#vere physician

[hollaringmountains]

Finished captive prince and it feels like my whole brain chemistry has been changed!!!!! Honestly after reading it still feels surreal that I read that... the plot was alright but the characters involvement and topics woven into it were amazing!

Laurent and damen playing the game of does he know or not was hilarious but at a times sad. Like what do you mean layrent is literally telling you he was there in marlas yet damen thinks oh im safe. Oh my sweet summer child. I called it when this was mentioned. Lol

Nikandros and the physician (forgot his name) were so done with everyone and the schemes.

Regent should just burn and be atomized so the universe can breathe better.

Some of the deaths were so painful or shocking that they just didn't register at all... like what do you mean the spunky sassy kid nicaise is dead.. nope he's still alive and annoying everyone

[tschulijulesjulie]

Someone should have figured it out before Paschals testimony. The regents plots have patterns, its always close to the truth, always twisted and blaming someone else.

Damen was framed for patricide, when in truth it was Kastor.

but wait its a plot reused. it has worked once before. killing the king, and sending the son to be killed by their enemy.

Theomedes was poisened just like Aleron was killed by his own guard.

Auguste was sent to fight a deadly duel and it killed him (there probably was a plan b if he had survived). Just like that Damen was sent as a slave to Laurent, who they thought would kill him, too.

The regent really is not as clever as he thinks he is.

[momolady]

Sleeping Beauty: Author's April #4

(This was intended to be the sequel to my Huntress in the Castle story. It would have been about them rescuing Nadine and solving the curse on the castle once and for all.)

One:

My brothers had thought life in the royal palace would be boring. They were used to doing what they wished, going wherever they pleased. In the palace they had certain restrictions, but outside they were given free run. Even among the knights, which is where they spent most of their time. They trained with the knights, challenging them to playful bouts.

Beyond the palace walls they mingled among the common people easily, after all that was who we were. They went to the sea, fishing and running about the docks. They traded amongst the shops and cobblers. And even within the palace their individual interests were met.

D’Arcy had become the royal physicians assistant, and was often found with the Queen’s apothecary. Craig took to the horse houses and the animals of the palace. The queen kept quite the menagerie in the garden. Finn was often either at sea or with the knights. Or causing trouble. But that was normal Finn. Peadar was the same as well, often keeping to himself, watching the others with a kindly eye. He would place himself in the gardens or in the kitchen where he could watch the comings and goings with ease. And the kitchen did feel more like home.

The only one who couldn’t seem to find his place was Niall. I tried to keep him company as much as I could, but he knew my place now was beside Vered, at the forefront of the royal family. And sure, he found pastimes to occupy him, but unlike the others, his nook in the new life hadn’t been chipped out yet.

“I’m sure once the castle in the forest is done, it’ll be easier.” Vered explained to him one evening. I was glad the two had gotten to know one another. And they were both similar in the regards that they both weren’t fitting in well.

“I do miss the village.” Niall sighed.

Vered smiled. “Why don’t we plan a hunting trip. Just us men.”

Niall laughed. “And leave Fianna alone? She would probably wreck something.”

Vered nodded. “That might be true. But she knows more than anyone that you need it.”

Niall sighed, shaking his head. “This is all I ever wanted for my family. Never wanting for anything. Never having to risk our necks for our next meal. But, I still feel so uncomfortable. Like I’m missing something.”

Vered nodded. “You haven’t found your fate yet.”

“What? Like my Gran’s stories?” Niall scoffed.

Vered laughed at him. “They worked out for your sister. Fantastically so.” He leaned against the railing of the veranda. “Didn’t Granny tell you boys any stories?”

“Some.” Niall answered with a shrug. “But we were boys, we didn’t listen. Fianna was the only one who paid her any mind, let alone believe her.”

Vered smirked. “Well, I bet you’ll listen now.”

“My Gran told me I’d slay a dragon.” Niall scoffed. “There are not such things. No such creatures.”

Vered slapped his palms to his chest. “And I was a horrible beast.”

Niall hesitated, doubting himself for just a moment.

Vered laughed then. “So what is to say you aren’t going to slay a dragon? You saw with your own eyes what is inside me. You saw your sister die and yet she lives.” His eyes narrowed on Niall. “I dare you to listen to Granny now. We’ll see what fate has for you, dragons and all.”

Niall felt shaken to his core. If she had been right about me all these years, imagine what else she was correct about. If Niall had remembered correctly and he was to slay a dragon…well good lord! That meant he was to slay a dragon.

It took Niall some time to actually go see Granny. He went to several others before actually going to see her. It wasn’t like Niall to get the straight answer right away. First, he came to see me and Peadar, since we were both in the library together.

“When Granny told you stories about Vered-”

I shook my head. “She never told me about Vered. She never told me about anything, except that there was an evil in the forest meant for me.”

Niall cocked a brow at me.

“It isn’t her place to reveal the future.” I said. “I wasn’t supposed to know what was going to happen to me.”

“You worried about what you didn’t listen to?” Peadar asked.

Niall scoffed. “And you actually listened to her stories?”

“I listened because she’s Granny. Believe it?” Peadar shrugged. “Up until I saw Vered I didn’t believe what she told me. Now, I’m starting to.”

Niall flaps his arms out, exasperated. “Oy, yeah? And what did she tell you?” He asked huffishly.

Peadar and I exchanged looks, he had been telling me some of the tales Granny had told him since we had gotten to the royal palace. We both smiled, laughing to ourselves.

“Granny told me to pay very close attention to women’s shoes.”

Niall’s mouth hung open. “And you are just going to believe her?”

I laughed, covering my mouth to keep from laughing to loud.

Peadar put his hand on the top of my head. “She told Fianna there was an evil meant for her. If all I have to do is study women’s fashion then so be it.” He chuckled.

“Do you even remember what Granny told you?” I asked.

Niall looked away, arms crossed tightly against his chest, bottom lip protruding farther out than usual.

“Oh come on!” Peadar scoffed.

Niall sighed, letting his arms slip back to his sides. “She told me…she told me I’d slay a dragon.”

Peader nudged me. “Well…excuse me and my shoes then.”

I furrowed my brow. “You should be talking to Granny, Niall.”

Niall sighed, rubbing his chin and looking out the window. “Yeah.” He sighed, turning on his heel and leaving us.

Peadar looked at me. “He’s avoiding it.” He explained. “I don’t think he wants to admit that he was wrong.”

I pursed my lips. “He won’t be able to avoid it for long.”

Niall found the twins and D’Arcy in the kitchen, eating fruit the serving girls sliced for them with giddy joy.

“I don’t remember what Gran told me.” Finn shrugged, biting into an apple.

D’Arcy rubbed his chin in thought. “I remember her saying something like…I will be surrounded by beautiful women.”

Finn and Craig busted out laughing.

“You can’t be serious?” Niall scoffed. “She told Peadar to keep an eye on women’s shoes!”

Craig cleared his throat. “Well, Gran always tells me to stay away from wolves. But I just thought that was common knowledge.”

Finn coughed and slapped his hands together. “I remember now! I remember!” He coughed again, almost choking on apple in his excitement. “Gran told me to listen to cats!”

Niall threw up his arms in frustration. “Shoes? Women? Wolves and cats? Is this woman really being serious?”

The three exchanged looks. “She was right about Fianna.” D’Arcy said. “Sure, her tales sound exaggerated, but I believe she’s right.”

“What’d Gran tell you?” Finn asked.

Niall sighed. “That I would have to slay a dragon.”

“Ooh!” Finn giggled. “Wanna trade for my cat?”

“Just go talk to Gran.” Craig sighed. “Get the straight answer from the source. Don’t keep trying to avoid it. Might turn out the dragon is a metaphor for something.”

“And my women are a metaphor for what then?” D’Arcy laughed.

“Madness?” Finn chuckled, winking at a serving girl as she walked by.

“Just go talk to Gran,” D’Arcy scoffed. “What? You afraid that she’s right? Don’t wanna hear what’s good for ya?”

Niall picked up an orange wedge. “How is hearing that I may get eaten by a dragon good for me?” He laughed, placing the orange wedge between his lips.

“It’s belly could be full of gold.” Finn retorted. “I’m sure if the thing is big enough, and it swallows ya whole-”

“Oh really, Finn.” Craig scoffed.

Niall sighed, rolling his eyes. “Guess there is no avoiding it.” He shrugged then and pursed his lips. “Gotta go talk to Gran.”

Granny was all but eager to finally talk to Niall. Most of the boys had come to her, just to double check if the stories she had been feeding them were true.

“I’m glad you finally came to me, Niall.” She said, tucking into the chair before him. “I was beginning to get afraid you would leave without being prepared.”

“Leave?” Niall asked.

Granny nodded. “Oh yes, Fianna and Vered are going to ask you to accompany them to view on the progress of the palace soon.”

Niall shook his head. “I haven’t heard of this.”

Granny’s hand whipped out, slapping his hand. “Of course not! They don’t even know yet. But a letter will arrive soon, and then you’ll go.”

“Go to what?” Niall gasped. “You always told Fianna she had an evil meant for her.” He brought his palms to his chest. “What is meant for me? You told me when I was young I would slay a dragon!”

Granny nodded knowingly, stroking her long braid. “Ah yes. I was excited with you. You being the eldest and having such an amazing journey ahead of you. I let too much slip there.”

Niall laughed. “You’re serious!” He exclaimed. “An actual dragon?”

Granny shook her head, clicking her tongue. “I shouldn’t say anything else on the matter.” She sighed. “But, since you know that bit already,” she reached out, gently holding Niall’s hand. “You are so important to this family Niall. You have always had to be the strongest. But sometimes, showing what makes you vulnerable is nothing to frown at. It is often in our darkest times, when we have nothing at all, that we show our true strength.”

Niall thought about me then. Remembering the night I had fought Vered. It hadn’t been my strength, or my blade that had defeated the monster. No. Niall could remember standing there seeing my bow before the beast, he thought he would never see me again, his last vision of me being that of my bloody death. Instead, he saw something remarkable, he saw me save us all.

Granny leaned closer to Niall, holding his face between her palms. “No matter how you fight it, you will need someone to take care of you sometimes.”

Niall nodded slowly. “But…what does that have to do with-” He stopped himself and laughed. “Thank you Granny.”

She smiled. “Good boy.

Niall leaned back in his chair, looking over into the fireplace. He and Granny sat in a peaceful quiet for a moment. Granny drank her tea and finished darning one of Finn’s socks. It was when she pulled out my veil that Niall began to feel eager about his fate.

“How come Peadar only has to worry about shoes?” Niall asked, a broad smile on his face.

Granny smiled up at him. “Oh believe me, you’re going to think dragons look pretty good when you see what your brothers have to deal with.” She laughed.

Niall reached out, holding onto the end of the sheer silk of my veil. Granny was working hard, making her fingers ache, to get the beading just right. The Queen had given her special beads made of this crystal with a mother of pearl like shimmer to them.

“When I was a young girl, I never would of dreamed of this.” Granny sighed. “I had never even seen a castle in my lifetime. And here I am, living in one.”

“You never foresaw this?” Niall asked.

Granny shook her head. “I don’t like poking around into my own future.” She plucked a bead from the tin. “Oh no. Too many problems come with that.” She clicked her tongue. “I did use it to make some money, back when I was young and when your grandfather passed.”

Niall knew Granny had always wanted to go back to being a fortune teller when his mother and father both died. But Niall wanted Granny to be comfortable, he wanted to earn the family’s bread. Granny had paid her way many a time, she deserved a respite.

“I haven’t gone very far in my life,” Granny continued. “But I have seen things that would make your eyes pop clear out of your head!” She said with a proud bob of her head.

“If looking into the future is so bad, Gran, how come you did it for us?” Niall asked, leaning towards her.

Granny smiled gently, knowingly. “Because you want to protect those you love. I wanted to make sure you brats turned out happy, safe. I’d do anything for you.”

Niall reached out, holding Granny’s hand for a moment, then released her to continue her beading work.

That night, Niall woke up from a sound sleep. The world was pitch black, save for the sliver of light coming through his curtains. For the split second his eyes were open, he saw something move, something faint. He closed his eyes again and then opened them wide in a flash, realizing what he had seen was a person.

He sat up with a jolt in bed, there was something pulling open the crutains. A pale, white hand stretching into the moonlight and smoothing their hand across the cold glass. Niall was stunned, he was frozen in place. What was this specter he was seeing.

The figure turned, face illuminated my the moonlight. She watched Niall with a curiosity, a small sigh escaped her and she sat on the windowsill, looking out over the castle.

“Excuse me.” Niall said.

The girl jumped, turning and looking at him with wide eyed fright. “Puh-pardon?” She gasped, her long auburn hair cascading off her shoulder.

“What are you doing in my room?” Niall scoffed.

The girl looked from side to side, wide blue windows of disbelief. She looked back at Niall, brow pursed. “You can see me?”

“As plan as day!” Niall snapped as he rose from bed.

“That…that can’t be.” She scoffed, standing herself. “Wait, aren’t you Fianna’s brother?”

“Do not change the subject.” Niall scoffed. “Who are you and what are doing in-” The woman’s hand went through Niall like a cold breeze. There was no substance to her, just shadow.

The woman watched, Niall slack jawed and stumbling back to his bed.

“You held me once.” The woman said. “You were the first man to ever hold me besides my father or brother.”

All Niall could do was stare up at her. A ghost!

“I’m Nadine.” The woman answered, folding her hands against her skirt.

“But…but they said you died.” Niall whispered.

Nadine shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure it out. I don’t even know why I’m still here. You’re the first one who has even been aware of me.” She sat down on the windowsill again pulling her knees up to her chest.

Niall shook his head. “How long have you been here?”

Nadine shook her head. “I could not say. A day. A year. Forever? I have completely lost my sense of time or reasoning. One moment, I was dying. The next I am…wandering.” She turned her head, looking out.

Niall stood up, walking to the window and looking over Nadine. Her long, dark auburn hair, splayed out in a million soft waves down her back. Her skin, white and fragile as porcelain. But she had the strong, regal features that Vered did. There was no use arguing that they were related. They even had the same haunting, blue eyes.

Nadine looked up at him. “Or perhaps you are dreaming.” She retorted. “Perhaps this is all just a trick of your mind. Maybe your mind recreated me to help ease your ill-ease in the palace.”

Niall shook his head, breathless. “That must be it.”

Nadine laughed. “Oh wouldn’t that be a wonderful solution for us all.” She looked away from the window, folding her fingers under her sharp chin. “I haven’t talked to anyone besides my brother in so long.” She chuckled softly. “I barely talked to Fianna I admit. I was terrified of her.”

Niall chuckled at this. All his life, all he could remember doing was talking to me. From the moment I was born I was his.

“She talked about you a lot.” Nadine replied. “I didn’t realize one could love their family so much.”

“But you stayed with Vered all that time.”

Nadine shook her head slowly, almost not moving. “I had to. What I would of given to run away, to leave him behind and…and all alone.” Tears began to dribble down Nadine’s cheeks. “And then…then he changed, and that scared me more.”

Niall sat back in the window, opposite Nadine. “Siblings tend to do that. Like…I can remember when Finn was little. He was scared of his own shadow.” He laughed. “I see him now and wonder where that frightened little creature went.”

Nadine nodded softly. “And what about Fianna?”

Niall sighed, thinking about me as a little girl again. “She used to cling to me. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, and when I did she just hollered.”

Nadine cracked a smile through her tears.

“And then one day…” Niall became distant for a moment. “One day I realized she didn’t need me. And that was when I began clinging to her.”

“And now?” Nadine’s voice a barely audible whisper.

Niall stared beyond sight, he looked inside, all around himself. “And now…it’s my turn to face my fate like she did. I can’t cling to my family anymore.”

Nadine was wiping at her face then and Niall held his hand out to her, presenting her with a handkerchief. “Don’t cry, please.”

Nadine took it gingerly from his fingers. “It has been a while since a man has offered his hand to me.” She murmured, looking at the handkerchief as if it were made of gold and jewels. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Niall.”

He bolted upright in bed, nearly half scaring me to death.

He looked at me in disbelief. The world around him was bright with morning light now, not midnight blue. “Fianna?”

I nod. “I came to get you, you slept clear through breakfast.”

“I did?” He gasped breathlessly.

“Yes.” I furrowed my brow at him, studying him closely. “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head. “I had the strangest of dreams.” His eyes wander back to the window where Nadine had been sitting. He could see her perfectly. How could that have been a dream?

“What was the dream?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” He lied. “There was a girl, and she was alone…I think she wanted a friend.”

I tilted my head onto my shoulder, watching Niall’s somewhat lost expression. I brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Are you sure you slept?” I slipped the pad of my finger across the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.” My hand falls back to my side. “Why don’t I bring you a small bite to eat and then you just try to get some rest?”

He shakes his head at me and begins to stand. “I promised to take the twins out to the sea today. They wanted to go fishing again.”

“They go fishing at least four times a week these days!” I easily shove Niall back into bed. Almost too easily. It scared me for a moment.

Niall chuckled. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

“I don’t like that, Niall. Stay in bed.” I commanded. “I’ll get D’Arcy or Vered to take the twins fishing. I’ll go myself if I have to. But I really do think you should stay in bed.”

Niall stood again. “I just need to get something to eat is all. Go on. I’ll be down in a few minuets.”

I didn’t like it, but I silently conceded and left his room. I went and found Vered, hoping his company could somehow ease my mind. I found him in the library, having taken his lunch and scurried off there were he felt more comfortable. He sat before the fire, a roll in one hand and a book in the other.

I slipped my arm around his waist and curled into him. He was reading another book filled with the language I couldn’t read.

“Something is wrong.” He said to me, setting down the book.

I shrug. “I’m sure it isn’t anything. It’s Niall.”

Vered lifts my hand and kisses the cup of my palm. He stalls for a moment and I hear him sniff.

“What?” I scoff at him.

He looks down at me confused and bewildered. “You smell like my sister.”

“Nadine?”

Vered smells my palm again. “It’s faint, but I can tell it is there. I could not mistake that scent.”

I turn and hold my palm to my nose. Of course, only Vered and his beastly senses could detect something so faint. “That can’t be possible. She vanished in the garden.”

Vered’s eyes were distant, hazy. “Yes but…where could that scent have come from?”

“I only touched Niall.” I say. “He held Nadine in the castle when we came to look for you. But that was ages ago.”

Vered shook his head. “I have not smelled it on him since either. It’s baffling me.”

Two:

She was there again, as if waiting on him to return from wherever he had gone. They didn’t speak at first, just acknowledged each other’s presence. The library was such a great, grand place, with so much to occupy yourself with. And Nadine seemed absorbed in a massive, old tome. She had it sat on the floor before her, the pages and her skin aglow in the light of the fireplace.

Niall sat up on the sofa, feeling pretty assured he had fallen asleep there while talking to me and Vered.

“Do you like poetry?” Nadine asked suddenly. She looked up at him and curled her legs under herself.

Niall shook his head slowly, still comprehending these strange encounters. “My mother used to read it to me when I was a child.” He looked down, seeing the ornate pages of the book spread open before Nadine. “But I’m afraid I haven’t encountered anymore since.”

“Your mother.” Nadine murmured softly. “Fianna didn’t speak much of her.”

I shook my head. “She died when Fianna was just a baby.” I put my forearms against my knees, leaning over. “All Fianna has known is Granny and us.”

“And how did that happen?” Nadine asked.

Niall chuckled. “And how did you happen?”

Nadine smiled softly, unsurely. “An accident.”

My brother nodded, fiddling his thumbs. “My father was an accident.” He said with a gentle nod. “He got gored by a wild boar.”

Nadine averted her eyes. “Oh…”

“I think that’s why D’Arcy took such an interest in medicine…because the doctor of our village couldn’t really do anything.” Niall’s dark eyes took the chance to scan over Nadine, her pale skin, fragile looking hands. The sharp outline of her face was what stuck out most to him. Her thin, pointed nose. Her small but shapely mouth. She reminded him of brambles and thorns. Thin and delicate, but he knew if he moved at her without caution, he would bleed.

“Fianna hadn’t even been born yet.” Niall then chuckled. “Actually, Fianna hadn’t even begun to show in mother yet. We only had Granny’s word to go on we had a sister coming.”

Nadine looked back up at Niall. “How old were you then?”

“Old enough, but still not old enough to take care of a family of six, soon to be seven.” Niall answered lowly. “We had to rely on Granny back then.”

“Her fortunes.” Nadine beamed.

Niall nodded. “Yes, her fortune telling.” He studied Nadine’s smile, so faint and sweet, and even baring the same color as the berries that grew just at the edge of the forest he loved so much. “Did Fianna talk that much about us?”

“Vered liked it when she did.” Nadine answered with a slight nod. “He liked the smile it brought to her face.”

Niall nodded slightly, leaning towards her. “You said Fianna scared you.”

Nadine sighed, a shy smile appearing on her face. “I just knew she was meant for Vered,” she murmured. “What else could of brought her to the castle? From the moment she forced herself inside, I knew. She was, is, so strong.”

“But…” Niall tried to pick his words carefully, “why afraid?”

Nadine’s smile vanished and she stared blankly into the fireplace. She smoothed her palm out, pressing into the spine of the book that was open in her lap. “I realized…that no one would come for me.” She avoided his suddenly sympathetic stare and shook her head. “That was my curse.”

“Then what am I?”

She shook her head again. “Who knows?” She laughed. “I still can’t figure out what I am.”

Niall reached out tentatively, placing his hand over hers. Nadine jerked, then shivered. She looked down at his hand, up his arm, and then into Niall’s eyes. “You scare me, too.”

Niall laughed softly. “Why?”

Nadine tried to avoid his gaze, but she couldn’t force herself to look away from him. She trembled under his hand. “Because I won’t be able to stay with you.” Her voice the flicker of a dying flame. “I can’t keep you.”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Nadine?”

She stood suddenly, the book slipped from her lap and bursting into dust. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” She then took off running, becoming a wind. A wind that blew out the fire, leaving Niall in shadows.

“Nadine!” Niall sat up shouting.

“Who?”

Niall turned, seeing D’Arcy sitting by himself at a table, books open before him. He turned, looking at the fireplace roaring, at the floor where the book had turned to dust, it was clean.

“Have a bad dream?” D’Arcy asked, shutting the book before him.

Niall ran his fingers through his hair. “No…” He stood up. “I need to see Vered.” He said as he began walking out of the library.

“He and Fianna are in the garden!” D’Arcy called after him.

Before Niall had even reached the garden Vered began to twitch. He turned his nose up to the wind and inhaled deeply.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked ahead, eyes wide, but brows cocked suspiciously. “I smell her again.”

My mouth hung open slightly. “You mean, Nadine?”

He turned abruptly, twisting around me and bracing himself towards the door as Niall came running out.

“Niall?” Vered and I echo each other.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 1

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Across the courtyard, a couple of alaunt hounds came bounding down the stone stairs to throw themselves ecstatically at Laurent, who indulged one of them with a rub behind the ears, causing a spasm of jealousy in the other.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

the first thing laurent does in this book is pet a dog. i love him so much.

craft-wise, this foreshadows the shift in damen’s perception of laurent that occurs throughout book 2. his/our first impression of laurent in book 1 is him cruelly demeaning damen, almost like a dog, which is something we’re meant to hate. our first impression here is him affectionately indulging actual dogs who clearly know and love him. this might make the reader ask: why do these animals love laurent, when we understand him to be cruel? is our understanding incorrect, and/or incomplete?

context: in arles, the regent closely observes laurent’s attachments. he can and will destroy anything or anyone laurent cares about. but here, outside of arles, it makes sense that laurent would immediately feel more comfortable being affectionate.

laurent’s hot girl summer has officially begun ✨

Damen craned for a glimpse but, not being an owl, saw almost nothing.

The physician rummaged in the satchel and produced one of his endless ointments.

doesn’t this become a running gag? ointment reference #1

That was really too much. ‘It’s cosmetic?’

does damen take pride in his scars, and other physical indications of his experiences? that could be an interesting parallel to the cuffs throughout the series. or maybe he just knows he’s hot either way. or doesn’t want to be fussed over.

he is technically still laurent’s property—has laurent given any kind of indication that he finds the scars unattractive? or did paschal simply make that assumption, which laurent then went along with, knowing it would annoy damen?

The physician said, ‘I was told you would be difficult. Very well. The better it heals, the less your back will trouble you with stiffness, both now and later in life, so that you will be better able to swing a sword around, killing a great many people. I was told you would be responsive to that argument.’ ‘The Prince,’ said Damen.

paschal, sighing deeply as he commits laurent’s exact words to memory: i’m about to become the first homophobe in vere because these petty gay bitches can’t keep their nonsense to themselves

actually, new thing to count—every time a minor or secondary character has a valid reason to complain about damen and laurent’s lack of professionalism in the workplace. this is lamen hr complaint #1 (paschal).

But of course. All this tender care of his back, like soothing with a kiss the reddened cheek you have slapped.

great line.

connects to an ongoing theme: niceness vs. goodness. damen “sees through” laurent’s niceness, as it conflicts with laurent’s meanness that he personally has experienced. in the same way damen has a favorable bias towards kastor and the regent, he has an automatically unfavorable bias against laurent. which is totally fair, given the events of book 1! but this is a new book, and a new stage in damen’s overall series arc.

additional theme for books 2&3: tenderness. a wound is tender; it aches in need of soothing. but what soothes an ache? tender care. if nice is good and mean is bad, where does a concept like tenderness fit in? how exactly will we go from “all this tender care of his back, like soothing with a kiss the reddened cheek you have slapped” to “i think if i gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly”?

Damen snorted. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

a consistent damen behavior: the refusal to admit that he is helplessness, and/or experiencing circumstances beyond his control. i would call it toxic masculinity, but i don’t think it’s meant as gender commentary—it has more to do with being a prince and a king, worthy of the throne. toxic royalty, if you will.

‘If you served the King,’ said Damen, ‘how is it you now find yourself in the Prince’s household, and not his uncle’s?’ ‘Men find themselves in the places they put themselves,’ Paschal said, closing his satchel with a snap.

laurent of vere: the people’s prince ✨

also, interesting juxtaposition with previous dialogue about damen and paschal both being at marlas, on different sides of the battle. can we truly say that damen, at age 19, had put himself there? what does that suggest about his character and his kingdom?

‘Yes, of course,’ said Damen. Then stopped. Jord didn’t notice.

he needs acting classes from laurent

Damen said, ‘If you’re not going to tip your head back, why don’t we go find Paschal? He can give you a scented ointment.’

HA. ointment reference #2.

Damen thought of the ivory and gold casing that held a creature duplicitous, self-serving and untrustworthy. ‘You’re so loyal to him. Why is that?’

really nailing in the damen perspective subversion setup. also, the irony re: aimeric's loyalty!

Damen joined the work, where he was the only man to smell, expensively, of ointments and cinnamon.

ointment reference #3. he’s expensive.

‘Aimeric’s young. He says it won’t happen again,’ said Jord. It will happen again, and once the two factions in this camp start retaliating against one another your campaign is over, he didn’t say.

i love how we finally get to see damen in his element here, after experiencing The Horrors for 13 + prologue entire chapters in book 1

‘The Captain is in one of the horse stalls, up to his waist in the stableboy,’ said Jord. ‘The Prince has been waiting for him at the barracks. Actually . . . I was told to have you fetch him.’ ‘From the stables,’ said Damen. He stared at Jord in disbelief.

laurent wastes no time before assigning damen unpleasant tasks. does this count as an hr complaint? i mean it would be damen doing the complaining, am i counting charges they have against each other? no. they’d wreck the curve.

Inside, Govart was unambiguously fucking the stableboy against the far wall.

“unambiguously”

‘The Prince stays here often?’ The castellan mistook him to mean the keep, not the rooms. ‘Not often. He and his uncle came here a great deal together, in the year or two after Marlas. As he grew older, the Prince lost his taste for the runs here. He now comes only rarely to Chastillon.’

context: >:(

Laurent said, ‘I have saved you till last.’ Damen said, ‘You owe the stableboy a copper sol.’ ‘The stableboy should learn to demand payment before he bends over.’

“honey, i’m home!” sitcom entrance

‘Your virtue’s safe. It’s just water. Probably.’

somebody’s feeling playfulllll

Laurent placed the goblet carefully back on the table, and picked up the knife. It was a sharp knife, made for cutting meat. Damen felt his pulse quicken as Laurent came forward. Only a handful of nights ago, he had watched Laurent slit a man’s throat, spilling blood as red as the silk that covered this room’s bed. He felt shock as Laurent’s fingers touched his, pressing the hilt of the knife into his hand. Laurent took hold of Damen’s wrist below the gold cuff, firmed his grip, and drew the knife forward so that it was angled towards his own stomach. The tip of the blade pressed slightly into the dark blue of his prince’s garment. ‘You heard me tell Orlant to leave,’ said Laurent. Damen felt Laurent’s grip slide down his wrist to his fingers, and tighten. Laurent said, ‘I am not going to waste time on posturing and threats. Why don’t we clear up any uncertainty about your intentions?’

laurent explaining to damen that his behavior in arles was a bit in the most insane way possible

He was so infuriatingly sure of himself, proving a point. Damen felt desire come hard upon him: not wholly a desire for violence, but a desire to drive the knife into Laurent’s composure, to force him to show something other than cool indifference.

they’re so normal and well-adjusted

He said: ‘I’m sure there are house servants still awake. How do I know you won’t scream?’ ‘Do I seem like the type to scream?’ ‘I’m not going to use the knife,’ said Damen, ‘but if you’re willing to put it in my hand, you underestimate how much I want to.’ ‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘I know exactly what it is to want to kill a man, and to wait.’

“yes, and” “yes, and” “yes, and”

Laurent said, ‘When this campaign is over, I think—if you are a man and not a worm—you will attempt to gain retribution for what has happened to you. I expect it. On that day, we roll the dice and see how they fall. Until then, you serve me. Let me therefore make one thing above all clear to you: I expect your obedience. You are under my command. If you object to what you are told to do I will hear reasoned arguments in private, but if you disobey an order once it is made, I will send you back to the flogging post.’

this is their starting place for the book! “we hate each other, we owe each other nothing, we know that we are going to eventually attempt to kill each other—but for now, we are calling a truce and working together”

also. would laurent still love damen if he was a worm 🥺

Another pause, and then Laurent indicated once again to the chair. This time Damen followed his prompt and sat. Laurent took the chair opposite. Between them, unfurled on the table, was all the intricate detail of the map. ‘You said you knew the territory,’ Laurent said.

this is part of why i love damen and laurent so much as a pairing. they have interests and skills in common, and they make a genuinely good team. they’re intellectually compatible, in addition to sexually and romantically compatible.

[therisingkings]

All is Well

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Check it out on Ao3 as well as more works by me

After the events of King's Rising, Damen is once again on the verge of losing the love of his life. A lucky assassin managed to bring harm to His Majesty, Laurent of Vere, but it is not the first time Laurent has overcome the odds.

*****

The world moved in slow motion. It was as if a handful of moments had stretched out into an eternity as Damen’s mind gave way to instinct, thought traded for movement.

There was a man in front of him. Then that man was dead, Damen’s sword removing his head from his shoulders. Another assassin advanced, brandishing a wicked looking dagger. His eyes were on Laurent, where Damen had instinctively pushed him behind. Damen grabbed that man’s wrist and twisted, bringing the man to the ground. He slammed his fist brutally into his head just as a wet, pained noise came from behind. 

The world suddenly rushed back into real time as a third assassin pulled a dagger out of Laurent’s back. Laurent’s eyes were wide, another sound escaping his parted lips. He collapsed at the knees, then into Damen’s arms.

“Long live the King,” the assassin hissed just before Nikandros, having been barely a dozen paces behind them, slit his throat. 

Damen couldn’t draw breath to shout, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t been stabbed. Laurent had. Laurent, who was bleeding, his hands fisted in Damen’s jacket, his lips parted. Trembling, Damen tried to cover the wound, but he couldn’t tell where it was. Laurent’s entire side was a darker blue than his clothing, but red spiderwebbed across Damen’s knuckles when he pressed his hand to the wet fabric.

“‘Get me a physician!” Nikandros roared. He knelt beside them. “Exalted, we have to get him inside.”

Damen blinked at him. His mind flashed between the present moment, in the garden he and Laurent walked through regularly, and five years ago, when he’d been bleeding out in the slave baths and pronounced King. He thought, I should be the one bleeding.

“--you hear me? Damen!”

Snapping back to the present, Laurent heavy in his arms, Damen pushed mightily to his feet. He needed to get them out of the garden. Into somewhere with limited exits, where he could be sure that only people he let in were in the room. He didn’t let himself look at Laurent’s face as he made his way as quickly as possible up the marble steps, back into the palace. Every face he saw was an enemy, every guard a threat. 

Nikandros shoved through the crowd that had formed ahead of them, shouting commands and pushing people that stayed too long in the way. Despite that, it still felt like an eternity before they reached the Kings’ private quarters.

“Where the fuck is the physician?” Nikandros shouted in Akielon, to a poor Veretain guard. Realizing his mistake as Damen pushed past him into the room, he said, “Medic, idiot!” in sloppy Veretain.

Damen laid Laurent on their bed. He could feel every single beat of his heart all the way in his throat as his finger’s fumbled on the stupid fucking laces that held Laurent’s jacket together.

Then Nikandros was there, a knife in his hand, and Damen moved without thought, lunging for him. 

“To cut the ties,” Nik panted as Damen forced him face first into the wall. “That’s what the knife is for. Damen, just cut the ties.”

It took Damen’s mind an extra, crucial moment to understand. Nikandros hadn’t meant to finish the job— he’d been offering Damen the knife hilt first.

Damen let him go and swept the blade off of the floor. It cut through the material of Laurent’s jacket like butter, then through his shirt.

Laurent was blinking at him dazedly as Damen forced himself to slow down, carefully turning him so he could see the wound. Damen didn’t have a whole lot of medical knowledge, but he knew a good knife strike when he saw one. The blade had gone straight into Laurent’s side, just beneath the ribs. He was still bleeding. Damen bunched up his tattered shirt and pressed it against the area.

There was a cold hand on his face. Laurent was touching his cheek, his brow furrowed. “You’re crying.”

“Laurent,” Damen sobbed. 

Laurent’s face was as pale as Damen had ever seen, his lips bloodless. His eyes had taken on a dull, glazed appearance as he concerned himself with the tears on Damen’s cheeks.

“Shh.” Damen took his hand, kissing his wrist. “Shh. Pascal is on his way.” Then he turned slightly to shout in Veretain, “Where the fuck is Pascal?”

“I’m here,” Pascal said, hobbling into his room. His newest assistant came in after him, hauling all the medical supplies the poor girl could carry. Pascal waved his freckled hands at Damen. “Get out of the way. Let me see him.”

Laurent let out a noise of protest as Damen backed away, hands reaching blindly for him. 

Pascal examined the wound, his wrinkled face pinched. He snapped something at his assistant, who flipped open the medical trunk. 

Damen paced like a caged lion as they worked. After a few minutes, Pascal turned to him. “He needs stitches. You have to hold him still so we can work.”

“Right, right.” Damen went around to the other side of the bed, crawling carefully across, so not as do jostle Laurent. He gripped his hip with one hand, trapping his legs between his own, and cupped the back of his head with the other hand.

“What’s going on?” Laurent asked as Damen guided his face into his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He stroked his hair soothingly and nodded to Pascal.

It was not a pleasant experience. Laurent thrashed at first, trying to push his way out of Damen’s hold. Damen had to fix his grip to a near crushing one, trapping Laurent’s arms between their bodies. When Laurent realized he couldn’t get out, he resorted to letting out screaming sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Damen felt like his own heart was collapsing in on itself. The stitching took longer than Damen thought it would, and each tug sent Laurent into another fit of pain. By the end of it, thankfully or not, he’d lost consciousness, going limp in Damen’s arms.

“Done.” Pascal stepped back. “He’s lost a lot of blood and the risk of infection is high. Tell me, was there any poison on the blade?”

Damen hadn’t even thought of that. “I don’t know. I didn’t see any.”

“There wasn’t,” Nikandros said, eyes on Laurent. “One of the assassin’s is still alive. We have him under heavy guard beneath the keep.”

“Kill him.” Damen gently rested Laurent against the pillows and stood. “I want every single one of them dead.”

Pascal and his assistant exchanged a look. 

Nikandros stepped forward. “Exalted, we should—”

“I said kill him,” Damen snapped.

Nikandros gripped his shoulder when Damen tried to walk past him to give the order. He said, “Damen. We need to know if there’s any more and what their plan was. We will kill him, but he needs to be questioned first.”

Damen shook with rising tension, but Nik was right. “Fine.” 

Under Damen’s watchful eye, Pascal dressed the wound with careful hands. He was silent as he worked, a muscle in his jaw flickering.

“What is it?” 

Pascal straightened. “The risk for infection is incredibly high. The salve I put on should help, but if it was already infected...”

Damen closed his eyes. “Tell me.”

“He may not live through the night.”

Damen felt his knees go weak. The world spun. Nikandros was there, holding him up, but Damen couldn’t see him. All he could see was Laurent’s soft smile the morning after they’d made love for the first time, Laurent’s laughter through the Summer Palace. 

“Damen, Damen.” Nikandros cupped his face. “He is not dead yet. There is still hope.”

“Stay beside him,” Pascal said. “He needs you now more than ever.”

Damen nodded and said, “Yes.” 

*****

Damen sat down heavily beside the bed. Laurent looked so small on it, drowning in purple silk. Not at all like a king, but like a boy, caught in a riptide fever of pain.

Damen wanted to hold his hand, but everytime he did, he couldn’t stand the limpness of Laurent’s long fingers. It was too much like how his father’s hand had been in his last days.

But these weren’t Laurent’s last days. Damen informed him of such. He smoothed his thumb over his pale cheek and said into the silence, “There is no one in this life that can take you from me.”

Laurent didn’t wake up for two days. 

One the third, feverish blue eyes fluttered open, and it was like watching a tsunami crest. Damen lunged across the room the moment he saw, dropping the gauntlets he’d been inspecting.

“Laurent,” he breathed as he pulled his stool over. He brushed his hand across Laurent’s hot brow. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Laurent blinked at him a few times. His cheeks were rosy, hand clammy in Damen’s, but his fingers flexed. “I feel…” He turned his head, looking around the room. “I feel…”

Damen inched closer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The, uh. We came back home from Ios. We’re at the new palace in Marlas.”

“That’s right. What else do you remember?” 

Laurent’s gaze fixed on their joined hands. “We were in the garden and… oh. That’s not ideal.” He let go of Damen to try to lift the covers, but Damen stopped him.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“I can feel it. It’s sore, but manageable.” Laurent licked his lips. “Are you okay?”

Damen chuckled dryly. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m fine. They were after you, not me.” 

Laurent frowned, lifting his hand to Damen’s face. He touched his cheek, then his neck. “Are you sure?”

Damen took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Yes, my love.” He stood, taking a step back.

Laurent caught his sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get Pascal and then get you some food. Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.” He let go.

Damen bent to kiss his brow before stepping into the hall. He summoned a servant to send for Pascal and Nikandros. Once the servant left, footsteps came from behind him. Damen turned.

Jord bowed and said, “Your Majesty” because there was no Veretain word for “Exalted.”

Damen waved him off. “Tell me how our prisoner is doing.”

“He has not attempted escape of any kind and refuses to eat or answer questions. He…” Jord trailed off, glancing at the closed door behind Damen. He took a deep breath. “Sir, I know it’s not my place, but I’d like to see him.” 

That was not what Damen had expected. Even now, the loyalty Laurent had cultivated in these men shook him to his core. Very few leaders could do what Laurent had done.

Jord went on, shifting nervously on his feet, “We, um, Huet and Lazar and I… we’ve all been worried. He… The King is very important to us. You know that.”

Damen nodded. “I will ask him. Wait here.” 

He wasn’t sure how Laurent would feel, letting his men see him so weakened. Laurent had pushed himself to a sitting position and was poking at his wound when Damen came back in.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damen burst out, crossing the room in three large strides. 

Laurent continued his examination, having pulled off the dressings of the wound. “You said Pascal was coming. I wanted to see how bad it was.”

It was bad. In fact, it was still bad. Two days of rest had only eased the swelling, not healed the wound. Damen caught both of Laurent’s wrists and stuck his face close enough to touch noses. “I said, don’t move.”

“He’s always been a terrible patient,” Pascal said as he came in. He bowed. “It’s good to see you awake, Your Majesty.”

Laurent had a sour look on his face as Damen stepped aside for Pascal. “I was just looking.”

Pascal touched his brow. “Your body is fighting off infection. His Majesty is right. Any extra exertion, no matter how small, can be detrimental.”

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Laurent’s dry glare.

“I’ll have the kitchens put together some soup and we’ll add a sleeping drought.” 

“You want to drug me,” Laurent said flatly.

“Well you clearly can’t be trusted to rest on your own,” Damen snapped back. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already picking—”

“That’s enough.” Pascal gazed steadily at Damen. “He does not need a lecture right now. I understand that you’re upset, but he needs his husband, not a general.” He turned, pointing at Laurent. “And you need to not make this difficult for everyone. Your health is our priority right now, not aggravating your husband.”

Damen coughed, feeling like a lectured child. Laurent sniffled indignantly and lowered his chin.

Pascal clapped once. “Excellent. Now let me check the wound.”

Laurent was quiet, but obedient through the examination and redressing of the wound. Pascal made him promise not to poke around again before he left to get the soup.

Damen sat beside Laurent and checked his brow again. He was still warm, but he clearly had plenty of energy.

“Oh, are you a physician now?”

“Hush.” Damen braced his arms on either side of Laurent’s legs and leaned in to kiss him softly. 

Laurent allowed it, his lashes brushing Damen’s cheeks.

“Jord wants to see you,” Damen said after he pulled back. “He’s worried. They all are.”

That seemed to surprise Laurent, but he hid it quickly. “I don’t know if it’s good for a ruler to be seen in this state.”

“I don’t think he cares.”

Laurent chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Let him in.”

When Jord came in, he bowed immediately to Laurent. “Are you— I mean, I know you’re not okay, but, uh…”

Laurent waved him off. “I’m fine. It’s Damen who is spreading this dramatic tale of me almost losing my life. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was that bad,” Damen grumbled.

Jord wasn’t fooled by Laurent’s fibs either. “I’d like to personally guard your rooms during your recovery, Your Majesty.”

“You cannot possibly stand out there for days on end.”

“I can and I will,” Jord said firmly.

Damen pinched his brow. “How about you rotate? You, Lazar, and Huet can trade shifts, and the Akielon guards will take the other post.” It was something they’d agreed upon after the castle was first built: their personal rooms would be guarded by one Akielon and one Veretain at the same time.

“Very well.” Laurent sunk a little deeper into the cushions. “But, as you can see, I am of optimal health and will be back to my duties shortly. There is no need to worry.”

Jord looked between Laurent and Damen for a moment, but he nodded and bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesties.”

Laurent dismissed him, then asked Damen for help walking to the bathing chamber.

[ursula-august]

Ida Craddock was born August 1, 1857. She died by suicide on October 16, 1902 at the age of 45, choosing death over either serving a five year term in a penal work house or giving up the activity which had led to her trial: distributing sex education materials through the U.S. mail system. Ida was an early champion of sex education for both men and women, and she insisted on the importance of husbands diligently ensuring that their wives experience sexual pleasure.

Ida's nemesis was Anthony Comstock, namesake of the infamous "Comstock Law" who had judged her work pornographic and had brought her to trial three times. The first time it was for sending out a pamphlet called "Right Marital Living," which had been first published in a medical journal. On the advice of her attorney, Clarence Darrow, Ida had pleaded guilty and received a suspended sentence. Her second conviction, for a similar "offense" resulted in her being sentenced to a work house for three months. Soon after she was released Comstock prosecuted her again. On October 10, 1857, she was convicted for a third time, with the judge declaring her pamphlet "The Wedding Night" to be so "obscene, lewd, lascivious, dirty" that the jurors would not be allowed to see it during the trial.

This obscene, lewd and lascivious document begins "Oh, crowning time of lovers' raptures veiled in mystic splendor, sanctified by priestly blessing and by the benediction of all who love the lovers! How shall we chant thy praise?" https://www.idacraddock.org/wedding.html

Ida believed that returning to the work house would be equivalent to a death sentence. Had she promised to not continue to write her "lewd" works and kept that promise, she would have been able to go free. But Ida was fiercely convinced that her work was a sacred calling, and she refused to abandon it.

She left two suicide notes: a private one for her mother and one for the public. In the public letter she accuses Comstock of the evils for which he had accused her:

"If the reading of impure books and the gazing upon impure pictures does debauch and corrupt and pervert the mind (and we know that it does), when we reflect that Anthony Comstock has himself read perhaps more obscene books, and has gazed upon perhaps more lewd pictures than has any other one man in the United States, what are we to think of the probable state of Mr. Comstock's imagination today upon sexual matters?

"The man is a sex pervert; he is what physicians term a Sadist--namely a person in whom the impulses of cruelty arise concurrently with the stirring of sex emotion. The Sadist finds keen delight in inflicting either physical cruelty or mental humiliation upon the source of that emotion." (https://www.idacraddock.com/public.html)

According to author Vere Chappell, "Comstock boasted that he was responsible for 4,000 arrests and fifteen suicides over the course of his career," - a sadist indeed, and someone who would sadly probably be welcomed by the extreme conservatives of today.

If Ida Craddock was a martyr for sexual education and free speech, a woman whose writing was praised by members of the medical profession and progressive groups of her age, as well as a proponent of yoga and 'Danse du Ventre' (belly dancing) for women's physical and sensual health, why are so few people aware of her today?

Because Ida Craddock was also a champion of sacred sexuality in a way that made many people uncomfortable - then and now. She explicitly wrote about how including God (the Christian god) in the act of lovemaking was a spiritual practice that would refine and elevate the participants and gave detailed instructions about the three levels of that practice. She also wrote about her marriage and sexual relations with an angel named Soph: "He touches my 'natural body' through my 'spiritual body' in an infinite variety of ways, and with infinite sweetness."

As Leigh Eric Schmidt observed in his book "Heaven's Bride" "Before late 1893, when she revealed that she had an angelic husband, Craddock never had her sanity questioned; after that, it would never go unquestioned. . . . Ida's legacy, for better or worse, would be irrevocably joined to a private, ghostly romance."

Ida Craddock's writings are available online and in anthologies. The books by Chappell and Schmidt are both well worth reading.

October 16, 2024 is the 122nd anniversary of her martyrdom, and sadly the battle that she fought for sex education, women's right to pleasure, and freedom of the press is every bit as urgent now as it was then. Tonight I will light a candle and raise a glass in her memory and rededicate myself to fighting for these essential rights.

Cross-posted from my WordPress blog: https://jsabrina.wordpress.com/2024/10/16/ida-craddock-martyr-for-sex-education-sacred-sexuality-and-freedom-of-the-press

[pourcap]

thoughts: pg chapter 1

okay book 2 let's go !!

laurent petting the dogs aaaah that's (uncharacteristically) sweet

‘A massage?' damen, stop being a dick and just let the physician take care of your back omg

That was really too much. ‘It’s cosmetic?' god. damen.

i mean, i get why he's pissed: first, laurent tortures him half to death (which obv damen doesn't enjoy), then orders his physician to take care of damen's wounds (which damen doesn't seem to have any patience for until fighting's mentioned)

Damen snorted. ‘It wasn’t that bad.' hmmm.

'Men find themselves in the places they put themselves,’ Paschal said, closing his satchel with a snap. does he know of laurent's abuse? it doesn't sound like he simply dislikes the regent...

'Yes, of course,’ said Damen. Then stopped. please be careful !! just once !!

do laurent's men ever stop talking disrespectful shit about him behind his back? i don't get it because they're 1) hot for him, 2) terrified of him, and 3) not taking him seriously at all when he's their crown prince. although, of course, the regent has done a pretty decent job of tattering his reputation

ohh, so that's aimeric

he sounds nice enough, though?? at least he defended laurent

damen helping aimeric <3

damen is noticing a lot of things about aimeric's appearance which so far we've only gotten twice before with laurent and nicaise. i don't know what that means, if it even means anything...? with laurent i get it because damen is attracted to him but of course he isn't attracted to nicaise at all so now, with aimeric, i'm not sure if we're getting all of these details because damen is attracted to him or if it's just like with nicaise, where it more of a "he doesn't belong here"-kind of situation (you know, because nicaise is a literal child who definitely shouldn't live among adults in a court like the one in vere, and aimeric is out of place as he's prettier than the other soliders)

'Aimeric’s young. He says it won’t happen again,’ said Jord. It will happen again, and once the two factions in this camp start retaliating against one another your campaign is over, he didn’t say. ohhhh damen has a really tactical mind, too, huh? not that i'm surprised since he's led armies before and, as a prince, he's definitely had akielon's best tutors teach him, but i like getting these glimpses of what he knows happens among men. he's probably got an advantage there over laurent

ugh nooooo not govart i hate him

govart is so gross.

'(...) He and his uncle came here a great deal together, in the year or two after Marlas. As he grew older, the Prince lost his taste for the runs here. (...)' :( i really wish i didn't know what that means. i want laurent to lock the regent into a cell and just let him die there

This group was going to tear itself apart. i loooove damen knowing so much about how to lead an army <3

laurent is here !!

'The stableboy should learn to demand payment before he bends over.' aaaand he's already back to being mean (not that he's wrong)

'No restraints?’ said Damen. ‘You don’t think I’ll try to leave, pausing only to kill you on the way out?’ ‘Not until we get closer to the border,’ said Laurent. aaaaah so that's why he's so confident about giving damen armour/a horse/etc.

Laurent said, ‘I am not going to waste time on posturing and threats. Why don’t we clear up any uncertainty about your intentions?' and to think the regent has made his entire court think laurent's a coward lol

'Do I seem like the type to scream?' i know this isn't particularly romantic or anything but i have missed the way they talk to each other so much. i just adore their back and forth idk

'(...) but if you’re willing to put it in my hand, you underestimate how much I want to.' oohhhhh

'I know exactly what it is to want to kill a man, and to wait.' ... anyway. :)))

‘Have I disobeyed an order?’ said Damen. Laurent gave him another of those long, oddly searching looks. ‘No,’ said Laurent. it's so interesting to me how damen keeps getting frustrated about not being able to read/predict laurent when it seems like it's the exact same for laurent, vice versa

'You said you knew the territory,’ Laurent said. ohh my god they'll really be working together??? idk how exactly things will unfold between them but i have a feeling they could be really helpful for each other aaah

[spado-the-pomeranian]

So I–... I made Arcane (or LoL? who knows...) OC because I'm cringe obviously.

Her name is Inga Veres ("s" spells like "sh" because it is a Shocking Blue reference for some reason), she is a piltovian physician, a great friend, not so great chemist, and also her grandfather invented the inhaler (eh, this joke sound so much better in russian). Kind, lovely-lively funny (yet sometimes a bit morbid) woman with an adorkable sciency humour; and though that's all good and great, she is an awfully nervous scaredy-cat – in fact, her fear becomes her tragic flaw (like... damn girl why are you so frightened? Ah right, your mama's death and your papa's lack of parenting skills, I see.) She lived her (almost) best life until one day she decided that she wants to make something "that will help someone oh so good and kind".

More related content under the cut, hehe

A meme. Sometimes fear drives this gal to weird places (she sends you greetings from the depths of her burnout!)

And thats Inga when she was at the university.

Another sketch. Inga caught her daily dose of anxiety, poor baby. "Woke up in a cold sweat from a thought that someone out there needs me."

Playlist cause I love them playlists

[thefugitivesaint]

Robert Fludd (1574-1637), 'Catoptrum Meteorographicum', ''Philosophia Sacra & vere Christiana seu Meteorologia Cosmica'', 1626 Source “Robert Fludd was a respected English physician (of Welsh origins) employed at the court of King James I of England. He was a prolific writer of vast, multi-volume encyclopaedias in which he discussed a universal range of topics from magical practices such as alchemy, astrology, kabbalism and fortune-telling, to radical theological thinking concerning the inter-relation of God with the natural and human worlds. However, he also proudly displayed his grasp of practical knowledge, such as mechanics, architecture, military fortifications, armaments, military manoeuvres, hydrology, musical theory and musical instruments, mathematics, geometry, optics and the art of drawing, as well as chemistry and medicine. Fludd used the common metaphor for the arts as being the “ape of Nature,” a microcosmic form of the manner in which the universe itself functioned. Fludd’s most famous work is the History of the Two Worlds (Utriusque Cosmi … Historia, 1617-21) published in five volumes by Theodore de Bry in Oppenheim. The two worlds under discussion are those of the Microcosm of human life on earth and the Macrocosm of the universe (which included the spiritual realm of the Divine).” ‘Robert Fludd and His Images of The Divine’, from Public Domain Review

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 17 August 1833

6 ½

11 ��

fine morning – F66° at 8 a.m. told Eugénie to tell the porter not to order the horses for today – would go at 2 ¼ tomorrow - wrote in envelope note to ‘the honourable Mrs. Heneage’ dated Friday evening 16 August compliments much obliged for the note so good as send this morning had fixed to go on Tuesday detained till tomorrow (i.e. today Saturday) read aloud to Eugenie as usual and then wrote it out wrote ‘la comtesse de Bourke’ dated yesterday compliments et excessivement fâché de ne pas pouvoir partir demain à cause de la nouvelle d’Angleterre que je viens de recevoir (should have been de l’Angleterre?) - Miss Lister Madame de Bourke d'agréer sus excuses et de couler sur son départ dimanche elle ira chercher prendre Mademoiselle Ferrall à deux et demi d’après midi et prie la comtesse de Bourke d’agréer l’assurance de son amitié parfaite - ce vendre di soir 16 Aout’ - sent Thomas with these 2 notes at 8 ¼ - breakfast at 10 ¾ -  Mr. John Lister came at 11 10 for about ½ hour - advised his not thinking of trying for the infirmity at Swansea and settling there as surgeon and apothecary - no graduating with credit afterwards and a Glasgow diploma worth nothing - better toil on - make a sacrifice to graduate at Edinburgh - keep in sight of the friends he has made in the company’s service and hope and try for something by and by did not attempt to shake hands he is perhaps improved told him the great thing was to get gradually into better and better society and have the matters of a gentleman said I was intreated in his doing well would be glad but could not help him in a pecuniary way had my sister and my own immediate family (meaning my aunt)  he hoped I did not think he thought of such a thing oh no said I not on terms with his father’s family had not seen any of them for long - finished my breakfast after Mr. L- was gone - then till 3 ¼ (before and after breakfast) wrote a full (large sized ½ sheet) pretty close to lady S- de R- and ditto to old lady S- and ditto to V- all dated this morning meant to sleep tonight at Meaux - had given up Berlin and Leipzig for the present - all beyond Copenhagen to be settled there, governed by circumstances and good advice - do not meat to do anything too adventurous - tell Lady S- de R- Lady Gordon had told me all about Mrs. Frederic Byng - might not one pity her? fancied Lady S- thought one right - I more sufficient to myself alone than she with her 2 girls - she talked as if we might meet in Germany - burst into a loud (and to V- added opened - mouthed) laugh on hearing I was off today for Copenhagen - all three nice letters

SH:7/ML/E/16/0096

said never meant to leave Paris without writing to Lady S- de R- ‘tho’ I have no vain imagining about an agreeable letter I can at least thank you for your kindness, and, in these days, when people are so unwilling would advise even their particular friends, it was indeed kind of you to advise - I could have said at the moment of hearing your opinion, I had made up my mind, but it was better to wait till it might seem I have had time enough to be fairly convinced you were right - I should like very much to pay your judgment some compliment that with all my heart I think deserved but we often do a thing worst when anxious to do it best, and cannot attain even our common measure of success when we wish to exceed it’ - ..... ‘Vere says nothing of having received the likeness you gave me - my love to the dear girls, and believe me, my dear Lady Stuart, affectionately and very truly yours. AL’ - first time in my life I have concluded with affectionately? tho’ she once in Paris did it to me - from 3 ¼ wrote 3 pages and ends to lady H- de H- and 2 ½ pages small and close to M- dinner at 5 10 – out at 7 – ordered Grammaires des grammaires at Crochards’, and called for a few minutes at Dumontiers’ – he out – saw his wife – he is lecturing on phrenology and studying to be a physician! so gives up in 2 years, when his lease out, his anatomy shop – then to rue St. V- Thomas took my note of sorry très fâchée de ne pas pouvoir dire en personne mes adieus à ‘Madame la Baronne Cuvier au Jardin des Planes et a Mademoiselle Duvanscel’ – Madame Lister les prie d’agréer l’assurance du ses sentimens les plus distingués et de ses amitiés sincères – walked slowly home (brought away the remainder of the plate etc. to take with me) and came in at 9 ¼ -  from 9 1/4 to 10 25 with Mrs and Miss Barlow - she asked about burning my letters - said she might keep or destroy or do just what she liked with them - quite easy about it - she had thought it right to try to forget would not did not say she had succeeded might have had a scene the tears were in her eyes but I was too calm and philosophic Jane left us and was coming away without saluting but Mrs B- willed it otherwise I kissed her kindly but no more and quietly walked off will be very civil kind and attentive but no more nonsense whether she would or not - fine day – F66° now at 11 25 after having written the whole of this page –

[inky-duchess]

The Villain's Ending: How to Serve Your Villain Their Comeuppance

The Villain is one of the most important characters in your story, the driving force for everything that happens your heroes and your world. The Villain must be dealt with, we can all agree on this one point. The Villain has been tormenting our hero and they must be punished. And not by a falling brick, Dave and Dan. The audience deserves a real ending and your villain must be punished accordingly for their actions.

Punishment fits the crime/ Poetic Justic

The Villain has been cruel, they have done horrible things to our hero. The world decides to get its own back in the most ironic and poetic way possible. These endings are perhaps the most enjoyable to both read and write, they allow both you and the audience to have closure but while making echoes in the story.

Carrie is one of my favourite novels. Carrie has been pushed far past breaking point by the conclusion of her story, she has been bullied, humiliated and betrayed. Every character who has ever hurt Carrie (either physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually) gets their just desserts. She has been tortured for her strangeness and inability to fit in... and now, her strangeness is what she wields against her villains. She destroys her bullies at the school dance (wiping them put at an event which was meant to be the happiest night of their life), getting rid of Chris Hargensen and Billy Nolan, the puppeteers of her humiliation (using Chris and Billy's status symbol [the car] against them and taking control of it away from them to hurt them with it) and good ol' Mama Margaret White dies at her daughter's hands, slowing her heartbeat with her TK (Margaret is punished by her own daughter, her life taken by the gene she passed to her own daughter and via the symbol of love, a commodity she denied her own child).

Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a beautifully shot film and one of Disney's gems. At the film's climax, Frollo is trying to kill Esmeralda and Quasimodo atop the apex of Notre Dame. Frollo has a sword in his hand and seems to be winning, raising his sword to smite Esmeralda as she tries to help Quasimodo, reciting "And He shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit!" But he has weakened the stone gargoyle he stands on and his movements cause him to fall and cling to the gargoyle as it cracks, its eyes glowing with sudden divine rage. Frollo falls backwards into the fiery blaze of Paris to his death. Justice is served.

In Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, we see this in spades. Ramsay Snow has hunted down young women in the woods with his hounds, tormented Theon Greyjoy into madness, had his stepmother and half brother fed to his hounds only minutes after the boy is born, killed his father (though this is a service to society), might have killed his own elder half brother, burned Winterfell, raped Jeyne/Sansa and being a pretty bad human being. In the show, Ramsay is fed to his own dogs while Sansa watches. Tywin Lannister has also been a terrible human being: having his son's wife raped while he watches, arranging the Red Wedding, allowing Cersei to set Tyrion up for murder, punishing Alayaya, his actions against the Reynes and Tarbecks, his terrible parenting and his general evilness. He is shot while taking a dump by Tyrion, the child he disparaged most in a rather inglorious fashion. Tywin dies leaving his dreams of dynasty to crumble, his unsavory relationship with Shae to be uncovered and humiliated after his death. The Seven were truly good that day. And not to mention Walder Frey, being served his own dead sons in a pie and killed by the daughter and sister of the woman he had slain in the very room he sits in. You can see the confusion and fear in his face as he tries to work out why this is happening, mirroring Catelyn and Robb's own horror and fear. Arya cuts his throat, echoing her mother's death.

In Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, we are introduced to the hunter Ken Wheatley. He hunts the dinosaurs, helping the main villain in rounding them up. He has a habit of collecting the teeth of the animals he hunts. He pulls out a Stegosaurus's tooth, relishing in the prize without caring for the creature's fear and pain. Wheatley tries to do the same with the Indoraptor, thinking the beast has been tranquilized but Indy was just playing. The Indoraptor bites his arm off as he tries to pull her tooth, killing him in gory glorious fashion. Indy was a very good and clever girl.

Book Ends

The Villain sometimes is treated to a walk down memory lane in their final moments. The beginning of their story is echoed in their final moments, bringing the circle to a finish and creating a nice clean break. The end feels earned in these circumstances, rounding off the arc nicely.

In Harry Potter, Voldemort fears death. He has done all he has done for his preservation and longevity. Voldemort faces off Harry in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, one on one as it had been when Voldemort stood in Harry's bedroom in Godric's Hollow. As before, the action that begun the tale ends it for Voldemort. He fires the Killing Curse at Harry and it gets turned on him. Voldemort dies simply, with no thunderous drama. He gets both his worst fears wrapped up in some poetic justice. The circle is complete.

Arya Stark faces all kinds of villains in her trek across the riverlands in A Clash of Kings. She and her gang of misfits (Gendry, Hotpie and an injured Lommy) are cornered by Lannister soldiers. The soldiers gather the gang to send them to Harrenhal. Raff the Sweetling, one of the soldiers asks Lommy "Is there something wrong with your leg, boy?" And Lommy replies, that yes he is hurt and he has to be carried. Raff stabs the boy through the throat and jokingly repeats Lommy's request. Arya encounters him again in Braavos in the Mercy Chapter of Winds of Winter. She stabs him in the thigh and feigns worry for his condition, asking him whether she should help him to the physician. Instead, Arya stabs him in the throat. The circle is complete.

Though Braveheart is a rather mixed bag of tricks, it does get this echo right. Muireann has her throat cut for both marrying without the Lord's permission and attacking the English soldier who tried to rape her. Enter William Wallace who takes on the garrison and raises the village to utterly destroy the soldiers. He marches into the Lord's fort (the place he felt safest in as Muireann did in her village and metaphorically in her marriage to Wallace) and drags the fucker to the same post he executed Muireann at, cutting the Lord's throat. The circle is complete.

In Captive Prince, the whole conflict of the series kicks off at Marlas where Damen kills the Veretian Prince in battle, brother to Prince Laurent. Kastor has taken his brother Damen's throne and forced him into slavery. Damen's opening chapter has him being readied for his ordeals in the slave's baths before being sent off to Vere to serve Laurent. Fast forward to our ending and Damen has come home for his throne. He confronts Kastor in the slave baths where Kastor tries to kill him. Laurent steps in and delivers a killing blow, killing Damen's brother as Damen killed his. Two circles are fulfilled.

In The Heroes of Olympus: The Blood of Olympus, Gaia has begun to destroy Camp Half Blood, levelling the forces of the gods and demigods. Gaia began the first first cycle of the PJO Universe by having her husband, Ouranos/Uranus killed. Gaia had Ouranos come down from his domain the sky, away from his source of power. She had him ambushed and killed, her son Kronos, the original antagonist do the deed. We fast forward to the present and Kronos has been taken down by Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter. Gaia is mad af and rises to take out the heroes. In the end, Gaia's fate is that of Ouranos, driven from her point of power, the earth and destroyed. The bookends are a couple of millennia apart but the circle is complete.

There is always somebody else.

The Villain and hero are mortal enemies. The Hero has suffered at the Villain's hand for the length of the story, battling them in tests of strength, power and wills. The Hero must over come the Villain... or do they? The Villain must be beaten, that is a fact or else the story has no purpose or no meaning. One must triumph over the other. But there is no written rule that states that it must be the protagonist who must deal the blow and here is where justice can be done for even the most minor character.

The Captive Prince series has this ending in spades. Throughout the story we are pelted with the Regent's evil actions: Hurting Erasmus, killing Laurent's horse, setting his own nephew up to be sexually assaulted and murdered at the hands of the man who killed his brother, constantly being creepy, keeping children as pets, taunting Laurent about abusing him, killing his own brother the King, ordering the death of Pashcal's brother who knew the Regent ordered the King's death, of the killing Nicaise, corrupting Aimeric and his takeover of the Kingdoms of Vere and Akielon. We spend the story waiting for his downfall, waiting for Laurent or Damen to strike the blow. But it isn't them. Instead, the Regent seems to have won, trapping both heroes. Then comes the justice. The truth comes to light. Aimeric's mother testifies against the Regent. Evidence gathered by Nicaise and Pashcal's testimony of his brother's actions both prove to be a nail in the Regent's coffin. In the end, it is the ghosts of three of the Regent's victims who beat him and drive his supporters to abandon him. The victims get the revenge, not just the heroes. It isn't an empty victory for them.

In Outlander, Claire is kidnapped and subjected to torture and abuse at the hands of Lionel and his men. He broke into her home, snatched her, beat Marsali and tortured her. When Claire is rescued by the men of the Ridge, Jamie asks her which men attacked her but she cannot recall so he has them all killed excepting Lionel that is. He is kept because of his value to his brother and Claire's belief that a patient shouldn't be harmed by the doctor. Enter Marsali. She has hurt in the kidnapping and had to watch the strongest woman she has ever known subjected to horrors. She understands Claire will not take revenge because of her Hippocratic oath but she swore no such vow. Even the speech, is striking reminding us that Claire is not just the only one has hurt. "I've been learning the art of healing. Mistress Fraser taught me well. She took an oath to do no harm... I have taken no such oath. You hurt me, you hurt my family, you hurt my ma. I will watch you burn in hell before I let you harm another soul in this house..." Also, she kills him with a syringe which is a nod to his destruction of the one at the battle with the regulators. I for one hope it hurt.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, we see this happen a lot. Neville takes out the sword of Gryffindor and fucking charges at Nagini, a piece of Voldemort, avenging his parents' torture and his own brutal treatment in his final year. Bellatrix has killed Sirius and Dobby, both two characters very dear to Harry and his friends. They do not get to bring her down. It is Molly Weasley who gets to do it, a mother who has lost her brother, her son and almost her world to the ideals of Bellatrix. She fucking snaps and we cheered her on.

In the Lion King, we watch waiting for Scar to get his comeuppance after he pushes his brother off a cliff, chases away his nephew and destroys the pride lands. Though Simba fights a good fight, he gets a case of Hero-itus and decides not to kill his uncle (it is a Disney movie after all) but events transpire and then Scar is trapped with the hyenas, the same hyenas he just tried to throw under the bus only a few seconds before this.

[vaskianmountains]

Set very quickly after King’s Rising, Nikandros finds Damen and Laurent being soft.

When Nikandros came to check in on how Damen was doing, he found that the prince of Vere had already beat him to it.

Laurent was sitting on the chair pulled up to Damen’s bed, perched right on the edge of the seat to get as close to Damen as possible. He’d also pulled Damen’s arm to himself and was holding his hand in his lap, their fingers intertwined. As Damen talked about the orchards just outside of Ios, all of Laurent’s attention was fixed on him, as though he were the first ray of sunshine Laurent was seeing after a bad storm.

Neither of them had noticed Nikandros yet, so he halted just outside the doorway and watched. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his king, but the orchards were hardly anything private or confidential. Besides, despite all of Damen’s reassurances, Nikandros still had his doubts about the Veretian prince, and it would be good to be able to observe how he behaved around Damianos while he didn’t think anyone else was watching.

“I’d really love to take you to them,” Damen was saying. “Maybe when we go riding, we could go there. We could bring food and have breakfast right underneath the trees.”

“You won’t be able to go riding for while, so you shouldn’t make too many plans yet,” Laurent said. “But I do think I would enjoy that very much.”

Damen smiled brightly. He moved on the bed towards Laurent, but quickly lay back down again as a deep groan escaped him.

Nikandros made to move inside, but stopped himself as he saw Laurent quickly stand up from his chair.

“Are you alright?” Laurent asked. His hands were hovering just above Damen’s chest, ready to offer help may it be needed.

“Yes,” Damen said, “I just wanted to kiss you.”

Pink spread across Laurent’s cheeks. He sat back down and took Damen’s hand in his own again. “You heard the physicians. You’re not allowed any strenuous activity that might get your heart rate up too far.”

“I can’t even have a kiss?”

Laurent gave Damen a small smile, one that included his eyes going soft, and he brought Damen’s hand to his lips to press a quick kiss against it. “There’s your kiss,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow, you can have one that takes a bit more effort on your part, but only if you’ve rested well enough.”

Nikandros may still not fully trust Laurent yet, nor was he entirely sold on an alliance between Vere and Akielos, but as he watched the two men in front of him, his heart eased just a little bit as one thing became very clear: Laurent’s feelings for Damen were genuine.

[thickenmyblood]

i just spent 3 days straight reading WTSIOA and i have 0 regrets. it was so poignant and well written. genuinely on of the best works i've ever read, in any fandom. thanks so much for sharing it with us. i'm a bit dense so i just want to clarify a couple of things about the fic: why was laurent wearing tight clothes? i saw you mention it in a couple of comments and replies but i didn't understand the significance. also, why did damen say auguste would never scar again? (ctd)

Hello! I’m very happy you enjoyed that fic, and I’m even happier you decided to reach out to let me know how you felt. Thank you for the compliments and the kind words! 

Your questions were very interesting, so don’t feel dense for asking them. You apologized for the length of your asks, so now it’s time for me to apologize for the length of my reply. I get carried away sometimes.

So, here’s what I think.

Laurent has a complicated relationship with self-destruction. It was hard to write it explicitly, mainly because I couldn't use terms like 'trauma' or 'self-harm' or even 'depression'. As you can imagine, writing Canon Setting fics is very hard sometimes. There's so much of modern psychology that just couldn't be included for the sake of historical accuracy. Even the Patran physician sometimes felt like a stretch, and so I found myself avoiding scenes where I would have to show exactly what happened in those 'therapy sessions'. I'm very ignorant when it comes to phycology, and although I did some research when I was writing the fic, most of what I found was related to dreams. So that's what I stuck to.

As a child, Laurent has little control over his life. Abuse is, in essence, the loss of control over one's body and decisions. This manifests in Laurent wanting control in whatever shape or form he can get it, similarly to what happens in canon. When the abuse stops, Laurent doesn't magically gain all the control back because A) his uncle has managed to emotionally manipulate him to the point of making him believe that what they had was love, thus still controlling him from a distance and B) Auguste makes it his life's mission to ensure nothing like that ever happens to Laurent again by basically having him watched 24/7 and constantly reminding him that he's too young, that he's not to engage in certain acts, etc.

He's a very controlling child. He doesn't like Aimeric not only because Aimeric has been mean to him and tried to humiliate him multiple times, but because he can't quite control Aimeric the way he'd like to. Child-Aimeric is very fierce and doesn't care about propriety, something that is foreign to Laurent as a prince. Laurent also likes the fact that Jord and Lazar are, up to a certain point, obliged to obey him. He likes to refuse food. He likes control so much he lies to himself about his situation when he foolishly believes he's managed to manipulate Auguste into sending him away to Akielos. Auguste sends him to Akielos because he's been advised to, presumably by the Patran physician and Damianos. It has little to do with Laurent.

As an adult, Laurent still craves control. Here's where the tight clothes come into play. Self-inflicted pain has a lot to do with control issues and over discipline. As readers, we've missed a large portion of Laurent's life, four years where he goes through puberty, and so we can only guess that his need for control has escalated to a more physical level. Puberty revolves around the changes in one's body, changes that Laurent despises because he knows/has been told his uncle doesn't like them either. And Laurent wants to be liked by his uncle.

He wears tight clothes and tight shoes because they hurt him, because he's uncomfortable in them. I think he's been uncomfortable his whole life, for one reason or another, and through these small practices, he's able to control that discomfort. He can regulate it perfectly. 

His self-harming tendencies go beyond the clothes he wears. He does things without caring much about how they will directly affect him. He has a lot of negative feelings towards himself, some he voices out loud, some he does not. For example, he's willing to give himself to Torveld in exchange for soldiers despite having no sexual attraction towards him (it could be argued that he's internalized that to serve his kingdom through marriage is his duty, but he says very clearly to Damianos that he does not want to be married. To let Torverld fuck him would be a self-rape kind of situation). In the epilogue, he calls his past self a whore. As I said, negative self-talk.

He dresses very stiffly in the books as well, hiding a lot of skin. I always thought the laces, despite being just part of his culture, were very functional to his self-imposed "modesty". They're great tools to show restraint.

Moving on to the next question, Damen says Auguste would never scar again because he believes Auguste will be executed that day. Between the scene where Auguste is wounded and his supposed execution, there are only a few hours. It's not enough time for a scar to appear. 

Now we've reached the juicy bit of this ask. So, Laurent and Auguste.

I agree with your interpretation. Auguste's guilt is immense and unimaginable, and he never deals with it 'correctly'. He blames himself for the abuse, for being naive and too trusting. That guilt makes him feel ashamed.

Laurent can sense some of that shame in Auguste, but he interprets it to be shame towards him. Laurent thinks Auguste is repulsed by him, by what Laurent thinks he wanted, and that Auguste is essentially ashamed of him. That is not the case.

In reality, as I said above, Auguste is ashamed of himself. He was left in the role of Laurent's main caretaker (something that is only heightened by the fact that he is the King—the caretaker of the whole kingdom, in a way) and he failed his brother. He failed Laurent so terribly their lives are forever changed and shaped by that failure. 

Auguste's obsession with Laurent being a child has nothing to do with fetish. It's about how Auguste knew Laurent as a boy before the abuse took place, and how he remembers Laurent being back then. He calls him sweet, in contrast to adult-Laurent who is cunning, and mean, and very much like child-Aimeric. Auguste treats Laurent like a child because he wants that version of Laurent back. In fact, Auguste is convinced Laurent's 'true' personality is sweet, but that the abuse took that away from him. If their uncle had not existed, Laurent would have grown up to be very, very different, and that is something Auguste is continuingly mourning.

I think they're both very codependent and bad at communicating. They don't have the tools to address what happened to Laurent, and so the shame and the guilt fester in both of them, making their relationship very twisted at times. You mentioned Auguste's jealousy, but I wouldn't necessarily call him jealous. I'd say he's extremely overprotective, to the point where he ruins things for Laurent. He kept Laurent inside the palace for four years, not even letting him attend Damianos' coronation. (However, Laurent proves time and time again that he's not to be trusted too easily. He did try to run away and get back to their uncle at fourteen/fifteen). Auguste is overprotective because of the guilt he feels. He's overcompensating, basically.

He kills Benoit because of the disrespect he shows Laurent, but also because he can't stand Laurent's objectification/sexualization. Children are not sexual beings, and to him, Laurent is a child, no matter how old he is. 

He's mad at Torveld because he was overstepping. Courtship is important, and to skip the step of asking Auguste first whether or not he can pursue Laurent's affections is a big deal. Auguste views that behavior as predatory because it happens behind his back. This is why he's so angry at Damianos towards the end. Auguste has trusted him to keep Laurent safe, something he's only ever done with one other person (their uncle, duh, we all can see why he's projecting so hard and why he's so angry at Damianos in that tent. It feels like he's failed all over again, thus he feels renewed shame and guilt).

Lastly, Auguste's reluctance to take a pet has to do with control. Laurent is not the only controlling bastard in Vere, apparently.

Because of his uncle, Auguste has not had a moment of true peace in years. Half his country hates him and accuses him of the worst acts he can think of, and the other half follows him out of fear rather than true and free commitment. To have every action scrutinized… to be always in the wrong no matter what and have everyone dissect your choices…. He's just not willing to bend in some areas. I really think he'd rather snap.

Pets are one of those areas. Auguste tells Damianos he's had pets over the years, but he doesn't go into too much detail. When the lords keep suggesting he beds one (but not ANY of them, it has to be a man who looks nothing like Laurent) Auguste views this as other people trying to control him. He can't do any of the things he wants (hug his brother in public without being accused of being incestuous, rule his whole country, execute his uncle, etc) and so he thinks 'why must I give them this too?'

His reluctance to take a wife comes from the fact that the last woman he liked enough to court was one of his uncle's spies. He had her killed in a horrible way and her betrayal has stayed with him. It makes sense that he's a bit cautious of dating again.

Laurent is jealous of his brother's pets, but not because he wishes he was one of them. Laurent is jealous of them because they hold his brother's attention. He's jealous of anyone who takes or threatens to take Auguste away from him. It's because of this reason that he's so irrationally angry at Aimeric in the second half of the story. He hates the idea of Aimeric, who's always been his 'rival', getting to be in a position of controlling Auguste or holding his affection. 

Despite how much Laurent criticizes Auguste, he can't conceive a life without him. He doesn't want Auguste to die, and he also doesn't want to go away forever and never see his brother again. This is mentioned a couple of times, both when he's a kid and when he's an adult. "I don't like sharing" is one of the quotes that come to mind. Again, codependency.

Lastly, Laurent's dislike for pets has to do with his self-hatred and, controversially, with his slut-shaming. He's been on his knees for his uncle, not just sexually. Again and again, he keeps mentioning kneeling/sitting by his uncle's feet on the floor, being fed by him, etc. I think… Although there's a big part of Laurent that still fervently believes his uncle loves him, there's also a small, tiny part that knows or suspects his uncle's interest in him was purely sexual. Which means he was just a boy being used as a pet. Which in turn makes him dislike pets for reasons he can't quite explain. There's always disdain and disgust when he speaks of them, but it's pretty obvious it's not because he cares about the morality of sex work. That knowledge that his uncle used him is subconscious, but it manifests itself in his dislike for pets. 

How can pets enjoy being used sexually? The only way Laurent can justify what happened to him is through the lens of love. His uncle loved him, and that's why they had sex. Otherwise, to 'enjoy' being used without the romantic component lowers him to a pet status. It's degrading.

The ending is very open. Auguste and Laurent have both done pretty horrible things to each other, but they've done so out of love most of the time. Ultimately, the fic is about abuse aftermath and how different people deal with it. As mistaken as Auguste was, I think it's fair to say he loved Laurent very much. And Laurent loved him too. They both lived their lives with only each other in consideration, but Damianos' presence in their lives shifted that dynamic slightly. It wasn't just the two of them against the world (and each other lol) anymore.

I apologize for this deliriously long reply to your questions. It's been a while since I've had the chance to talk about this fic, and I would hate to think you were left wondering things. If anything I've said was unclear, feel free to message me again.

Also, please keep in mind these are my personal interpretations and headcanons. They don't have to be yours. These were my thoughts as I wrote the story, but they aren't more important than any reader's opinions. 

Thank you for giving me the chance to talk more about this fic, and for being awesome and reaching out!

[amphibious-thing]

Thank you, my dearest child, for your anxiety about me. No wonder that you thought I could not support myself under such a blow, but God is merciful and gives a strength we know not we possess. How I went through it, as my angel friend herself said, or how I am alive to tell it, I know not — such a loss! Oh, Dearest Augustus, She was the charm of my existence, my constant support in all my sorrows, the doubler and sharer of every joy. There is no giving you any idea of the three weeks we passed, or rather the fortnight, for the first week she recovered so much I thought not of danger, though Farquhar from the first was uneasy. I scarcely left her room or her bed, yet she was almost in a continual lethargy; still almost to the last she knew her sister and me, and her last words were to tell me she did not mind it. Oh, heavens! my dear Augustus, how is it that one goes through certain trials that but to think of at a distance seems impossible to bear. We felt stunned and unable to conceive what had passed. I am told it is the case always in great and deep afflictions. The Duke and I were saying one day it appeared to us like a dream. On saying this to Farquhar he told us it was always so.

Elizabeth Foster to her son Augustus Foster, 9 July, 1806, printed in The Two Duchesses by Vere Foster p287-288

Georgiana Cavendish had died on the 30th of March.

Walter Farquhar was one of Georgiana’s physicians.

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Tuesday 19 May 1829

4 50/60

11 10/60

Quite ready at 6 – breakfast at 6 10/60 – Mrs Barlow here at 6 40/60 – off at 6 3/4 – at the lecture room in 58 minutes just in time – the lecture lasted 1 hour – chemical lecture lasted from 9 20/60 to 10 3/4 – home in 55 minutes at 11 3/4 by our clocks, leaving (I alone) called on M. Desfontaines at his house immediately after the chemical but he was not at home so left my name in pencil, as the woman servant requested – he had been very civil at the close of his lecture when I asked him a question relative to the date cut and grown over in a piece of the trunk of a tree exhibited at the lecture – he answered me very civilly and good naturedly but I called to ask him if he would go over the garden with myself and a friend, Miss Hobart – Mrs Barlow and I had sat at the administration between the lectures, and seen M. Royce who said M. Desfontaines would be thought to be happy to oblige me – on getting home letter per petite poste, from Miss Maclean enclosing little money from Miss Hobart – 

Had stayed talking to my aunt and Mrs Barlow (who returned with me) some time – then read my letter and from about 12 1/2 to near 2 wrote 3 pages – should have got her letter in time to acknowledge it in my letter yesterday but Vere had no means of sending to me but, by the little post – delighted that my pages to say our plans were fixed were already on the road – ‘it was my aunt herself who hammered into me the travelling scheme (I had not thought of it for ages)’ - she varies as to staying here as her health varies – 

Sunday poorly thought herself fit for nothing but Shibden and to be quiet – yesterday better and all in spirits, and would take a house here for 3 years and then return! Even begin to doubt whether to change this apartment for it changing will harass my aunt – she does not complain of it, and its disagreeables ought to be nothing to me 

‘For entering much into society is even impossible on my aunt’s account, whatever she may think to the contrary all that I have dwelt on with most pleasure has been the thought of having you with me – if this may not be, the will of heaven be done! all I can say is, I desire but your welfare and happiness, and whatever can best insure these I would do all in my power to promote – your present state of health is an affliction to me greater than I can describe; but I am indeed persuaded that, ‘for human weal heaven husbands all wents’; and again, and again, in meek submission to that power that ruleth all things, my heart exclaims, ‘thy will be done in Earth as it is in heaven!’ – you are ‘a little bewildered about what everybody says of Paris in the heat’ – Bewilder yourself nothing more on this subject – the worst month is August, and next July – September, too, you might stay away – October is delightful – November often rainy – December and January our ‘winter’ – can she not go to Hampshire for the present but stay longer than a week that would be only a harass for nothing – then why not go to Guernsey? – think the mild air of Guernsey would do her good.

Would go and see her there – fetch her from there – do anything she wished – Had I known the extent of her bodily weakness when I left her, should have stayed longer – ‘shall go to the soirée at the Embassy on Thursday because it seems best to do so; but I shall think only of you; and the contrast between the scene around me and that at 17 Duke Street, will wrap my thought in melancholy – Sibbella! I should be delighted to have you here, because I hope and think you would be comfortable; but do nothing that is deemed imprudent by those who ought to be best able to judge – what says your cousin, the physician in London? what Lady Stuart, the Macdonalds, Macneils, etc. etc.?’ to write, if but a few lines, as often as she can – to give me her address in Hampshire, and let me never be a moment without knowing where she is ‘Tell me the worst you think and feel; and do not let me be a moment without knowing where you are’ – would rather know all about it - …..’God bless you Sibbella! – you may, under all possible circumstances, count upon all that can be done by your ever faithful and affectionate AL-’

Had written the above of today, and sent my letter to ‘Miss Maclean of Coll 17 Duke Street Portland Place, London, Angleterre’ at 12 40/60 – her letter a 1/2 sheet full in an envelope of which the 1 page full – not a word about or hint at Mr Long in my letter of this morning – she writes that he makes her drive outside thinking it absolutely necessary for her – got Captain Bury to drive her out one day, and sent his (Mr Long’s) groom to drive her another day – ‘You have no idea how weak I was when you left me and this vile cold took the remaining strength away I am obliged to sit all the time I am putting on my clothes – but I am much better than when I last wrote to you, though not much stronger – I think the desperate heat of the weather occasions it particularly as I cannot eat much’ ……. Mr McNeil of Barra’s sister and brother in law have put themselves under Mr Long ‘a scorbutic face’ – meaning that each has a scorbutic face? ‘I have much to tell you but having written to Vere since I came in, I have no time, and my back aches with sitting up, my dearest, do not look forward to long life for me, this sad cold has done me infinite mischief – you ask what my doctor says he looks with intense anxiety, and the slightest change in me, is reflected in him I wish it were not so – I told him this evening my opinion was that I could not long survive but he says still he has no fear but he will get me over this severe attack – and that he thinks I may still live some years’ – 

Captain Bury advises her not to risk the heat of Paris – She is ‘a little bewildered’ i.e. evidently afraid – no date, but says she goes ‘a fortnight hence, if strong enough, to Hampshire for a week – I shall be most anxious till your plans are fixed, I am not surprised your aunt should wish to return to England before your three years tour will be over, in all probability – she, will have looked her last on all she loves on Earth, who now signs herself your own ever affectionate SML’ 

What an account! I fear her forebodings are but too true – she will not perhaps survive long – what good has this silly quack done her? ‘Tis misery to me to think of it – 

Miss Hobart’s first note, merely to say it was an age since she had seen me – could I call on her on Wednesday morning between 1 and 2 ‘that we may have a little gossip? for it will hardly be practicable on Thursday ….. not a very large soirée ‘I fear our Sibbella is but poorly still ever yours V. Hobart’ dated ‘Embassy Monday morning’ – then wrote and at one sent George to ‘Miss Hobart’ Tuesday 19 May 1829’ ‘Dear Miss Hobart I have this moment got your note, and Sibbella’s letter – I fear she is indeed very poorly – we will talk about it tomorrow – your note though written before your receipt of mine, is a sufficient answer to it – I will call for you tomorrow about half past one – I know not anything more you can have to write to me, but will desire George to ask if he is to wait for an answer – I hope you got your watch safe – the letter to Sibbella would, of course, be in time – ever yours AL’

Before 2 George brought an answer – she sent my letter – will be delighted to go to ‘Père la chaise’ if will call for her about 3 – ‘I shall have dined with the children by that time’ but if I think this too late, to go earlier ‘ however I think it pleasanter to let the heat pass away before we drive’ – will pay for her watch tomorrow – 

At 3 1/4 had written the whole of the above of today – Mrs Barlow sat with my aunt till a little after 1 (by our clock as I have written always) – at 3 1/2 went to Mrs Barlow’s – she in bed with a sick head ache – sat by her beside till near 6, and got home at 6 – 

Saw Madame Galvani for 10 minutes – she gave me [?] me the number she had had in answer from M. Dossene – the apartment on 2nde, rue saint Florentin no.11 ‘est de 2400 francs plus le sol par livre du portier et les postes and finêtres’ – the latter tax 2 francs or 1/. per door and per window – Mrs Barlow pays 18 francs a year for this tax – that this apartment 86 steps high, only one window in the drawing room and no coach house would cost 2600 francs a year unfurnished – hired furniture would cost 1000/. a year and coach house 200/. so we should altogether pay 3800 to 4000 a year – 

Dressed - dinner at 6 1/4 – came to my room at 8 – read a little Méreat’s Botany – and had 1/2 hour’s nap on my sofa, and went to my aunt at 9 1/2 – coffee immediately – came to my room at 10 5/60 – very fine day -

[mfingenius]

When Damen unpins the golden lion at his shoulder, Laurent straightens, snapping at attention. When he unpins the one on his hip and his chiton falls to the floor, Laurent’s face goes red. When servants oil him for wrestling, Laurent is half convinced this isn’t a sport at all, and is just a way for Akielons to show off.

“See something you like, baby brother?” Auguste’s voice comes from beside him, and Laurent very nearly hits him with how surprised he is. A decidedly unprincely squeak leaves his mouth, and he glares at his brother, face warming further.

“Shut up, Auguste.” He hisses desperately.

Auguste is cocking an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Does it have to be Damen? He’s the king of Akielos.” He says, exasperated. The wrestling match has started, and though the other competitor – Pallas – is also decidedly strong and handsome, Laurent can only focus on King Damen. He’s been Auguste’s friend since Laurent was nothing more than a baby, and as they’ve aged they’ve grown closer, Vere’s and Akielos’s alliance growing with them.

“I’m not interested in him.” Laurent lies. Auguste sees right through it, he always does, but Laurent stubbornly refuses to admit it out loud. Though he’s been attracted to Damen for years now, he still has a tiny sliver of hope that, if he ignores his feelings for the King of Akielos, they’ll go away.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be interested in anyone,” Auguste continues. “It is perfectly normal for a young man to want to explore his sexuality-”

“Auguste!” Laurent looks at his brother, scandalized. Auguste isn’t even the slightest bit pink, and Laurent can already feel his cheeks burning.

“And it is healthy,” Auguste continues, as if Laurent hadn’t just spoken. “But does it have to be with Damen?”

“I am not – I have not – I am not in his bed.” Laurent snaps. “And if I were, you’d have no say about it! You said I’d choose who I married.”

It had been the very first thing he’d promised Laurent, when they were children; that if Laurent was still unwed when he reigned, he wouldn’t marry him off for a political alliance; he’d let him choose his spouse, and he’d be supportive in his choice.

“You want to marry him?” It’s Auguste’s turn to be scandalized.

Laurent’s blush spreads to his ears. “No. I’m just saying – I – you have no business-”

The Akielons begin clapping, and when Laurent looks at the ring, he realizes the wrestling match is over, and Damen has won. He’s disappointed at not having watched it.

The servants dry Damen off, and then pin his chiton in place again; afterwards Damen comes to sit on his throne, between Laurent’s and Auguste’s – Auguste as a fellow king,

Laurent as a Prince – and gives a dimpled smile as Auguste compliments his fighting. When his eyes land on Laurent, he frowns.

“Are you warm, Prince Laurent?” Damen asks. “You’re awfully red.”

Laurent hears Auguste snort on Damen’s other side, and he wishes Auguste were closer to him so he could step on his brother’s foot, King of Vere be damned.

“I’m alright,” Laurent manages. He wishes he’d taken up Damen’s offer to wear a chiton; his clothing is too suffocating for the heat outside, and he feels the strong desire to unlace himself.

He doesn’t.

“Are you sure?” Damen pushes lightly. “We could get you a physician.”

“I’m alright,” Laurent repeats. “You were – good. You’re good at wrestling.” Damen’s dimple appears again, and Laurent considers calling the physician.

“Would you like me to teach you?” Damen offers, and Auguste snorts again at the idea. Laurent spends his days cooped up in the library, his nose permanently buried in a book, even in meals and while he’s walking. The only outdoor activity he enjoys is riding. He is decent with a sword – Auguste forced him to take lessons – but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy it.

“Laurent doesn’t enjoy that sort of thing,” Auguste responds for him, smiling fondly.

“And I don’t have the body for it,” Laurent agrees. “You’d have me on my back in a second.”

Damen doesn’t look like he considers that to be a bad thing, necessarily.

That is something else that keeps Laurent’s feelings from going away; he knows Damen’s type, and he’s not unaware of his looks. He knows that, if he made advances, Damen would never reject him.

But he’s also aware of Damen’s reputation, and he doesn’t want to be another pretty blonde warming the King’s bed. Sometimes, he thinks it could be more than that; that Damen is attracted to him for who he is, not for his looks, but for him.

“I would appreciate it if you taught me sword fighting.” Laurent says.

Auguste frowns. “I have been trying to teach you for years, you’ve never wanted to learn!”

It is not in the lessons that I am interested in, he wants to tell his brother, but refrains. “I think I’m ready now,” he says instead, batting his eyelashes innocently. Auguste

narrows his eyes, clearly seeing through the lie, but Damen merely beams.

“Of course!” he says excitedly. “I would be honored. When would you like to begin?”

They’re only in Ios for three more weeks, and if Laurent is to figure out whether Damen is interested in him for his looks or for his brain, he needs all the time he can get.

“Tomorrow?” He asks.

Damen accepts, and Laurent can see Auguste’s eyes narrow further.

*

The first week is slow work; Damen seem genuinely interested in teaching him, insistent and relentless when it comes to mistake or delay.

“All it takes is one second,” he reminds Laurent whenever he frowns at his nagging. “And if the enemy is better than you, that’s it.”

Auguste observes the lessons with narrowed eyes and suspicious looks, but after a bit, he seems to determine that his best friend has no intentions of bedding his baby brother, and stops brooding.

He and Damen fight sometimes, and it’s an impressive feat to watch. Auguste’s elegance and lightness makes him graceful with a sword, as it is accustomed in Vere, and though Damen’s huge physique would give another impression, he is quick on his feet; his raw strength and the way he moves with a sword – decisively, firmly, as if he were born with a sword in his hands – make him look powerful.

Laurent has never been more attracted to him.

When their match is over, neither of them are even winded. “Come on, Laurent,” Damen hands him a sword. “Again.”

Though attracted to him, Laurent hates him. He goes to bed every night with his muscles tired and aching, and when he wakes the ache is even worse. Though he can see the effects of Damen’s relentless training on himself – he will never be able to grow Damen’s muscles, but his body is looking a little more defined – it is not turning out as he wanted it to.

With Auguste watching – and occasionally joining – the lessons, Laurent hasn’t been able to make a move, and he’s running out of time.

He resigns himself to not confronting Damen.

*

Laurent sighs, pleased, when Damen wraps a strong arm around his waist. “Come on, Laurent, I’ll take you to bed,” he says.

That sounds good. In fact, that sounds fantastic. Laurent’s had a little too much Griva, and he doesn’t think he can stand properly anymore. He can definitely lie down, though, preferably with Damen on top of him. That’ll definitely make this feel better, he thinks.

“Yes,” Laurent slurs lightly, letting Damen half-help him, half-drag him down the hall, towards his bedroom.

Auguste is wrapped up in the Vaskian ambassador, so Laurent doesn’t think he’ll notice him gone, at least for long enough for Damen to bed him. At this point, Laurent doesn’t even care if Damen only likes him for his looks; he’s accepted the fact that his feelings aren’t going away, and the possibility of Damen not returning them hurts more than knowing they are only returned based on his physique.

“Bed me, Damen,” He says, more clearly than he has spoken in a long, long time. Damen stumbles and nearly drops Laurent, so Laurent tightens his grip around his

neck.

“What?” He asks, shocked.

“Bed me,” Laurent repeats. “I don’t – I don’t care if that’s – that’s all you want. It’s – it’s fine, I can – can-”

“I’m not going to bed you, Laurent.” Damen says firmly. He signals for the guards to open the door, and though they’re Veretian, they follow the order.

Laurent suddenly finds himself lifted from the ground and then placed on soft, soft pillows.

“I’ll beg,” Laurent offers, snuggling closer to the pillows. Comfortable, he thinks dumbly. “I – want you. Please.”

Damen runs a hand softly through Laurent’s hair, and Laurent looks up at him through glazed over eyes. Damen looks as handsome as ever, and with the lamps on the wall, there’s a halo of light shining around his head.

“Laurent, you are not yourself right now.” He says softly. “Tomorrow, you will hate me.”

“I won’t.” Laurent says, shaking his head and trying to sit up. It’s not a good move; it makes him dizzy. “I won’t, I could never. Please, Damen, I can’t – I can’t keep pretending I don’t have feelings for you.”

“You have feelings for me?” Damen sounds like someone has punched him. “Yes.” Laurent whispers. “Yes. Please.”

He presses his lips against Damen’s, and the King of Akielos allows it for a moment, before he pushes Laurent away.

“I have feelings for you, too, Laurent.” He admits. Then he stands. “I won’t act on them when you can barely think straight. If you don’t feel too badly tomorrow, I would love to talk to you about this. Until then, however...” he lifts Laurent again to pull back the covers of the bed, and then tucks him in under them. He presses a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, sweetheart. We can talk in the morning.”

Laurent hums in agreement and snuggles deeper into the pillows. He’s asleep before Damen even leaves the room.

---------------

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