#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

[luckyarchivist]

Literally this idea came to me at 4 AM a couple of nights ago and I finally have the time to write out some thoughts about it!!! Started as "ooh, it'd be interesting if Vere and Kuras switched personalities or general roles" and landed on

✨ TOUCHSTARVED Roleswap!AU 🔄️

Just roleswapping the main five for now, since we don't have enough info on Sen and Elyon! (When will we have enough info on Sen and Elyon....?)

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Kuras → Vere = The Chained Angel

Kuras bears his exquisite golden chains with a solemn disdain—the mark of his servitude to the mysterious Senobium. His enslavement has gone on for so long that no one in town can recall a time when Kuras walked free. The Senobium clerics who parade him about yank on his leash and sic him on their enemies like an attack dog, which he seems to abhor but accepts nonetheless.

Even you can tell that Kuras is a being imbued with immense power. Who could possibly keep him imprisoned like this, or... Why is he letting them? Is there a way to rescue him from his fate, or will you also find yourself trapped in chains?

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Ais → Mhin = The Demon Outsider

Ais is a newcomer to Eridia, like you, but he's already garnered quite the reputation: although he's a Monster, he's laid-back, reliable, and more than willing to beat anyone and anything—human, Soulless, and all in between—to a lifeless pulp, for the right price. He seems to have taken a special liking to you, possibly because you both have problems you hope this city holds the solutions to.

What is troubling Ais so badly that he needed to come here to find its answer? Could it have something to do with his fits of ultraviolence? And are you willing to put your life in his bloodied hands to find a cure for your own affliction?

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Vere → Kuras = The Repentant Charlatan

Vere is a walking contradiction. He dresses for the lounges of Hightown while cleaning scalpels in his dingy Lowtown clinic. He is a Monster, one that invites suspicion and fear, that has made it his duty to serve humans. And, by his own admission, he hates the people of Eridia—the very people he spends hours tending to. Despite it all, lines regularly run out the door of Vere's office, and patients have few complaints when they leave. He must be an exceptionally good physician—though you're sure his enchanting looks and seductive voice also draw people through the door.

How, and why, would someone like Vere become a doctor in this town? What powers is he drawing on to heal people? Could Vere cure your condition once and for all, or will you suffer the hidden side effects of his more adventurous treatments?

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Leander → Ais = The Heroic Renegade

It's odd to see a person so welcoming and warm in a place as dread-inducing as the Seaspring, but that's exactly where Leander can be found. He wears a bright, personable smile—one offset by the eeriness of his glowing crimson eyes, and one that the Seaspring's victims around the city grimly mirror. Despite his apparent friendliness, the Seaspring is devoid of people—populated only by mindwiped minions, who serve as Leander's eyes and ears in Eridia, and the Soulless that Leander hopes to "rehabilitate".

Leander swears he'll find a way to cure you of your ailment, but how far will he go to make himself the hero of your story? And what cost will you pay to the Seaspring for his help? Can you resist the pull of the crimson waters long enough to see Leander's true face, or will his magnetic lure drag you into the depths?

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Mhin → Leander = The Cursed Mage

Mhin is an intrinsic facet of Lowtown: they and their dour band of Alley Cats serve the district's citizens as protectors and pillars of the community. But even while surrounded by allies and lackeys, Mhin seems unbearably lonely, preferring to sulk in corners while their members drink and dance at the Wet Wick. And despite accounts of their exceptional magical prowess, they refuse to use their powers, relying exclusively on their medical and alchemical knowledge to fight their battles and solve their problems.

Why does Mhin shun their own magic? And what is the source of their isolation? Can you convince Mhin to use their powers to help you, or will you both be overwhelmed by the weight of their secrets?

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And that's it! I had a lot of fun brainstorming and writing this one. Time for me to disappear again ✌🏾😗

[epiphanyepica]

Thoughts on Prince's Gambit, Chapter 1

Orlant dared Damen to run, while I'm daring him to marry Laurent and become the king consort of Vere, LOL.

Laurent's good with doggies, AWEEEE.

The physician wants Damen to use healing salves on his back every night? Ohohohoh, who's going to apply them, then? 😏.

Probably the fucking physican 🤦‍♀️.

All of the Prince’s Guard are so loyal to Laurent and Damen’s like: “this does not compute 🥸”

Laurent and Damen are sharing a bedroom at Chastillon, OH? Not a full on there-was-only-one-bed thing, but STILL.

Laurent went on trips to Chastillon with the Regent for a year or two after Marles? You mean when he was in that pedophile’s AGE RANGE? AND HE STOPPED COMING TO CHASTILLON AFTERWARDS? HMM?

The Regent must be burned at the stake. That fucker.

Damen joking about killing Laurent and escaping the keep, LMFAO. And Laurent barely batting an eye.

Laurent knows something about wanting to kill someone, but waiting? Is this about the Regent? Or about Damianos?

[wrenaspun]

hennike and her little duckling smaurent spending time together!

This became more of a Hennike centric fic SORRY but Laurent does make an appearance !! She does spend time with him !! -

Hennike was very newly married when she first fell pregnant. The signs became apparent only a handful of weeks after the ceremony, and the tests that the old physician had her take proved her snooping cousin Julia right, which was galling.

“I told you,” said Julia smugly. “I’m never wrong. Some Women — ” the capitalisation was audible “ — always Know.” She patted Hennike’s cheek. “My mother always said you had the best hips in the family.”

Later, Hennike would look at Auguste and find it impossible that he should have come out of her, that he could be of her blood. Even while he was in her belly he had only really been Aleron’s. Julia insisted on predicting smugly that it would be a boy, because she was carrying so low, and then to a lesser extent he became Vere’s, the hoped-for heir, loved before he was anything more than a cluster of cells.

For a long time, at the start of the pregnancy, Hennike’s stomach felt oddly divorced from the rest of her, a separate compartment for an object which had been misplaced inside her and which its true owner was waiting impatiently to retrieve. Then, as the physicality of pregnancy made itself known, it became impossible to consider any part of her as separate. Her whole body ached and throbbed and grew swollen, and she began to feel like she was the compartment, that the compartment-ness of her stomach had expanded to encompass the rest of her until she was transformed into a vessel for the future of Vere. She ate healthily and slept regular hours because that was good for the baby. She took light exercise for the baby and avoided stress for the baby. Aleron spoke about the baby as though it were here and his wife as though she was somewhere far away. Well, she thought, when she remembered to think, her mother had said this would happen. Her mother had said: for nine months, you will be more than yourself. It was nine months she had to live through. Her mother had had four children, but only three pregnancies; Hennike’s older brothers were twins. She thought more than usual about the fact that twins ran in her family, even after the physician assured her that she was only carrying one.

It was such a relief when the baby came out of her that it was almost like love, right away. Then it really was love — she wasn’t heartless. Auguste was such a sweet, good-natured baby that it was impossible not to adore him. He conquered waves of nursemaids and scores of servants with his gummy, sunshiney smile. Even Aleron was sometimes seen smiling down at him, bouncing him on one hip, letting the royal regalia be drooled on.

Auguste was so ceaselessly healthy that Aleron made only the occasional desultory effort in Hennike’s bed, which suited her just fine. One of her maidservants offered, quietly, to procure an herb that was commonly taken in the south to prevent pregnancies; the king’s brother had recently managed to open a new trade route to Bazal. Hennike brewed the tisane for herself without a pang of guilt.

When Auguste was five, it was thought that a sibling might be a good addition to the royal line; but it never took. The same when Auguste was nine. Hennike quashed the desire to send Julia a stupid letter. The court was vaguely discontented, but Auguste’s boisterous misadventures in the marble halls made sure that never took, either. Hennike peacefully let him smash several old Kemptian vases and the court was cheerful for months about his liveliness.

When Auguste was eleven, it happened again. Hennike, thirty-five, had not seen it coming; neither she nor Aleron had been making much effort; but there you had it. The pregnancy was different because Hennike was different; easier to remain herself, but harder in every other way. She no longer had a young woman’s body: she was sorer, sicker, more swollen. It was another nine months that she had to live through. Auguste was terribly sweet to her, bringing her little pastries that soothed her stomach and fresh-cut fruit that made her sick again.

But it was worth it. Laurent was Hennike’s, entirely Hennike’s from the top of his downy head to the tips of his perfect shell-pink toes. This, she thought, was a baby she had made deliberately, so it made a certain kind of sense that he was less perfect than the older brother she had not played any part in. Laurent was not frail, but he was smaller and more delicate than Auguste had been. He could scream more in one night than sunshine-personified Auguste had in a whole month. His smiles were very rare, only given begrudgingly, and his default expression was a wicked frown which was almost enough to send his poor nurses running. Auguste had been indiscriminately happy with the gifts which had been sent to him by foreign embassies; Laurent developed a particular attachment to a Vaskian horse-toy and spurned the rest, refusing to touch them, sulking savagely if his horse was taken away even briefly, even just to be cleaned. He was so fussy, and Auguste such an indulgent older brother, that after a few months he wouldn’t sleep unless he was walked around for half an hour first in Auguste’s arms.

It was not the done thing, but Hennike loved to hold him in her arms and sleep, the weight of him pressing down into her chest. Aleron did not know what to do with this strange and decidedly opinionated new baby; he was not easy, the way Auguste had been easy. But he had such a martial light in his eyes that from the very beginning, Hennike was sure he would achieve anything he wanted.

[snarkformysanity]

Review: Captive Prince (Series)

Okay, I've finally finished the lot! And... much like with my review of the first book, I was pleasantly surprised overall. The second and third books are an improvement on the first, with the second probably being my favourite one not just because it's purple I swear. I think overall I'll give the series a B-. I want to give it a B, because there's really some goods things here which I enjoyed, but I do have some gripes which I'll go into below. Well, one gripe, really, but it's a big one. This review is not spoiler-free, so... you've been warned.

The plot of the series overall is fairly straightforward - our protagonist, Damen, Prince of Akielos, is captured by his half-brother during a coup and sent to the nation of Vere to be a slave for its crown prince, Laurent. The two hate each other, initially, but gradually become allies of necessity and develop a grudging respect, which blossoms into something more. While this is happening, they're trying to outmaneuver Laurent's uncle, the Regent of Vere, at various political machinations (which are surprisingly decent, for YA/NA), culminating in their making a play to win both their countries back.

I must say, the pacing throughout the series was very good. Nothing really felt like filler, which is always nice, and despite the relatively short length of each book, a lot manages to happen. I very much enjoyed the dynamic between our leads as it evolved and developed - they have legitimate grievances with each other, but at the same time, the series manages to build their relationship off a sense of actual growing admiration for each other (rather than just "he's hot", like in many other books I've had the misfortune to read). Like they're actually observing each other's personality traits. Very refreshing. And they do have some legitimately cute moments.

About my only gripe with the plot/pacing is that the ending felt a little... abrupt. I mean, I get why - their plans for the future which were alluded to (uniting Akielos/Vere) would take a smiiiidge longer than a chapter or two to resolve, but even so. We could have at least gotten Damen to the physician, surely. The man was stabbed ffs. I mean, we're told he'll be fine, but still.

I also didn't really mind the worldbuilding (with the caveats that I discussed in my review of book one regarding how it handles its darker topics). It's not an especially huge or deep world, but there's enough details to make the story work and make the world feel real enough. It draws very heavily on Ancient Greece and Late-Medieval France for Akielos and Vere, respectively, but does some unique and interesting things with them.

Honestly, apart from the book one caveats I mentioned (which, admittedly, are toned down a bit in the subsequent books), my single biggest gripe with the series is probably just the technical quality of the writing. Sure, it's better than, say, Twilight or Fifty Shades, but that's really not a high bar to clear. The prose is very, very basic, and sometimes suffers from awkward phrasing or odd, disconnected dialogue segues and such. More than once I legitimately had no idea what the characters were talking about, because they spoke only in weird allusions that just did not seem to be connected to anything that was going on.

Probably one of the most noticeable (and frequently-occurring) examples of this was with the use of pronouns (or lack thereof). And sure, it can be hard to be clear about who's doing what when 99% of the cast is male, and thus you're stuck using "he" all the time. But, if you find yourself using a character's name six times in a single (short-ish) paragraph, you need to go back and reword something.

When he returned, Damen let Laurent towel him down, with the sweet, unanticipated attentiveness that was also part of the way Laurent behaved in bed. He sipped from the shallow cup that Laurent provided, and poured water for Laurent in turn, which Laurent didn't seem to expect. Laurent sat awkwardly upright on the bedding.

Seriously. At least two of those "Laurents" could easily have been pronouns, and I'd even settle for an epithet like "the other man" just to break it up a bit. It's awkward and clunky. Pretty much any time I found myself pulled out of the narrative, it was generally because of the writing itself. It wasn't constant, but it was often enough to be annoying.

In the acknowledgements section at the end of the last book, I noticed that this series apparently started life as a web serial which, honestly, goes a long way to explaining both this and the sex-obsessed nature of the first book in particular. And, again, honestly, I'm surprised the rest of it hung together so well. Authors who made their names on the web have a bit of a reputation in this sphere, after all (Cassandra Clare. Sarah J. Maas. E. L. James. You get the idea). There was clearly a lot of love and care put into things like the plotting, the characters and their dynamic, and the setting - it honestly makes me excited to see what C. S. Pacat will do going forward, as they improve their technical skills in writing.

But, yes, it is the writing which drops it from a B to a B-. It's just really hard to justify rating it higher with the kind of clunkiness that crops up regularly throughout it. But, apart from that, and the YMMV nature of the series as discussed in my review of the first book, it's a solid series, in my opinion. It's entertaining. I was invested in the story and characters. And it holds together well.

[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

[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.

[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 ¾

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 –

[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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