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1320 Royal Updates
Here are the birthdays, marriages, and deaths of the royal side households in the year 1320. This list will not include anyone from my main household or any of the Blackburne siblings, and their families (Smith, Hicrest, and Vorona/Ravn).
House Stagfield
Birthdays:
Princess Margery - Age: 5 years old / Lifestage: Child
Deaths:
Warin Fitzroy - Age: Newborn / COD: Heart Defect
Marriages/Betrothals:
Betrothal of Princess Letha & Lord Hugh Ashdown III
Betrothal of Arthur Fitzroy & Lady Annora Gilbert
Betrothal of Prince Philip & Lady Elizabeth Ashdown
House Davenport
Birthdays:
Lady Amelia - Age: 1.5 years old / Lifestage: Toddler
House Clarillot
Birthdays:
Princess Isabella - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Princess Blanche - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Deaths:
Princess Joan - Age: Newborn / COD: Lung Defect
House Dalriada
Birthdays:
Princess Ceanna - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Marriages/Betrothals:
Prince Ewan married Princess Ceanna of House Stagfield
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1320 update for Blackburne clan and the side households (Smith, Hicrest, and Vorona/Ravn).
Birthdays:
Ingerid Blackburne - Age: 1.5 years old / Lifestage: Toddler
Tobias Blackburne (son of Thomas & Una) - Age: 3 months / Lifestage: Infant
Angus Hicrest - Age: 5 years old / Lifestage: Child
Ameera Vorona - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Deaths:
Theda Blackburne - Age: 0 years old / COD: Stillborn
Marriage/Betrothals:
None
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The year 1320 had been a year of both sorrow and resilience for the Blackburne family. The loss of their second child had cast a long shadow over their lives, leaving a gaping hole in their hearts. But amidst the grief, life had found a way to persist.
Alexander, ever resourceful, had poured his energy into rebuilding the farm. He had invested his earnings from his woodworking and the sale of his crops, improving the fields and expanding their livestock. The farm, once a symbol of their losses, was slowly regaining its vitality.
Lilyana, her spirit unbroken by the tragedy, continued to be a beacon of strength for the family. She cared for Ingerid with unwavering love and devotion, teaching her the skills she would need to navigate the world.
One evening, as they sat by the fire, Lilyana approached him, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Alexander," she began, her voice barely a whisper. "I think..."
Alexander's heart leaped into his throat. He knew what she was about to say. "You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lilyana nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered.
Alexander pulled her into his arms, his joy tempered by the memory of their loss. But as he felt the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat, a wave of warmth washed over him. This child, this new life, was a symbol of hope, a testament to their resilience.
"It will work out this time," he whispered, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "We'll protect them with all our might."
Lilyana smiled, her tears now tears of joy. "I know we will," she replied, her voice filled with love and hope.
As they gazed into the fire, they dreamed of the future, of a life filled with laughter and love, of a family growing stronger with each passing day. They knew that the road ahead would not be easy, but they were ready to face whatever challenges lay before them, hand in hand, their hearts filled with a renewed sense of hope and purpose.
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The morning after the wedding, sunlight streamed through the windows of the royal suite, illuminating the scattered letters on Queen Genevieve's desk. A wave of exhilaration washed over her as she read each message, each bearing the seal of a different noble house. The tide was turning. Years of simmering discontent with King Philip's tyrannical rule, exacerbated by his lavish rewards to the Ashdown family, had finally reached a boiling point. Now, with her daughter married to the heir of Caledonia, the weight of their support lent a newfound strength to her cause.
Genevieve met with King Duncan and Sir Nehemiah in a private chamber. "The support is growing, Duncan," she announced, her voice brimming with confidence. "Many are ready to rise."
Duncan nodded, his expression grave. "I am pleased to hear it, Genevieve. But…"
"But what?" she pressed, concern lacing her voice.
"As King," he began, his voice heavy with responsibility, "I must prioritize the well-being of my own people. I cannot risk dragging them into a war that is not their own."
Nehemiah's temper flared. "But you promised! You swore you would support us!"
Duncan sighed, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I will continue to provide aid, of course. Funds, weapons… whatever you require. But men… I cannot afford to deplete my forces. With Philip enraged over the marriage, I must be prepared to defend my own borders."
Genevieve, her initial disappointment fading, met Nehemiah's gaze. "He is right, Nehemiah," she said, her voice calm and resolute. "This is a conflict within Aethelmark. It must be resolved by Aethelmark."
"If I can secure the support of another kingdom," Genevieve continued, "a powerful kingdom, it will send a clear message to Philip. It will show him that the tide has turned, that he stands alone. He will have no choice but to yield."
Duncan's eyes widened. "An alliance with another kingdom… that could be… significant."
Genevieve smiled, a steely glint in her eyes. "Indeed. It is time to start planning."
As Nehemiah and Genevieve discussed their next move, a sense of purpose returned to them. The road ahead would be fraught with danger, but they were no longer alone. The seeds of rebellion had been sown, and with careful cultivation, they would soon bloom into a full-fledged revolution.
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TW: Graphic Descriptions of Childbirth, Newborn Death
The heavy oak door of the birthing chamber creaked open, revealing a face etched with worry. King Philip, his usually imperious demeanor replaced with a palpable anxiety, paced restlessly. "How is she?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.
The midwife, her face pale and drawn, shook her head. "It is… difficult, Your Majesty. Lady Edrea is… older. The child is… large."
Philip's brow furrowed. "Older?" he scoffed. "She is still young."
The midwife exchanged a weary glance with the attending physician. "For a woman of childbearing years, perhaps. But at forty-one, Your Majesty…"
The hours that followed were a blur of pain and fear. Edrea, her face contorted in agony, clung to the sheets, her cries echoing through the chamber. Sweat beaded on her brow, her body trembling with each excruciating contraction. The midwife and physician worked tirelessly, their faces grim.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a cry, weak and mewling, filled the room. Relief washed over the onlookers, but it was short-lived. The baby, a boy, was born pale and lifeless. The physician worked frantically to revive him, but to no avail.
A wave of despair washed over Edrea. She had endured the agonizing pain of childbirth, only to lose her child. Tears streamed down her face, silent sobs wracking her body. Philip, watching her grief, felt a pang of sympathy, a rare emotion for him. He had never known the depths of such sorrow.
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The air in the small council room was thick with tension. Prince Evrard, summoned by his brother, sat uneasily, his gaze darting around the room. King Philip, his face stern and unreadable, sat at the head of the table, his son, Prince Philip, seated beside him, looking remarkably grown up.
Evrard hesitated. "Perhaps Prince Philip is a little young for these matters," he suggested, attempting to ease the tension.
Philip waved his hand dismissively. "He must learn, Evrard. He is the future of Aethelmark."
The doors swung open, admitting the other members of the council. Evrard's gaze fell upon Earl Hugh Ashdown, who returned his stare with a sly smirk.
"Reports," Philip commanded, his voice sharp.
The head of the King's Guard stepped forward. "Genevieve remains in Caledonia, Your Majesty. The marriage between Princess Ceanna and Crown Prince Ewan has proceeded against your request to end the betrothal. However, discontent among the nobility is growing. The recent land grants to the Earl of Ashdown have fueled resentment."
Philip's eyes narrowed. "Discontent, you say? Let them remember who holds the true power in this kingdom."
"Sir Tristian," he ordered, "keep a close watch on these families. If any show signs of aiding Genevieve's rebellion, arrest them immediately."
Earl Hugh Ashdown nodded approvingly. "A wise decision, Your Majesty." His son, Baron Hugh, echoed his father's sentiments.
Evrard could no longer remain silent. "If you wish to gain their loyalty, brother, perhaps showering favors upon one family is not the wisest course of action."
Philip glared at him, his eyes flashing with anger. "As King, I am free to do as I please."
He turned to Earl Hugh Ashdown. "Have the arrangements been made?"
Evrard's head snapped up. Arrangements? What arrangements?
Earl Hugh Ashdown smiled. "Yes, Your Majesty. The marriage contracts have been finalized. Princess Letha will wed my grandson, Lord Hugh Ashdown III. Prince Philip will marry my granddaughter, Lady Elizabeth Ashdown. And Earl Arthur Fitzroy will wed Lady Annora Gilbert."
Evrard felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He had not been consulted, not even informed. "What... what is the meaning of this?" he stammered, his voice rising. "You are marrying two of your own children to the Ashdowns!"
"The Ashdowns are a powerful family, Evrard," Philip said calmly, "a valuable asset to the crown."
"A valuable asset!" Evrard exploded. "You are giving the crown to the Ashdowns! This is why the nobles are revolting! They see you as a puppet of this… this…"
"Enough!" Philip roared, his voice booming through the room. "You will address me with respect, Evrard. And you will learn to accept my decisions. One more word of dissent, and I will have you confined to the tower!"
Evrard stared at his brother, his face pale and drawn. He had never imagined things would come to this. He had always supported Philip, but this… this was betrayal. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that this would be the beginning of the end for their brotherhood.
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The wedding of Princess Ceanna Stagfield and Prince Ewan of House Dalriada was a grand affair, a celebration of love and unity between the kingdoms of Aethelmark and Caledonia. The ceremony took place in the magnificent cathedral of Mistpeak, the heart of the Caledonian kingdom.
Guests from far and wide had gathered to witness the union of the two young royals. Among them were Ceanna's mother, Queen Genevieve of Aethelmark, and her companion, Sir Nehemiah Pearce, their presence a testament to the delicate peace that had been forged between these two families. Also in attendance were Prince Ewan's parents, King Duncan and Queen Moira, and his three younger sisters, Princess Fiona, Princess Alisa, and Princess Mary.
The cathedral was adorned with vibrant flowers and lush greenery, casting a spell of enchantment over the proceedings. As the ceremony commenced, the air was filled with the melodious chants of the choir, their voices echoing through the hallowed halls.
Ceanna, resplendent in a gown of shimmering silk and lace, walked down the aisle, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Her eyes met those of Prince Ewan, and a smile lit up his face. He looked every bit the dashing prince, his eyes twinkling with admiration.
The ceremony was a beautiful blend of tradition and heartfelt vows. As the priest pronounced them husband and wife, a wave of joy washed over the congregation. Confetti rained down from the balconies, and the air was filled with the sound of jubilant cheers.
After the ceremony, a lavish feast was held in the grand hall of the castle. Guests dined on sumptuous dishes, danced to lively music, and toasted the happy couple. Ceanna and Ewan moved gracefully among their guests, their faces radiating happiness.
As the night drew to a close, the newlyweds retired to their chambers, their hearts overflowing with love and anticipation for the future.
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The rain began to fall softly as Stephen hurried along the cobblestone path, his boots splashing in the puddles. He couldn't stop thinking about Eloise. Her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke, the warmth of her hand in his. He'd never felt this way before, a strange flutter in his chest, a longing to see her again. He didn't understand it, but he knew he couldn't let it go.
As he neared the orphanage, a shiver ran down his spine. He felt watched, a prickle of unease crawling up his neck. He scanned the shadows, but saw nothing. He quickly pushed open the heavy oak door, the familiar scent of damp wool and stale bread filling his nostrils.
As the door swung shut behind him, a figure emerged from the shadows across the street. Prince Evrard, his face obscured by the falling rain, watched the door for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. He knew that boy. He knew that look in his eyes, the same look he saw in the mirror sometimes. A look of longing, of yearning for something more.
Evrard turned and melted back into the night, the rain washing away any trace of his presence. He had a son, a son he didn't get to see grow up, a son who was growing up in this miserable place. And now, that son had a spark in his eyes, a spark that Evrard recognized as dangerous if anyone got in his way.
He had to find a way to bring that boy into his life, to guide him, to shape him. He had to make sure that spark didn't burn out, that it ignited a fire within him, a fire that would one day make him a worthy heir.
The air in the opulent bedroom was thick with tension. Prince Evrard, his face pale and drawn, strode across the room, his boots echoing against the polished marble floor. Fiora, startled by his abrupt entrance, rose from her dressing table, her hand instinctively reaching for the silken robe draped over the chair.
"Evrard, what is it?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "You look troubled."
He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. Fiora took a hesitant step closer, sensing the storm brewing within him. "You found one," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He turned, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Yes. A boy and I believe there is another at the same place with him."
Fiora recoiled, a chill running down her spine. She knew what he meant, the bastard children, the ones born of fleeting encounters.
"The King," she began, her voice trembling, "he told you to drop this matter."
"He keeps his bastard by his side," Evrard roared, "pampered, coddled, treated like a prince! And I, I can't even acknowledge my own flesh and blood!"
"Evrard, please," Fiora pleaded, her voice rising in alarm. "You can't compare the two. The King was gracious with this position he gave us of watching over the Gilbert wards. The Gilbert children are orphans. They need our protection."
"Orphans!" he scoffed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "And what about my son? Is he not an orphan too? Orphaned of his father's love, of his rightful place in the world!"
"One son," Fiora retorted, her anger finally erupting. "One son out of how many, Evrard? Are you going to legitimize them all? Will you bring them all here, into this castle, to parade them before the court?"
"At least then my legacy will live on!" He roared. He watched as she backed away, tears in her eyes and her hand on her stomach. He knew instantly that she was thinking of their children. Their two girl and one boy who died before they had full lives.
Evrard's anger subsided, replaced by a chilling sense of despair. He had spoken without thinking, his words echoing the bitterness that had festered within him for years.
"I... I didn't mean it, Fiora," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret.
But the damage was done. Fiora, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, stepped back, her hand raised as if to ward him off. "Those children," she said, her voice trembling, "they grew up in filth and decay. They may carry your blood, but they will never be royals. They will never understand this life, this world. And you... you need to remember who you are, Prince of Aethelmark. You cannot allow yourself to be consumed by this obsession."
Evrard stood alone in the center of the room, the echoes of her words ringing in his ears. He had crossed a line, a line he knew he could never cross back. The loss of their children had left a gaping hole in their lives, a wound that refused to heal. But he couldn't let it go. His son and others were out there. Children with his blood and he would do anything to bring them in to his legacy.
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The setting sun cast long, skeletal shadows across the cobblestone street as Eloise trudged back to the Hicrest cottage. Another day, another string of rejections. Finding work was proving harder than she'd anticipated, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders. Her stepmother, Antonia, had been dropping hints about a potential remarriage, a prospect that filled Eloise with dread. Antonia's son, Wyat, would undoubtedly be her priority, and Eloise knew her siblings could easily be cast aside.
Disheartened, she ducked into the local tavern, a last-ditch effort to find any sort of employment. "Do you have any work for a young woman?" she asked the gruff-looking barkeep, her voice barely a whisper.
"Nothing for you, girl," he grumbled, his eyes lingering on her with a predatory gleam that made her skin crawl.
Eloise's shoulders slumped as she found an empty seat. She felt a wave of despair wash over her. How would she feed her siblings? How would she keep them safe?
A voice startled her. "Don't let that cur get you down."
Eloise looked up to see a young man standing beside her table. He had kind eyes and a warm smile that seemed to chase away the gloom.
"He's known for his wandering hands with the pretty girls," the young man explained, taking a seat across from her. "Best to stay away."
"Thank you," Eloise said, surprised by the unexpected kindness. "I... I don't know your name."
"Stephen," he replied, his smile widening.
"Eloise," she returned, feeling a blush creep up her neck.
"You look familiar," she mused, "Have we met before?"
Stephen shook his head. "Probably just seen me around. I live at the orphanage on the outskirts of town. They provide for us, but it's not much, so I beg when I need to and I'll be turned out soon, so I'll need the coin."
"Turned out?" Eloise frowned.
He shrugged. "That's the way it is. But I'll be fine."
Eloise didn't believe him. It sounded terrible.
She glanced at the deepening shadows outside. "I should get home."
Stephen rose to his feet. "Let me walk you."
Eloise hesitated, then nodded. She wasn't sure why, but she found herself wanting to spend a little more time with him.
Eloise and Stephen arrived at her small cottage and before Stephen could say goodbye, Eloise invited him inside.
"Elric! Angus!" Eloise called, her voice firm. "Come greet our guest."
The two younger boys burst into the room, a whirlwind of questions. "Who are you?" "What's your name?" "Do you have any pets?" "How old are you?" Stephen, initially startled, soon found himself charmed by their enthusiasm.
Oliver, however, remained skeptical. He watched Stephen with narrowed eyes, a silent judgment in his gaze. Eloise, noticing his apprehension, shook her head slightly, trying to reassure him.
They sat down at the rough-hewn table. "I'm Stephen," he said, "I'm fourteen, turning fifteen soon and no I don't have a pet."
"I'm Oliver," the older boy replied grudgingly, "I just turned fourteen."
"Eloise is going to be sixteen soon, so she thinks she is old enough for a husband to make money for all of us." Oliver continued, his tone laced with a bitterness that surprised Eloise. "Antonia keeps talking about finding a new husband. She says she'll get rid of us all then. Find a new home, a new life."
Stephen's face flushed. "That's… absurd. You can't just… discard your family like that."
Eloise tried to smile. "It's alright, Stephen. I can handle it."
But Stephen shook his head vehemently. "I know what it's like to be unwanted. To be a burden. That's why I never let anyone take me in. I'd just be thrown out when I was no longer useful."
Eloise felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Do you… do you ever want a family of your own?" she asked gently.
Stephen looked away, a wistful expression in his eyes. "Of course. But… I don't want to work for some guild, be a cog in a machine. I want to be free living among the trees."
"Free?" Oliver scoffed. "Free to starve? The woods are full of thieves."
Stephen smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Exactly. That's the life for me. No rules, no masters, just the open road."
Eloise felt a strange thrill course through her. She should have been scared, horrified by the idea of a life of thievery. But instead, she found herself strangely drawn to his words, to the image of freedom he painted.
Before she could explore this unexpected feeling further, a voice cut through the air. "What in blazes is going on here?"
Antonia stood in the doorway, her face a mask of disapproval. "Who is this boy? And what is he doing in my house?"
Stephen rose to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. "I was just—"
Eloise gently placed a hand on his arm, silencing him. "He was just walking me home," she said calmly, though her heart pounded against her ribs.
Stephen nodded and let his fingers graze against hers. "I'll see you again," he whispered to her before going out the door.
Antonia scoffed. "A fine specimen you've chosen, Eloise. A street urchin. If you think I'll tolerate such riffraff in my home—"
"This was my mother and father's home first!" Eloise retorted, her voice rising.
Antonia's eyes narrowed. "They're dead, Eloise. Dead and gone. And this house is mine now."
"But—"
"But nothing! I will find a husband, and you and your siblings will be gone. You'd best start thinking about how you'll support yourselves, because I certainly won't."
Antonia turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Eloise staring after her, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt a suffocating sense of despair. Antonia's words echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the precariousness of their situation.
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TW: Stillborn, Pregnancy Complications
The year 1320 dawned on the Blackburn farm with a sense of cautious optimism. The famine had receded, leaving behind a trail of hardship and loss, but life was slowly returning to normal. Alexander and Lilyana, their love a beacon of hope in the darkest of times, were now navigating the joys and challenges of parenthood.
Ingerid, their spirited daughter, was a whirlwind of energy, exploring the world with boundless curiosity. Alexander, ever the protective father, spent hours playing with her, teaching her to ride a pony and how to use the potty. Lilyana, with the wisdom of a seasoned mother, guided their daughter with gentle patience, teaching her the importance of sharing and kindness.
One stormy afternoon, as the rain lashed against the windows, Lilyana felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Her face paled, her breath catching in her throat.
"Alexander," she cried, her voice filled with fear. "The baby..."
Alexander rushed to her side, his heart pounding. He had anticipated this day, but the reality of the situation was far more terrifying than he had imagined.
Selena, her face etched with concern, quickly assessed the situation. "I'll help you, Lilyana," she said, her voice calm and reassuring.
But the pain was relentless, waves of agony crashing over Lilyana. Alexander watched helplessly, his heart breaking as he listened to his wife's cries. He felt utterly useless, a mere spectator to her suffering.
Hours passed, each one an eternity. Finally, with one last, desperate push, Lilyana gave birth. But as Selena gently placed the newborn in her arms, a chilling silence fell over the room. The baby, a tiny girl, lay motionless, her breath failing to return.
Lilyana's eyes widened in horror. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No..."
Selena, her own eyes brimming with tears, gently placed the lifeless infant in Lilyana's arms. "I'm so sorry, my dear," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.
Lilyana wept, her heart shattered. The joy of childbirth had been replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss. The child she had longed for, the child who had been a beacon of hope during the darkest days, was gone.
As the storm raged outside, mirroring the tempest within their hearts, Lilyana knew that this pain, this profound sense of loss, would forever be a part of her.
#sims 4#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 history challenge#ts4#ultimate decades challenge#simblr#ts4 decades challenge#ts4 gameplay#ts4 legacy#ts4 simblr#mainhousehold#blackburne family#1320s#1320
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1310 Decade End Summary - Royal Family Edition
Here is an update of where the royal and noble families are at the end of 1319.
House Stagfield
King Philip (Gen 1) - 33 years old
Lady Edrea Ashdown (Gen 1) - 40 years old
Arthur Fitzroy (Gen 2) - 8 years old
Princess Letha (Gen 2) - 10 years old
Prince Philip (Gen 2) - 6 years old
Princess Margery (Gen 2) - 5 years old
Queen Genevieve (Gen 1) - 31 years old
Sir Nehemiah (Gen 1) - 31 years old
Prince Evrard (Gen 1) - 31 years old
Princess Fiora (Gen 1) 31 years old
House Dalriada
King Duncan (Gen 1) - 47 years old
Queen Moira (Gen 1) - 37 years old
Prince Ewan (Gen 2) - 19 years old
Princess Fiona (Gen 2) - 11 years old
Princess Alisa (Gen 2) - 7 years old
Princess Mary (Gen 2) - 5 years old
Princess Ceanna Stagfield (Gen 2) - 11 years old
House Gilbert
Earl Ronan (Gen 2) - 6 years old
Lady Annora (Gen 2) - 9 years old
House Davenport
Baron Trystrem (Gen 1) - 44 years old
Baroness Catelyn (Gen 1)- 34 years old
Lady Amelia (Gen 2)- 1 years old
Lord George (Gen 2) - 16 years old
Lady Antonia (Gen 2) - 18 years old
House Clarillot
Queen Dowager Emma (Gen 1)- 37 years old
Princess Isabella (Gen 2) - 13 years old
Princess Blanche (Gen 2) - 13 years old
Prince Louis (Gen 2) - 7 years old
King Geoffroi (Gen 2) - 16 years old
Queen Margaret (Gen 2) - 16 years old
House Brabant
Duke Pierre (Gen 1) - 25 years old
Princess Anais (Gen 1) - 25 years old
Lady Cateline (Gen 2) - 7 years old
Lady Eleanor (Gen 2) - 2 years old
House Almanzor
Queen Regent Ines (Gen 0) - 52 years old
Princess Dionora (Gen 2) - 9 years old
Princess Constance (Gen 2) - 3 years old
Deaths 1310 to 1319: (18 sims)
King Henri I: (1254 -1314) / Age: 60 years old
King Henri II: (1285 - 1315) / Age: 30 years old
Princess Marie Clarillot: (1310-1310) / Age: 0 years old
Prince Henri Clarillot: (1314- 1316) / Age: 2 years old
Prince Robert Clarillot: (1316-1316) / Age: 0 years old
Duke Charles Brabant: (1265-1318) / Age: 53 years old
Lord Richard Brabant: (1315-1315) / Age: 0 years old
Princess Elise Almanzor: (1289-1316) / Age: 27 years old
Prince Adrian Alamanzor: (1281-1316) / Age: 35 years old
Princess Carlota Alamanzor (1312-1313) /Age: 1 years old
King Mateo Alamanzor (1267-1318) / Age: 51 years old
Countess Synnove Gilbert (1265-1316) / Age: 51 years old
Earl Nolan Gilbert (1289-1315) / Age: 26 years old
Countess Eda Gilbert (1296-1315) / Age: 19 years old
Countess Cecilia Gilbert (1289-1310) / Age: 21 years old
Lady Rose Gilbert (1308-1313) / Age: 5 years old
Lady Wilmaette Stagfield (1308-1313) / Age: 5 years old
Lady Jane Stagfield (1314-1314) / Age: 0 years old
Lord Edmund Stagfield (1315-1315) / Age: 0 years old
Lady Elsa Davenport (1313-1318) / Age: 5 years old
Prince Fin Dalriada (1313-1314) / Age: 1 years old
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1310 Decade End Summary
Here is an update of where my main household and side household are at the end of 1319.
Main Household - Blackburne Family at beginning of 1310.
Blackburne Family in 1319 (7 sims with one more on the way)
Selena Blackburne (Gen 1) - 37 years old
Alexander Blackburne (Gen 2) - 18 years old
Lilyana Blackburne (Gen 2) - 18 years old
Beatrice Blackburne (Gen 2)- 12 years old
Brenna Blackburne (Gen 2)- 7 years old
Lucia Blackburne (Gen 2)- 5 years old
Ingerid Blackburne (Gen 3)- 1 years old
Side Household - Blackburne (4 sims with one more on the way)
Thomas Blackburne (Gen 2): 17 years old
Una Blackburne (Gen 2): 17 years old
Katharine Blackburne (Gen 3): 2 years old
Isaac Blackburne (Gen 3): 2 years old
Side Household - Smith in 1310
Side Household - Smith/Atwood Family in 1319 (4 sims)
Elizabeth Atwood - (Gen 2): 17 years old
Kingsley Atwood - (Gen 2): 17 years old
Henry Smith - (Gen 2): 13 years old
Faran Smith - (Gen 2): 9 years old
Side Household - Hicrest in 1310
Side Household - Hicrest Family in 1319 (6 sims)
Eloise Hicrest - (Gen 2): 15 years old
Oliver Hicrest - (Gen 2): 13 years old
Elric Hicrest - (Gen 2): 9 years old
Angus Hicrest - (Gen 2): 4 years old
Side Household - Blackburne in 1310
Side Household - Ravn / Vorona Family in 1319 (7 sims)
Alaric Ravn - (Gen 1): 32 years old
Iona Ravn - (Gen 1): 21 years old
Gregory Ravn - (Gen 2): 8 years old
Philippa Ravn - (Gen 2): 7 years old
Nadya Vorona - (Gen 1): 31 years old
James Vorona - (Gen 2): 13 years old
Ameera Vorona - (Gen 2): 11 years old
Generation 1 Blackburne Siblings in 1310
Generation 1 Blackburne Siblings in 1319
Blackburne Siblings - Generation 2 (1319)
Deaths 1310 to 1319: (10 sims)
Eden Blackburne - (1255 - 1311) / Age: 56
Basil Smith - (1312 - 1312) / Age: 0
Edward Blackburne - (1282 - 1313) / Age: 31
Rowena Hicrest (nee Blackburne) - (1284 - 1315) / Age: 31
Gregory Smith - (1278 - 1315) / Age: 37
Edward Blackburne II (1309 -1317) / Age: 8
William Atwood - (1317 - 1317) / Age: 0
John Atwood - (1317 - 1318) / Age: 1
Wyat Hicrest (1278 - 1318) / Age: 40
Ornelle Smith (nee Blackburne) - (1278 - 1319) / Age: 41
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1319 Royal Updates
Here are the birthdays, marriages, and deaths of the royal side households in the year 1319. This list will not include anyone from my main household or any of the Blackburne siblings, and their families (Smith, Hicrest, and Vorona/Ravn "formally Blackburne").
House Stagfield
Birthdays:
Stephen Bright - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Prince Evrard - Age: 31 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Duchess Fiora - Age: 31 years old / Lifestage: Adult
Queen Genevieve - Age: 31 years old / Lifestage: Adult
House Davenport
Marriages/Betrothals:
Marriage between Lord George Davenport & Lady Antonia Gilbert
House Dalriada
Birthdays:
Princess Mary - Age: 5 years old / Lifestage: Child
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1319 update for the Blackburne clan and the three side households (Smith, Hicrest, and Vorona/Ravn "formally Blackburne").
Birthdays:
Ingerid Blackburne - Age: 3 months old / Lifestage: Infant
Henry Smith - Age: 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Oliver Hicrest - Age: 13 years old / Lifesage: Teen
Iona Ravn- Age: 21 years old / Lifestage: Young Adult
Beatrice Blackburne - 13 years old / Lifestage: Teen
Nadya Vorona- 31 years old / Lifestage: Adult
Deaths:
Ornelle Smith - Age: 41 years old / COD: Hunger
Marriages/Betrothals:
Marriage between Alaric & Iona Ravn
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The church bells chimed, their melody a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within Antonia's heart. As she stood looking at her reflection in the stained-glass window a haunting reminder of the life she could have had.
And then she saw him. Thomas Blackburne, his presence as unexpected as it was unwelcome. His eyes met hers, a silent plea etched upon his face. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, a bittersweet memory of a love lost and a future denied.
"Antonia," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "You shouldn't do this."
His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the occasion. Antonia's heart ached with longing, but she knew she couldn't give in to her desires.
"Thomas," she replied, her voice steady, "this is my fate."
"No, there has to be a way." Thomas let out a long breathe before he continued. "I know that I can't ask you to leave with me. I lost that right the day I married Una. But you shouldn't do this for me or for anyone else. You should leave for yourself. He will never make you happy."
Lord George, a man of privilege and arrogance, approached them, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice laced with contempt.
"I was just saying goodbye to an old friend," Thomas replied, his voice calm.
George scoffed. "A peasant like you, befriending a lady of my station? Preposterous!"
With a swift movement, George shoved Thomas aside, his anger palpable. Thomas, though taken aback, remained composed. He knew that a confrontation would only worsen the situation. He gave one last look at Antonia, looking for her answer. All she could do was shake her head. His head hung low, Thomas turned and walked away.
As the ceremony proceeded, Antonia felt a growing sense of despair. She exchanged vows with George, her voice devoid of emotion. The kiss he forced upon her was a hollow gesture, a stark contrast to the tender moments she had shared with Thomas.
As she walked down the aisle, her future stretching out before her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. The love she had once felt for Thomas had been a fleeting flame, extinguished by the harsh realities of life.
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TW: Hallucinations and Delusions, Starvation, Death
Ornelle stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the empty horizon. The voices of the departed swirled around her, a cacophony of memories and longing. She could hear the laughter of her daughter, Eden, the comforting voice of her husband, Gregory, and the familiar tones of her siblings, Edward and Rowena. In her mind, they were all there, alive and vibrant.
Her mental state had deteriorated significantly since Henry's birthday. The once vibrant woman had become a mere shadow of her former self. She neglected her duties, her appetite waning, and her body weakening with each passing day.
As she stood there, lost in her reverie, she heard Gregory's voice, clear and distinct. She turned, her eyes widening in disbelief. There he was, his red hair glowing in the ethereal light. A surge of joy and relief washed over her as she reached out to him. But before she could touch him, her strength gave way, and she collapsed to the floor.
Elizabeth, alarmed by the sudden noise, rushed to her mother's side. Ornelle lay motionless, her face pale and still. Desperate, Elizabeth called for help, but it was too late. Her mother, the woman who had given her life meaning, was gone.
Elizabeth and Kingsley, two young souls barely out of their own adolescence, were now burdened with the responsibility of raising Henry and Faran. The future, once uncertain, now seemed bleak and daunting.
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Nadya stared into the darkness, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Another year had passed, another year of running, hiding, and protecting her children. The constant fear, the endless vigilance, had taken a toll on her. Her body ached, her spirit weary. She longed for a peaceful existence, a life where she didn't have to look over her shoulder, where her children could live without the constant threat of exposure.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence. "Mother," James said, his voice echoing in the darkness. Nadya whirled around, startled. His eyes, a deep, unnatural red, held a strange intensity.
"What is it, James?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
"It's time," he said, his voice low. "It's time for you to join us."
Nadya was taken aback. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You made us what we are," he explained. "You gave us this power. But you're aging, Mother. You're mortal."
Nadya knew he was right. The potion she had created had not only saved their lives but had also altered their very nature. They had become something more, something less human.
"Creating that potion was a desperate act," she said, shaking her head. "I doubt I could do it again."
James's eyes narrowed. "There must be another way," he insisted. "A way to extend your life, to make you like us."
Nadya sighed. "Aging is a natural part of life, James. It's something we all must face."
But James was determined. "We can't let you leave us," he said, his voice rising. "You made us what we are. You owe us."
Nadya calmed him down, reassuring him that she would never abandon him or Ameera. She promised to find a way to ensure their future, a future free from fear and persecution.
As James walked away, a dark thought crossed his mind. Perhaps there was another way, a way to ensure their survival, a way to conquer death itself. And he knew he would stop at nothing to achieve it.
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