pairings: lorenzo x reader (fr), francesco c reader (friends)

tag list: @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer <3

“May I ask," your attention was pulled to Lorenzo by his words, "why the sudden change of heart?" His interest appeared genuine, no ulterior motive. You had halted your journey as night began to fall, the horse needing the rest more than either of you. You stood across from each other in the tavern room you were holed up in for the night. It wasn't as if you could rent two rooms without suspicion, especially with you being a woman.

"The truth?" You sighed, your fingers pulling at the strings of your cloak. Lorenzo hummed as a reply, eyes watching you intently. You didn't see a reason to lie to Lorenzo anymore, and he was the only person you could truly talk to this about anyways. "I delivered the message to Orsini today," Lorenzo's lips parted, but he didn't say anything, "for Pazzi. Orsini didn't take any notice of course. I knew you'd taken care of it." Worry flashed throughout your eyes for a second, realising Lorenzo might be upset you didn't double check with him.

"That must have been difficult," he took a step towards you, still leaving plenty of space, "but what you did was not in vain, y/n, not then, not now." He reassured you, you were surprised that was where his mind had gone.

You just nodded slightly, now holding your cloak in your arms, as if you were a child holding their favourite blanket. "So you came with me because...?" Lorenzo pried.

"Because you were right," you hated admitting it, "a break wouldn't kill me. Perhaps the opposite..." A soft grin fell onto Lorenzo's lips, "and because right now, I don't feel like being around the people I care for," you were precise with your words, not quite meaning the harsh intent they held. But you didn't wish to be around Francesco or Guglielmo as of right now. The guilt would seep right out of you and into their fingertips, ready to be dropped into their Uncle's lap.

Lorenzo chuckled slightly, looking down at the ground as he raised his eyebrows. "I see. I know the feeling."

"I didn't-" you weren't quite sure what to say, or why you cared that you might've offended him, "what of your predicament? Any more rejections from noble women?" You settled on changing the subject instead.

He laughed again, standing taller as he thought of an answer, "Not yet. But I fear my mother’s mind has settled on marriage now. It only makes sense now that I'm head of the family, but I guess I'd never truly considered it before," he shrugged, resting his hand on the end of the bed frame.

"Because of Lucrezia Donati?" You pushed, intrigued. He seemed taken aback, clearly not used to people being so brazen with him.

"I knew I could never marry Lucrezia. Honestly that might've been the beauty of it," he kicked off his shoes as he uttered the statement, acting as if it was a casual thing to say.

"I suppose I hold some fortune in that, then," you pushed your hair off your shoulder, setting your cloak down on the bed, sitting beside it. Lorenzo moved onto his over shirt once he was finished with his shoes, shooting you a glance to tell you to elaborate.

"For all your riches, and lack of mine, at least I needn't worry for my standing, or marriage, for the most part," your eyes couldn't meet Lorenzo's, so they fell to your lap. You didn't have a family to sell you into marriage, and although one day you may be forced to convince some poor man to take your hand, you were doing a good job of preventing yourself from that fate for now. You knew most women weren't as lucky, and you did well not to take your situation for granted.

"The most part?" Lorenzo questioned, his tone serious as he sat to your right on the opposite side of the bed, you lying down to stretch out your legs.

"Well, it's only a matter of time before you convince me to give you my hand in some scheme," you teased, still slightly in disbelief he'd gotten you on this trip.

Lorenzo scoffed, not enjoying your joke. "What a deluded thing to say," he shook his head. You furrowed your brows, turning your torso fully to face him.

"The reason my mother is pushing me to marry is for noble blood. Not for whatever runs through your veins," he spoke the words as if they weren't dripping with venom.

You turned away from him, "A simple jest, Lorenzo. Not everything has to be about how I am so very much beneath you," in that moment, it was pure hatred running through your veins.

"Y/n- please, we both know you'd never marry me, I was simply-" he began, you closed your eyes, as if it would shut out his horrid voice.

"You're right. I could never be so lucky," you squeezed your eyes shut tight, "all this talk of how I'm such a peasant has truly tired me out. If you would please let me sleep...goodnight Lorenzo."

Silence ensued. Your anger soon subsided, and you felt yourself drifting, sleep guiding you away from that small room.

Lorenzo's voice was the quietest you had ever heard it, but it filled the air nonetheless. "I'm sorry. It is I who is out of luck."

You didn't have the energy to respond, not that you even had a response.

—-

You woke at the crack of dawn the next morning, finding the blankets had been placed over you. You spun on your side, looking for a sign of Lorenzo. The chair across the bed was empty, as was the bed beside you. You sat up, worry setting in, until you saw his messy locks resting on the bottom of the bed. You glanced over him, he was resting against blankets, sitting on the floor. You felt bad for a fraction of a second, before you recalled the events of last night.

Carefully, you rose from the bed, doing your best not to disturb Lorenzo. You truly didn't feel like talking with him just yet. Instead, you opted to retrieve your cloak from where it had fallen on the floor, and replaced it around your shoulders. You danced across the room, reaching the door without a noise, only to slam it after you. You hoped it would wake him up, and he could get ready without you having to wait, and put up with his presence.

You skipped down the steps of the inn, making it outside to take in the colours of the sunrise. You breathed in the fresh air, before heading to the stables, going to check on Callus. Lorenzo didn't know the horse’s name, which shocked you, so you'd insisted on naming the helpful creature. You gave him a quick pat, not used to dealing with horses.

"Heading out already?" The stable girl appeared beside you.

"Yes, must make the most of the day," you acted with an air of class, the girl just grinned up at you, before climbing over the gate to the horses.

"I'll get her ready for ya," she began saddling 'her'. You had assumed it was a male, from all Lorenzo's 'faster boy’s as he pushed the horse to go faster. Now you weren't sure Callus quite fit. You stopped your trail of thought before it could completely escape you, and your eyes fell back on the girl as she worked. You were going to Venice. It would be easier to run away from there, you'd already have so much distance down. You could perhaps become like this girl? She didn't seem so miserable. Definitely much happier than you currently were. You didn't have long to consider your thoughts as a stressed Lorenzo came flying out the inn. He was notably in a different outfit than yesterday, clearly having packed for the trip, unlike you. He slowed his pace as he caught sight of you.

"Good morning," you greeted him, leaned on the fence.

"I thought you'd run off," he lowered his voice, speaking through gritted teeth.

You swallowed, feeling slightly guilty as you watched the tension in his back dissipate, relief washing over him. You hadn't done it of course, just thinking about it constantly.

"And you'd care?" You seethed, not looking his way.

Lorenzo stood back, straightening his clothes as he did, he had clearly put them on in a rush. "Clearly."

You spared him a glance, his eyes burning into your own, and you were unable to look away.

"I need you, y/n," your heart froze, his face was but inches from yours, "you're integral to the plan," you turned back to watch the stable girl, moving away from him.

"Well, I'm here," you spoke, your voice flat. Lorenzo continued his stare until Callus was ready, and you both stepped back from the gate to let it creak open. The reigns were handed to Lorenzo, and he began attaching his bags to the saddle.

"Thank you," you took the stable girls hand into yours, sliding a few coins into it before closing it over as Lorenzo paid no notice.

She bowed slightly, "You are more than welcome, Madonna," that caught Lorenzo's attention, his gaze falling onto you once again, before he straightened out the saddle, getting ready to mount.

The young girl took your hold on her hand to pull you in closer, "I wish my betrothed looked at me the way your husband does," she made sure to keep her voice low. You stifled a laugh at the irony, until your heart sank in realisation.

"Your betrothed?" She seemed far younger than yourself, nowhere near the age for marriage.

She nodded, "Well, in two years, when I am of age," the pain in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by you.

"He won't look at you the same. He will treat you with far more respect than I am given," you promised her, not wanting her to idealise whatever your relation to Lorenzo was.

"Y/n," as if on cue, Lorenzo's name fell from your lips, although not as harsh sounding as usual.

The girl shot you one last sad smile, before she returned to her work and you yours.

Facing back to Lorenzo, he assisted you onto Callus, before pulling himself up. He took the reins into his hands and you continued your journey without another word.

—-

You came to a stop once again in a town just outside Venice. All three of you were hungry, and the sun had yet to reach its peak. Lorenzo was planning on attending the banquet for Vitelli’s grandson’s birth, a celebration of the continuation of the bloodline, which wasn't until tonight. You had plenty of time.

Once you had found Callus a safe stable to rest in, you led Lorenzo to the centre of the town, where the market was bubbling.

"You wouldn't find these in Florence," you nudged Lorenzo slightly from where you stood in front of the blacksmith, half teasing as you knew his love for your city, but also in awe at the swordsmanship.

He smirked at your words, also admiring the fine blades. "I'd like to see their art," he bragged, always finding a way to one up.

"Maybe this is it," you suggested, marvelling at the different daggers.

"Come along, I'm starved," he spoke after a moment. You did as he said, as your hunger was getting the best of you also.

You soon found a seedy public house, not much different from the Florentine ones. Lorenzo bought you both meals, and you picked away at it, trying your best to ignore the rowdiness of your fellow customers.

"Is that the only gown you brought?" Lorenzo questioner, motioning to the dress you were wearing.

You nodded, swallowing the food you were chewing before replying. "I truly hadn't planned on joining you."

"It won't do for the banquet. You'll be serving drinks by the end of the night," you bit back all the horrid remarks you wished to make, about Lorenzo and his constant condescension.

"Well sorry, your highness, an arrogant man burnt my banquet gown," you huffed.

Lorenzo grinned as he held back a laugh, "I do apologise for that. But that doesn't change our current circumstance. We'll have to get you a new gown. Hopefully this town’s dressmaking holds up to their forgery."

You just nodded, feeling odd about the situation. Pazzi had loaned you a fancy gown once or twice before for similar purposes, the idea wasn't foreign to you, but it felt particularly peculiar with Lorenzo. Especially with last night’s conversation still fresh in mind.

—-

You stepped out of the fitting room, feeling incredibly vulnerable in the dress. It was half an inch too tight, making you stand up that little bit straighter to hold your poise. Your shoulders were bare, and you were oddly aware of the cool air around them. The dress was quite plain, a deep crimson colour, the sleeves falling to your wrists, where they hung wide around them. The skirt was much more constricting than you were used to, and you imagined if you were to don your usual blade on your thigh it would make for a terrible silhouette.

You stood in Lorenzo's line of sight, and he sat up taller from where he was slouched in his chair. He surveyed you for a moment, before his gaze switched to the seamstress beside you.

"Doesn't she look splendid?" The seamstress asked, pushing for her sale. You had stumbled upon her small shop after you'd eaten.

"Danger often takes shelter in beauty," he mused, sharing a grin with you, the tailor barely taking notice. "How much?"

#lorenzo is a little bitch #reader honey you deserve better #anyone catch my tlou/t100 referenes? no? just me... okay #lorenzo x reader #medici: masters of florence #daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici #medici fic #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader #zutara

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valkirsif · 4 years ago

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Conquest

Thank to @petite-madame for inspirational art.. you rock sweety!! <3

This is for mine little sweety friend @learisa i hope u enjoy <3

Sebastian Stan (Prince Noir) X Reader

Word 4500 (i know is to long)

Warning: SMUT!!!!!

The village had been in turmoil for days, news had come from the castle that the Prince was returning victorious from the skirmishes to the North bringing with him his wife and her brother, to put an end to the war the King of the North had finally yielded and consented to the wedding of Princess and send to the West court also third son why was studying and did a good marriage in turn with one of the daughters of the King, everyone was devoted to preparations for decorating the village and the castle, adjusting the roads and numerous seamstresses of kingdom undertook to sew new clothes for the commoners and dignitaries, Lucrezia had just arrived at the castle with her helpers to make clothes for the King's daughters,

"My Queen, my respects" she said bowing as entered the Princesses' rooms, "I brought the finest fabrics from the islands" placed the heavy trunks full of fabrics, feathers and precious stones in front of the Queen,

"Lucrezia, thank you for your haste" said the Queen gesturing for her to get up, "with the arrival of Prince Sebastian my daughters need new clothes" clapped her hands and the nurses let the girls in, the seamstress bowed before get to work, took the measurements to the Princesses and began to draw, she wanted the clothes to be perfect for them and make them even more beautiful, after all one of them would marry the Prince were not allowed mistakes,

"Y/N it's your turn" said the Queen calling the second daughters, "and where does this come from?" asked nervously taking a wooden dagger from her belt, the girl bit her lip but didn't answer, "You have to stop with these things and learn what is expected of you",

"But Mother" she replied angrily, "the activities of the females are boring .. ", the Queen looked at her badly and stopped replying, letting Lucrezia take her measurements,

"Does Your Majesty have any requests for clothes?" asked once the fabrics were divided, "I could use feathers or flowers to style the hair of the Princesses .. "

"It's good advice, Serlina would benefit with her shyness .. and maybe Y/N would calm down with a composed hairstyle " she smiled before letting her daughters out and leaving Lucrezia to work.

The trumpets of the keep sounded giving everyone the signal that the Prince was coming, a messenger had brought news of the landing the day before and now the procession was in sight,

"Ector go ahead and check the area .. " Prince said to the squire who was escorting the carriage,

"..And you lift your skirt I haven't fucked you since yesterday" whispered to his wife kissing her, the girl smiled obeying,

"My flower I know it wasn't what you wanted but you are my prize .. " said staring at her, taking on his lap and entering her, ".. how soft and welcoming you are .." growled sinking his face into her prosperous breasts, unfastening her robe, moving swiftly inside her, they were almost there but he couldn't help but possess her,

"My Lord .." she gasped clinging to him, ".. my only desire is to satisfy you ..", the man was right she did not want that political marriage and rebelled when her father imposed it on her but as soon as she set eyes on the Prince all his objections disappeared, he was young and beautiful in his armor, his light hair and blue eyes bewitched her and from the wedding he indulged his wishes every time he smiled at her, and now that he was fucking her like a servant instead of withdrawing gave herself to him without hesitation,

".. if they explained their marital duties to the girls they would all get married at the first opportunity .. " she gasped as the man pulled her head back without delicacy and kissed her neck pushing her onto the seat,

"If the girls knew certain things they would all become bitches .. " he said turning, ".. like you .. " laughed, taking her by the hips and fucking hard, excited by her moans,

".. I want you to enjoy for me little bitch .." he ordered taking her by the hair, the girl arched moaning on the pillows, his body pressed to her as dug into her clutching her breasts,

" Chris .. " she meowed coming sinking her nails into the silk of the seat,

" Domitia .. " the man growled on her back enjoying, they composed themselves panting smiling,

"I think the shape of the clothes for women will change soon, the clothes of the North are much more practical" he laughed clutching the ribbons on the shoulders of his wife who smiled back and leaned against him as they crossed the borders of the village, the commoners were for road that greeted the return of the Prince throwing petals as they passed, the two greeted the crowd heading to the castle.

The King together with the Queen and the sisters were waiting for them at the top of the stairs, the courtiers were on the stairs curious to see the children of the King of the North, rumors had come about their beauty and they all wanted to admire them, the couple got out of the carriage followed by their brother Domitia, when they reached the top of the stairs, they bowed,

"My son, welcome back" said the King embracing his son, "Thank goodness you are safe, welcome my daughter" he welcomed Domitia kissing her on the forehead, "these weddings have brought peace and wealth to all lands"

"Father, I'm happy to be here," she replied shyly, lowering her head, "I bring gifts from my father with me," said, handing an inlaid trunk to the King, "he is my brother Sebastian" turned and motioned the man to come closer,

"My King" bowed, the Princesse smiled, they found Sebastian beautiful and completely different from the boys they were used to, tall with long dark hair and bright blue eyes, serious gaze, something strange caught Y/N's gaze, she saw strange drawings appearing from the man's jacket and wondered what they were, she remembered her nurse's boring lessons on the people of the North, she remembered that they used to tattoo their bodies ..was curious to know more about him, the Royal family entered the castle followed by the courtiers, the Queen called a servant,

"Accompany Prince Sebastian to his rooms" she gestured to the porters to follow him, "I hope the rooms are to your taste, David will take care of all your needs, dinner in an hour" said smiling at the young man who he bowed seriously before following the page,

"This is the area of the family's private castle" David said leading the way, "The library is always open, it is used for lessons the tutors are always available if you want", Sebastian stopped at the door listening to the music, in the library Serlina was taking singing lessons, Artemisia was embroidering following a complex pattern on the loom together with Kastalia , was intrigued by Y/N who looked out the window with attentive eyes while the nurse tried to make her concentrate on the books, followed her gaze and saw that in the large courtyard the troops were training,

".. Your Grace .. " the page called him back, "this is your room" he said giving way,

"Thank you" Sebastian answered entering, " I know that here the etiquette is very strict but in the North we don't use titles in private so call me Sebastian" said dismissing him, David bowed his head confused and went out, the young man undressed to take a bath , the journey had been long and uncomfortable and he needed to relax, a young servant entered to fill the tub, she blushed to find the Prince naked while touching himself, the young man smiled moving towards her, took the jugs from her hand and pushed against the wall,

"Don't you use to announce yourself before entering?" he asked mischievously, stroking her face,

"Since you're here .. " growled putting her face to the wall and lifting her dress,

".. I'll be delicate" said spreading her legs and playing with her pussy, the girl moaned when he inserted two fingers digging into her,

"Tight and wet .. as I like it" he laughed removing his fingers and penetrating her, the servant gave a start and tensed as Sebastian slammed her violently grunting on her neck,

"Relax little flower it will be more pleasant for both of us .. " squeezed her breast, kissing her neck

"My Prince I am at your service .. " she moaned, ".. use me as you please", the man laughed increasing the blows,

"I'll do it dear .. I'll do it often .. " he took her by the shoulders mounting her like a wild animal, quick and angry growling in her ears, he was leaning on her back,

".. prepare my bath now" he gasped, pulling away from her, the girl bowed, putting her dress back together and disappeared to fill the tub with hot water, silently washed his shoulders and back, David entered the room and prepared the clean clothes waiting to get ready to accompany him into the dining room.

Large tables of food were set in the center of the room, dignitaries, generals and notables in sumptuous clothes drank and chatted while waiting for the King to sit down, Domitia approached her brother as soon as entered the room,

"Could you try to smile?" she whispered seriously, "You will scare your future bride with all this seriousness" she laughed hugging him, trying to put him at ease,

"Sister, there's little to laugh about, I won't be as lucky as you" he replied, pointing to Chris, "I don't know these people and with the rules they have here I certainly won't be able to talk to the Princesses alone"

"I discussed it with the Queen, I explained our customs" said Domitia more cheerful, "you have been allowed to spend time with them if you wish, the King will choose for you only if none of them is congenial to you. .. but I hope that out of 4 girls at least one is to your taste" she laughed moving towards the table, the King had just sat down and the court was doing the same, Sebastian took his place among the Princesses who silently stared at him, dinner was served ,

"And ' your taste my Lord?" Serlina asked politely , she was the eldest it was up to her to break the ice,

" It is very different from Northern food but it is very good" replied Sebastian trying to smile, "I heard you sing you have a wonderful voice",

"Thank you, I've been studying a lot, my mother says that for a Princess it is important to know how to sing to please her husband" said the girl,

"And what else do you like?" curiously asked, "In our lands all the girls, royal or plebeian, ride and know how to shoot with the bow",

"With us girls are required to be modest" answered Serlina smiling , "We are taught to sing and embroider, we are too delicate to ride or learn the art of war" she laughed, "But if you like, I can ask my father to let me take lessons .. ",

"I would never allow myself to interfere with your customs" said Sebastian, shook his head it seemed that the Princesses had only been taught to be beautiful, he continued to converse with the girls hoping to notice something that would strike him, at the end of the meal the guests yes moved to the ballroom where the musicians started playing and people started dancing, Chris led Domitia on the dance floor and taught her their dances,

"Do you like to dance my Lord?" Artemisia loved to dance but she couldn't ask Sebastian to do it, she would have liked to teach him the steps but it was up to him to come forward and didn't seem to want to, "If you want I can teach you .. " she said fearfully,

"Thank you but I'm afraid I have two left feet my Lady" the man replied laughing, "I wouldn't want to hurt you by beating you", Y/N held back a laugh it was clear that he didn't want to indulge her sister, another knight came forward and the two they were left alone, Kastalia was the youngest of the Princesses and had already retired to her rooms,

"What would your father say if he knew you have a thing for guards?" he asked smiling at Y/N who looked at him thoughtfully, "I saw you today staring at the training of young people with interest",

"I don't have a soft spot for anyone .. " the girl answered understanding, ".. but please don't tell my father anyway .. he wouldn't understand" she shook her head,

"I will keep your secret if you tell me why " he said curiously, Y/N seemed more interesting than his sisters, the girl looked around before answering,

"I find all these Princess things terribly boring and stupid" she said, "I would like to learn fun things like fighting and riding but it is forbidden to look as strong as a man" she concluded with a snort, Sebastian laughed heartily for the first time since leaving the North , definitely Y/N was interesting.

Six months passed, Domitia was expecting her first child and everyone hoped it was a boy, it was also time for Sebastian to choose a bride, he had spent a lot of time with each of them, the laws were changed and the girls they wanted could now learn what they wanted, Y/N hadn't been told twice and she proved to be an impeccable horseman, she was learning to use sword and shield, Sebastian was fascinated by her, even the sisters tried to learn but they were not talented,

"Sebastian son, come closer" said the King motioning him to sit with him, "You have been with us for two seasons, the snow is approaching and it is time for you to return to your lands, so you have decided which of my daughters will come with you as yours bride? " he asked taking a cup of wine, the man looked at the fire thoughtfully,

"All your daughters would be perfect as spouses" he began seriously, "I got to know them and each of them would be loved and honored in the North but I think the only really adequate is Y/N" concluded looking at the King,

" Mmm I was hoping that the choice would fall on Serlina who is the eldest and, by birthright, should marry first .. " the King said thoughtfully,

".. but I promised your Father and you that I would not impose any of my daughters, and both I will speak with her and we will begin the preparations immediately to get you to leave before winter" he concluded, getting up and shaking hands with Sebastian who bowed and went out. ,

"Call me Y/N to come to me right away" he said to a servant,

"Here I am Father did you want to see me?" the girl said, entering the room, placing herself at father's feet, the man smiled, stroking her face,

"My beloved daughter" he said sweetly, "I have always feared you would stay in this house because of your nature .. " he smiled, ".. but I was wrong, the Prince chose you as his bride, I trust that you will accept without making a fuss" , the girl stared at him in amazement, Sebastian had never given any sign of finding her interesting,

"Father if it is what is expected of me I will accept .. " she replied lowering her gaze, "..and I do not do it because I have to but because I want to, I will marry the Prince with joy" smiled seeing the satisfaction on the King's face,

"I'm glad to hear you say it, it will be a political union but I hope that over time you can feel sincere affection for him"

" Father .. " Y/N said blushing, ".. I already feel some affection for him, I hope to be lucky like my brother and that he can feel affection for me",

the King dismissed her and joined her sisters to give them the news,

"What have you done this time?" Serlina asked sarcastically sitting next to her followed by the other sisters, "You are always the stone of scandal" she smiled,

"He wanted to tell me that I will leave for the North as Sebastian's bride .. " answered neutral Y/N, she knew that Serlina liked the Prince and that she thought she would choose her, she didn't want to seem too happy, ".. in two days they will be celebrated the wedding and we will leave ",

"So he chose you?" asked Artemisia as amazed as Serlina , "You spent very little time together, how is it possible?" asked further if same as the other,

"I imagined it" said Serlina , "None of us were so inclined for physical things" laughed, teasing her, "I personally hated to smell like a stable, I probably would have lived very badly in the North, I'm happy for you sister" hugged her sincerely happy, the Queen entered their rooms followed by Domitia and Lucrezia,

"You three go to study" she said sending her daughters out of the room, "We have to prepare Y/N for the wedding", she clapped hands and the girls left visibly disappointed not to be able to attend,

"Dear Domitia, you will help Lucrezia for the dress" said the Queen, "She does not know the shape of your wedding dresses",

"Certainly Mother with pleasure, my brother will appreciate" she smiled sitting down with the seamstress,

"Light clothes will also be needed, the North is warm and sunny, no heavy clothes and furs will be needed", the Queen nodded, took Y/N aside to explain to her what to expect from the wedding night,

".. over time it will be pleasant for you too" she concluded, the girl was dumbfounded and worried above all because she had heard the stories of the servants about Sebastian and did not know what to think, from their stories he had been kind even if rude when he possessed them and was curious to see him naked.

A week after the announcement everything was ready for the wedding, the foreign dignitaries had arrived and also the ambassador of the North had arrived, according to the peace agreements, taking the place of the King, in her room Y/N was being prepared,

"Stay still Princess or I will prick you" said the nurse trying to comb her, the girl was nervous and agitated, "You are beautiful in this dress",

"My daughter, you are a ray of sunshine" the Queen approached and hugged her, "Are you ready?" asked taking her face in hands,

"Yes Mother" she replied nervously, "I'm afraid .. ",

the Queen laughed, " It's normal but don't worry in the North you'll be fine, your sisters will come to see you in the spring",

the King took Y/N by the hand and brought her in front of the throne where Sebastian was waiting for her, he joined the hands of the spouses with a ribbon, a Druid went around the couple saying spells and blessing them, the ceremony ended with the signing of both on the document and the taking over of the bride by the Prince, the celebrations began immediately and lasted 3 days with dances, fires and food,

"I can't wait to be alone with you and pick your most precious flower" Sebastian whispered in the ear of Y/N who blushed,

"I'll wait for you in the bedroom, my bride" he kissed her leaving her with the maids who quickly took off her wedding dress, passed over her body some perfumed pearl powder and loosened her hair before putting on first night's shirt, the girl was agitated she had never been alone with a man and was afraid of what would happen, her mother put a flower in her hair and led her into the bedroom where Sebastian was waiting.

The King gave her a kiss on the forehead and took his leave followed by the rest of the court, Y/N felt heart in her throat torturing fingers staring at the floor, two servants approached to undress the bride and groom, "Get out" Sebastian said before touched, "You don't need to stay",

the servants looked at each other dumbfounded and went out, the man took off his clothes and approached Y/N who was trembling nervously, as if had lost her bravado,

"Look at me dear" he said lifting her face, "Don't be nervous",

the girl observed the naked body of her husband and was fascinated by the tattoos, complicated drawings of animals and runes covered his left arm, a large tree with two crows took a large part of his chest,

"They are beautiful .. " she exclaimed reaching out to touch them, "..can I?" asked fearfully, Sebastian smiled at her taking her hand and bringing it to his chest, Y/N had a start was the first man she touched,

"They don't bite" the man laughed letting her explore his body, excited by her fingers brushing him, Y/N was mesmerized by the drawings, she followed the trunk of the tree with her fingers going down on his abdominals, felt the man jerk lowered the look thinking she scratched him and saw his excitement, took her hand away as if she touched the fire, Sebastisn laughed, took her hand and brought it on his cock, Y/N tried to withdraw her hand but he was much stronger ,

"You have to learn how to touch a man" he said seriously using her hand to touch himself, "It's okay .. good with delicacy" he let Y/N move her delicate fingers over him, he took her face in his hands and kissed impatiently, the girl stiffened it was her first kiss, she tried to get behind her but Sebastian grabbed her by the hair pushing against the supports of the bed,

"You hurt me" she protested frightened, " Please .. " prayed on the verge of tears, the man laughed away from her letting lean uncomfortably on the supports of the bed,

"It's time to take off this nightgown .. " he said unfastening the ribbons on her breast, "..and to take what belongs to me" took off her robe, Y/N reacted trying to cover herself with her hands blushing, Sebastian pushed on the bed, lying down next to her, moved her hands and began to touch her breasts, kissing her neck,

"Relax I promise you will like it" he whispered looking at her, Y/N was mesmerized by husband's blue eyes and tried to relax as he pressed on her breasts, took a nipple between his teeth and squeezed making her moan, sucked and squeezed her breast, moved a hand down on the belly, touching her hips, the girl trembled,

"I know you touched yourself thinking of me" he said in a deep voice, "Don't be shy, you're a bitch like any other" growled sliding her hand between her legs, Y/N tried to close her thighs,

"Please no" she whispered in fear,

" Shhh hush" he growled placing his hands on her knees and opening her legs, "You can relax and take the pleasure I'm about to give you .. " he said putting two fingers in her pussy,

".. or kick and make everything very unpleasant for you" began to move slowly inside her, pressing his palm on her clit letting her relax, brought his free hand back to her breast, squeezing it, pinching her nipples,

"Well done, like this, enjoy my hands" he laughed kissing her, biting her lip to reaffirm possession, "I chose you because I love you", the girl stared at him, her heart beating fast,

"I love you too" she answered sincerely, "And I think I like what you're doing" she moaned feeling the same sensation as when touched herself, only more intense, Sebastian noticed it and slowed down starting to go down kissing her skin, licking her belly up to her pussy, he kissed her mound and buried his tongue on her clit, licking and sucking greedily, starting to move his fingers inside her, rubbing the soft tissue, felt Y/N moaning and panting close to orgasm,

" Seb .. Sebastian .. I .. I " meowed enjoying, the man continued to stimulate her, prolonging orgasm, making her arch and pant,

"You see it wasn't difficult to relax" he laughed leaning on her belly, got up kneeling between her legs, touching himself admiring her sweaty and exposed body, the girl moved, caressing his face,

"Turn around" ordered, leaving space for her, Y/N obeyed not understanding the reason, she turned and made herself comfortable, the man laughed,

"Do you really think I'll let you sleep?" he asked hitting her on the ass, the girl screamed more for the surprise than for the blow, Sebastian took her by the hips and put her on all fours getting behind her, Y/N was agitated again, the stories of the servants came back to her mind that he had owned he liked to take women from behind,

"Now stay still and put that ass up," he ordered spanking her again, he held her by the side rubbing his cock on her wet pussy and entered with a single decisive movement, the girl screamed,

"You are so tight my flower" he grunted moving slowly, letting her pussy welcome him, "By the Gods how wonderful it is to fuck a virgin",

"Slowly please" she moaned on the pillow trying to breathe, "Wait don't move .. ",

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time .. " he said trying to be delicate, "..well good .. breathe" grunted hearing the girl relax,

"Now you will feel the real pleasure my bride" he said leaning behind her, sinking into her more and more, began to move faster, hitting her every time she stiffened,

".. your pussy wants more right?" he growled grabbing her by the hair bringing towards him, "Feel how he holds me?" took her like an animal, fucking her hard, fast, he felt her second orgasm squeeze him, excited by her moans squeezed her hair and came grunting filling her every fold,

"Come here my flower" he said sweetly hugging her, "You were good for being the first time .. sorry if I was rude but the women of the North are wilder and appreciate being scrambled" laughed, squeezing her,

"I was so scared" whispered Y/N close to him, "I appreciated too .. now that I know how you like to own me" laughed kissing him, they talked and made love until morning, they fell asleep in the carriage as they left for the North.

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thecloserkin · 5 years ago

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fic rec: runs in the family by liketheroad

fandom: The Borgias

pairing: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia

word count: 6k

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: no

Is it endgame: maybe

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: the revisionist rehabilitation of Juan Borgia that absolutely nobody asked for; read it and thank me later

Hello everyone it’s me, the girl whose entire brand is stanning fictional characters for himbo rights reasons! I am here to tell you why Juan Borgia is not in fact useless, and why you—yes, you—should ship him with our fave murder angels Cesare and Lucrezia! Are you ready?

I love the idea that Cesare and Lucrezia’s love is fated, and that Juan is a mere mortal whose heart grew entangled in God’s plans. This is a series of two short fics: we tend to bruise easily which is more Juan-centric and bad in the blood which is more shippy (if you’re just here for Cesare/Lucrezia) but you should read both.

Here’s what happened: Cesare needed someone to practice on, see, whilst he was waiting for Lucrezia to grow up. And since “only a Borgia can love a Borgia,” and Cesare’s one-night stands obviously weren’t hitting the spot….well. The thing I love about this family is that you literally cannot disconnect the murder from the sex!!!! Because they scratch the same itch. Cesare is the one who teaches Juan how to fuck and how to fight:

And so he taught his brother to be a fighter, and then a lover, but had never anticipated the two lessons becoming one.

Only problem is, Juan catches feelings. And Juan has too much pride to be satisfied with coming second in anyone’s heart:

But Cesare is a soldier, and he can recognize the difference between a parry and feint as well as any true prince of state. It does not seem that Juan wishes for him to stop—but rather, that he has finally decided to make Cesare work for it, every inch of skin, every brush of lips.

“There was a time when you loved me, was there not?” “I love you still.” “But not as much as you love her.” “No. Not as much as I love her.”

NOT AS MUCH AS I LOVE HER adfkdfjdkfjd. So, to be clear, the reason Juan hates Cesare is because Cesare loves Lucrezia more than Cesare loves Juan.

Lucrezia is like the sun, she has an infinite amount of love to give, and she urges charity and reconciliation between her brothers. To Juan she says:

“If I love Cesare, then it is in my benefit to see him happy. And while I can perhaps make him happier than anyone else, I cannot do that alone.”

To Cesare she says:

”I would rather share you with our brother than with a common whore.”

As you guys know, I subscribe to the triangulation theory of incest—that it’s more interesting when there’s a third sibling whose relationship serves as a foil to the main pair (not that there’s anything wrong with orphaned twins, I love my Maximoffs and Fryes). But I see no reason that third sibling needs to stand in an antagonistic relation to the other two. Juan doesn’t have to be a boogeyman, or the butt of Cesare and Lucrezia’s jokes; he could just as easily be their ally. This is Cesare and Lucrezia again:

“He has never been as sweet as you, has never sought out my affections the way you do. Only my ... instruction.” “Then perhaps that is because he believed that was all that was available to him.” “And now?” “I dare say he fears that there will be even less of you that he might call his own, perhaps none at all, once you decide I am of a suitable age.” “Suitable?” “Forgivable, perhaps.” “Oh, my love,” Cesare whispers, suddenly pressed close against her, his lips almost brushing her cheek, “there will be no forgiveness, not for me. But I intend to make my stay in hell worth it, I promise you that.”

This is Cesare to Juan:

“You are correct in thinking that you are not my heart’s only, or truest, love. But you are mistaken if you believe that makes you any less mine."

I love that this fic is staunchly pro-Juan and anti-Rodrigo, which is the reverse of the show. Like, Rodrigo set it up so Cesare and Juan would forever be vying for Rodrigo’s affections, and that’s fucked up. Cesare has just come to accept that Juan’s love will forever be mixed with hate and envy, and that is sad.

This is Juan:

“My god, Cesare. You can’t even abide other men looking at her portrait without drawing your sword, how on earth are you going to share her with a husband?”

See? This, THIS RIGHT HERE is why Juan is better when he’s in cahoots with his siblings rather than undermining them. I snorted.

It is not Djem’s death that she hates him for, but the dowry his death purchased. But even this she can forgive, because there is little any of them do by choosing, not anymore, and she must forgive Juan his part in the destiny their father has carved out for them just as she must forgive Cesare, forgive herself. Besides, Juan excels at accepting hate along with love.

And this was what I meant when I said Cesare & Lucrezia’s love was fated. It’s all part of the divine plan guys. Tbh the most relatable moment was when Lucrezia and Juan bond over what a pain in the ass Cesare can be and then she begs him for the kissing lessons Cesare has refused her:

“You were far gentler than I expected,” she says once he has released her. “It was your first kiss, sister. I thought it best to proceed with care.” “How does Cesare kiss?” “Like he is drowning and he means not to die alone.”

Cut to Cesare and Juan checking up on the newly married Lucrezia. Juan suggests, instead of skulking around the bushes maybe next time we could pay her calls in daylight, and maybe also take turns visiting her to avoid fanning the incest rumors. Cesare is visibly taken aback that Juan even knows the meaning of discretion. But if there is anyone he trusts to look after the light of his life, Lucrezia—well there isn’t anyone, but Juan comes closest. This is Cesare and Lucrezia consummating their relationship:

He kisses her neck, her finger tips, hands feather light against her naked skin. He holds her close, foreheads pressed together, whispering words of love and devotion, and once he is inside her she thinks she would rather die than feel anything else ever again.

This is Lucrezia talking to Cesare about Juan:

”He reminds me of you. You are both killers. Not just because you have to be, but because it is part of who you are—who you both are.” “And you find this quality appealing?” “Because you love me, yes. Because you will use what you both are to keep me safe.”

Friends, in all seriousness, have you ever in your life seen a more Slytherin family?? Honest to god. Slytherin in the sense of being laser-focused on protecting the people within their circle of concern, however that circle is defined.

Ok finally here is Lucrezia to Juan:

Being loved by Cesare comes at great cost, that I’m sure you already know. But how he loves me... it makes him hide from me. He thinks I deserve something better than what he is, and so he hides his darkness from me, hides himself. At least you are not denied the courtesy of knowing him. Or the dangers he faces.”

But Cesare has NEVER hidden his darkness from Juan!!!! Cesare and Lucrezia need Juan, he completes them, it’s not an equilateral triangle but it’s definitely some sort of triangle.

#cesare x lucrezia #borgiacest #fic rec

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silent-era-of-cinema · 4 years ago

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Ida Estelle Taylor (May 20, 1894 – April 15, 1958) was an American actress, singer, model, and animal rights activist. With "dark-brown, almost black hair and brown eyes," she was regarded as one of the most beautiful silent film stars of the 1920s.

After her stage debut in 1919, Taylor began appearing in small roles in World and Vitagraph films. She achieved her first notable success with While New York Sleeps (1920), in which she played three different roles, including a "vamp." She was a contract player of Fox Film Corporation and, later, Paramount Pictures, but for the majority of her career she freelanced. She became famous and was commended by critics for her portrayals of historical women in important films: Miriam in The Ten Commandments (1923), Mary, Queen of Scots in Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall (1924), and Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926).

Although she made a successful transition to sound films, she retired from film acting in 1932 and decided to focus entirely on her singing career. She was also active in animal welfare before her death from cancer in 1958. She was posthumously honored in 1960 with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in the motion pictures category.

Ida Estelle Taylor was born on May 20, 1894 in Wilmington, Delaware. Her father, Harry D. Taylor (born 1871), was born in Harrington, Delaware. Her mother, Ida LaBertha "Bertha" Barrett (November 29, 1874 – August 25, 1965), was born in Easton, Pennsylvania, and later worked as a freelance makeup artist. The Taylors had another daughter, Helen (May 19, 1898 – December 22, 1990), who also became an actress. According to the 1900 census, the family lived in a rented house at 805 Washington Street in Wilmington. In 1903, Ida LaBertha was granted a divorce from Harry on the ground of nonsupport; the following year, she married a cooper named Fred T. Krech.[9] Ida LaBertha's third husband was Harry J. Boylan, a vaudevillian.

Taylor was raised by her maternal grandparents, Charles Christopher Barrett and Ida Lauber Barrett. Charles Barrett ran a piano store in Wilmington, and Taylor studied piano. Her childhood ambition was to become a stage actress, but her grandparents initially disapproved of her theatrical aspirations. When she was ten years old she sang the role of "Buttercup" in a benefit performance of the opera H.M.S. Pinafore in Wilmington. She attended high school but dropped out because she refused to apologize after a troublesome classmate caused her to spill ink from her inkwell on the floor. In 1911, she married bank cashier Kenneth M. Peacock. The couple remained together for five years until Taylor decided to become an actress. She soon found work as an artists' model, posing for Howard Pyle, Harvey Dunn, Leslie Thrasher, and other painters and illustrators.

In April 1918, Taylor moved to New York City to study acting at the Sargent Dramatic School. She worked as a hat model for a wholesale millinery store to earn money for her tuition and living expenses. At Sargent Dramatic School, she wrote and performed one-act plays, studied voice inflection and diction, and was noticed by a singing teacher named Mr. Samoiloff who thought her voice was suitable for opera. Samoiloff gave Taylor singing lessons on a contingent basis and, within several months, recommended her to theatrical manager Henry Wilson Savage for a part in the musical Lady Billy. She auditioned for Savage and he offered her work as an understudy to the actress who had the second role in the musical. At the same time, playwright George V. Hobart offered her a role as a "comedy vamp" in his play Come-On, Charlie, and Taylor, who had no experience in stage musicals, preferred the non-musical role and accepted Hobart's offer.

Taylor made her Broadway stage début in George V. Hobart's Come-On, Charlie, which opened on April 8, 1919 at 48th Street Theatre in New York City. The story was about a shoe clerk who has a dream in which he inherits one million dollars and must make another million within six months. It was not a great success and closed after sixteen weeks. Taylor, the only person in the play who wore red beads, was praised by a New York City critic who wrote, "The only point of interest in the show was the girl with the red beads." During the play's run, producer Adolph Klauber saw Taylor's performance and said to the play's leading actress Aimee Lee Dennis: "You know, I think Miss Taylor should go into motion pictures. That's where her greatest future lies. Her dark eyes would screen excellently." Dennis told Taylor what Klauber said, and Taylor began looking for work in films. With the help of J. Gordon Edwards, she got a small role in the film A Broadway Saint (1919). She was hired by the Vitagraph Company for a role with Corinne Griffith in The Tower of Jewels (1920), and also played William Farnum's leading lady in The Adventurer (1920) for the Fox Film Corporation.

One of Taylor's early successes was in 1920 in Fox's While New York Sleeps with Marc McDermott. Charles Brabin directed the film, and Taylor and McDermott play three sets of characters in different time periods. This film was lost for decades, but has been recently discovered and screened at a film festival in Los Angeles. Her next film for Fox, Blind Wives (1920), was based on Edward Knoblock's play My Lady's Dress and reteamed her with director Brabin and co-star McDermott. William Fox then sent her to Fox Film's Hollywood studios to play a supporting role in a Tom Mix film. Just before she boarded the train for Hollywood, Brabin gave her some advice: "Don't think of supporting Mix in that play. Don't play in program pictures. Never play anything but specials. Mr. Fox is about to put on Monte Cristo. You should play the part of Mercedes. Concentrate on that role and when you get to Los Angeles, see that you play it."

Taylor traveled with her mother, her canary bird, and her bull terrier, Winkle. She was excited about playing Mercedes and reread Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo on the train. When she arrived in Hollywood, she reported to Fox Studios and introduced herself to director Emmett J. Flynn, who gave her a copy of the script, but warned her that he already had another actress in mind for the role. Flynn offered her another part in the film, but she insisted on playing Mercedes and after much conversation was cast in the role. John Gilbert played Edmond Dantès in the film, which was eventually titled Monte Cristo (1922). Taylor later said that she, "saw then that he [Gilbert] had every requisite of a splendid actor." The New York Herald critic wrote, "Miss Taylor was as effective in the revenge section of the film as she was in the first or love part of the screened play. Here is a class of face that can stand a close-up without becoming a mere speechless automaton."

Fox also cast her as Gilda Fontaine, a "vamp", in the 1922 remake of the 1915 Fox production A Fool There Was, the film that made Theda Bara a star. Robert E. Sherwood of Life magazine gave it a mixed review and observed: "Times and movies have changed materially since then [1915]. The vamp gave way to the baby vamp some years back, and the latter has now been superseded by the flapper. It was therefore a questionable move on Mr. Fox's part to produce a revised version of A Fool There Was in this advanced age." She played a Russian princess in the film Bavu (1923), a Universal Pictures production with Wallace Beery as the villain and Forrest Stanley as her leading ma

One of her most memorable roles is that of Miriam, the sister of Moses (portrayed by Theodore Roberts), in the biblical prologue of Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1923), one of the most successful films of the silent era. Her performance in the DeMille film was considered a great acting achievement. Taylor's younger sister, Helen, was hired by Sid Grauman to play Miriam in the Egyptian Theatre's onstage prologue to the film.

Despite being ill with arthritis, she won the supporting role of Mary, Queen of Scots in Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall (1924), starring Mary Pickford. "I've since wondered if my long illness did not, in some measure at least, make for realism in registering the suffering of the unhappy and tormented Scotch queen," she told a reporter in 1926.

She played Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926), Warner Bros.' first feature-length film with synchronized Vitaphone sound effects and musical soundtrack. The film also starred John Barrymore, Mary Astor and Warner Oland. Variety praised her characterization of Lucrezia: "The complete surprise is the performance of Estelle Taylor as Lucretia [sic] Borgia. Her Lucretia is a fine piece of work. She makes it sardonic in treatment, conveying precisely the woman Lucretia is presumed to have been."

She was to have co-starred in a film with Rudolph Valentino, but he died just before production was to begin. One of her last silent films was New York (1927), featuring Ricardo Cortez and Lois Wilson.

In 1928, she and husband Dempsey starred in a Broadway play titled The Big Fight, loosely based around Dempsey's boxing popularity, which ran for 31 performances at the Majestic Theatre.

She made a successful transition to sound films or "talkies." Her first sound film was the comical sketch Pusher in the Face (1929).

Notable sound films in which she appeared include Street Scene (1931), with Sylvia Sidney; the Academy Award for Best Picture-winning Cimarron (1931), with Richard Dix and Irene Dunne; and Call Her Savage (1932), with Clara Bow.

Taylor returned to films in 1944 with a small part in the Jean Renoir drama The Southerner (released in 1945), playing what journalist Erskine Johnson described as "a bar fly with a roving eye. There's a big brawl and she starts throwing beer bottles." Johnson was delighted with Taylor's reappearance in the film industry: "[Interviewing] Estelle was a pleasant surprise. The lady is as beautiful and as vivacious as ever, with the curves still in the right places." The Southerner was her last film.

Taylor married three times, but never had children. In 1911 at aged 17, she married a bank cashier named Kenneth Malcolm Peacock, the son of a prominent Wilmington businessman. They lived together for five years and then separated so she could pursue her acting career in New York. Taylor later claimed the marriage was annulled. In August 1924, the press mentioned Taylor's engagement to boxer and world heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey. In September, Peacock announced he would sue Taylor for divorce on the ground of desertion. He denied he would name Dempsey as co-respondent, saying "If she wants to marry Dempsey, it is all right with me." Taylor was granted a divorce from Peacock on January 9, 1925.

Taylor and Dempsey were married on February 7, 1925 at First Presbyterian Church in San Diego, California. They lived in Los Feliz, Los Angeles. Her marriage to Dempsey ended in divorce in 1931.

Her third husband was theatrical producer Paul Small. Of her last husband and their marriage, she said: "We have been friends and Paul has managed my stage career for five years, so it seemed logical that marriage should work out for us, but I'm afraid I'll have to say that the reason it has not worked out is incompatibility."

In her later years, Taylor devoted her free time to her pets and was known for her work as an animal rights activist. "Whenever the subject of compulsory rabies inoculation or vivisection came up," wrote the United Press, "Miss Taylor was always in the fore to lead the battle against the measure." She was the president and founder of the California Pet Owners' Protective League, an organization that focused on finding homes for pets to prevent them from going to local animal shelters. In 1953, Taylor was appointed to the Los Angeles City Animal Regulation Commission, which she served as vice president.

Taylor died of cancer at her home in Los Angeles on April 15, 1958, at the age of 63. The Los Angeles City Council adjourned that same day "out of respect to her memory." Ex-husband Jack Dempsey said, "I'm very sorry to hear of her death. I didn't know she was that ill. We hadn't seen each other for about 10 years. She was a wonderful person." Her funeral was held on April 17 in Pierce Bros. Hollywood Chapel. She was interred at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, then known as Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery.

She was survived by her mother, Ida "Bertha" Barrett Boylan; her sister, Helen Taylor Clark; and a niece, Frances Iblings. She left an estate of more than $10,000, most of it to her family and $200 for the care and maintenance of her three dogs, which she left to her friend Ella Mae Abrams.

Taylor was known for her dark features and for the sensuality she brought to the films in which she appeared. Journalist Erskine Johnson considered her "the screen's No. 1 oomph girl of the 20s." For her contribution to the motion picture industry, Estelle Taylor was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1620 Vine Street in Hollywood, California.

#estelle taylor #silent era #silent hollywood #silent movie stars #golden age of hollywood #classic movie stars #1920s hollywood #1930s hollywood #1940s hollywood

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lenniharrisonsims · 4 years ago

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The Wedding Of Fran & Olive

Part II- The Ceremony

In the back garden of Brierwell Chateau in Newcrest, members of royal and noble families gathered to watch the wedding of HRH Princess Francesca and Miss Olive Tinker.

The stage has been set, the guests have been seated, and the ceremony begins!

First to walk down the aisle were flower girls Princess Malie Mahoe of the Sulani Independent Islands, and Lady Josephine Arrington of Glimmerbrooke- both younger cousins to Princess Fran.

Next was the bridal party and the princess' siblings- TRHs Princess Lucrezia, Princess Emilia...

...Princess Adriana (who looks ready to welcome her first arrival any day now) and Crown Prince Dante.

Then came the mothers- HM Queen Misha Colona, Princess Fran's mother, and Mrs. Tina Tinker, one of Olive's mothers- both women looking stunning in shades of blue.

Then, the brides! Princess Fran was escorted up the aisle by her father, King Cesare, looking beautiful in a custom white suit by luxury brand Simchéll.

Miss Olive was escorted up the aisle by her other mother, Mrs. Yasemin Tinker. The young bride chose a stunning polka-dotted white chiffon tea-length dress with a bustier style bodice to celebrate the warm weather.

There was not a dry eye in the garden as the two young women exchanged their vows, having fought long and hard for this day, and celebrating every second of it!

Finally, Fran and Olive are married! After a battle in parliament to win same-sex marriage rights in Newcrest for all, and an almost 6 year long courtship- Newcrests' Rainbow Princesses are wed!

The Princess' father, King Cesare, has gifted the young couple the now vacant Duchy of Hazel Hills. The Duchy once belonged to the King's brother, Prince Stefano, until he abdicated his rights to the throne in Newcrest in order to marry into the Sulani Royal Family. Now it belongs once again to a younger child of the king, where traditionally the house and titles have resided.

The couple will now be formally styled as HRH Princess Francesca and HH Olive Colona, the Duchesses of Hazel Hills. The new Mrs. & Mrs. will be going on honeymoon in Sulani, before officially moving into Hazel House.

Congratulations Princess & Duchess Colona!

#ivanov legacy #ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 simblr #king cesare #queen misha #princess lucrezia #princess emilia #princess adriana #princess francesca #crown prince dante #tina tinker #yasemin tinker #olive tinker #olive colona #lady olive #duchess of hazel hills #princess malie #lady josephine

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brokasteltranslations · 5 years ago

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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 3

The next day, I paid a visit to a certain information broker. I brought Pran with me, and this time he was not refused entry.

–

On the surface, it appeared to be a cosy little luxury hotel catered towards tourists. In a corner of the austere Renaissance-styled lobby were two concierges. Cesare, the elder, and Lucrezia, the younger: the Servant duo known together as the Borgia siblings.

Calculating minds housed in youthful bodies. The kind of Servant I was worst at dealing with.

The two were all but identical in stature and visage, as though they were twins. A boy and girl, slim and graceful, the image of angelic purity. They answered to their Master, the ageing hotel manager, but it was common knowledge that almost all of the management of the hotel was left to them.

Cesare, the elder, who in life had been the right hand of his father the Pope, and with the rank of Archbishop had wielded authority both within and without the Holy See. Lucrezia, the younger, who armed with her heavenly beauty had married over and over into political advantage. The siblings' names were infamous even today, mostly in connection with the mysterious and untimely deaths met by many who opposed their ambitions.

–

“My, if it isn't Erice!”

“Good evening, Erice.”

The pair smiled at me, with their elbows resting on the marble reception desk.

“We thought it was about time for you to pay us a visit.”

“That child you have with you – so he's the Masterless Servant everyone's talking about?”

I turned a blind eye to their proddings. The boy must have taken a shine to the antique goggles in my apartment, because he'd worn them all the way here.

The siblings nonchalantly slid me a shot glass across the counter as they greeted us. The sharp scent of spirits wafted through the air.

“I can't. I'm underage.” I would have to choose my words carefully, and be cautious in my every move with these two. They offered some juice instead, and Pran reached out for it. I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and pulled him back behind me.

“Would you happen know anything about it?”

Lucrezia gently crossed her legs on the tall chair behind the desk, and shook her head. “Unfortunately not. Or at least, nothing more than what's available on the municipal network.”

“But that aside... perhaps you might be interested in this.” Cesare placed a storage device on the desk. It couldn't have been bigger than my little finger, and was equipped with a magical lock. Anyone designated as the key could access the information it contained directly, without the need for a smartphone or similar device, but it was otherwise very difficult to hack.

“What am I looking at?”

“A list of citizens who have attempted to conduct unsanctioned summonings, ranging from the day before yesterday to several days prior. With particular emphasis on those whose rituals failed or ended prematurely.”

“...I see.”

This would have to be the first step in any investigation, barring an extraordinary stroke of luck. It was precious information that would ordinarily take a great deal of time and effort to gather, and now it was being offered all too easily. Unsanctioned summons were illegal, of course, but the invasion of others' privacy also carried heavy penalties in Mosaic City – although if one balked at the notion of invading others' privacy, the profession of information broker perhaps wasn't for them.

“What a curiously generous offer.”

“We're simply glad to be of service to you, Erice.”

“I'm delighted to hear it.”

These siblings would often require payment in more than money. In the past, I'd had to let slip secrets I'd learned of the criminal underworld in exchange for their information. More than a few times, it had later come to light that a Servant I had disposed of had been someone they considered an inconvenience. I didn't like to admit it, but odds were good that I was playing an unwitting puppet on invisible strings.

So caution was vital.

I gently withdrew the hand I had extended towards the storage device. It was alluring bait, but more than likely poisoned.

“Actually, it's not because of him that I'm here today.”

“Well then, what are you here for?”

“Chitose came here, didn't she? Sometime last night, most likely.”

The siblings' expressions were inscrutable. They were waiting to see what move I would make.

“I've had my assignments from Caren suspended, so I'll be closing up business for a while. There isn't much I could do for you even if I wanted to.”

Cesare measured up myself and Pran, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Business, eh? You know, Erice, there are many people who suffer because of your work, and a scarce few who benefit from it. But above all...”

Lucrezia continued where her brother left off. “You yourself gain nothing from it, do you? What's wrong with taking this opportunity to enjoy a little vacation away from it all?”

“If it's retribution from people you've crossed that concerns you, we can show you a wonderful safe house. Although it might weigh a little heavy on the wallet.”

“A safe house, you say.”

Well, this clinched it. Chitose had come here, and coerced them. Threatened them. But it seemed like they had no intention of concealing that fact. So what did that mean?

There must have been something else they were hiding. I had no choice but to show my hand.

I heaved a theatrical sigh. “You know, I had a little chat with the relic salesman in the Akiba Department Store. He mentioned that when Kundry attempted to procure the materials for an unsanctioned summoning, a certain information broker intervened to vouch for her. An interesting story, don't you think?”

It wasn't a bluff. I had returned to the relic shop after parting ways with Karin on the previous day.

“I've also heard that there have been some new traps on the market recently. Ones that leech power from ley lines, that have proven very popular among less savoury times. If you know anything, I'd greatly appreciate if you could share it. It's very important I be properly prepared, just in case, you understand. Well? How about it, Signor? Signora?”

Their expressions stiffened for the slightest of moments. Even if I wasn't currently on a direct assignment from a municipal administration AI, I still had just cause to take immediate action if I personally witnessed an attempt to interfere with the city's infrastructure.

“Ahaha... Oh, Erice. You best us yet again.” Lucrezia gave a tinkling laugh as she leaned over her brother's back. Stretching over his shoulder, she took back the storage device on the desk, before setting down a new one. Surprise and a hint of protest marred Cesare's otherwise unreadable expression. It seemed that this time, the sister had read one move further ahead.

“They do say that there is no word “no” in a concierge's dictionary. Is that not so, Cesar?”

“So it is, Lucrezia. So it is.”

These Servants lived their lives atop the thinnest layer of ice. If I were to start asking the wrong questions, they would be finished as information brokers. If they wanted to avoid that fate, they had had no choice but to reveal their own hands.

With my work here done, I departed the lobby. I felt no desire to stay. This was a tranquil and beautiful place, but it was not one to remain in for long – its noxious atmosphere made it hard to breathe.

Three spouses and eight children...I wonder what that feels like.

There was no end to the mysteries surrounding these siblings, and I found my thoughts turning to the sister in particular. Historically Lucrezia had been nothing more than a pawn used to engineer political marriages, but I wondered how much influence she had really exerted over her brother, Cesare, and her father, Pope Alexander VI. I wondered if they had not in fact been her puppets, dancing on the strings of the spider at the heart of the web.

–

“'Til next time, Reaper.” “We look forward to your next visit.”

The siblings waved goodbye as they saw me off from behind the counter.

“Goodbye.”

Pran waved back in polite response.

----

We decided to take a break at a nearby coffee shop - the Bookshop Cafe Borges, where one could relax surrounded by a veritable forest of tomes from the old world. It was one of my favourite relaxation spots.

The first floor comprised a cafe area, a wide space for pleasant conversation. An open stairwell led up to the second floor, where innumerable bookshelves stood crammed together so tightly that it looked like the floor might give out. Sofas and chairs were placed between the labyrinthine shelves, on which one could fully immerse themselves in the pleasure of reading.

On a whim I asked the ageing, mild-mannered shopkeeper, and learned that they did indeed have a first-edition English print of “The Little Prince” in their collection. It may not have been a personal artefact of the man himself, but it could certainly have been a sufficient catalyst to summon Saint-Exupéry. However, when I showed the manuscript to Pran, he exhibited no special response. In the end, all I learned was that he was capable of reading and writing English. The quirky illustrations at least seemed to capture his interest, although as usual he reacted poorly to the snake.

I was far from giving up on the search for his true name, but I could not justify pursuing the Saint-Exupéry connection any further out of anything but my own wishful thinking.

Over a light lunch, I decided to check the storage device the Borgia siblings had given me. And the shock I felt on seeing the news recorded therein was enough to obliterate any trace of lingering attachment to Saint-Exupéry.

–

They called it the Command Seal Hunter.

A chain of murders had visited Mosaic City, connected by a common thread: all of the victims had died with their Command Seals stolen, forcibly severed from their body with the appendages that bore them. No reports had yet been issued from Akihabara, but people had been found dead in other wards – and the victims were not the kind of underground magi that I was used to tangling with. They were ordinary citizens.

In this new world, where illness and death had been conquered, the most common place to see the names of people who had died was in murder reports. Some things could not be avoided, even with the protection of the Holy Grail.

I thought that was what I was here for...

One of the most unusual aspects about this particular series of crimes was the amount of time that had elapsed before they were discovered. If the victims had been killed and their bodies concealed, finding them would have been comparatively easy; that was what the Caren series was for. However, that was not what had happened. Instead, for several days after being stripped of their Command Seals, the victims had continued to live their lives as normal.

One of them had the Command Seals on his right hand stolen, and he just wore a glove to conceal the wound. A glove! And what's more, there's no record of those Command Seals being used in the interim...

There were even records here of conversations they had had with neighbours, meaningless small talk. Each and every one of them had concealed the wound they'd suffered – some skilfully, others very poorly. The truth was often only discovered after they suddenly collapsed unconscious in the middle of whatever they were doing. Or perhaps some task in their daily lives had required the use of a Command Seal, and only then had others pointed out the abnormality where their Command Seals used to be.

Some sort of drug to dull their sense of pain? Perhaps incredibly powerful hypnosis? No, impossible. Some of them lost whole limbs, for crying out loud! How could someone not realise their own throat had been torn out? But then...they must...

I shuddered. The victims must already have been dead at the point when their Command Seals were taken. And then their lifeless bodies had continued to act out their everyday routine.

This was a case unlike anything I'd ever seen. My appetite slowly disappeared as I read further. Was a Servant responsible for these murders, or a magus? Both were possible. And with the rate that these cases were appearing, and the time that had elapsed before their discovery...

It was more than possible that other victims were walking the streets of Akihabara right now. This wasn't something I could ignore.

I gulped, and cast a glance around the cafe. My gaze lingered involuntarily on a woman with gloved hands. At a customer wearing unusually thick clothing.

–

Then I saw the Command Seal glowing on the back of their hand. They were merely communicating with their Servant.

–

The Command Seals of the pre- and post-war worlds were supposedly very different. In a true Holy Grail War, their use would be limited, and they would be visibly divided into a number of distinct strokes; usually three. Three strokes, with one use per stroke, for a total of three uses before they were gone. Or so I had heard, anyway. The past was often less convenient than the present, I supposed.

Command Seals in this new world were different on almost all counts. For a start, they were not divided into distinct parts. At first glance they may appear to be partitioned in three, but closer inspection would reveal they actually comprised a detailed, interlinking pattern that would fade on usage proportional to the amount of mana expended. Secondly, a faded Command Seal would recover with time, courtesy of the Grail replenishing its mana. The recovery time varied a little from person to person depending on their aptitude for magecraft, but broadly speaking it would take only a few days.

Thirdly, while (as the name implied) Command Seals were traditionally used to command one's Servant, temporarily strengthening their abilities, this had become less and less of a necessity as a result of the dramatic change in Master-Servant relationships. Nowadays, they were often utilised as a simple mana source, a means of granting the Master access to thaumaturgy. If anything, in today's world, that had become the more common usage.

Only two people in this city did not possess a set of these Command Seals: myself, and Manazuru Chitose.

Chitose, however, still retained the Command Seals she had obtained during her own Grail War. Perhaps that made little practical difference in everyday life, but it was still more than I had.

–

A group of three entered the cafe: two tall men, and a young girl barely half their height. The girl exchanged a few words with one of her companions, and grinned. She wore a familiar-looking white coat draped over her shoulders.

“Haruko? What's she doing here?”

She swept her gaze around the cafe, and gave a small start; clearly, she had seen me too. The child seated next to me probably hadn't helped make me any less conspicuous. I noticed that the hat she usually wore low over her face was absent today.

For their part, her companions were visibly muscular, and exuded a distinctive aura. It was obvious at first glance – to me, at least - that they were Servants. In the lead was a cheerful-looking man in the late throes of middle age, with copper skin and a lush beard. The other man trailing behind was almost his polar opposite: a young man with sickly pale skin and a melancholic demeanour, and silver hair drawn together into a rough ponytail that cascaded down his back.

“A friend of yours, Koharu?”

“Um, of a sort. We attend lectures at the same community college-”

“She's the Reaper, you know. Get too close, and she'll steal your soul.”

“Galahad! Shush!” Haruko was quick to meet the pale man's sardonic interjection with a quick rebuke; he acted nonplussed, but said no more. She seemed very different from the way she usually came across during class. However, more to the point...

They know I'm the Reaper... Wait, what? Galahad? He looks nothing like that knight I saw onscreen... Although... Yes, that's right. I suppose he wouldn't, would he?

“One of your classmates, eh? Well, why don't we pull up some chairs and get acquainted?” The middle-aged man spoke to Haruko – Koharu, had he called her? Is that her real name, then? - with odd familiarity. She nodded in assent, albeit a little hesitantly.

–

We moved over to a round table further inside the cafe. The middle-aged man sat next to Koharu opposite Pran and I, with his stout, hairy arms rested heavily on the table, grinning at the two of us. He was dressed in a short-sleeved safari shirt and a pair of shorts, and looked for all the world like a visiting tourist. The intellectual air lent by his round-framed glasses made for a curious contrast with the rest of his outfit.

Galahad sat at the side, leaning back disinterestedly on his chair. He wore a deep purple – indigo? - dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, and black skinny jeans. The shirt lay open at the collar to reveal a chest even paler than his arms.

Their arrival at the cafe had caused an evident stir. The rest of the customers had shrunk back from our table, and I could feel their glances burning into me.

This is... awkward...

This must be life when you were a celebrity, a Grail Tournament winner. Only a few minutes ago I had been overwhelmed by the terror and panic of the serial killings, but for the time being those feeling had been shut away firmly in a box and neatly shelved.

The man leaned forward with an amiable smile. “I must say, it came as quite a shock to learn Koharu was classmates with the famous Reaper.”

“Not as shocked as I am”, I replied. “It's hard to believe I'm sitting across the table from Hannibal of Carthage.”

I felt a little uncertain how to react to someone I had only just met referring to me as the Reaper, but my words – and my respect - were sincere. Even if I was talking to a participant in the Grail Tournament.

“Hannibal's the commander of the team I've been assigned to”, Koharu supplied, a little hesitantly.

“Your team? You mean the next Tournament is going to be a team battle?”

“Indeed it is.” Hannibal folded his arms with evident confidence. “And the newest member of our team won the Rookie Tournament handily. Our victory is all but assured.”

“H-Hannibal! I, um... I'm not... I'm not that good...” Koharu shrank back, red-faced. I could hardly blame her. If a general as famous as Hannibal had placed me so high in his estimation, I probably would have done the same.

Don't worry, I get it. Although it's a bit of a surprise to see that even you can look embarrassed once in a while.

“And I get to cart around the kid and her great-grandad. I'm telling you now, I don't do bedtime stories... or hospice care.” Galahad chipped in with another snide remark, and Koharu rounded on him again, teeth bared in a hissing snarl.

–

In tie, I learned that Hannibal's Master was currently negotiating conditions with members of other teams. Koharu had shown the trio to this cafe during a break in the discussions. Expanding a Servant's range of independent action in this way was among the most common uses of Command Seals.

The sheer volume of information flooding in from across the table was overwhelming, and it was difficult to know where to even begin to reply. Until yesterday, I had barely even known what the Grail Tournament was.

I cast a sidelong glance at the Knight of the Grail. He was preoccupying himself with his meal in haughty silence, although I noticed that he was only picking at his roast beef and yorkshire pudding, and was focused primarily on his glass of red wine. Again, the polar opposite of Hannibal's healthy appetite. It occurred to me that if Koharu had been attending the Pre-War Human History lectures, Galahad had also likely been present in spirit form. It was likely that he already knew me. We had probably passed by each other any times without my knowing it.

“Planning to stare all day, Reaper? If you want a bite, you only had to ask.” He made to push his plate towards me, and was only stopped by Koharu's grip on his arm.

I'm not sure I envy her this one.

–

Karin's words from yesterday came back to me: “How sincere other people are isn't something you get to decide.”

Many Servants had gotten accustomed to life in this new, peaceful world. However, others had spent their entire lives on the battlefield, and dedicated themselves wholly to the craft of war. It came down to the individual whether they had had their fill of fighting or still lusted for blood.

Hannibal, it seemed, was the latter kind - which meant that was the fate indicated to his Master by the Grail. The Grail Tournament was a precious opportunity for such Servants to let themselves loose to their hearts’ content in pursuit of exhilaration and glory. I supposed that was, in its own way, a kind of freedom.

But that's not why Koharu is here. She isn't like the rest of them. She's different somehow...

----

The Grail Tournament was yet to officially publicise any information regarding the background of one Koharu F. Riedenflaus, but my own investigations had borne some modest fruit.

House Riedenflaus was a family of Magi associated with the Clocktower, with its roots in the necromantic traditions. They were low in status compared with the elite of the Magus Association, and their history spanned only a few centuries. However, it seemed that their longtime occupation of the seat at the foot of the aristocratists' table had been enough to grant them entry to the city.

The promoter of the Grail Tournament was none other than this House Riedenflaus. In other words, they were actively and brazenly flouting the first precept of the Magus Association, the Concealment of the Mysteries. I was curious as to how their mentality had evolved to suit this new post-war world, but it was something else I uncovered in the course of my investigations that had really drawn my interest: that their family's magic revolved around the creation of artificial life forms, or homunculi.

Koharu's youthful appearance had initially led me to assume that she was a member of the next generation. However, now that I knew her surname, I was beginning to wonder if it indicated something else entirely.

–

Hannibal regaled us with anecdotes of his past exploits as we ate. I listened, half fascinated and half starstruck, as he spoke with good humour of the great defeat his army had faced on the field of battle. The tale also seemed to have caught Pran's interest, because he listened cheerfully. Eventually, he chimed in with an unexpected question.

“What's a 'war'?”

Not only myself, but Koharu, Hannibal and even Galahad stared at him with mouths agape.

“What's a 'war'?”, he repeated.

“Um, well... It's a war, right? Like a battle?” I knew that hardly constituted an answer, but I was at a loss as to how to respond. The idea of a Servant ignorant of the very concept of war had taken us all by surprise.

“Like killing?”

“That's right. Lots of killing. More than you can ever imagine.” Hannibal's voice was composed, but his gaze was chilly through his round-framed glasses. “And yet we humans never seem to tire of it. It's just a part of who we are.”

Not a single day in all of human history had passed devoid of war. A Heroic Spirit who doesn't know what war is? Impossible.

A part of me hoped for another sarcastic quip from Galahad – anything to change the subject - but none were forthcoming. He sat with mouth pursed firmly closed. The gazes drilling into Pran were beginning to make me feel distinctly uneasy, and I hurriedly asked Hannibal for another story of his time as a general. It was at times like this that I appreciated Karin's power to effortlessly lighten the mood.

–

A few minutes passed before I noticed that Koharu was gazing at her lap in listless silence. I thought to call out to her, but my mouth had only gotten half-open before her eyes suddenly snapped to me.

“Is something the matter?”

“Um, Miss Riedenflaus? I was wondering-”

She raised a hand to stop me. “Please just call me Koharu. I'm the youngest here, after all.”

“I see.” My next question almost tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it, but I managed to bite it back just in time.

What are you thinking? You can't ask her that! What are you even expecting her to say? “Why yes, I am a homunculus, thank you very much for asking”?

It would have been bigoted, self-centred and an invasion of privacy all in one. To probe people who had caught my interest for their weak points was an unfortunate habit of mine.

“I... I saw footage of you fighting. At the Rookie Tournament. Watching you fighting to the bitter end against an opponent like that... It was amazing. I'm not sure I could do that even if I had the strongest Servant in the world beside me.”

“Um... Thank you very much.” Koharu lowered her eyes, blushing fiercely. “I know I got very lucky, but managing to win... made me really happy...”

She gave a smile that was mostly bashful, although somewhere in there was a flicker of pride. Watching her struggle to contain her delight, I could wish her only the best. Half of what I had said had been borrowed from a certain JK, but I had rewatched the video since, and my admiration was the real thing.

“I'm sorry about yesterday. I was very rude to you.” She spoke sheepishly, eyes fixed firmly on the fingertips she was pressing together.

“Eh? Oh, that. Don't sweat it. I get that you were in a hurry.”

“Thank you. I was in such a rush, it just kind of came out...”

This girl was modest to a fault – and perhaps that was that sincerity, the warrior's pride she displayed in spite of her age, that invited me to lower my guard. Whatever the case, I got ahead of myself, and asked something I would not even have put to Karin.

–

“I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

I wanted to know more about that armoured knight I had seen onscreen. Perhaps, I wondered, there might be something I could learn from her about my own curse.

“Could you tell me a little more about that “Possession” they mentioned on the programme?”

“My Possession? I, um...” Koharu cast a hesitant glance at Galahad.

“Now wait just a moment, you two.” For a while Hannibal had been content just to watch us, but now he interrupted. I could see half-chewed food still in his mouth as he spoke. “If you wish to learn more of her abilities, you must see them for yourself. We are not scribes, with pen and parchment. We are warriors, with sword and spear and fist! Come to the Colosseum, Erice, and watch us do battle. It should not be long before our next bout.”

“You mean you're inviting her to spectate? Aren't the tickets all sold out? I suppose we could hope for cancellations, but there are always so many people waiting...”

The notion of acquiring tickets through anything other than official channels seemed to genuinely not have occurred to Koharu. Hannibal, laughing heartily, informed her that there were always other ways.

And so, I ended up exchanging contact details with Koharu F. Riedenflaus, the celebrity. She promised to inform me as soon as she had gotten hold of tickets, although she seemed a little bewildered by the way things had transpired. It was comforting to know I was not the only one who felt that they had lost control of this conversation.

At this point, there's no way I can tell them I don't really care all that much about the Tournament...

–

For a while I phased out. In the end, it was Galahad who brought me crashing back to reality.

“Spend too long entertaining the elderly and you'll be one of them before you know it, Reaper.”

“Um... Galahad?”

“If you've got something to ask, just ask it. Koharu'll jump at the chance to trade it for anything you've got on the Stigmata, I guarantee it.”

Utter silence. For a moment I struggled for a response... and then, with a clatter, Koharu grabbed her fork, lifted it, and drove it back down towards the table with all her might. Directly in its path lay Galahad's hand. My and Pran's eyes widened in shock. An attack from an ordinary human would appear as though in slow-motion to a Servant, and I felt sure that he would dodge it with ease, but as I watched it became clearer and clearer that he had no intention of moving a muscle.

Thud. The fork slammed down just between his fingers, with barely a couple of millimetres to spare.

“You should learn some manners, my lady. Just look what you've done to our round table.”

“...My apologies. I promise I'll pay for it.”

Koharu apologised for her poor behaviour, and hung her head in silence. Hannibal stood up, apparently unfazed by the discord between his compatriots.

“I'm sorry, but I will have to depart. My master is calling for me.”

The trio finished paid the proprietors for the damage to their table, and left the shop.

----

Left alone with Pran once more, I found myself wondering what sort of person Hannibal's Master might be. The two were bound together by the fate indicated by the Grail. Would they be Hannibal's equal, carefree and bold? Or would they be his opposite, a stern, cold tactician?

Masters... and Servants...

Sometimes, like Koharu and Galahad, their relationship was impossible to understand from the outside.

I tried to return to my previous train of thought about the Command Seal Hunter, but something from the previous conversation continued to niggle at me.

You're being silly, Erice. Stop overthinking things.

There was no logical reason that they, likely the strongest warriors in Mosaic City, had put me so ill at ease. But...

“If you've got something to ask, just ask it.” On the face of it, Galahad had simply been referring to my questions about Koharu. However, I felt something deeper there, something urging me on.

Maybe Chitose and Ms. Fujimura don't want me involved in this, but I can't just sit here and do nothing.

On a sudden impulse, I left Pran in the care of the shopkeeper and dashed out of the cafe.

–-

Luck was on my side, and I managed to catch up with the trio on the road to the Colosseum. I flagged them down and came to a stop in front of them, my breathing ragged.

“If you know I'm the Reaper... then let me at least give you a warning.”

While keeping my voice low, conscious of being overheard by passers-by, I told them everything I had just learned about the Command Seal Hunter. About the mysterious, indiscriminate murders that were even now being suppressed from the municipal information network, and the Servants who had become collateral damage.

“If you want to know more, it's all on this data drive.”

“Are you sure?”

I released the lock on the storage drive and replaced it with Koharu's personal signature. She extended out a grateful hand to take it.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

I didn't know if I had managed to fully convince them of the gravity of the situation, but they had at least taken me seriously enough to listen without bursting out in laughter.

“Even if no victims have yet been discovered in this ward, we cannot risk any harm coming to spectators. It may be tricky, but I will see about raising the matter with the security staff.”

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

“In any case, we cannot allow anything to interfere with Rome's downfall!” The general set his fingers to his chin and flashed a brilliant smile.

“That sounds awfully confident for you of all Servants...”

“Wha...? Don't tell me you're a Rome supporter, Erice?!”

“Eh? But our next opponents aren't even Roman.” Koharu cocked her head, puzzled.

“Just ignore him.” Galahad's tone was as sardonic as ever. “Start giving old men the time of day and they'll never shut up.”

“Please do come to the tournament, Erice.” With those parting words, Koharu turned around and headed back towards the arena with her companions. She did not look back.

#Fate/Requiem #Fate #translation #light novel

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queerchoicesblog · 4 years ago

Text

After The Storm

Folks, here’s the second suggestion (thanks a mill @scottishqueer) for the wlw writing project. Inspo is fleaky lately but I want everyone who sent ideas to know that I’m working on them: I’m just a bit slow to write! But I hope you will enjoy this.

A little note about this series set in the Italian Renaissance. I chose a location very dear to me and - hopefully - a bit unusual: Ferrara, the city where my grandparents lived and my mom was born. I love that place and I’ll probably go back there in August: I still remember my grandpa taking me to the Castle (I have a picture showing little me proudly sitting on a pile of cannonballs in the internal stone garden on a sunny day), the Cathedral and the palaces around town. I incorporated them all in the story.

Ferrara was also one of the capitals of the Italian Renaissance, a Duchy ruled by the House of Este, a princely family, linked with several contemporary royal dynasties, including the British royal family. They were notorious patrons of the arts and innovators (through architeractural projects like the one called “Addizione” they were precursors of modern city planning); Duke Alfonso, who makes a cameo in the story and was the third husband of the infamous Lucrezia Borgia, was a patron of Ariosto, a famous poet to whom - ironically - my high school was dedicated. So yeah, I added a personal to this miniseries.

If you do happen to like this miniseries, please consider spreading the word!

Previous series: Ancient Greece

__________________________

The rain has finally subsided. When I wake up at the very first lights of dawn, only a faint rattling against the windows can be heard, a testament to the storm an unkind wind blew from where the sea lays and roars. I cherish the feeling, the newfound sweet peace after the howling winds of the night. My beautiful little boy is resting by my side. My poor Tommaso: my little angel has been unwell for days, I have never seen him shed all those tears since the day he was born. He cried and cried until his screams of fear and pain were barely audible and none of us knew what to do. Even Riccardo, my ever-absent, ever-busy husband, worried and urged the presence of a physician with great haste, concern written all over his face. I've never seen him like that before. Tommaso is our only son, too beautiful and young to surrender to a hideous disease and leave this world. If I allow myself to dwell into these thoughts, oh that would be enough to kill me! Seeing my boy suffering was almost unbereable: his desperate cries pierced right through my heart as I held him close, impotent yet hopeful that my presence could provide him a little comfort. Mum is here, my love, fighting and suffering with you.

It's an indescribable joy and relief to wake up this morning and see him sleeping peacefully after the agony and the storm. Tommaso is afraid of thunders and dark skies, I hated the rainstorm for being so unmerciful and throwing new fears to my troubled little prince. I wish I could have blown it away like Aeolus but I do not detain such power over the natural elements.

I gently stroke his head, a feather touch: God forbid I wake him! I almost cry but I manage to refrain myself: my sobbing could disturb his heavenly slumber and I don't want him to see me crying. I'll greet him with a smile when his eyes open up again and nuzzle his belly before covering him with kisses from head to toe. Tommaso loves it and I'm sure Riccardo won't object for once, not after what we've been through. I really thought I would lose my angel.

Thankfully, Lady Death spared him or so it seems. When he wakes he looks back to his usual self, no sign of the cruel pain torturing him. He gets all happy and excited underneath my kisses and eats with a good appetite. He simply looks a bit more abashed and tired than usual but it's understandable. I'll follow the physician's advice and ask my maid to get eggs and cook one of those soups and creams I had too when I was recovering from giving birth. That will hopefully help.

Seeing him happy again makes me forget about the events and mundane meetings I have missed over the past few days since he got ill. I love attending them but it all became suddenly so meaningless when my son lost his light and health. I must remember to save a prayer and make an offering for his miraculous recovery. And I can get the report of the latest happenings at court from my dear friends. They sent notes inquiring about Tommaso and I am glad to let them know the fortunate turn of events.

They visit me the day after. I have many friends here but Maria and Virginia are special companions to me. Maria is the oldest of the group, she has two sons already in marital age, but she has been good to me since I first walked into the castle. She comes from one of the wealthiest noble families in town: she's an institution at court and it meant so much to me that she took me under her wing when I was the new girl here, the young bride of "the most skilled diplomat that has ever served the House of Este". She has her ideas and a temper, of course, we don't agree on everything but she's been a sort of mentor to me and I will always be grateful to her for that: all I know about properly living at court, well I owe it to her. Virginia is about my age, another "pupil" of Maria. I like her: she's a bit shier and meeker than our friend and she has a little boy too so I'm sure she fully understood my anguish.

Apparently, I didn't miss anything important as I guarded Tommaso with my life. Same old rivalries between dames, the yet unconfirmed gossips about the Duke marriage plans, how displeased the jealous favourite looked even if she denied her irritation. Good old court life. I comment that there is still so much going on in our fair Ferrara: the Addizione is proceeding and rumour has it, the palace the previous Duke commissioned for court entertainments, Palazzo Schifanoia, is being renewed and expanded. It goes without saying that it is bound to be a work of unprecedented beauty. I don't remember who was saying so but I know the Duke and his passion for the arts so I find it hard to doubt.

Virginia claps her hand and notes that actually yes, I missed something. Speaking of arts and artistic projects, do I remember when rumours of an external artist joining the enterprise spread? Well, it happened! Now, that I think about it, I remember...Riccardo mentioned it one night as we came back from a music gathering. Apparently, our most brilliant architect, Biagio Rossetti, the genius in charge of bringing the Duke's vision to life and into art, requested another artist to join his brigade. If I got it right, it should be a talented colleague from Florence, Sir Davide whatever...I forgot his surname. He served the House of Medici and excelled so brightly that our fair Biagio summoned him as his right hand. Allegedly, our architect - or , God forbid!, the Duke himself - is unsatisfied with how the projects are proceeding and firmly believes that a fresh set of eyes and hands will benefit the future glory of our Duchy.

"The new architect arrived - when was it? Oh yes, the day after you informed us that poor Tommaso was ill, you definitely missed" Virginia explains.

He looks nice: a handsome man, who knows how to behave himself at court, a true gentleman. I tease my friend asking if she has already put her eyes on him. Virginia blushes a little before protesting: of course not, she would never do anything like that, not to her Carlo, she's a married woman and loyal. Maria interrupts her.

"Oh stop it: as if that would be an impediment!"

"Well, ideally it is!"

"Yes, but only ideally, as you said" Maria laughs. "My young girl, you should know that everyone at court has affairs sooner or later. We'll get you a lover too one day"

"Maria, you're incorrigible!" Virginia giggles, pretending a shyness that is no longer there, replaced by a hint of mischief.

Maria just shrugs, picking up a cherry from the bowl my maid laid on the table.

"Just experienced. So believe me when I tell you we all need the thrill of a secret affair in our lives...otherwise what is left to us? We would die of boredom!"

"I cannot vouch for Maria's theory but you said it yourself, the Florentine architect is here now and he's a handsome man..." I add, winking, to join the conversation.

"You'll vouch for my theory too, dove. Give me time and I'll get yourself a lover too" Maria exclaims.

"...Before a fair lady of the court catches his eyes and bewitches his heart" I continue, addressing Virginia as I prevent Tommaso from climbing up the table on his hunt for cherries.

My friends exchange an amused look.

"Oh but he's married, Emilia!" Virginia explains. "He didn't travel alone, his wife followed him here too. We met them both"

Ah, that's unexpected! I have already pictured a handsome bachelor joining our court but that's good to hear. As much as I enjoy the company of my friends and the other dames, I have noticed though the years that new companions are a blessing. A little novelty, even if momentary at times, could have the same effect of fresh air on a hot summer day. Otherwise, we would die of boredom, as Maria said, referring to lovers. I wouldn't go that far but a new lady in town could be good news.

"Oh, nice! A potential new friend. We should invite her to join our next sewing meeting and get to know her. As well as the hottest gossips from Florence, that is! What do you think?" I smile.

Surprisingly, the expression on my friends' faces is unreadable. Did I say something wrong? Was I too straightforward? Oh gosh, I hope they didn't take my enthusiasm as personal displeasure of our sewing meetings or their company! I better get this right.

"So, how's the new lady?" I inquiry nonchalantly as I prove myself in the funniest faces I can master to make my child laugh.

I succeed: Tommaso claps his tiny hands and laughs until he's out of breath.

"Oh, don't even get me started with her!" Maria dismisses my question but I know her long enough to know she can't wait to tell me what she thinks and maybe more.

"Nothing much, she keeps to herself. Not quite the talker" Virginia shrugs.

"Ah, she's way more tolerable when she keeps her mouth shut anyway!" Maria intervenes again and I'm sure she's not done with just that.

"My my, it seems you took quite a dislike for her" I giggle, exchanging an amused look with Virginia.

"I couldn't help myself, my dear" Maria continues, fanning herself as if to cool down her mounting anger. "Another boorish yet arrogant Florentine"

"The Florentine are always so full of themselves" I concede, cradling my son in my arms.

"Then she must be the Queen of them all" Maria barks a throaty laughter. "She looks so...so high and almighty: 'oh no, I'm afraid we don't play this game in Florence', 'I don't know what it means, we don't have this word in Florence', 'Florence here and that'. Believe me, sweetheart, we were trying to be kind to her but she's impossible! She acts like royalty but she's the wife of an...architect"

She pronounces the last words with evident displease. I can't refrain laughter: she's always been such a snob! I comment that she certainly sounds like...something.

"Oh but you'll have the disgrace to meet her soon enough!" Maria exclaims. "You know that our Duke is so fond of artists, he will certainly invite them again at the next dinners and balls"

"Speaking of the ball" Virginia intervenes to prevent her from keeping ranting. "What will you wear at the Masquerade Ball next month? I ordered a most extravagant costume yesterday, I can't wait to show you-"

We spend the rest of the afternoon discussing the upcoming events at court and the latest trends, gossiping about what we suspect the other dames will wear.

Ah, I missed my friends and our conversations...

#wlw writing #wlw writing project #original work #wlw miniseries #lgbtqa+#italian renaissance

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