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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post).

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use).

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban.

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions).

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed.

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate!

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore.

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks.

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all.

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…"

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out.

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

#ask #anon

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comediesmusicales · 3 years

Video

youtube

Rodolphe Briand was part of the 1991 Paris revival production of Les Misérables. He played the roles of the Bishop of Digne and Claquesous, among others.

In May 1992, Robert Marien went back to Canada and Rodolphe Briand, who was also a Jean Valjean understudy, got to play the role at Mogador for a month.

He recorded one of his performance on a digital audio tape and recently shared it on youtube ! (recently as in april 2020... sorry I haven’t been much on the internet this year...)

It’s probably the best audio recording of the 1991 french cast you’ll currently find out there, so enjoy !

(There is no information about the cast apart from Jean Valjean, but I’m pretty sure the rest of the characters are played by the principal actors).

#les misérables #Les Miserables #paris revival cast #rodolphe briand #jerome pradon

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theoriginalladya · 3 years

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Dragon Age II - Meghan Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Sebastian Vael *ears perked* *grabby hands* :D for your WIP folders?

Hehehehe Thought that might get your attention! :)

Okay, so let me start with Meghan and Nate. Meghan is the only Hawke I’ve ever played (dual wielding rogue). I ended up playing her twice because on my first playthrough (romanced Fenris) the save I tried to import didn’t work, but I didn’t discover it until Alistair showed up and I knew that language I needed to hear, and I didn’t. Okay, not so bad. So I reimported it, it took this time, and I romanced Sebastian second time through in the game. Great - now I have some baseline on both of those romances.

That said, I already knew Meghan wasn’t going to be with either of them in her story - she ends up with Nathaniel Howe who she meets when he is still a squire for his lord in the Free Marches. In fact, they meet in Kirkwall as he is waiting on the ship that will take him back to Ferelden.

Going to put under a cut because this got long really fast! lol

(And I do not vouch for any of this as I first wrote it about six years ago, possibly longer! lol I’ve certainly learned a LOT more about writing since then, so these will inevitably get cleaned up before I think of posting them in future)

Deep in thought, Meghan left the table and returned to the bar. She waited to be served another and was considering looking to round up a game of Wicked Grace to entertain herself with when she was unexpectedly and quite rudely hit in the back. The move shoved her belly first into the bar counter, and the edge caught her just beneath the ribcage. “Ooof!” Her breath was forced out of her lungs, and for the briefest of moments, Meghan thought she saw stars ….

“Maker’s breath, are you alright?”

Blinking back pain and trying to suck in enough air to breathe let alone reply, Meghan coughed harshly and finally resorted to nodding. Her vision wasn’t quite back to normal yet, but a strong hand at her back pounded a few times in an offer of help -- help? How does this help?

Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, the hand grasped firmly at her shoulder and he guided her to sit on a nearby bench. She recognized that it was a he, despite still being doubled over from pain. His voice had that soothing baritone feel to it, very similar to the voice her father once had.

Once seated, he left her side, returning a half moment later. He dropped a tankard on the table beside her with a not so gentle thud and both he and she ignored the suds and ale that sloshed over the side, dripping down to form a ring around the vessel. “I must apologize,” he told her, dropping to a knee in front of her to bring them to eye level.

Meghan lifted her head, still searching for enough breath with which to speak, when she met cool, steely grey-blue eyes. Blinking, her mouth worked again, but still nothing escaped that even remotely resembled words. At best, a rough grunt slipped past. His eyes narrowed in concern and he moved to her left as if to pound on her back again.

Meghan reacted instantly. Straightening, she lifted her hand, warding off his actions, and finally drew in a deep breath. “No, thank you!” she rasped. She pulled in another immediately following, and then another. Absently, she rubbed at her ribs where they’d hit the counter. “I’m … good.”

“Are you certain?” he asked. The look of concern on his face didn’t fade. If anything, Meghan noticed, his brow seemed to furrow more deeply. “I would hate to think that I --”

She managed a lopsided smile, waving her hand back and forth between them. “I’ll be fine,” she promised, this time with better vocal projection even if it was still rough around the edges. “What -- what happened?”

He grimaced. Glancing around, he pointed towards a mild brawl taking place that was now moved onto the far side of the tavern. “I guess I walked into the middle of something.”

Meghan’s eyes followed his direction and she spotted a pair of vaguely familiar faces in the center of the tussle. Sighing, she shook her head. “Willis and Farlan are always in the middle of some ruckus,” she assured him. Her voice was stronger now and she straightened further. Reaching for the tankard, she took a careful drink. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she observed, “You aren’t from these parts, are you?”

The concern finally eased from his face, but Meghan wouldn’t say it softened his features at all. Dark hair, light eyes, and eagle like features even down to his unfortunately large ‘beak’. Still, he wasn’t entirely unattractive, and Meghan had to admit the caramel smoothness of his voice more than made up for any perceived deficiencies so far.

“I’m not, no,” he agreed. Rising, he took a seat on the bench next to her, his eyes drifting to follow the activities across the room. “My name is Nathaniel Howe. I’m a squire for Ser Rodolphe Varley.”

Meghan frowned, searching her memory for any information on that name. She’d heard it a time or two, but had no first hand knowledge. At the same time, something about Nathaniel dropped into place for her. “You aren’t from the Free Marches, are you?” When he looked startled, she smiled. “Your accent -- Ferelden?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I’ve worked hard to disguise it,” he admitted, “and thought I’d made progress. Obviously, I was mistaken.”

Dropping into the Fereldan tongue, Meghan gave him a sassy grin and extended her hand. “Meghan Hawke, lately of Lothering. My family and I fled to Kirkwall when the Blight started.”

“Lothering?” His look of astonishment faded into a half smile of amusement. “Your accent, on the other hand, is quite good.”

“My parents were originally from Kirkwall,” she explained. “They moved to Lothering before I was born.” She took a healthier swallow of her ale. “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked after a moment.

Nathaniel chuckled softly and shook his head. “It is I who should be buying you one, I think,” he told her.

Meghan jumped to her feet, only the slightest of tightening at the corner of her eyes indicating any residual pain left from her injuries. “Nope. This round is on me.” She left him before he could protest, returning a couple of minutes later. Handing him the tankard while regaining her seat, she reached for her own and lifted it to clink against his. “We Fereldens have to stick together.”

Now, let me tell you a bit about Sebastian in this world. I adore Sebastian, good parts, bad parts and all the in between. I’ve always thought he got the short end of the stick on some things too, and I wanted to include him more predominantly in this series of fics, so I’ve sort of broadened his horizons, so to speak.

Now the clip i’m going to share technically is a part of Serafina and Alistair after the Blight, but it happens in Kirkwall (long story there, too), so I sort of wedged it in on this side of things to make it easier to find in my notes. You see, he and Serafina met years ago when she is visiting Orlais. Neither has seen each other since then - about five years previous to this moment. This is how they bump into one another after all that time...

Their path took them into an open courtyard and for a moment, Serafina’s steps slowed.

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alistair asked, his eyes searching the area.

“I think we must have,” she replied. “Oh, wait. There’s the Chantry.” She pointed across the way. “I think we need to head that way.” Her hand drifted to a stairwell to the right of the building.

Alistair’s eyes lifted to view the large building looming over the city. “You know,” he mused in a tone only she could hear, “I’ve always heard how the people of Hightown think themselves above those in Lowtown, but I didn’t think it was so literal.”

“Hmm?” Serafina glanced around. Smiling gently, she nudged him in the arm. “There is a lot of history here,” she agreed, “but most people tend to forget the simple yet more important aspects of it.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” He stopped walking, pulling her over to the center of the courtyard near the Chantry Board.

Casually, she pointed to the exits to the immediate area. “What do you see?” she challenged.

Alistair blinked. “Stairs?”

Serafina nodded. “Where do they lead?”

He frowned. “Down?”

She nodded again and waited, her eyes meeting his.

“To … Lowtown … Oh!” Blinking, Alistair tilted his head to his right. “Stairs lead up and down.”

“Exactly. They might find themselves above those whom they think they are better, and their history certainly provides enough reminders that even the bloodiest of battles have not reached these heights,” she pointed out, “but the fact remains that when that happens, they are still stuck. Those stairs are their only way out. If a siege can be held long enough, they have no means of escape.”

“Thankfully,” he muttered for her ears only, “Denerim isn’t set up the same way.”

“There is that,” she agreed. Then, walking out into the middle of the square, she turned in a slow circle, eyes lifted and surveying the architecture and situation of the buildings surrounding them, “On the other hand, it’s difficult to argue that it isn’t a pretty view.”

“And clean,” Alistair interjected as his eyes followed her. Granted, certain parts of Ferelden’s capital city were better tended than others. He wondered how much that had to do with the Blight and civil war or simply because Cailan had been king. His eyes fell back to her after a moment and he stiffened when he realized … “Watch out, behind you!”

Serafina, eyes still on the buildings around them, stumbled as she stepped backwards into someone. She caught herself awkwardly, but didn’t quite lose her balance. “I’m so sorry!” A strong hand at her arm helped her maintain balance, and she dropped her eyes … to an unexpectedly handsome and familiar, if somewhat older, face from her past. Gasping, her own eyes widened. “No! It … it can’t be!” she breathed. “Sebastian?”

Startled, the man released his hold on her and took a step backwards. “I’m sorry. Have we met?” he asked.

It was all Serafina could do to break her gaze from his. When she did, her eyes trailed over the rest of him. He stood before her, just as vibrantly muscular and male as she remembered, now dressed in armor that clearly had Chantry’s influence in the design. That, perhaps, answered a question. However, some things remained the same. The blue of his eyes. The velvety roll of his voice and the soft burr as he spoke ….

It stung a little that he didn’t recall without some prompting, but considering the circumstances that led to that night, it wasn’t much of a surprise. “Five years ago in Val Royeaux,” she murmured quietly. “There was a masquerade and …”

Recognition hit him instantly and he took another quick step backwards from her. “You!” he gasped, face paling with shock.

She nodded slowly but remained where she was. She didn’t realize Alistair had joined her until his voice, quiet but urgent in his concern for her, penetrated through the fog of surprise. “Are you alright?”

#WIP Folder meme #ladya writes #Dragon Age II #Meghan Hawke #Nathaniel Howe #Sebastian Vael #Serafina MacKinnon #Alistair Theirin #my writings #thank you so much for asking about them!!!#shadoedseptmbr

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mountain-ash-and-rusted-iron · 4 years

Text

this is an oc masterpost of all my haf-formed ocs languishing on pinterest with their messy aesthetics and unedited blurbs, in roughly chronological order of their creation, plus sorted by fandom. this post is only asoiaf, harry potter, hunger games, and riverdale, cos i have tooooooo many original characters otherwise and the post was getting incredibly long. (note that i love my ocs but these one’s are not polished or even the final versions of their characters, i just wanted to post them lol)

under a read more, if you’re on mobile start scrolling i guess, sorry,,,

Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire:

Laeya Targeryen: (child of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen, born 280 AC - three years older than Danaerys)

Fearful of her impending marriage, Laeya is eleven when she takes her younger sister and flees across the sea to Dorne, hiding herself and Dany with dyed hair and badly controlled magic. As Leia and Dani Sand they learn to live normally. At 15 Leia joins the Royal Guard and secures Dany work as a tailor's apprentice. When she is 17, an assassin tries to kill her in front of the Dornish court and everything changes...

- so laeya straight up has magic, which im considering an extension of the dragon thing dany has - she can control flame and for the disguise uses her ‘inner fire’ to make her eyes white-blue like super hot flames, cos the purple eyes are super distinctive. and then she’s discovered and suddenly politics are happening. honestly she’s entirely a way for me to remove the child marriage bits of the targaryen storyline (stop marrying off your twelve-year-old baby sister viserys u asshole) - in terms of meta/basics, laeya doesn’t have a fc cos most of my early ocs don’t, and bcs i picture her as emilia clarke with faked dark hair and blue eyes lol

and a quick aesthetic below:

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Kyrra Snow: (child of Robert Baratheon and Maery Snow, birthdate ???)

Kyrra Snow is the eldest natural-born child of Robert Baratheon, current King of Westeros, and daughter of Maery Snow, a Southron (but Northern-born) merchant woman. After her mother realises Kyrra was growing up a little too much like her father in looks and needed to leave the far South before she caught the wrong sort of attention, Kyrra was sent off to travel with her aunt and cousins. She is 17 and heading further north, to Winter Town, when Jon Arryn dies.

- kyrra’s another child of everyone’s favourite asshole king, and she’s got a lot of people after her head, but she just wants to travel and continue her work as a simple peddler. (riiip poor girl) honestly she’s not that developed but yolo -

aes:

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Brynn Stark: (child of Catelyn and Eddard Stark, Robb’s twin sister)

Brynn believes in honour and family, and she is loyal to Winterfell and the North above all else. Likes - archery, embroidery and weaving. Betrothed to [some young Northern lord] to keep the bonds between the Norther families strong.

-i basically made brynn as a contrast to sansa’s pro-southnness and excessive femininity and arya’s anger and desire for swords (relatable mood tho lmao). so brynn is here to mediate, extoll the virtues of both needlework and weapons, make a decent marriage to someone she likes, if not loves, and hold down the fort in the North while shit gets increasingly messier in the South. and a possible faceclaim is Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey -

aes:

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Rosienne Lannister: (child of Joanna and Tywin Lannister, born 273 AC)

Rose is looked at by the realm with dismissal, a consolation prize for her father, a spare daughter only useful for matchmaking, but at least able-bodied and pretty, unlike her brother. After a long betrothal, Rose is married to Willas Tyrell at the age of eighteen, cementing her role as the next Lady of High Garden...

- Rosie/Rose is a bonus Lannister, bcs why not. likes cyvasse and the harp, soft and kind and maternal, powerful in her own way. originally she was from a minor divergence where joanna survives tyrion’s birth and goes on to have another kid, but not sure if i’ll keep that aspect, so for now she’s tyrion’s twin -

and her aes (yes that quote is cropped, no i don’t care rn):

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honourable mentions to my other got underdeveloped got/asoiaf ocs who need more effort before i post properly about them:

Tamlen Storm, a rookery apprentice (working for the Maester of House Tully, managing the ravens) who may or may not be a reincarnated si-oc trying to save westeros,

and an unnamed northern huntress who stumbled into the plot somehow and wants her normal life back (entirely inspired by Keira Knightley as Gwyn in Princess of Thieves, when she’s doing archery stuff and looking v butch).

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Harry Potter:

Taurus ‘Ara’ Lestrange: (child of Bellatrix and Roldolphous Lestrange, born 1978)

Raised by the Goblins after a legal mix-up following her parents' imprisonment in Azkaban, Taurus is good with a sword and aiming to be the next Minister of Magic. She attends Hogwarts with the other magical kids her age, under the fake identity Ara Burke, unknown cousin of a minor half-blood family. When the Potter brat’s drama starts destroying her change at an education just as her fourth year, her OWL prep year, begins, Ara intervenes.

- im tangentially aware that as bellatrix’s kid she’s almost occupying the place of whats-her-name from the cursed child, but considering that i know nothing about the cursed child and don’t care about it anyway, i have elected to ignore this. her actual parent might turn out to be some smitten half-blood from a minor branch of the Greengrass family, or it might actually be Rodolphous, who knows. slightly inspired by the fic ‘Harry Crow’ (by robst on ff.net) where harry is raised by the goblins -

messy aes:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Valerian Potter: (child of Lily and James Potter, born 1980)

After the Potter twins’ parents are murdered by Voldemort, they’re dumped on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive. Dealing with two traumatised magical orphans, Petunia and Vernon Dursley turn to violence and neglect to stay in control, acting far more harshly than expected. With the arrival of two Hogwarts letters, life gets complicated incredibly quickly. (Self-sufficient and scarred from abuse, Val and Harry are immediately Sorted into Slytherin).

- val’s fic is basically an angst fest, okay,,, -

aes:

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and shout-outs to: holly addison potter, a half-baked reincarnation si-oc (i love that concept a lot, can u tell) and my fav girl thea dursley, who already has her own fic and so isn’t getting a proper spot in this post

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The Hunger Games:

Asher: (District Two, age 18)

[rip no blurb for asher]

-asher is a career from two, who wins the 70th games. mostly im focusing on her recovery and how the games function in two, with training volunteers and mentoring and collecting sponsors, plus eventually the rebellion. lots of the D2 headcanon i have is inspired by @/lorata but i defintely made a distinct effort to have my own stuff, cos where’s the fun in plagiarism -

aes for Asher’s Games:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rowan Everdeen: (District Twelve, age 19)

Rowan will do anything to protect her family. This extends to going to Head Peacekeeper Cray on a cold winters night, charging the most she can get for her virginity. It extends to Reaping Day, when she steps out in front of the crowd and says “I volunteer as tribute” in the steadiest voice she can muster. It extends to clawing her way out of the Arena, bloody and exhausted, with blades in her hands and violence kept tucked behind her teeth. It extends further, to a simple ‘Yes, President Snow’ when he coldly, carefully implies her family might meet with an accident if she doesn’t play the good little Victor (and fuck the people who pay the Capitol for her company). It extends to joining the Rebellion, to looking President Coin directly in the eye and agreeing to be a Mockingjay, a symbol for the people to rally around.

- another everdeen kiddo! as the big sister, rowan volunteers for prim, and goes through the Games - she’s a healer and a hunter, and a decent enough actor that she can manage interviews and a camera presence, unlike katniss. rowan also pairs well with a minor au i have, where the reapings are spaced out over a week and official training is a longer, giving the capitol a nice, long buildup to get excited and place bets, etc., and giving the poor, underfed tributes from the outer districts a better chance, which makes for more interesting television and better Games -

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Adrasteia Crane: (The Capitol, age 28) Unlike her big brother, Adrasteia doesn’t want to be a Gamemaker. Instead, she wants to create clothes, artwork, to enrapture the Capitol. She wants to be a Games stylist. After years of design school, of working her way up the ranks, first a PA’s assistant, and then fetching and carrying for Twelve’s prep team, and then eventually on a prep team for the dull tributes from Six, Adrasteia Crane finally has what she wants - the position of stylist for District Three’s male tribute in 74th Hunger Games.

- tbh adrasteia is only seneca crane’s sister because i couldn’t think of a suitable last name for her lmao. i think i’d actually prefer her to be unattached to any major canon players. however, his death is a good motivation for her to join the rebellion, so we’ll see. she’s got a bit of the capitol fashion thing going too, with soft pink hair and diamond-effect skin on her face and shoulders -

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also bonus hunger games content: another oc, Sarsaparilla Verran, from District Eleven, fifteen and alone when she goes into the Games. An orphan, her siblings lost to the Community Home system years ago, her relatives dead or uncaring. So, Rilla is a wee lonely bab tbh. she did not want this, unlike most of my other hg ocs, and she’s not excited for weeks of murder. she just wants her family back, but since that isn’t possible, she’ll build a new family instead. and uuhhhhh, spoiler alert, she dies before she can have this ://///

and my hunger games aus - a canon divergence where katniss joins the careers instead of peeta, her desire to go home to her family outweighing her reactive hate for the concept of training/volunteering to kill other teens, and a fem!Haymitch au where she’s a little wiser to the dark side of the capitol before she commits acts of rebellion (she still rebels anyway tho, just smarter).

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Riverdale:

Cat Cooper: (middle child of Alice and Hal Cooper) Cat Cooper (17) is the black sheep of the Cooper family. Her piercings, brightly dyed hair and connections to the Southside Serpents make her the odd one out among her sisters and constantly at odds with Alice Cooper. Cat’s life is occupied with her Serpent friends, work at a local coffee shop, and training - martial arts, supplemented with cross country, gymnastics and swimming. Until her older sister is shipped off to places unknown and her baby sister starts getting caught up in murder investigation with the absent Serpent heir...

- haven’t decided between Catelyn or Catherine for Cat’s full name lmao. she used to be Kit, actually, but I changed it cos i prefer Kit to solely be my divergent oc (kit serafim). Cat is an ADHD disaster who loves her sisters and her friends and wants to get the hell out of Riverdale on a sports scholarship (she does either boxing or karate mainly, need to figure that bit out) -

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Georgie Andrews: (child of Mary and Fred Andrews)

Georgie likes soft drinks, cheerleading, and hanging out with the Blossom twins and Polly Cooper, their closest friends and a welcome distraction from their own problems. After Polly and Jason vanish, Georgie’s support system is almost gone, and they has to deal with everything they’ve been bottling up, just in time for Fred Andrews to get shot.

- also just angst ngl. so georgie’s gender is basically ???, they enjoy cheerleading and not much else. they spend half their time dealing with depression, by trying to ignore stressful/hard topics and focus on the good side of everything. this isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism and has the fun side effect of pissing of the people around him when she seems unable to be serious or empathetic to someone else's pain (bcs she’s too busy deflecting for the sake of her own fragile mental health), so it gets fun when fred is shot and archie starts getting in too deep with the lodges -

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Sera Thornstone: (parents ???) Southside Serpent. Going to the Riverdale Community College and running errands for FP Jones. And secretly meeting up with her Ghoulie lover down by the Sweetwater where nobody goes.

- everything about sera is vague and undecided lmao. but she has a ghoulie gf/bf/nbf? and they’re hiding that they were down by the river on the 4th of july, cos a serpent is an immediate suspect. going to community college to work on getting general credits before saving up for fancy school for law or journalism. the aes isn’t entirely accurate cos sera’s built from the remains of another serpent oc who i scrapped (she does have a baseball bat tho) -

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and honourable mentions to jen johnson and octavia blossom-murphy, my other riverdale ocs who actually have content, plus an in-development unnamed oc who gets adopted from the soqm by the Muggs family and growsup with Ethel. and my riverdale role reversal au, which i will never write but have some nice aesthetics for under the tag wip: bughead role reversal au.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all my mini-aesthetics here are unsourced images/from pinterest. any similarities to other people or characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

alrighty that’s it. now i have to tag this behemoth argh

#ocapp #ashandrustediron ocs #ashandrustediron edits #i say edits #i mean neatly cropped screenshots #lmao #fandom: harry potter #fandom: the hunger games #fandom: a song of ice and fire #fandom: game of thrones #fandom: riverdale #ashandrustrediron writes #time to tag the ocs who will actually get content later #oc: rosienne lannister #oc: tamlen storm #tam actually has a fic outline unlike most of these other westerosi ocs lol #oc: ara lestrange #oc: asher #no last name bcs volunteers from two don't have last names #they belong to the capitol and their district #<- fun fact about that fic i guess #oc: rowan everdeen #oc: adrasteia crane #none of the riverdale ocs will get a tag bcs i already have riverdale oc fic im working on #long post #long post cw #oh and some warnings for the stuff brushed upon in the blurbs i guess #gender dysphoria #violence #child marriage

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densi-mber · 4 years

Text

Christmas Lights

A/N: For today’s prompt: Decorating for Christmas. Takes place during season seven.

***

“Hey, I finally found the boxes of Christmas decorations,” Deeks crowed excitedly, coming in from the garage with a medium sized plastic container and a not so insignificant amount of dust bunnies clinging to his hair and Christmas sweater.

Kensi had rolled her eyes when he put it on that morning, mentioning that it was in the 60’s, but Deeks had merely whistled Rodolph the Red Nose Reindeer a little louder. He’d also proclaimed it Decorating Day which in the Deeks’ household was apparently the second of December (barring any unavoidable interruptions).

“Awesome,” she replied with forced enthusiasm which Deeks either didn’t notice or chose to ignore.

“The Christmas lights for the tree are in here and I think I found all the decorations. Why don’t you start putting these on the tree while I get the rest of the stuff?” Apparently it was a rhetorical question and Kensi felt her eyes widen in mild panic as he placed the box in her arms.

“Um, Deeks…” she started to say but he’d already turned around, consumed with his plans and excitement.

“Oh, and you might need to check some if some of strands are working cause they were a little wonky last year,” he added over his shoulder.

“Fantastic,” Kensi muttered to herself. Deeks was so happy and she didn’t want to ruin this for him, but she didn’t even know where to begin. Hanging Christmas lights was never one of the things her Dad had taught her. He had usually taken care of things like that himself, if he decided to put up lights at all. Then between being homeless as a teenager and associating Christmas with Jack leaving, she’d never bothered to figure it out for herself.

Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder and finally sets the box down and took off the lid. There were several neatly looped strands–or as neatly as unboxed lights could be–stacked together. It definitely looked like Deeks’ work. Personally, she would have just thrown them in and bothered with the mess the next Christmas.

She removed the top set gingerly; it had large, old-fashioned looking bulbs of various vibrant colors that she vaguely remembered seeing at Deeks’ apartment the last few years. Carefully, she uncoiled the strand and then turned to face the tree they’d picked out yesterday after work.

It was about seven feet tall and suddenly seemed massive and an impossible feat to conquer.

“Ok, you can do this, Kensi,” she said, looking over her shoulder again. She didn’t know what was taking Deeks so long, but he would undoubtedly be back at any time so she laid down on her stomach underneath the tree and started wrapping the strand around the very base.

Branches kept poking her in the face and after just a couple minutes, her arms were sticky with tree sap. The lights kept getting tangled, but after a lot of swearing and pointless shaking she managed to get the majority of the strand wound around the bottom branches.

“How’s it–um, what the hell are you doing?” Deeks asked as he came in from the garage. Kensi jerked in surprise, tangling her hair on a couple of branches.

“Hanging the lights,” she answered in a would-be light tone, scrambling out from under the tree.

“It looks more like you were trying to strangle the tree.” He looked close to laughing and Kensi felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Fine, I don’t know how to put Christmas lights on a tree,” she admitted tightly, crossing her arms defensively. Deeks frowned and asked,

“What are you talking about, everyone knows how to decorate a Christmas tree.”

“Well I don’t. It’s something that I never learned how to do. So there it is, I ruined Decorating Day.” Deeks raised his hands, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Whoa, slow down. Nobody ruined anything. So you can’t put on Christmas lights, big deal. I’ll show you how.” Kensi took a deep breath and muttered,

“I just know how much you were looking forward to doing this together.”

“Aw baby, come here,” he said and tugged Kensi into his arms. “Believe me, there’s lots of things that could ruin today, but you strangling the tree is not one of them. I promise.” Kensi nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks.” She was starting to feel a little silly about her outburst now and smiled sheepishly. “And I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just can’t believe there’s finally something that Kensi Blye doesn’t know how to do,” Deeks teased and she whopped his arm lightly with the back of her hand.

“Shut up and show me the right way to do this thing. Also, I’m not sure if we can get this strand back out, it’s kind of tangled up in there.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely not coming out unless we cut the branches off.”

“Alright, you don’t need to rub it in.” Kensi said with a roll of her eyes.

“Ok, so first of all, you want to start at the top and work your way down. And secondly, it usually helps if you don’t unravel the whole thing or you just end up wasting a bunch of time untangling it every few seconds,” he explained, selecting a new strand and demonstrating the appropriate length.

“That would have been nice to know before I wasted ten minutes on the damn thing.” Deeks ignored her and added,

“And if you’re like my mom, this would be the point where you break out the eggnog or peppermint schnapps.”

“I think I’m beginning to see why you enjoy decorating so much,” she said wryly, unraveling a couple more feet while Deeks intertwined the lights around several branches.

“Hey, Decoration Day is not complete if you don’t end it a little tipsy and wondering what you did with the tree topper,” he explained as though it made perfect sense. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but get caught up in Deeks’ enthusiasm.

“Well, if all else fails we can make a star out of tinfoil and spray paint it.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Kensi just shook her head and said,

“You are so ridiculous. But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best Decorating Day ever,” he said happily, taking a step back to admire his work. He pulled Kensi into his side as they looked up at the half decorated tree.

“Mine too,” Kensi agreed, pushing up on her toes to kiss Deeks.

#Densi-mber 3.0 #Densi-mber 2019 #Densi-mber fanfiction #Densi #Christmas decorating #by ejzah

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allisondraste · 4 years

Text

Temperance 34/42

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Nathaniel and Erina have a serious discussion

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Starkhaven, 9:28 Dragon A stack of envelopes sat open on the nightstand, the letters in each read countless times, the closest Nathaniel could get to hearing Liss’ voice. He still missed the sound of it, of her. Her letters were nothing more than an echo of the past, something he no longer had, most likely for good. He sat in his bed, staring vacantly at the pieces of paper that tormented him, feelings he could not bury, no matter how many times he stuffed them in the sock drawer.

He didn’t know why he still waited for a new letter to come. Liss made it abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be writing anymore, unless he chose to answer her, and of course, he hadn’t answered her. It was the outcome he’d strived for since her first letter came. It was what he wanted, or at least that is what he told himself. If she could move on and forget about him, then she could be free to find happiness, love, adventure, all of the things of which she dreamed that he could never promise her. Then again, if it was for the best, why did he feel as if he was making a huge mistake? Should he not feel better? Relieved?

Sighing, Nathaniel slid out of bed and moved to stand up. Of course, he would have preferred to lie there all day, feeling incredibly sorry for himself and sulking; however, Rodolphe was not keen on him lying in bed all day, and was especially unsympathetic to the sulking. Not to mention the fact that if Ben even suspected him of wallowing in his own misery, he’d hunt him down and drag him out on some ridiculous trip to town in an attempt to knock him out of it. No, it was absolutely in his own best interest to get up.

He yawned and stretched as he walked to his dresser, pulling open drawers to get the articles of clothing he needed. As he gathered everything up into his arms, something collided with his back, a hand snaking its way over his shoulder to cover his mouth. He dropped the clothes, pulse jumping. Instinctively he moved to pry his attacker’s hands from his face; however, as he did so the person used their weight to throw him off balance, pulling him to the ground. Ignoring the pain of the impact, he continued his struggle, tugging at grappling hands, until he finally broke free and rolled, quickly straddling the attacker and pressing their arms to the ground over their head.

Erina’s head, he noticed as he looked at the incredibly familiar face smirking up at him, panting and eyes sparkling. He shook his head and laughed, releasing her arms, and bringing his hands to her face as he bent down to press his lips to hers. It was a different sort of attack, one she countered in full, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her slender fingers through his hair as she deepened the kiss.

“Welcome back,” he said breathlessly as he pulled away from her, uncertain whether it was the fall or the beautiful woman that knocked the wind from him, “I suppose it is pointless to remind you that you may use the door.”

“You are correct,”Erina answered, laughing and loosening her grip on his hair, allowing her fingertips to trace a trail down his neck and over his shoulders. “Sneaking in through the window makes it all feel so… forbidden.”

Nathaniel snorted and pushed himself up from the ground and rose to his feet, extending a hand to her. “We needn’t a window for that. I will just introduce you to my father.”

”Pass,” she said dryly as she took is hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She dusted off her breeches and continued. “I only like the illusion that it is forbidden. Reality is shit.”

“It isn’t all shit,” Nathaniel objected gently, as he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing his lips to the crook of her neck. She shuddered and he smirked. “I missed you.”

It was the truth, and yet the words were as rotten in his mouth as a lie. It had been nearly two years since their first night together, a moment of drunken recklessness that had since taken the shape of some ill-defined relationship that neither wanted to admit was more serious than they had intended. Nathaniel found comfort in Erina’s company, in knowing that she would always come back to visit him, and that she did so enthusiastically. Though she never spoke the words, “I love you” wrote itself on her face when their eyes met, and he hated himself because he couldn’t decide if he felt the same.

“I missed you, too, my dear,” Erina hummed, head falling back against him.

“How was Antiva?”

She stiffened in his arms, answering hesitantly. “I… did not go to Antiva.”

“You told me you were going to see your family.”

“My family is in Denerim. My father was born there, and has some family in the alienage,” she admitted, solemnly, “It is a long story, and one I do not wish to discuss, but Ferelden is safer for us now."

“I am glad they are safe,” Nathaniel said, squeezing his arms around her more tightly, and resisting the urge to pry.

“Me, too,” she sighed. They stood in heavy silence for several moments before Erina turned in his arms to face him, gazing up into his eyes. It was only then that he could truly see the sadness hidden behind hers, the tears just on the verge of falling. It was also only then that he’d gotten a good look at her face, new bruises and scrapes he had not seen in all of the excitement of her arrival.

“Ri,” he said, bringing a hand to her cheek, gingerly touching one of the bruises, “What happened?”

“I told you I do not wish to speak of it,” she snapped, voice wavering.

“You’re hurt.”

“You should have seen the other guy,” she joked, though it fell flat. She looked down at the floor and then back up at him. “Don’t you worry. I made those assassin bastards pay.”

“The Crows did this to you? Why?”

“I... was not honest with you before, about my relationship with the Crows,” she explained, flicking her eyes away from his. “I did not want to scare you away by telling you that I was one, that my mother was as well. We left the guild several years ago, in opposition to a contract they wanted my her to fulfill.”

“I’ve read somewhere that once one becomes a Crow, they do not get to leave,” Nathaniel said, brows pressing together in confusion.

“They don’t,” Erina stated tersely, “At least not alive. We’ve been hiding from them for years. It’s why I was in Tantervale when we met.”

“I take it they found you, then.”

“They almost killed my mother while she was sleeping. If I hadn’t have been there…” She trailed off.

“I’m so sorry,” Nathaniel said, gathering her back up into his arms, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hold me.” She glanced up at him, a small, sad smile on her lips. “Do the thing where you make me feel safe.”

He pulled away a bit and searched her face for some sign that she was teasing, but he only found sincerity in her smile. She leaned forward, kissing him so softly that it ached deep in his chest, then looked up at him expectantly. He returned the favor, taking her face in his hands and leaning down to press his lips to hers as tenderly as he knew how, wiping the tears from her cheeks as he did so, and then bent down to pick her up and carry her to his bed. His arms were no swords, his body no shield. He could not protect her from the chaos around her, but if she needed someone to hold onto in the midst of it all, he could at least be steady. Besides, after a morning spent with someone out of his reach, he welcomed the embrace of someone he could actually touch.

An hour or so later, they still lay in his bed, Erina curled up next to him, face nestled against his chest, an arm and a leg thrown across him. Her body rose and fell slowly, and he wondered how long it had been since she actually slept. Nathaniel wasn’t tired at all. In fact he was quite the opposite, heart still pounding from the excitement of the morning. He had no intention of disturbing her, however, perfectly content to stay there beside her all day, holding her close, and running his fingers through her hair. It was comfortable, pleasant, and he liked the subtle illusion of domesticity more than he cared to admit.

A sudden knock at the door startled him, and he rolled his eyes, looking down to see if it had woken Erina, but she had not stirred.

“Who is it,” he asked as quietly as he could and still be heard. He prayed that it was anyone but Rodolphe.

“It’s Ben,” said the voice from the other side of the door, and Nathaniel sighed in relief. He was also proud of the other man for actually knocking.

“Alright give me a moment,”Nathaniel said as he began to gently untangle himself from Erina’s arms. She furrowed her brows and grunted, but didn’t wake up entirely. He grabbed the sheets and coverlet, pulling them up over her shoulders, and then hurriedly got dressed.

When he answered the door, Ben examined him, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. “Ri’s here isn’t she?”

“Yes— how did you know?”

“Your hair’s a bloody mess,” Ben remarked, with a wink, “And your shirt’s on backwards.”

“So?”

“So either you’ve completely forgotten how to get dressed, or Ri’s in your bed right now.”

“Sometimes I wonder how it is that I have yet to strangle you,” Nathaniel said dryly.

“You love me.” Ben grinned widely and cocked his head.

Nathaniel sighed in response. “Unfortunately.”

“I don’t mean to bother you, Nate, but Rodolphe’s been king for you. You know how he gets.”

“Did he say what he wants?”

Ben shrugged, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes. He didn’t much care for the prospect of leaving Erina alone in her distress to go polish some armor or teach some brat of a recruit how to use a bow. Though it was not entirely selfless of him, as he would much rather go back to bed, and hold a beautiful woman in his arms for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, he had to do what the knight bade, lest he lose his position and the roof over his head.

“Very well. Let me just… get dressed properly.”

“Take your time.” Ben nodded and moved to lean against the wall, clearly intending to wait for him.

Returning to the room, and closing the door quietly behind him, Nathaniel removed his shirt and put it back on, this time with the front of the garment in the front where it belonged, and took a comb to his hair. Once he finished he walked over to his bed where Erina still slept soundly, hands tucked under her face. He regretted having to wake her, but he didn’t want her to think he’d just run out. More importantly, he didn’t want her to leave.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, nudging gently until she stirred and groaned, blinking away the sleep from her eyes and smiling as she spoke. “You better have a good reason for waking me up.”

“I am afraid not,” Nathaniel answered, “Rodolphe sent for me so I have to leave for a while, but I didn’t want you to wake up and think I had run off of my own volition.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled groggily, “Do I need to leave?”

“No,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her temple, and standing up, “Unless you wish to. I would prefer it if you stayed.”

“Then I will stay,” she said through a yawn, smiling as she drifted off to sleep once again, and he left the room and headed down toward the courtyard with Ben.

“It’s pretty serious between you two, huh,” Ben asked once they were sufficiently down the hall.

“It’s pretty something,” Nathaniel deflected, not wanting to have the conversation that Ben wanted to have.

“You’re pretty something ,” the other man quipped, dropping the subject nonetheless. He had learned to read Nathaniel’s tone after all.

They walked in relative silence down to the training yard where Rodolphe waited, silence with the exception of Ben’s quiet humming that he obviously did not believe Nathaniel could hear. Outside, the air was chilly and the sky overcast. After a brief lecture on punctuality and a few personally directed criticisms, the knight asked Nathaniel to assist with the drills. It should have been an honor and privilege— it was— however, it was an inconvenience at the moment.

Still, he performed his duty as he was expected, instructing the nascent archers in correcting their stances and helping them to actually hit targets. One day, they would be among one of the most elite contingent of archers in Thedas, but for the moment, they were little more than children, sons and daughters of noble houses, most of whom needed their egos deflated more than anything.

Nathaniel wondered if he would have been like them, too, had his life circumstances been different. It was a strange relationship to have with one’s past, to be grateful for something that only caused pain. As much as he held himself apart from many others from noble families, he knew he still reaped the benefits of privilege. He still had the Couslands, though he was not so certain where he stood with them anymore. If they despised him, he would not blame them.

The recruits tired after only couple of hours, and it would have been pointless to attempt to instruct them further. He released them, and prayed Rodolphe required nothing else of him for the day. As he turned to exit the training grounds, he caught a glimpse of Ben sitting at the edge of the grounds, collecting arrows from the targets and putting gear away.

“Need help,” Nathaniel called, waving at him.

“No,” came Ben’s reply, “I’ve got it sorted. You just go take care of that lady-friend of yours.”

“But—“

“Seriously, Nate. It’s just some arrows. I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Ben.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Leaving quickly before the other man changed his mind, Nathaniel headed inside and back to his room, where he hoped Erina still lay. The wish was mostly selfish, admittedly, though she had seemed content to remain in bed and rest. She needed to rest considering everything that had happened to her.

He knocked lightly on the door before entering so that he didn’t alarm her. She sat up in his bed, covered only by the sheet wrapped loosely around her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Nathaniel’s chest clenched, stomach twisting into knots as he noticed the worn stack of papers she held in her hands.

Liss’ letters. He’d been so distracted by Erina’s arrival that he hadn’t even thought to put them away, leaving them out of their envelopes and on the nightstand ready to pique the woman’s interest. He was such a bloody fool. Of course he could offer his excuses, tell her the correspondence was one-sided, that Liss was a friend and someone from his past. Even if she believed him, that would be little use in explaining why they’d been out on his nightstand, why he’d been reading them just before she had gotten there. No, it was useless. Instead, he quietly closed the door behind him and moved to sit on the foot of his bed opposite to her.

“I suppose you do not want to hear an explanation,” he said quietly, attempting to mask the anxiety that burned in his chest.

“I do not need one,” Erina answered, just as quietly. None of the anger he’d expected to hear in her voice was present. “It seems quite clear to me.”

“Erina, I—“

“This girl—“ she shook the letters at him— “This woman. She loves you.”

“I know.” Nathaniel sighed, unsure what else to say.

“Do you love her?” Erina’s voice was still calm.

“I haven’t even written to her,” he admitted.

“That��s not what I asked,” she stated bluntly, “It says as much in her letters. I want to know if you love her.”

Frowning and hating himself for what he knew he had to say, he answered. “I do. I have for a long time.”

Erina laughed softly, sniffing as she shook her head. “I should have known.”

“Should have known what?” Nathaniel fought the urge to wipe away her tears.

“I am no fool,” she said sharply. Gathering the sheet up around her, she moved to sit next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “We have been seeing one another for nearly two years, and no matter how close I get to you, there are trenches I cannot seem to cross, walls that will not break. Do not think I have not noticed how you avoid defining our relationship as if it is the Blight.”

He wrapped a tentative arm around her shoulder, relaxing when she did not refuse him. “I’m sorry.”

“I cannot hold it against you,” Erina assured him, bringing her eyes up to meet his, “We do not exactly get to choose who we fall in love with.”

The pained expression that crossed her face in that instant, confirmed what Nathaniel had already suspected and sent a spear of guilt through his chest. He searched for the appropriate thing to say, and when he could find nothing, he searched for anything to say at all. The words ultimately failed him and he sat in shameful silence, hating himself more with each passing second.

Finally, Erina sighed and stood, picking her clothes up off the floor and letting the sheet fall to the ground as she began to get dressed. Nathaniel kept his eyes trained on the ground, both to be respectful, and to hide the tears that welled in his own eyes. His time with her had been the best he’d felt since he’d last been to Highever, and as much as he struggled to love her properly, he didn’t want her to leave.

Erina’s movements slowed down, and her footsteps drew closer. A gentle hand raked fingers through his hair, tilting his head back so that he looked up at her. The pooled tears dropped from his eyes, and her brows pressed together sympathetically.

“Don’t you start it, too,” she scolded through a tearful laugh, “This is already hard enough.”

“I apologize, it’s just—“ he began, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat— “I do care about you.”

“I know. I have never doubted that.” Erina brought her hand down to cup his cheek. “But I am not her, nor will I ever be, and you need to get this sorted before it eats you up. So do I.”

Nathaniel nodded, aching as Erina withdrew her hand from his face. “I wish I knew how.”

“Me too,” she said somberly as she picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Besides, it will be better for me to be near my family, to protect them. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again. when we both hurt much less.”

With that, she seemed to shake away the urge to embrace him, and turned swiftly to exit the room without looking back. Nathaniel remained in his stupor at the foot of the bed until he could no longer hear her footsteps. Scrubbing the tears from his face and brushing his hair back out of his eyes, he stood up and looked around the room for something to distract him, anything. His eyes caught on Liss’ letters, chest tightening as he picked them up from the bed where they were scattered.

It was irrational to blame the letters for the misfortune his own behavior had caused. Yet, had he gotten rid of them, had he truly let Liss go, he would not be in his current position. Erina would have stayed, and he could have finally given his all to loving someone else. He could have finally been happy. Instead, he was alone and heartbroken in a room with a stack of old paper that did nothing but make him miserable.

With nothing more than a deep breath he carried the letters across the room, to the small fire that had begun to fizzle out and dropped the pages into the flames. He watched as the pages scorched and disintegrated, until the words vanished into a pile of ashes.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #temperance #update #my writing

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gizkasparadise · 5 years

Note

do u have any ronald crushing on arya/jealous gendry outtakes 👀👀 as always, love the fury thank u for writing it ❤

so not QUITE what you asked for (sorry!!) but the Spirit is there! i had to cut myself off because legit just almost re-wrote all of ch. 22 from ronald’s POV lol

warnings for vague (but probably unsurprising) fury spoilers, a mention of ronnet hitting ronald/ronnet being a piece of shit, and gendry being victim of slander 8(

He hates Gendry Baratheon before he ever meets him. His father’s told them all enough: he’s some grifter from the gutters of King’s Landing, who had kissed enough Targaryen ass to land himself a Lordship. And that’s not even the worst of it all. Ronald had never been to court, but they had a cousin there named Rodolph who always wrote. And Rodolph said Gendry Baratheon’d gone and probably strong-armed Arya Stark into marrying him. They said he dragged her out of the Great Hall, ripped her right out of her betrothed’s arms. The whole court thought him unmannerly and crass and brutish–all the worst parts of Robert Baratheon, as well as his look. His uncle said the only reason the union between Lady Stark and Gendry Baratheon was allowed was because the King was a bastard upstart himself, and the lower born supported their own. Ronald had stared at the wall for that part, fists clenched.

Ronald’s father hadn’t taken any of the news from King’s Landing well. And he took the news about the wedding even less–”bred his bitch soon enough,” had been the exact words. Ronald hadn’t liked that, much. Gendry Baratheon sounded like a piece of gutter shit, but highborn Ladies shouldn’t be called dogs. And it sounded like Arya Stark had suffered enough indignity already.

After the rumors came the announcement that they’d have to host them. Ronald wasn’t privy to his family’s political affairs, but he noticed more ravens going in and out than usual during the month they prepared for House Baratheon’s arrival–east, south, and north. Whatever was happening, his father didn’t like it.

The week before their arrival had been even worse–the general mayhem of preparing for a host of fifty-something men, but also the way his father and uncle had been acting. They were both more short-tempered than usual, slamming doors and throwing books into fires. Ronald made the mistake of asking about one of their conversations and gotten a split lip for his trouble. He stopped asking after that.

The night before they were meant to arrive, father calls him into his solar.

“We can’t trust him, Ronald,” Ronnet says, fingers crossed over his mouth.

Ronald hadn’t been invited to sit, so he just stands behind the chairs across from his father’s desk. “Yes, father.”

Ronnet’s gaze flickers up. “How much do you know of our House’s relationship with the Baratheons?”

“They stole our land,” he says without having to think about it. Ronald doesn’t remember much about his grandfather, for whom he was named, but he does remember the hatred with which he spoke of Robert Baratheon. Nine-tenths of House Connington’s holdings had been dispersed, the majority split between House Mertyns, Rogers, and Wylde. All because Robert had a temper tantrum.

“That’s correct.” His father shifts in his seat. “Because you are my blood, and one day I may legitimize you should I never have a true son-”

Ronald swallows hard.

“-it’s your right to know what this visit means.” Ronnet drops his hands from in front of his mouth. “We have pledged support to Gendry’s claim because Jon demanded it. But our cousin is still in Essos, and did not realize the unfortunate history repeating in the Stormlands. I’ve since informed him.”

Ronald’s not sure what’s meant by all this, but he wisely stays silent.

“I suspect Gendry Baratheon is coming to pillage our coffers and further disgrace our House by taking our status as landed knights. He is here for what could be your birthright, Ronald.” Father sneers. “Lowborns like him care little for honor or tradition. And he’s already proven himself bloodthirsty and soulless by allying with Daenerys Targaryen after she killed half of King’s Landing. I have no doubt he will find any reason to take the Roost from us and give it to one of his cutthroat bootlickers.” He clenches his jaw. “We must not trust this man, or any of his retinue, do you understand?”

“I understand.”

His father leans back and stares at him for a long while, as though trying to see how honest he’s being. Ronald straightens his posture. After a moment, he nods. “While they are here, you are to remain out of sight and mind. No doubt he’d find your mere presence an insult to him, and we cannot give him any excuse to punish our family.”

Ronald grinds his teeth. Of course high and mighty Gendry Baratheon would take any issue with a bastard who did as he was supposed to do and stayed a bastard. “I understand.”

Father looks at him once more, but then waves his hand dismissively.

Ronald tries to smile. “Goodnight, father.”

“Yes, yes. Go now.”

–

The day they arrive, he’s told to stand in the back with the servants–it wouldn’t due to offend the Lord Mighty on High by ruining his view. He’s intent to stare at the dirt the entire time out of defiance, but when people in the courtyard start whispering, his curiosity gets the better of him. Ronald’s not tall, and so he has to shoulder a few people to the side in order to see the party arriving. The first person he sees can only be the Hound– the infamous lapdog of the Lannisters (yet another reason why Gendry Baratheon is scum). He’s a fearsome sight, half his features unrecognizable under the thick webbing of scar tissue. After him comes…a woman? in blue and gold-tinted armor, her face dour and Ronald has never heard of ladies in armor and so he is caught staring for a moment–the same way one might stare at a fire-eater or a juggler or something.

Then comes the man who can only be Gendry Baratheon. Immediately, Ronald thinks his reputation is well-earned. He can’t make out Lady Stark yet, but he can tell that Gendry dismounts his ugly-looking horse and moves forward without offering to help his pregnant wife down from hers. Ronald reluctantly admits that he’s big, his lumbering frame a build found on the villains in songs. The menacing appearance is enhanced by his shortly cropped hair–the sort of style worn by criminals or hard laborers. Gendry frowns when he addresses his father, not even attempting a genial greeting as befitting a Lord. Father was right when he said Baratheon was there to look down at them.

A slight figure steps forward, then, and Ronald’s eyes go wide.

His first thought is that he’s never seen a woman like her. She wears a man’s clothes, hair in an unraveling braid over her shoulder and still slightly wet from the hard rainfall an hour or so ago. When she walks, it’s with an easy grace that reminds him of cats, but there’s something dangerous about her, too. Ronald looks at her waist and sees at least two weapons–a dagger and a sword of some kind. Her grey eyes are striking even from where he stands.

He hears his father greet her as Lady Arya and his mouth goes dry. It’s not fair that she’s in this situation. That she’s to be a mother to this terrible man’s child, instead of with her real betrothed in Dorne.

The usurper lord walks into the gates of his home (without offering his pregnant wife an arm of escort!) and Ronald hates him that much more.

#asks!#the fury #!my post #fanfic #Anonymous

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breadedsinner · 1 year

Text

Find the Words

Tgged by @seraandthebees

Ok for once I am actually going to tag others this time: @clericofshadows, @persephoneggsy, @ziskandra, @gardensystemtv, @mxanigel

Here are your words, if you so choose:

Dark, fluffy, embrace, slow

Word 1 - Breathe

Sebastian winced; he had mentioned ‘almosts’ to her, but it was months ago, before she became Champion, and that conversation had ended poorly. “What brought this on?”

“I’m only curious. This is within in terms of our arrangement, is it not? I will share one such experience of my own, in fair turn.”

He smiled and folded his hands under his chin. “We did indeed have a deal… a few months before I was sent to the Chantry, I was already certain it would happen. My parents were waiting for me to breathe improperly, so I thought I would have one last bit of fun.

“There was this miserable older chevalier, Rodolphe. He had a squire, whom he made equally miserable. I had my eye on him for a while, but when I saw him practicing archery in the field, and knowing my time was at hand, I finally decided to pursue him.”

Word 2 - Night

It was a mercy, perhaps. Sebastian remembered that night very well.

He remembered the cold and the hurt in her face when he tried to stop her from going in that warehouse.

He remembered the limbs scattered about the floor.

He remembered the reveal that Gaspard had no sister, there was never a sister. Only a student, trying to reunite with his lost mentor. Only a string of false sympathy, to lure Hawke and her kind heart in.

He remembered the stretching smile that Quinton had, ever-plastered on his narrow face. The way he smiled and spoke of love, as if he knew what it was.

And he remembered how Hawke did not simply kill them, but slaughtered them. He, Fenris, and Anders were there, they may have disposed of a few of his practice creations, but Hawke did not need them there.

She had stepped on Gaspard’s skull like a rotted melon. She shook and punched Quinton long after he had died, until he was no longer a body, but a pulpy lump of meat. Had she not given way to tears; she surely would have turned him to dust.

It was a mercy, a grace, that he should remember that evening instead of her. He would hold it in his mind, so she would not have to.

Word 3 - Close

“I’m sorry, darling” said the spirit. “The Inquisitor sealed up her own exit. But her presence still lingers… I can reach out to her, as far as I can, and get you close to where she is. You’ll be alone, but just for a while.”

Word 4 - Doubt

She wandered into a field. She turned, and stalks of wheat surrounded her, unable to find whatever road she must have crossed to get to this spot. The bristles wafted gently in a mild, summer breeze. She breathed deeply, and inhaled the musty scent of wood. Bits of forest peaked out from the distance, just beyond the horizon, following the King's Highway. That must be it, that's how she got here. That's the only way anyone gets here. To Lothering. Not that anyone would want to leave.

She kept walking through the field, the bristles lightly brushing against her arms, as if welcoming here back.

Pink clouds floated along a purple sky. The chapel bell clanged. A few pillars of smoke emerged from some of the houses. No doubt people were returning home after another fruitful day, going to be with their families.

“I thought I was strong enough to get through this…. But I’m not.”

#Writing Tag #Writing Meme #Tether Fic

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thearrangment-phff · 5 years

Text

LXXII.

April 2019

On April 23, 2019, Jean, Grand Duke of Luxembourg passed away surrounded by his family at Berg castle. There was not a dry eye in the room, even Harry who had barely known Jean two years could not hold anything back. The older man was always kind to Harry and welcomed him with open arms from the start.

Jean was holding the hand of his 8-year-old great-grandson Count Leopold de Limburg-Stirum and the little hand of his day's old great-grandson Archduke Baudouin of Austria, Prince of Habsbourg-Lorraine. Just hours later the Belgian royal family and some Belgian nobility who were related to Jean poured into Berg castle to pay their respects.

In an act of grief, Isabella clung to Harry like never before as the nieces and nephews and their families of Jean came into the room to pay their respects. Isabella was broken and Harry could not help but worry for her, especially so close to giving birth in less than a month. To a surprise, 95-year-old Archduchess Yolande of Austria, Isabella’s grandmother, had come from Belgium to pay her respects to a man she had so many connections to.

Isabella had grasped at the aging woman for dear life and cried, even more, leaving Harry to stand awkwardly with almost everyone else embracing each other. Several seconds later Maria-Stella with her sad eyes opened her arms to him so Harry picked her up and heard the little 5-year-old sniffling.

All of a sudden Isabella was struggling to stand up and Alexander had quickly grabbed her before she fell.

“Belle are you okay?” asked Alexander.

“I think I need to sit down,” answered Isabella.

Rodolphe let his youngest son on the ground and grabbed Maria-Stella from Harry. Gabriel just walked to his grandmother, Marie Astrid, while Harry helped Isabella stand upright.

“You should go lay down.”

“I think I do,” whispered Isabella.

Just minutes later the family had been informed about the death of Princess Gabrielle of Bavaria, Duchess of Croy who was a first cousin of Jean. Gabrielle’s mother was Princess Antonia of Luxembourg and like many in her family, she married into the Belgian nobility proving the strong connections between Belgium and Luxembourg.

When Isabella was aware of her the death of the Bavarian princess she looked directly at Harry with a haunting look, “Charlotte was right. We have faced so much death and it’s only April.”

------

Isabella and Harry were supposed to stay in Luxembourg until the funeral but Harry’s prior engagements back in London had caused him to leave Isabella alone with their twin sons. While she was in the care of her family, the constant worrying over her and their children plagued his mind. Isabella’s siblings had families of their own so Harry felt guilty to ask them to take on more.

Guillaume and Stephanie were more than happy to help Isabella out while Harry was away. Stephanie was much more than a cousin’s wife, she had Ligne blood, thus making her family by blood. Bertie and Charlie had made things more difficult when they would not leave their mother’s side.

Harry had come back to Luxembourg to find most of Isabella’s family crowded around and were whispering. Eager to join the conversation, Harry had put himself by the large computer screen.

“Harry is it true?” asked Isabella.

All the attention was now on him, “What are you talking about?”

The area was cleared so Harry could look at the American news article. These rumors have been going around since Will and Kate started dating so Harry had no reason to think they were true.

“Are they right?” asked Isabella.

“Of course they aren’t,” replied Harry.

“The Americans are reporting on this,” said Kathleen.

“They’ll report on anything even if they have to make it up.”

“If the British press is silent about this and the American media to reporting-” stated Alexander.

“Like Wallis Simpson and the Abdication crisis,” interrupted Isabella.

“Those things are not the same,” fought Harry.

“But to a certain extent it is, right?” asked Isabella.

“You’ve seen the things they write about us Isabella. You’ve seen the crazy rumors and how far they are willing to go to get some clicks on a webpage,” answered Harry.

“We should just let this go,” suggested Maria Annunciata.

“Our grandfather died and we’re sitting here like school children gossiping about two little nobodies. Move on from this,” argued Josef-Emanuel. The young man was visibly upset and his eyes red ready to let his tears out.

Marie-Astrid, Isabella’s cousin, comforted her younger brother and everyone now looked around the room in agreement, “We should move on.”

Just like before Harry, the dozens of cousins returned to their own conversations. Despite 2 years of being married to Isabella, he still felt like an outsider in her family sometimes.

Time went by and monarchies all over the world started to announce who they were going to send to the funeral of Grand Duke Jean of Luxembourg. Everyone sent out condolences and Queen Elizabeth’s was the most personal.

“Your Royal Highness,

I was tremendously saddened to learn of the death of your father Grand Duke Jean who served your country so well and for so many years. I have very fond memories of your father, including the time he spent in the United Kingdom during the Second World War. As you know, wishing to contribute to the liberation of his country, he volunteered for the British army, serving with distinction in the Irish Guards of which he was later to become Colonel of the Regiment. In recent years, our family have joined together through the act of marriage. The ties between our two countries will be remembered just as your father has.

Your father will be greatly missed, both inside and outside Luxembourg. Prince Philip and I offer Your Royal Highness and the people of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg our most profound condolences. Elizabeth R.”

“Are you okay?” asked Harry.

“Sorry. I just can’t stop reading it.”

“I remember your grandfather when I was younger. If you would have told me I would marry and start a family with his Habsburg granddaughter, I would have never believed it. Yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” repeated Isabella.

“He loved you so much. I know because I love you and you were his granddaughter so that should mean more,” smiled Harry.

Isabella stayed silent going over his words, “Did you say you loved me?”

“I... did.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“I do. I just never wanted to say it before because well... we are not like other people.”

“We are not,” agreed Isabella.

“We are out of order.”

-----

May 2019

The funeral of Princess Gabrielle of Bavaria, Dowager Duchess of Croy was a unique event. The princess brought together an uncommon group of royals. Princess Gabrielle belonged to a generation of dynastic royals and brought forth another kind of generation that had one noble parent and the other a royal. The dozens of Bavarian royals came to pay their respects to a granddaughter of the last Bavarian King, Ludwig III & his Habsburg wife.

While some were in mourning, a select few were thinking of marriages between the descendants of King Ludwig III, Grand Duchess Charlotte of Luxembourg, and Emperor Charles I of Austria. Wittelsbach’s, Habsburgs, Bourbons, and almost every Belgian noble came to the tiny Chateau to pay their respects to one of the last grandchildren of the last King of Bavaria.

Most attendees left after the funeral to Luxembourg to attend the funeral of Grand Duke Jean of Luxembourg the following day. During the time everyone was getting comfortable at the Grand Ducal Palace or Berg Castle but there was also a large number of royals who had to find lodging elsewhere.

Jean, Grand Duke of Luxembourg’s funeral was both a loving and somber event. Just 2 months earlier these same royals came together for the funeral of Princess Alix. Jean’s funeral was a larger event since he was a former head of state. Isabella, like many others in her family, was left in a visibly catatonic state of mind. Harry not only had to worry for his wife but also that of his in-laws who had just lost a great man.

“Are you sure the two of you can do this?” asked Alexander.

“We are fine Alex,” smiled Luisa Maria.

“I’m with Alexander. You just gave birth and Isabella, you give birth this month,” argued Harry.

“The walk isn’t long,” commented Isabella.

“Belle is right. We’ll be fine. We’ll be sitting down most of the time for the service anyway.”

“Shall we go?”

The two couples followed to the entrance of the Grand Ducal Palace. The immediate family of Grand Duke Jean had met at the entrance to start the procession. The front would be the children of Jean, followed by the in-law’s, and finally the grandchildren by order. Because Isabella’s was one of the youngest children of Marie Astrid she was placed in the front of the procession of grandchildren but behind her elder siblings. Following protocol, the children of Grand Duke Henri were at the front as Luxembourg princes and princess.

The children of Princess Margaretha, Prince Jean, Prince Guillaume followed by order. All 23 grandchildren followed the casket and were join by Princes Noah and Gabriel of Nassau and Count Leopold de Limburg-Stirum the eldest great-grandchildren of Grand Duke Jean. Right as they turned the corner Isabella stumbled from exhaustion and her cousin Prince Josef-Emanuel immediately grabbed her to make sure nothing happened.

Harry panicked thinking she was in labor or hurt somehow but she smiled at him showing Harry that she was alright. From that moment Isabella had Harry on her left and Josef-Emanuel on her right. They remained that way until the got to the entrance of the church. Everyone bowed to the Luxembourg army before going into the cathedral. The heavily pregnant Isabella bowed and felt a sharp pain in her stomach.

Everyone around her noticed but because of the timing, everyone had to ignore it. The service lasted about an hour to which there was a small gathering after at the Grand Ducal Palace. It was then Isabella’s pains came back and everyone knew she was going into labor at her grandfather’s funeral.

Several hours later doctors had said they were false contractions and Isabella should remain in Luxembourg in case she does give birth. Phones calls to London explained the situation and Isabella was now forced to give birth abroad for a second time. Charlie and Bertie had born at the Chateau de Belœil in Belgium and now their third child would more than likely be born at the Grand Ducal Palace in Luxembourg.

-----

Unlike the last time Isabella was pregnant, Harry was determined to be in the room as she gave birth to their third child. Except she didn’t want anyone in the room this time. Her family and Harry had to wait outside while Isabella gave birth at Berg Castle since they were moved from the Grand Ducal Palace to avoid people. Isabella had gone into the early stages of labor while being with her grandmother.

After hours of waiting outside, one of the midwives came out of the room, “Her Royal Highness is recovering well. You all can come in and speak with her.”

Harry and Isabella’s large family hurried into the room finding Isabella holding her youngest child in her arms.

“Oh, look at the little thing! Christoph, they’re adorable.” smiled Adelaide, Isabella’s sister-in-law.

“Thank you.”

“Hurry up tell up us what is the little thing,” urged Alexander.

“Alex! That thing is a baby,” replied Gabriella.

“Well it’s a girl if anyone is wondering,” said Isabella.

“Come on now! Out with the name.”

“Her first name is Mary Astrid in honor of her grandmother and great-great-grandmother.”

“It is a great honor Belle,” cried Marie-Astrid.

“What about the rest of her names?” asked Imre.

“She is Mary-Astrid Jeanne Zita Ingeborg Josephine Christine Diana,” beamed Isabella. Less than a month ago her grandfather had died, so by adding the name Jeanne to her newborn daughter’s name was Isabella’s tribute to him.

“What about Princess? Didn’t Philippe grant them titles of nobility?” asked Yolande.

“He has spoken to me about it. The Belgian government more than likely won’t agree since to be a Belgian noble you must have precedence and live in the country,” answered Isabella.

“It’s not like one of their grandfathers isn’t going to be the next King of the United Kingdom,” spoke Alexander.

“Alex is right, Belle’s children will one day become princes and princesses and besides who really cares for that,” added Christoph.

“I don’t think we should start this conversation,” interrupted Marie-Christine.

“Agreed. Not here, not right now,” said Carl Christian.

“No, no. Maybe we should bring that up now,” said Isabella handing off her newborn daughter.

“Belle, please don’t do this. Now right now,” begged Harry.

Isabella looked into Harry’s eyes and then his hands that carried their newborn daughter. Her father and mother were carrying her one-year-old sons in their arms, “Harry’s right. This is a discussion for another time. Too many little ones in the room.”

The room was tense now but Harry thought turning the attention on their newborn daughter would make things easier. All the children in the room were trying to get picked up by one of the many adults in the rooms so they can the newest addition to the family.

“I was thinking we could have the christening after July. Give me more time to think of godparents and recover,” spoke Isabella.

“More than fair.”

“I wanted to recover at Chambord until the christening. I would love to have you all for the company, god only knows there is enough room for everyone.”

“Is it a good idea to stay in France during this time?” asked Marie Astrid.

“It would give us more time to be alone with our children,” answered Harry.

“You agreed to this?” asked Carl Christian.

“It was my idea but Isabella thought it’d be best to have family around.”

“Looks like we going to Chambord!” smiled Alexander.

“What about godparents?” asked Gabriella.

“I planned much more with Charlie and Bertie. I have no idea about that. I was barely able to finish the names for Mary Astrid… god, that doesn’t even sound real. I can’t believe she is here.”

Yolande noticed Isabella start to tear up, “Alright let’s leave the new mother alone now. She needs some bonding time with her babies now.”

“Mama, can you stay?”

“Oh of course.”

Harry was handed Bertie from Carl Christian and he looked at Isabella with teary eyes, “Sorry.”

“I don’t whether you’re crying because you have another beautiful child or the fact you have three children under one,” joked Marie Astrid.

“I thought I was barely getting enough sleep before, now I have another newborn.”

“This pregnancy went so much better than the first,” commented Isabella.

“The first is always the hardest. Your body adjusts to pregnancies after that,” explained Marie Astrid.

“The birth was much smoother this time around.”

“Harry, is something wrong?” asked Marie Astrid.

“I’m going to call your father in. I need some air.”

Harry left the room and handed his son to Carl Christian before stepping out. Everyone outside the room watched Harry leave at a fast pace before looking into the room to see Isabella still holding her newborn daughter.

Marie Christine was nice enough to close the door and give Isabella privacy.

“Did I do something wrong?” asked Isabella.

“I’m sure it finally settling in that he’s the father of three young kids. It’s a scary thought that you are now taking caring and loving another person, someone who is half of you. In his case, a wife and three little ones who right now, rely on both of you for everything,” said Carl Christian in an effort to make sure his daughter didn’t cry.

“Could you give me a moment alone?” asked Isabella.

“Of course. I’ll call Gabriella to come get Mary-Astrid.”

-----

ARCHDUCHESS ISABELLA, THE DUCHESS OF SUSSEX HAS BEEN SAFELY DELIVERED A DAUGHTER

Her Imperial and Royal Highness Archduchess Isabella, The Duchess of Sussex was safely delivered a daughter at 5:15PM.

The baby weighs 7lbs and 2 oz.

The Duke of Sussex was present for the birth at Berg Castle.

The Queen, The Duke of Edinburgh, The Prince of Wales, The Duchess of Cornwall, and members of both families have been informed and are delighted with the news.

Her Imperial and Royal Highness and her child are both doing well.

-----

Isabella spent a couple more days in Luxembourg before going back to London. Mary Astrid was introduced to the rest of the British Royal Family and was reminded that she had a foreign name and was foreign-born. Isabella had been meeting with the Queen to work more and change the direction her charity work was going.

“Belle, we have some people you should meet,” smiled Christine.

“I was just about to go visit the Queen.”

“I wanted to meet your new team.”

“My new team?”

“We found some small implications on some members of your household before Charlotte passed away. We removed them and Charlotte and I were working on finding replacements but also creating an unofficial program.”

“Program? Why wasn’t I aware of any of this?” asked Isabella.

“You were grieving and then Mary Astrid was born. We didn't want to trouble you.”

“Okay. Then tell me about this unofficial program?”

“An internship of the sorts. Given to people you know-”

“Nepotism,” interrupted Isabella.

“You are not related to these people.”

“And who are these people we are talking about?”

“Royals. Some you may be distantly related to but most of them you don’t know.”

“So letting people who already have an advantage and give them a bigger one,” said Isabella.

“No, nothing like that.”

“And what exactly am I suppose to do with them? You realize that my household is paid for by the public and the queen and prince of wales are the ones who agreed to everyone.”

“They will simply be like ladies-in-waiting.”

Isabella was hesitant about the whole thing, “Where are they?”

“The next room.”

“Well then let’s go see them.”

Isabella walked out of the room with Christine. The drawing room was quite full with different people of all ages, some of which she did know personally.

“Belle, these people are Princess Sophie of Hohenburg, Countess Antonia of Holstein til Ledreborg, Princess Margarete of Liechtenstein, Infanta Maria Francisca Duchess of Coimbra, Countess Marie-Gabrielle of Königsegg-Aulendorf, Archduchess Elisabeth of Austria, and Duchess Pauline of Württemberg.”

“Thank you all for coming and accepting your positions. I am honored to have your help and support during these times. Forgive me for not having enough time today but I am meeting with the queen soon.”

“Belle we be sitting down with each of you tomorrow before we make our final decision on who will stay and who will go,” explained Christine.

“I’m much nicer than that last part made me seem,” laughed Isabella.

Isabella left the room but left Christine with the women in the other room. She stopped and turned around to watch Christine whisper to Princess Sophie of Hohenberg and Countess Antonia of Holstein til Ledreborg to follow Isabella as her senior ladies replacements.

#PHFF #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry fanfic #royal fanfiction #royal fanfic #fanfiction #Prince Harry

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