#bridgerton original character

[peterpparkrr]

(Not) the same as it was - Ch. 5 | A Bridgerton Series

Series: (Not) the same as it was

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC (Josephine Wescott)

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: A young Anthony and Jo are reunited in the aftermath of Edmund Bridgerton’s death. In 1814, Anthony Bridgerton tries to make amends. 

A/N: We're back! Apologies for the heartbreak in this chapter (but perhaps the angst makes way for a lil something-something?)

previous part // next part

series masterlist

Aubrey Hall, Kent, 1803 

“Oh, Anthony,” Josephine murmured as she embraced Anthony tightly. “I am so sorry.”

Josephine’s family returned to Kent as soon as word came. Mrs. Saville, Jo’s mother, was eager to be by Violet’s side and support her closest friend through this loss. And Jo was desperate to see Anthony. 

Josephine had never experienced a loss. Not one of this magnitude. But she could only imagine that it was devastating for Anthony. She wanted to support him through this grief. They would be sharing their lives together, and she was desperate to prove that she was up for helping Anthony shoulder this burden.

“There are some things that we need to speak of,” Anthony replied.

Jo nodded as she let go of Anthony. She’d barely noticed that Anthony hadn’t truly embraced her in return until she moved to take his arm and realized he hadn’t offered it to her. 

Instead, they walked separately as Anthony led them into the side gardens of the Bridgerton estate. 

“Whatever I can do to help you, Anthony, please, say the word,” Josephine told him as they moved away from the house.

“Yes, exactly,” Anthony replied as he stopped walking, turning to Jo abruptly.

“I cannot marry you.”

Jo merely stared at Anthony in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Jo, believe me, I am, I didn’t intend to string you along,” Anthony continued. “But trust me, this will be better for us both in the long run.”

Jo, for perhaps the first time in her life, did not speak. Her mouth remained uncharacteristically closed as her expression shifted from one of confusion and shock to poorly restrained sadness as she realized this wasn’t some sort of poorly executed joke, nor was it a mere deference of their inevitable marriage. 

He was throwing her off.

“One day you will thank me for this,” Anthony added.

Jo’s head had begun to shake as she still struggled to form words, her thoughts and fears prompting a loose ramble as she tried to understand what was happening.

“No, Anthony, I love you, I- I’ll wait as long as you need, I’ll be patient and when you’re ready then we can-”

“No,” Anthony stated firmly. Harsher than he’d intended to. It felt like a slap across Jo’s face. “I will never marry you.”

“But…,” Jo stuttered.

“I don’t love you,” Anthony told Jo. It was almost impossible for Anthony to get out the lie. But he needed Josephine to let him go. And this would do it. He was certain of it. Even if the barbed words scarred his own mouth as he spat them out.

It would break her heart. And his heart too. But it would save her from a lifetime of regret. From the complete and utter destruction that his mother was currently experiencing. 

She would thank him. One day. When he left this earth and she was still here.

Anthony’s mother was practically comatose. She hadn’t left her chambers since it had happened. She wouldn’t speak. Barely ate. The doctor was still unsure of whether or not the baby would live.

Anthony refused to put Jo through that. 

He loved her, so he needed to let her go.

“I have much to attend to so I will take my leave,” Anthony said as he tried not to look into Jo’s face, to be faced with her silent tears. 

“Goodbye, Jo,” He added before he turned and made his way back to Aubrey Hall, turning his back on her.

And Jo stood in the Bridgerton’s garden, watching Anthony disappear through the door before she finally felt her legs give out from under her as she fell to the ground and a sob broke through her chest.

He had never looked back.

It was weeks later that Anthony and Jo spoke again. Josephine had tried to speak to him at Edmund’s funeral, but Anthony had resoundly ignored her. After that, she’d resigned herself to the fact that Anthony would not change his mind. Not anytime soon. And though her mother would be staying to support Violet, she insisted that Jo and her father needed to return to London. 

Jo had been out on a morning ride when she spotted Anthony out on his own early morning ride. Before it had been improper for the two of them to ride together alone, they’d frequently shared early morning rides through their families' property. 

“My father and I are returning to London, tomorrow,” Josephine called out to Anthony as she cantered her horse toward him. 

“Safe travels,” He replied with a polite nod.

“Do you have anything else you wish to say to me?” Jo asked. She didn’t hide her disbelief. She didn’t want to. And she couldn’t have if she tried. 

She and Anthony had known each other their entire lives. She’d never once expected him to ignore her. To act as if they were strangers.

“Not particularly, is there something you wish for me to say?” Anthony asked.

“No, I suppose not,” Josephine replied with a hiss. 

“Goodbye, Anthony,” She muttered before she urder her horse foward and took off back toward her house. 

Saville House, London, 1814

“Anthony,” Jo stated as she looked up from her correspondence in surprise. She had been so focued on her letter that she’s heard her butler announce someone but hadn’t been listening to the name until she look up to see Anthony Bridgerton standing before her. “What are you doing here?” 

“Lady Wescott,” He greeted her with a small bow.

Anthony hadn’t been to Jo’s family’s London house in over ten years. Not much had changed. It was small and cozy.   

“I felt I owed you an apology,” Anthony told Jo as he stood awkwardly in the middle of he sitting room. “The things that I said yesterday were… unkind.”

“Yes,” Jo replied with a nod of agreement. “They were.”

“And I am sorry,” Anthony replied.

Jo nodded, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“You said things that were unkind as well,” Anthony added when Jo didn’t reply.

“You want me to apologize to you?” Jo asked as her eyebrows shot up.

“Well,” Anthony stammered.

“You are a ridiculous man, Anthony,” Jo replied as she shook her head in disbelief. “After everything you haven’t changed a bit.”

She should have realized that Anthony would expect an apology of his own. He could never uflly own up to his mistakes, why would he start now.

“We both said things that we regret,” Anthony reiterated.

“We? The two of us are not a unit, Anthony, you made certain of that,” Jo muttered as she pressed a hand to the top of her head. “I told you what you needed to hear.”

“We’ve both made mistakes in the past, Jo, and you know that the same as I,” Anthony replied. Why was she being so impossible? If anyone hadn’t changed since they were young, it was Jo. She could never just let things go, could she? The stubborn little minx. 

“We were both foolish and young! You expect me to believe your marriage was a happy one? That you did not regret marrying the Earl?”

“They are hardly the same thing,” Jo hissed as she stood from her desk abruptly. 

He had nearly made the same mistake last night. Trying to act as if she had thrown him over, instead of the other way around. 

“You married someone else!” Anthony shouted at her.

“Because you told me you would never marry me!”

“I had just lost my father!”

“I am keenly aware of that fact!” Jo spat at him. “I could have been patient. I told you as much. That I’d wait as long as you needed. And you told me that we could never be together. That you didn’t love me. So I apologize for not seeing how any of that has changed.”

Anthony fell silent. He’d held his breath without even realizing it as he realized he wasn’t othe only one who seemed to remember their conversations all these years later.

“I do not want to fight with you, Anthony,” Jo finally said with a deep sigh as she finally regained some semblance of calm. “We will never agree on this. That is plainly clear to me now.”

“You cannot pretend that my actions were not a direct result of yours. You forced my hand. Do not expect me to apologize for your own misgivings.” 

“I…I am sorry. At the time…” Anthony trailed off as he tried to explain his teenaged logic. “Well, I thought it was the only thing to do. And some part of you must have agreed because you listened.”

She’d married the earl a few months after they’d left. Obviously, she hadn’t truly meant it when she said she’d wait for him. 

“You broke my heart, Anthony,” Jo replies as she holds onto the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I had to marry. I had no choice.”

Aubrey Parish, Kent, 1803

Her father explained to Jo why her mother had been so set on the season on the carriage ride back to London. 

Jo had a comparable dowry thanks to her mother’s inheritance, but her father’s income could not support her parents and Jo forever. 

She would have to marry. And if Anthony Bridgerton was no longer interested… well, she would have to look elsewhere. Her parents had spared no expense on her season. It would be a struggle to afford another one next year if she couldn’t find a match by the end of this one. 

When they returned to London the news of the spectacular end of Anthony Bridgerton and Josephine Saville’s courtship had already made the rounds twice over. 

The rejection of a man who was now a Viscount had left Josephine adrift. Most of the young men in London saw Anthony’s rejection of her as a final stamp on her rejection as a possible bride. She’d spent the next few weeks standing on the edges of parties and balls. A true wallflower with an empty dance card and a stormy disposition to match.

It wasn’t much later that her father introduced her to Lord Wescott. 

The wedding was set for August. In Kent at the parish church. 

The last time she had been in the church had been for Edmund Bridgerton’s funeral only two months earlier. 

The wedding felt similarly somber in Josephine’s heart.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony would attend. The Bridgertons had all been invited. Violet was still unwell. But she’d seen Benedict in town when she’d arrived and he’d told her the children would attend. Neither one of them spoke of Anthony. 

A part of her imagined that she would walk down the aisle and Anthony would burst into the church and object. 

That he would rescue her. 

Because if he had ever truly loved her? He would stop the wedding. 

But that didn’t happen. 

Josephine Saville walked down the aisle arm in arm with her father and she walked back down the aisle Lady Josephine Wescott. 

It was arm in arm with her new husband that she saw him. As they were walking down the aisle she saw him, standing in between little Eloise and Frannie, staring back at her with a polite smile, clapping along with everyone else as she set off to start her new life.

And it was in that moment that Jo’s heart well and truly broke.

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[sapphircs]

Hello. Would anyone like to explore Thinya's Bridgerton verse? She's a lovely original character. If so, don't hesitate in messaging me :)

#brigderton rp #bridgerton #bridgerton roleplay #bridgerton oc #bridgerton original character #original character #oc #bridgerton indie #queen charlotte #queen charlotte rp #royals rp #regency rp

[xximpressions]

The Duchess

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you try to navigate rejoining the society you once knew.

Word Count: 1,710

A/N: Had this idea after seeing Netflix's spinoff of Bridgerton and could not put it down!! Let me know what you think! If I hear from enough people, I'll turn this into a series :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

Next

____________________________________________________________

Fighting the urge to let out a sigh full of boredom, you raised the glass of sparkling wine up to your lips.

While taking a delicate sip, your eyes roamed across the vast room once again. It seemed like they were in search of something, but you honestly could not say what. For what seemed like the hundredth time, your gaze was occupied by men who drank too much, women who thought too little, and musicians whose instruments were the slightest bit out of tune.

Taking in the sight as you stood by the table of refreshments, you were hit with the sudden realization that your eyes had been in search of the glamor a high society ball once offered you.

Before you were married, a party with such intricate dances and overhanging chandeliers would have certainly filled you with awe and amazement. But these days, you found that your feelings aired more on the side of weariness than wonderment.

You supposed that was to be expected given how unpredictably cruel you knew life to be.

Since your mother’s death following your birth, and your father’s death not soon after, you were raised by a frightful aunt who married you off to some lord not even a full month into your first season.

But as the fates would have it, your new husband ended up catching a fever during your honeymoon that quickly developed into something darker.

Having just enough time to get his affairs in order, the man you were sentenced to spend the rest of your life with, took his last breath only hours later.

This unforeseen turn meant you went from wife to widow within the span of a week.

Though you were not really acquainted with the one you called husband, the rules of society still demanded that you mourn him as if you were.

So after secluding yourself and donning black for the required year and a day, you looked forward to attending an event where you did not have to wear the subdued color. 

However, now that you were here, your mind incessantly wished that you were not.

Even prior to your marriage, a part of you always thought balls to be mundane affairs with only the prospect of finding a match to make it interesting. 

But now that you were aware of all the aspects that pertain to wedded life, you were not convinced you should seek it out again.

After all, you had already achieved what many young ladies set out for by using the marital institution to secure wealth and a respectable position in society.

With all that you could want in hand, you were starting to question what you were even doing at this magnificently dull soiree since parties such as these were for matchmaking and the marriage mart—neither of which held your interest as you were coming to learn.

Setting your drink down as you stifled another sigh, you turned and decided to start looking for some kind of exit.

Slowly making your way through the throng of elegantly dressed people, you first felt relief once you came across a set of double doors on a nearby wall.

Thinking them to be the doors you originally entered through, your next emotion was confusion when you saw an outdoor garden rather than an indoor hallway on the other side.

Realizing you had made a mistake, you were about to turn back in order to rejoin the party. But as the serenity of the quiet, night air enveloped your being, you found that your feet had slowly begun to make their way forward instead.

Hoping that a simple stroll through this season’s blooms and blossoms might put you in a more agreeable mood, you continued walking through the lavish landscape. 

You were not sure how long you spent wondering, but it could not have been more than a few minutes later before you eventually gave up.

Deciding it was best to just leave altogether, you started to make your way back to the party until a sudden grip on your upper arm prevented you from doing so.

In a flash, you spun around to face the one who had grabbed you and were both terrified and relieved to see it was a face you knew.

You had been introduced while you were on your honeymoon and your husband was on his deathbed.

When it became known that his health was failing, it was this man that showed up looking for an inheritance.

Being your husband’s younger brother, you could still remember how he heartlessly announced that he was present to ensure his place in the line of succession and nothing more.

So as your present fear turned into outright irritation, you let out an annoyed huff of your brother-in-law’s name while forcefully shrugging your arm from his hand and demanding to know,

“What are you doing here?”

When your pulling away caused him to stumble in place for a moment, your other senses immediately took note of the alcoholic stench permeating from his body and the slurred way he began to speak. 

“W-what am I doing here? What are you doing here??”

He jabbed an accusatory finger in your direction as he asked this question before he brokenly followed up with,

“If…if anyone should not be here, it is you and…and not I, you wicked harlot!”

You could not deny that your eyes had narrowed the slightest bit at this insult. So after straightening your back, you coldly responded to the drunken man in front of you.

“If you wish to address me, you will do so by calling me, ‘Your Grace’. If that is too much of a challenge for you to overcome, I suggest you do not address me at all.”

Done with the idea of being in his presence, you turned to make your way back inside only to be grabbed again not even a foot away.

Quickly putting your hands up to shove as hard as you could, you pushed your late husband’s brother back as you determinedly yelled out, 

“Unhand me!”

He only stumbled back a little before regaining his barings and making a second attempt to rush you.

Only this time, he was intercepted by another man.

Letting out a gasp as your brother-in-law was suddenly thrown to the ground, you could only watch as the person still standing threateningly said,

“I believe I heard the Lady say to unhand her. I would advise leaving now before I feel the need to intervene any further.”

He kept himself in-between you and the drunk on the floor as he spoke which meant you could not see who your rescuer was. But whomever they might be, it was obvious that their tone left no room for negotiation.

Watching over the shoulder of the stranger as your husband’s brother staggered to his feet, you kept your face blank as he threw one last glare in your direction and walked away on unsteady legs until he was out of sight.

Once you could no longer see him, you let out a sigh you did not realize you were holding and raised a soothing hand to your temple as you closed your eyes.

When you opened them again, you unexpectedly found yourself staring into someone else’s gaze.

You and the handsome stranger continued to stare at one another until you remembered yourself moments later.

Clearing your throat and taking a step back, you opened your mouth and cordially said,

“Good sir, while I appreciate your stepping in, I can assure you that I had the situation well under control.”

Raising a surprised brow, the man in front of you proceeded to cross his arms over his chest as he replied.

“Oh? You looked like you were in need of rescuing from where I was standing.”

“A matter of perspective then.”

Though you allowed the flippant response, it was your rescuer who allowed an amused smirk to grow on his face after the fact. Briefly looking you up and down, his tone was confident as he quietly repeated back to you in the quiet, night air,

“A matter of perspective, indeed.”

You felt an unexplainable flutter when he said this and his eyes locked onto yours. But before you had the chance to get drawn in another time, you decided to give a prompt nod of gratitude and goodbye and returned to the party at last.

Once inside, you looked back to take in the sight of the ball as you finally neared the correct exit.

In search of something again, your eyes continued roving over the crowd until they landed on someone already looking in your direction.

Catching the gaze of your handsome rescuer from across the room, you were pleasantly surprised to have a playful smile thrown your way after a respectful bow of his head. Unable to prevent your expression from mimicking his, you tried to keep your smile to yourself as you finally turned to leave the party.

On the other side of the soiree, Anthony Bridgerton was being brought back to reality as his eldest sibling clasped a hand onto the Viscount’s shoulder.

“Brother, what are you looking at with such intensity?”

But as the second oldest Bridgerton only had to follow his brother’s eyes to see what had captured his attention, he was no longer confused when they landed on your retreating figure.

Amused, the artist turned back to the Viscount when he dazedly asked,

“Tell me Benedict, who is that?”

“I do not know. I have only seen her a few times.”

As they both watched you leave, Anthony decided that this was not enough information.

“Come now, you must know more than that.”

Smiling at his brother’s impatience, Benedict calmly replied,

“All I know is that she is widowed and has just come out of her mourning period.”

And with what he had heard at his gentlemen’s club, and all that he had read from Lady Whistedown’s column, Anthony finished putting two and two together and was suddenly hit with the fact that he knew who you were.

“That is not some widow, Brother.”

Catching the last glimpse of you, the Viscount astonishingly breathed out,

“That is the Duchess.”

Next

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x black!reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #Anthony bridgerton x original female character

[aphroditelovesu]

❝𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙄𝙄 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏❞

Historical Characters

💕 Yan!Alexander the Great w/His Twins!Children (Platonic)

💕 Yan!Alexander the Great, Yan!Julius Caesar, Yan!Napoleon Bonaparte and Yan!Henry VII w/Cheating!Wife (Romantic)

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💕 Reader Love Letter for Julius Caesar (Romantic)

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A Court of Thorns and Roses

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Greek Mythology

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Bridgerton

💕 Yandere King George III w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

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💕 Yandere Simon Basset (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Edmund Bridgerton w/Mistress!Reader (Romantic)

Percy Jackson

💕 Yandere Percy Jackson | Prompts 3, 4, 12, 26

💕 Yandere Annabeth Chase (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Percy Jackson w/Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader (Romantic)

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Miraculous Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

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Heartstopper

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[dollypopup]

the more I think about it and rewatch his scenes, the more I cannot help but realize that Colin is coded as a neurodivergent character. At least, I can very clearly see how Luke Newton, a neurodivergent actor, is playing Colin as a neurodivergent character

a special interest in Greek mythology? in traveling? neurodivergent

taking people's word at face value without 'reading between the lines'? neurodivergent

not being able to read Penelope's feelings regardless of how 'obvious' they are? neurodivergent

brain constantly bouncing around from one idea to the next (as in the books)? neurodivergent

not saying the 'right thing' and admitting to having to rehearse important conversations? neurodivergent

all that rejection sensitivity and regret he had well over a year after his engagement blew up? neurodivergent

masking in public? the whole 'charming facade'? neurodivergent

the man straight up STIMS, I mean how often do we see him fidgeting or playing with something? he has an oral fixation like no one's business, always eating, rubbing his mouth, licking his lips

I just can't unsee it

and, one day, i hope our fandom is going to be ready to recognize how many of the things we've unjustly called him an 'idiot' or 'stupid' for is actually just him existing with a neurodivergent brain and how hurtful that can come across to us neurodivergent peeps who identify with him

#colin bridgerton #polin #bridgerton #luke newton himself has ADHD like i'd eat my HAT if he's not playing colin as ND #sure maybe colin doesn't have the words for that in the time period he's in. . .but nd folks have always existed #even when the language for us doesn't #hell. . .even his reaction in S2 when no one is interested in hearing about his travels #TELL ME THAT'S NOT AN ND RESPONSE??? how many of us have infodumped about our special interest #and had no one listen to us? it really does hurt!!! it discourages!!! and we get upset about it just like he did!!! #we stop talking about it *just like he did* #we dismiss it- JUST! LIKE! HE DID!!!! #anyway 'colin bridgerton is an idiot' is my villain origin story #we're leaving that shit in 2023 #colin bridgerton is a chaotic little gremlin is SO much better of a trope #also also cause it's just on my (neurodivergent) brain. #a lot of the polin shippers who have been made to feel unwelcome in polin tend to be colin fans. . .and a lot of us are nd #inch resting #colin is a neurodivergent character #he is my baby boy #and i'm tired of the ableism #and even if he ISN'T explicitly ND- a lot of the behaviors we call him stupid for. . .are relatable to many ND people #and seeing the reaction be a blind 'he's so dumb' is really sad #we're not stupid- our brains just work and process differently #that's all

[thethreeeyed-raven]

a friend

make me feel masterlist

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : a little short lol sorry, enjoy! | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @fangsp1der-2099 , @navs-bhat , @starkleila

“My Lord!” You called after him. “My Lord!”

Finally, Morpheus came to a halt on the porch, looking out into the garden. “Why did you follow me Miss Bridgerton?”

You took a moment to catch your breath before answering the man who still had his back turned to you. Now you didn’t know what to say. “I…”

“If you followed me out here to give me your pity, I don’t want it.” His voice was cold like the icy chill of the winter breeze you longed for in these summer days.

“No! I don’t pity you! I just…” You fiddled with your fingers, unsure of why you followed him.

“What is it you want Miss Bridgerton?”

Morpheus was still turned facing away from you, but you made no effort to make him turn.

“I was going to ask you what was the matter, with everything Lady Death mentioned in the dining hall, but now I think it is best not.”

“Yes…that is best.”

A silence followed between you two, accompanied by the rustling of many leaves swaying in the nighttime breeze.

“If you ever need a friend…” You paused when you saw his shoulder stiffen, only relaxing when he slightly turned his body towards you.

“A friend?” Morpheus’ eyes gleamed with a sliver of hope.

You gently smiled. “Yes, a friend. I’m always available.” You turned to head back inside when a cold hand caught your wrist.

“Miss Bridgerton…” Morpheus started.

You gazed between his hand and his face, going back and forth before snapping out of your daze.

“Yes?”

A feeling of apprehension washed over Morpheus as he hesitated, but it’s now or never. “Will you perhaps be attending Lady Walsingham’s ball tomorrow evening?”

“Yes…” You replied in confusion.

The pit of anxiety Morpheus felt washed itself away with the tides of confidence before giving you a friendly smirk.

“Make sure to save a space on your dance card for me, my Lady.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a giggle and nodded, letting your hand slip into his as you made your way back inside.

Morpheus stood in awe for a while before whispering to himself.

“A friend…”

#the sandman x you #the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x original character #morpheus headcanons #morpheus x oc #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #morpheus #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless headcanons #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #bridgerton au

[verodoodles]

✨Icon commissions are OPEN✨

Hey there! I’m opening for some fun icon commissions! Three different styles and lots of room for experimentation! If you have an OC you’d like me to draw, please swipe to see what style you’d like and comment or dm!

Any and all colors can be used so if neon isn’t your thing, no worries!

Will draw:

• OCs

• Clowns

• Aliens

• Pets

• Furries

• Slime

• Fairies

• Antro/human hybrid (cat girl for exp)

——————

Won’t draw:

• G/ore

• Mecha

• Bodily Fluids of any kind

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask! 💖✨

IG/Twitter linked in bio! 🔗

#artists of tumblr #autsim #bridgerton #sonic #artists on tumblr #cute art #art #cute artwork #clowncore #original character #furries #furry oc #fursona #clowncore aesthetic #fairycore #weirdcore #kidcore aesthetic #kidcore #art commisions #commission #commissions #commissions open #artist of tumblr #artist on tumblr #support small artists

[celestialsmessy1]

NOT UNDER MY WATCH

CHAPTER 8: THE PERFECT UNION

Summ:  It's Here! The day Phineas dreads but the rest of the family is excited about.... Phillippa Featherington will be married to Albion Finch. While Phineas still would prefer this day never happen, he can concede that it did, and that's he's almost... proud it did. Now with his free time no longer chasing after his younger sister's relationship, he has more time to focus on Penelope again. But she seems to be mad at him still and she's still hanging out with that Bridgerton boy. What's a brother going to do?

I'M SENDING MY RSVP AS A: YES!

#polin #bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #Phineas Featherington #original character #Celestialmess1fics #colin x penelope #What if Penelope had an older brother? #Older brother au #polin fanfiction #my fanfiction

[themuselesswriter]

A Mad Queen for a Mad King - Chapter 6: Unwanted Guest

Characters: King George, Queen Charlotte, Brimsley, Reynolds, Original Female Character

Summary: George reconnects with an old childhood friend, although him and Reynolds are excited to have her, Charlotte and Brimsley have other thoughts.

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi guys! It's me again with another oneshot unhinged collection! Feel free to write down your requests, I have muse! and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! P.S. AI might've helped me writing the letters and some chapters are less edited than the rest.

Credits: photos from Pinterest, editing app is Picsart

---------------------------Teaser------------------------

George had been on his nerves lately, he was pacing around, mumbling whenever Charlotte caught a glimpse of him, he preferred his solitude rather than her company, it began ever since he heard the news of his mother's illness, he had been quite distressed, regardless of what Charlotte said or did.

His odd behaviours caused Charlotte to feel anxious as well, at first, she thought he was going to have an episode, but it never came, she suspected that he was going through an episode but he seemed sane enough, then one day, she sneaked into his observatory and went through his papers and found letters, strange letter that seemed to be written by a woman.

My dearest George,

Pray accept my humble salutations, and may this missive find you in the finest of spirits. I pen this epistle laden with heartfelt remorse, beseeching your gracious pardon for my untimely absence and regrettable inability to partake in the sacred union of your nuptials, as well as the subsequent array of festivities that ensued. Yet, tidings reached my ears of Princess Augusta's ailing constitution, for though her grace may not always have exuded warmth, her profound affection for you, akin to the depth of your devotion, remains indelibly etched in our collective hearts. Her regal maternal presence remains a cherished treasure to us all. I implore you, dear friend, how fares your own well-being amidst these tumultuous times? Undoubtedly, the weight of conflicting emotions and the shattering of your worlds must be an arduous burden to bear. Is there aught within my power to alleviate your distress?

With all the ardour of affection,

Matilda

The trail of messages continued, the more Charlotte read the more threatened she felt, she asked many of Matilda, but no one seemed to know her, or perhaps they wished not to tell the Queen of her, she assigned Brimsley to learn of her but all he heard that she used to stay with George, she would come and go, until the news of his marriage to Charlotte, then she disappeared and she has been gone since.

Today at breakfast, George seemed odd, he was not his usual upset self, he was anxious but the good kind of anxious, the excited kind, when Charlotte asked of the reason, he told her he was expecting visitors.

Continue Reading

#original character #bridgerton #queen charlotte #king george bridgerton #king george iii #king george x reader #reynolds #brimsley #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #museless fanfic #ao3 #queen charlotte and king george #queen charlotte a bridgerton story

[cvlutos]

HE WHO OWNS, THE COURT WINS IT ALL!!

✡︎ May.06.2023 | 6.0K| Commissioned by @pinkskybelle

✡︎ Vil S. | Rook H. | Male OC

✡︎ Bridgerton AU | Angst | Fluff | Poly | Slowburn | Courting | Hierarchy | Oblivious | Mentions of Alcohol| Etc

✡︎ Synopsis: This is a time for all the rich nobles and bacheors gather for six months to find a love, to grow their name, to make a fourtune. So shall you play along.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six |

ACT ONE

“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman gently closes the book, leaning against the rough bark of the pine tree, basking in the few sun rays that gently touch his skin. Emerald eyes flutter closed as he lets out a low amused hum.

“Something will change. C’est assez excitant~”

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Vil. You know I am quite disappointed.”

The tip of the fountain pen taps against the pristine white documents, each paper in some way tied to the never-ending business and work that’s conducted by the small Schoenheit Family, made up of the Head of the House, his new wife, and his two sons.

His eldest son, Vil Schoenheit, stands before him. Dressed in a simple button-up and slacks, his blonde hair in a low bun except for the purposeful loose strands that frame the sides of his face. Lilac eyes express nothing, as pink-painted lips press tightly together. The room was dimly lit with little light filtering in through the large violet window shades. A thick, dark oak desk was placed in the furthest part of the room, separating the two.

The silence between them grows more tense with each passing moment, as the head of the family lets out another annoyed sigh. Wishing to be occupied with signing papers alone, then having to deal with the son of his late ex-wife. The shadows prevent the head’s face from being seen, but Vil knows—his father has his always disappointed face engraved into his memory—he knows that his father is scowling. Like he always does. Scowling with disappointed eyes and disappointed lips.

The air, thick and cold—frigid upon Vil’s elegant skin, forcing him to remain present, then allowing his mind to wander to more savory things instead of listening to his father’s long lectures. The pen taps again, showing a bit of his father’s impatience, which is always short. Since Vil was a child, his father has never been patient. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

“I apologize,” Vil bows, placing a hand over his heart, “but there was not much else I could do. Time got away from me...”

The chair beneath his father creaks as he leans forward with a scoff, “The time got away? You—who is insistent upon keeping track of all things I do. Ready to undermine me at all chances.” Vil’s father lets out a tired sigh. “Just like your mother would, always trying to correct—” He speaks under his breath, placing his pen down, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yet time got away from you.”

The blonde brows of Vil’s face scrunch, his glossed lips pulling into a deep scowl, standing straight once again, his arms crossing. “Leave my mother out of this. You tormented her enough when she was here.”

“Do not get smart with me boy!” His father’s hand slams against his desk, creating a firm and echoing sound that seems to shake the very room, Vil bites back any words, watching the multitude of books, pens, pencils, and décor topple off the desk. Vil does nothing. Keeping his posture straight and unamused, eyes firm and staring. His father’s hands clenching and stretching, fixing his wedding band subconsciously, breathing heavily.

“Pick my things up, boy.” Vil’s father’s voice is firm, watching with glaring eyes as Vil’s shoulders drop, slowly sliding down and onto his knees and picking up the multiple objects and placing them back on his desk. Vil’s father proceeds to speak, staring down at his son.

“If time has gotten away from you—then you simply force my hand Vil.”

The chair creaks. His father rises from his seat and pulls out a black envelope with gold writing. He flicks the envelope from his hand, watching it flutter before landing on the wooden flooring, forcing Vil, on his knees, to reach for it, on all fours. Like a dog.

‘Vil Schoenheit’

Written in beautiful gold cursive, Vil recognizes exactly who the letter is from immediately having received a letter occasionally from the family. The Royal Draconia family. He rises to his feet, placing the objects back in place and returning where he stood. Looking over the letter in silence.

“Because I cannot trust you to act reasonably and properly, you will host this year’s courting season.” His father speaks again, straightening his hair and clothing. Vil’s gaze moves up to his father, scowling deeply.

“The courting season is in less than three months. Everyone has already made preparations for the Al-Asims to host. And I have talked to the head of the family, and he is more than happy to let you host.” Vil’s father sits back down, before waving his hand in a shooing motion, “Now go. I’m tired of looking at you.” Vil gives another curt bow, biting back any vile words that wished to escape his lips. Turning on his heel and walking out of his father’s office.

Closing the heavy oak door with a hard slam, keeping his displeased scowl, any servants were quick to move out of his way, keeping their heads low. He walks the lavish white halls quickly, steps muffled by the thick violet carpets, he holds the letter tightly. His huntsman appears beside him in stride, a small smile across his lips. Unbothered by Vil’s scowl and furrowed brows.

“Bon après-midi, mon Seigneur, pourquoi un air renfrogné orne-t-il le beau visage d’une personne?” Vil stops immediately in place, turning to his huntsman, holding up the envelope, and watching his personal guard nod in immediate understanding.

“He has not only forced me to my hands and knees like a dog but has also saddled me with preparing this year’s courting season. Even went so far as to ask the Draconia family, he has absolutely made a fool of me.” Vil’s voice is low, dripping with venom, before resuming his walk, his steps long and fast, his guard follows easily. Dressed casually in his familiar brown feathered hat upon his head.

“How would you like to begin planning?”

“Have letters sent out—Courting with take place at the Pomefiore Manor. I’ll have father regret ever forcing my hand.”

══════ •✦• ══════

“Master Robyn!”

The wind blows softly through the sunlit manor grounds, rustling the vibrant green grass and forest leaves as two figures crouch in the bushes, out of sight and view of the frantic middle-aged maid who was shouting for them. Trying to rush down the stone stairs, but also afraid to fall, leaving her to grip the ends of her black dress and white apron as she sidestepped down the steps. Swatting away at the two large dogs that yap and bark as they bound up and down the steps, messing with her as she tries to shoo them away.

There’s a handmade animal target made of hay and cloth that stands unmoving, placed in the very center of the grassy field. Something the maid is utterly oblivious to, as small hands grip the wooden bow, a hand-crafted gift made for the young brother of the Locksley house, with his name elegantly engraved along the handle.

“Ignore her.”

The master of the house’s voice is quiet, with a hint of playfulness as he tucks a strand of rose-red hair behind his ear, crouching low as he adjusts his brother’s aim. Once again, the maid shouts, which earns a snicker from the younger boy, as the Head of the house grins. Both the brothers are quite used to her panicked shouts, having grown to know the difference between her actual urgent calls and her simple faux panic that she at times sends herself into over the smallest changes.

“Do I shoot now, brother?” His brother’s voice is playful, glancing up at his brother with eager eyes, waiting for the release command. A moment passes before the eldest looks at his younger brother, giving a short nod.

“Shoot.”

The young brother does, the arrow zipping through the bushes and shooting straight into the fake deer’s neck, sending the puppet flying over. The maid shrieks in fear and surprise, nearly dropping whatever she was holding, as the dogs bark happily, rushing over to the straw dummy and pouncing on it. The younger brother immediately jumped with a cheer, revealing his hiding spot as he rushed over to the puppet.

“That was like 15 yards away, brother! And the arrow went zoom!” The young child holds out his arm, pretending it was the arrow and how it flew, nearly falling over from the extra momentum and the dogs that jump and bump into his small frame.

“Master Jay, please be careful!”

The maid, a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and white streaks, holds the ends of her skirt as she rushes across the field, her plump peach-colored face flushed. Jay ignores her completely, entertaining himself with the dogs and the straw deer, chasing them around with it.

“Marjorie, he is alright.”

She nearly jumps 10 feet in the air, turning around and coming face to face with the master of the house, Robyn Locksley. Who has a small smile, resting a firm, gentle hand on her shoulder with an apologetic grin and laugh. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” She presses her palms against her fast-beating heart, and he gives her a moment to gain her breath as he fixes the runaway strays of her hair, watching his brother from the corner of his eyes, watching Jay play happily with their two black and white hunting dogs.

“You called for me earlier. Was something wrong?”

Robyn holds out his arm, allowing the maid, one he’s known since childhood, to interlock their arms as they walk around the grassy field. She was the main maid in charge of Robyn’s everything, making sure that he had everything he could likely need, while his parents spent days away from the manor. Leaving their young son alone for days on end, a habit that didn’t change at the surprise arrival of Jay Locksley, who was born when Robyn was only sixteen.

So, while Marjorie took care of him, Robyn took care of Jay. Even after the Locksley name was ruined, all due to his father’s negligence and his mother’s embarrassment, who fled the moment it was declared by the Draconia Family that Robert Locksley had ruined their wealth and discarded their name and found dead in an alley in the next town over. Though his mother, Jane, died six years ago in a carriage accident.

Neither of the sons of Robert and Jane attended the funeral, at the request of her third husband.

“Goodness me! I almost forgot! Well, news has it that the courting season has changed from the Al-Asim Family to the Schoenheit Family, at the last minute’s notice—”

Robyn nods, giving an occasional hum as he listens. Knowing that it was better off to simply ramble on about whatever news and or drama she gained, speaking about all the speculated drama behind the sudden decision. Cause to her, quick and unusual change is never good.

Though Robyn is curious. A sudden change three months before courting season, he can imagine quite the mad faces of some of the more prominent families. Having to rearrange everything to fit the more regal attitude the Schoenheit’s had, instead of the more freeing vibe that the Al-Asim’s conveyed.

“It could possibly be tied to Kalim Al-Asim and his secret lover?” Robyn holds back a laugh but is not unable to stop a sly smile from spreading across his lips.

“I assume it is another story from the market?” Robyn watches her face go slightly pink, making Robyn know immediately that he’s correct. He laughs, watching her wave him off in a playful fashion. “All rumors hold a bit of truth.”

“That they do.”

They continue walking, Marjorie going back to her conjectures, Robyn adding input here and there, his bright blue eyes gazing along the gardens located on the side of the house, the grassy ground shifting into gravel, crossing past a flowery hedge into the fruit and vegetable gardens. His eyes surveyed each plant, silently searching for any growing berries and fresh, vibrant tomatoes. After finding nothing of interest, his gaze moves to the thick tree line that surrounded the entire Locksley Manor. Located on the furthest outskirts of the large bustling town, hidden within the green land forests. Marjorie continues,

“And it is to be held at the Pomefiore Manor!” Robyn turns to her, his full attention, his brows pulling together in shock and surprise. The Schoenheit family had two famous manors, the Schoenheit Manor where all events are held in relation to the family, and the Pomefiore Manor.

“The one in the Northern Mountains?” The maid nods, stopping in her tracks and pulling away as she rummages through her pockets, retrieving an elegant letter, and placed it in Robyn’s hands.

Pomefiore Manor is a manor of pure and utter elegance hidden within the towering northern mountains and shielded by flurries of never-ending winters. No one except the Schoenheit Family to be allowed that deep into the mountains. Others have tried, but none ever returned alive.

“Such an odd location... And so last minute...”

Robyn mutters under his breath, he’s spent time reading about the mountains and the mysterious snowstorm that follows, some say it was caused by a jealous queen who lost her love to another, and her cold bitter hurt would make those that once stood in her way suffer. While more logical, researchers blamed it on a strange influx of magic that forced the storm to never end. His gaze moves down to Marjorie, watching her anxious-filled expression. Robyn gently presses a hand against her head, his lips curling into a smile.

“I’ll be alright. I was invited, so there should be no worries.”

“You’ll be away for six months. Oh dear,” She leans against Robyn, leaning her full weight against him like a mother would her very own son. He allows her, indulging in the slight smell of honey that surrounds her. Marjorie continues to ramble as she pulls away. Robyn watches her talk aloud, speaking to herself, then to others.

“How would I ever—you’re off to getting married? I need to prepare. We only have three months—Dear Seven—” You watch her walk from the garden and towards the back of the house. Robyn follows behind her, slipping the letter into his pants pocket, as he watches her climb up the stone steps, still speaking to herself, stepping into the manor, clearly in her own world.

“What’s courting season?”

Jay pops up beside the young master of the house, holding a long stick, watching Marjorie before wide blue eyes look up at Robyn, dirt, and grass decorating his clothing. Robyn lets out a low hum, roughing up his brother’s hair, ignoring the gentle ‘hey!’, as Jay tries to duck away.

“It’s like a long party. I’ll be looking for a spouse—Though,” The master of the house trails off, a grin spreading across his lips, watching Jay try to fix his short messy red hair, that’s always messy, even after Robyn spends 15 minutes in front of a mirror, trying to style his unruly hair before giving up. Watching Jay try and slick his hair back, squinting his eyes to look cool, making Robyn laugh when the hair practically bounced back into place.

“—I’ll be away for six months.”

The two siblings walk side by side. Jay, with similar bright blue eyes, bounds happily beside his sibling, attracting the attention of the playful hunting dogs, who zip and dart between the two.

“For six months... That is a long, long time.” Robyn’s brother sways as he walks, purposely bumping into his brother, who uses his hand to entertain the dogs, feeling them playfully nip and bite at his fingers, and chasing the siblings as they walk.

“It is—You will be alright; Marjorie and Arthur will take of you.”

Marjorie and Arthur are the only two remaining maids and butlers to the Locksley Estate. The two manage everything within the large, empty manor. Marjorie is in charge of the inside of the manor, while Arthur handles all outer duties. Occasionally, the two siblings help in secret, dusting and sweeping, maintaining the gardens, and handling the large dogs.

“But it’ll be lonely without you—”

Jay wraps his arms around his brother’s waist, stopping the two in their tracks, Robyn gently combing his fingers through his brother’s hair. His lips pulled into a frown, the last few years, since the fall of the Locksley name, everything has been nothing but hectic, meaning Robyn missed his other courting season, leaving him with only this year and the next before he’s considered ineligible, which could possibly leave the two homeless. And though every fiber in his being wants to remain with his brother—nor does he truly desire a spouse—this is one of his ‘noble’ duties.

“I’ll visit. Once a month, if possible... Our situation is no secret.”

Jay is aware of their social standing. Aware of who exactly their parents were, Robyn had no reason to paint his parents in a good light. Sparing no expense to hide the truth in bits and pieces. Jay knows they’re nobles with no riches, nobles alone in status, merely because King Draconia pitied them, and swore that they could properly regain their title if Robyn worked and proved that the Locksley family was worth helping.

Though becoming a proper noble matters little to none to the Head of the Family, it’s merely a title that comes with a following never-ending headache, and if Robyn could—he very well would rid himself of it. Yet, he crouches to his brother’s level, his hands gently squeezing his shoulders. Jay’s eyes look glossed over in worry, his bottom lip poking out as he frowns.

“You’ll be in my thoughts. Always.”

Robyn Locksley has a brother to protect, to care for, whom he loves more than any other. His only family—besides Marjorie and Arthur—and closest friend. Jay nods, his pouting lips curling into a small mischievous smile as his hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Then—Can you help me shoot some more?”

Robyn gasps, clearly being tricked by his brother, “I knew those tears were fake!”

Robyn attacks his brother in a flurry of tickles, bringing his sibling into his embrace, wrestling Jay in his arms, causing him to giggle and laugh, fighting back and losing terribly. “No! No! Robyn! Please!” He shouts in between giggles, the dogs barking and yapping happily, knocking over both Robyn and Jay as they practically pounce onto the two, sending them all to the floor, giving Jay a chance to wiggle and squirm away, darting away in a fit of laughs and giggles. Robyn kneels in the grass, green blades coating parts of his clothing, hair, and face, hands resting on his knees. Jay sticks out his tongue, urging the dogs to come get him, leaving Robyn alone for a moment.

Courting Season.

It’s six months long and, unlike any of the other bachelors and bachelorettes, who flaunt and flounce, wearing their name proudly, the Locksley family cannot. ‘If not for myself... then for you,’ Jay darts around with the dogs, smile large and blue eyes happily wide. Robyn can’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother so happy, the last time he’s been so present. Not simply sparing a glance, but spending a moment with his brother after his long trips, to only leave again.

Trying to undo all his father did. Trying to prove his worth to the ever-reigning Draconia Family, who at any moment displeased with Robyn Locksley, could take everything away. Robyn pushes off the ground, wiping off the dirt and grass, his gaze turning to the large house. Whatever connection Robyn felt, whatever love for the manor—whatever love for his Locksley name ceased to exist years ago. It’s nothing but a house within his name, but to Jay—even as he knows the truth, the manor means something to him. That represents something that Robyn is quite unsure of.

“Master Robyn! Master Jay! Lunch is ready!” Marjorie’s voice shouts aloud, carrying a tray out and to the sitting area located at the top of the stairs, Arthur helping her keep the glass doors open.

Jay immediately is on his feet, racing towards the garden stairs, the two hunting dogs yapping and running after the young boy. A short happy huff lips past Robyn’s lips, walking towards the manor with a small smile.

══════ •✦• ══════

Courting Season.

A season in which all elegant bachelors and bachelorettes take a break from the pressures of society, gathering together to expand their family name and grow their riches by finding a spouse. There are no expectations of love, but connections. That is the goal, to connect and grow. Win it all or lose everything. Failure results in shame, and the Draconia refuses to have shame attached to them.

Courting Season is divided into two, the Spring Court and the Summer Court.

The Spring Court [March, April, May]:

The Court of Spring is the beginning of all festivities and gives a chance for everyone to scope out potential suitors and enjoy the fun without absolute commitment.

For most of the spring, the bachelors and bachelorettes remain separate. Getting to know one another and gaining companions. The more socially accepted you are, the less likely you’ll have competition in finding a good partner.

The Summer Court [June, July, August]:

The Court of Summer, this is the latter half of all festivities. During this time, one should already have mutually picked their suitor for the last three months, spending this time to bond more, whether romantically or for future business endeavors.

At this point, most have selected their main interest and attempt to spend the latter half trying to know them. While others, pleased with their connections but have no desire for romance, spend the last three months enjoying the festivities, but must show a sign that they are out of the running and uninteresting.

Origin of Courting Season: Created and in placed by one of the great kings of Briar Valley, as a way to keep the rich with the rich and keep the poor with the poor.

This idea has changed very little over time, due to the expansion of how many noble families exist beneath Draconia’s control.

ACT TWO:

“This above all; to thine own self be true.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman can’t help but smile, turning his gaze to the growing crowd, as carriages of different sizes and colors move in staggered lines, traveling up the rocky dirt road, lined with elegant floral bushes, filling the air with the gentle scents of lavender and jasmine, guiding them towards the gleaming manor of violet, white, and gold. Feeling the cool spring air bite at his cheeks, he slides off the towering tree branch, falling to the ground in simply ease. Emerald eyes subtly memorized each landau that stood out before landing on a bright red and gold wooden carriage, pulled by two elegant black stallions.

“J’aime bien celui-là.”

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

This is the beauty of the Pomefiore Manor.

It is a celebratory night, the first night of Courting Season, the first night before everyone is separated for the first three months. Yet that is the farthest thought from everyone’s mind. For some, it is their first time away from home, away from the suffocation of their titles. For others, this is a usual scene and a moment for them to take a break from their hectic life and bask in simplicity. For others, this is business, not a vacation.

DEAR ROBYN LOCKSLEY,

Greetings from the Draconia Family.

We hope all is well and wish you a very joyful and eventful courting season. May the odds be in your favor, and you find the perfect lover. We have written to you to speak gaily and thank you for all of your dedicated help, but we are also afraid that even after years of service, it is simply not enough. Your father was quite the foolish man and was built quite the debt, one you must repay. So sadly, I’m afraid that if you do not find a spouse of higher rank, you will be stripped of your title and all assets. Now don’t fear, this courting season is quite an extraordinary one, so have fun, be merry. For this might be your last time.

Best Wishes,

THE DRACONIA FAMILY

The words of the letter remain heavy upon his brain. Any formalities slipped out moreso on instinct than purpose, and barely remembering the faces of the different women and men that introduced themselves. Doing well to speak to the noble, only in name, rather than earned purpose. Which Robyn knows, aware of his name being spread across the ballroom like an uncontrolled wildfire, as others send him curious looks.

Looks he does well to ignore.

This had been on his mind for the last three months, in between preparations for his long journey, and making sure finances were in order. Making sure that Jay, Marjorie, and Arthur had all they needed while he was gone. He spent the days spending time with his brother, promising that six months would pass quickly that before they knew it, they’d be together again in the fall. While in the late night, he remained glued to his desk, furiously writing letters to different nobles and businessmen, trying to build any sort of safety net if he did fail in the task appointed by the Draconia Family. Spending nights within his bed, rereading the letter over and over.

Half of him wanted to make the unprompted journey to the Draconia Castle, demanding to speak with the King. Urge them to give him more tasks. To let him find some way to at least make sure his brother and the only two servants that he had were all right and cared for.

Though Robyn is certain that their solution would have Jay work for them. Not only does he lose the title of noble, but becomes a poorly treated servant. That thought alone forced Robyn to remain in the manor, doing well so as to not frighten the others.

He shakes the thought from his head. Suddenly very aware of his facial expressions, he forces a relaxed smile. Turning his gaze upon the crowded ballroom. Spotting some familiar faces and some not. Each and all dressed in the finest of silks and jewels, all wanted to show off to the Schoenheit heir, who has yet to make himself known.

Robyn stands against the towering white marble walls. As flickers of white and gold flames give way to bright light, placed upon hanging crystal chandeliers, as shoes tap and float against the polished floors. Dancing away with whoever filled their fancy, away from prying, judgmental eyes, with hands entwined and bodies close, dancing to the lovely orchestra.

Everyone during courting season has something to gain and something to hide.

The musicians, people that Robyn is sure that they have been alive far longer than him and have more than mastered the dark oak string instruments. The Locksley Head is certain that the orchestra is most definitely a gift from the Draconia Family. Seeing as no noble would accept less than the best, though Robyn is unsure of the last time he’s heard a live orchestra.

He holds the crystal flute glass, one practically forced into his hand the moment he stepped into the ballroom, occasionally sipping its sweet savory flavor that sends tingles down his tongue after every taste. There’s a subtle underlying flavor of alcohol. Yet the sweet flavor overpowers it greatly. He’s sure that there will be a few who make the mistake of drinking downing drink after drink.

Robyn softly sways to the music, far more interested in the different people, each seemingly comfortable in this environment. Not to say he hates dancing or even festivities, but it’s more enjoyable with someone, is it not?

Robyn’s blue eyes shifted across the enormous crowd that formed around the ballroom dance floor, mingling and gossiping—laughing at their own jokes and discussing the future events. Each within their own right, amazed with how elegant the first night seems to be, when Vil Schoenheit only had three months to prepare. While others knew that the moment Vil Schoenheit sent out invitations with a bouquet, that this year’s courting season—Vil Schoenheit's final courting season would be extravagant.

“Such a shame to only watch and never mingle—Though one can find beauty in simply people watching.”

The voice is like a cool summer breeze and has Robyn shuddering—once for the sudden cold and another out of pure surprise. A man, young, with short blonde hair, pulled into a low ponytail, and deep green eyes that betrayed nothing of his thoughts nor actions, but only showed his curiosity and amusement. He wears simple clothing, tight black pants, a white button-up shirt, and a black corset vest with green lace embellishments, with a simple black belt and a bow and quiver attached to his back.

Robyn glances over his form once more, before landing on his face. He’s watching the crowd. He can tell the strange man is a huntsman. The ends of Robyn’s lips curl. “People are the finest works of art.”

“Ils sont vraiment,” the huntsman says nothing more with a merry hum, occasionally glancing at the young nobleman, but keeping his gaze focused on the smiling faces of the people.

“From the way you’re dressed, you do not seem like a noble?” Robyn’s words make the man chuckle, earning his full attention, unlike before. He wears a bright smile, pressing a hand over his heart as he bows.

“That I am not. I am Rook Hunt, personal guard and huntsman to Vil Schoenheit.”

Robyn’s eyes widen at his words, watching Rook stand straight, a still amused smile upon his lips. “May I ask what gave me away, Mr. Robyn Locksley?”

“You know who I am?”

“Who would not? You arrived in such a crimson carriage. Such a red is quite beautiful.” Emerald eyes dart up to his hair, before resting back on Robyn’s face, unafraid of eye contact. Robyn lets out a low huff like laugh, crossing his arms, and tilting his head to the side. “You asked how I knew—”

“Oui.”

“You are simply underdressed.” The words make the huntsman laugh, a few eyes turning in their direction for the sudden loud laugh, unaware of the two.

“Such a simple fact and yet gave so much away. Tu es vraiment fascinant.” Rook wipes away imaginary tears, giving another shallow bow, as if apologizing. “Forgive me of my outburst, it is not often one speaks to me so freely.”

“Freely?” Darting past Robyn’s curiosity, his smile unfaltering, “You spoke as people being art, then we stand in a museum of moving pieces.”

A museum of moving pieces. Robyn follows Rook’s gaze, watching the crowd move and dance. No one is in the same position as before, some with their arms crossed when they once talked animatedly, some who drink when they once were eating.

“So much passes in so little time. How can one truly appreciate it without a photo?” How can one fully enjoy a moment when a moment so quickly passes? Robyn’s gaze moves to his flute glass, watching the bubbles form and pop, before turning his gaze back towards the crowd.

“That is the beauty of it.” Rook tears his eyes away, green eyes filled with so much honesty. For a moment, Robyn swears he sees Jay’s honest eyes. It has been so long since he’s met someone who’s so true to themselves.

“You speak of…” The words come out heavy, and weigh heavily upon his tongue, “beauty quite often… Why?”

Rook takes a moment to answer, though Robyn is certain that the huntsman doesn’t need a moment to think of response, but moreso for affect. “That is my life pursuit… To find beauty in all things.” Robyn’s eyes move towards the orchestra, watching them happily play, caught up in the melodies of their own music. He thinks back to the letter, one he folded and shoved into the deepest parts of his temporary dresser, unable to swallow the bitterness of it all. Robyn lets out a soft sigh, taking a large gulp of his drink, before speaking.

“In theory that would be easy… To find beauty in everything… Yet how do you look past the negative to see beauty?”

“You do not.” The Huntsman answers with ease, rocking on his heels with a smile, laughing at Robyn’s confused expression. “You take all for how it is and how it will be. Negativity is a fluid emotion—no one can avoid it, so you must learn how to see it for what it is. People will always have negativity—that is one of life’s absolutes. Yet that is not all people can be…”

“So, you find beauty in those that experience it and move past it?”

“And those who cannot—il y a de la beauté dans l’angoisse.”

Robyn finishes the bubbly drink, placing the crystal flute glass on the tray of a passing by servant, before turning to Rook with a grin. “I quite enjoy your company,” Robyn face slightly flushed, feeling the gentle buzz of alcohol in his system, yet he doesn’t stop, offering out a hand.

“May I ask you to accompany me to the gardens?”

══════ •✦• ══════

“Master Vil, many are awaiting your arrival.”

A short maid bows deeply keeping her face hidden as the Schoenheit heir finishes his hair. Pulled into a simple bun, adorned with crystals and jewels. His pink painted lips pressed together, fingers elegantly fixing the golden chain of his necklace.

“Tell me, has father said anything about the courting season?” His voice is low, while the elegant makeup brush is carefully dragged across the lid of his eye, unbothered to even look at the shuddering maid, who’s dressed in simply black and white, keeping herself in Vil’s shadow.

“He—um—The Master spoke of annoyance and disappointment, yet has said nothing else, Master Vil.”

Coating the purple eye shadow across his eyes, before switching to black eyeliner, he speaks again. “That is good, I suppose,” he moves to his other eye, “And have you seen Rook? I give him a moment to see all who has arrived, and he takes the time to simply go missing.” Vil speaks to himself before letting out a sigh, switching from the black eye shadow to a deep purple. He speaks directly to his maid.

“I am aware he has been mingling with guests, yet has yet returned, where is he?”

“Um, the gardens, I believe. He is entertaining Master Robyn Locksley.” Vil pulls the brush from his eye, staring at the two perfectly matching eyes, before placing the brush down and for once, turning to fully look at the maid. His blonde brows furrowed and lips in a low grimace.

“Robyn Locksley… If I am correct, he is a noble in name and of nothing else.” There is slight venom in his words, standing up from his vanity and towards the full-length mirror, once again checking to make sure his outfit is in order. The maid makes sure to stand behind him, keeping her hand over her heart and legs crossed in a low curtsy.

“Yes, that he is. But many say that the reason is due to Robyn Locksley having close ties to the Draconia Family. Which is why he is able to retain his title. Rumors say that it was Lord Malleus himself who gifted the Locksley with the crimson red carriage. Which has caught a lot of attention, I am certain that Master Robyn will have quite many who seek him.”

Vil clicks his tongue, heels clicking as he returns to his vanity, picking up the black eye liner, “I do not like rumors, yet if there is any truth in this—I assure you, Robyn Locksley has caught my attention.” He speaks under his breath, adding the wings onto his eyes, before clearing his throat.

“Prepare for my arrival. I want not a soul missing.”

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

#t.manor.writings #t.manor.commissions #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt #Vil Schoenheit #original character #rook hunt x vil Schoenheit #rook hunt x oc #vil schoenheit x oc #rook x oc #vil x oc #rook x vil x oc #rook x vil #bridgerton au #twst x oc #twisted wonderland x oc #twst oc

[peterpparkrr]

(Not) the same as it was - ch. 4 | A Bridgerton Series

Series: (Not) the same as it was

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: In 1803, Anthony and Jo say a sweet goodbye before they briefly part ways before the beginning of the rest of their lives. In 1814, Anthony and Jo hurl cruel words at one another. Words they won’t be able to take back. 

A/N: I took some time over the holidays to reset my brain and enjoy a little break from writing. Then today I realized this chapter was almost done and I just never finished and posted it? Idk man. Enjoy :)

previous part // next part

series masterlist

Hyde Park, London, 1803

Anthony and Jo were so young. Life feels so deep and real at the age of eighteen. Like adulthood and full maturity has finally reached you and therefore you must get on with the rest of your life. 

But as you get older you realize it’s not like that at all. Life isn’t a series of benchmarks or achievements ordered and timed that one must achieve. Life is a flowing river, its pace may ebb and flow, but it never stops moving, and there are unexpected twists and turns. 

Josephine’s parents had insisted that Jo spend a season out in London properly before any sort of engagement was announced. 

“You’ll appreciate this when you’re older.” Had become the saying that ruled the Saville household for the months between Christmas and the start of the social season.

And Jo didn’t mind, she liked London. 

Anthony was also in London, with his own family, and they danced as frequently as they could get away with and disappeared out into gardens or terraces when their dances were over.

And Jo had, of course, had plenty of callers. At least at the beginning of the season. As time went on it was clear that Miss Saville only had eyes for the Bridgerton heir. 

Everything was perfect. 

Jo could see the image of her future so clearly. She and Anthony would get married, take up one of the houses near their parents, and raise children together. They‘d travel to London on occasion, for Anthony's sister’s seasons, and then their own children’s. Their families would be close by (but not too close) and everything would be as it ought to be.

It felt like her whole life was falling into place. 

A life with Anthony. 

“Mother wants to have the baby in Kent, so we’re returning home next week,” Anthony murmured as he promenaded Jo along the edge of the duck pond. 

Hyde Park was always busy around midday. With events, dinners, and balls usually in the evenings, the days of the aristocracy consisted of social calls and promenades, so Hyde Park was always teeming with people attempting to break up their days with some gentle exercise.

But Anthony and Jo had found a quiet corner of the park that was more densely populated with trees, with more foliage it was hard to be seen, so most of society avoided that corner of the park, but the Bridgerton-Saville party tended to wander that area almost exclusively.

“Oh,” Jo replies quietly. 

She’s not surprised. Anthony had told her weeks ago, before they’d even made the journey to London, that he would have to cut his time short, with his mother heavily pregnant with her eighth child she would want to return home to Kent and give birth in the familiar location, not in London.

Jo had tried to convince her own parents to cut their season short as well and return to Kent with the Bridgertons, but Jo’s mother had been firm in her desire to see her daughter experience a full season as a debutante. And so the Savilles would stay. 

And Jo knows everything will be fine, little will change for her and Anthony in the span of a month or two, but she knows she’ll miss him, more than anything, and that the luster of the season will quickly dissipate without him to share in it with her.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” He’s quick to reassure her. “Father has agreed to let me and Ben stay with Aunt Georgie and Uncle Nicholas when they come to London in May.”

Jo grins. Anthony’s Aunt Georgiana is possibly Jo’s favorite Bridgerton, and she’s technically a Rokesby. 

And he glanced behind you to see his mother and Jo’s own distracted by some other mama they knew and swooped down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“I love you,” Anthony murmurs against her lips before pulling away from her.

“I love you too,” Jo replies with a wide smile.

“I shouldn’t say anything, I hate to ruin the surprise, but I don’t think it’s very much of a secret,” He tells you. “I thought you ought to know that I’ll be bringing a ring back with me.”

“Yes?” Jo asks, trying to school her expression into something calm, though an excited smile slips out before she can help herself.

“I think I’ll have a very important question to ask you when I return,” Anthony teases as he squeezes Jo’s left hand.

“Well then, I should probably start considering my answer,” Jo replies sarcastically as she giggles at his unamused expression.

“I won’t dance with anyone else until you come back,” Jo promises solemnly.

“You can dance with whomever you like,” Anthony replies. “Just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

“I promise,” Jo vowed solemnly as she held tight to Anthony’s hand.

And as infuriating as it was. She hadn’t. 

When Josephine met the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres, the man who would eventually become her husband, it was clear from the beginning that neither one was inclined to fall in love. 

It wasn’t until things with Anthony truly ended that Josephine paid any consideration to the Earl’s suit.

The widowed Earl, Lord Charles Wescott, needed someone to run his household and perhaps pop out a spare heir or two. He already had an adult son from his first marriage, a boy about the same age as Jo. His beloved wife had died some years earlier and though his grief had not fully resolved itself, he was expected to uphold a certain standard of life, a standard he was unable to maintain on his own. 

The sympathy of his friends had begun to wane in recent months. They’d lightly offered the suggestion that he should remarry. 

That he ought to find an agreeable, pretty young girl from this year’s stock of debutantes and make her his new wife. Someone to care for him as he aged and run his household for him. 

He’d refused at first. The mere consideration felt like an affront to Lydia’s memory. But as the months continued to drag on Charles found himself longing for a sense of companionship. It would not be the same, but it would give him someone to share his life with. 

Josephine needed to marry. She was the only child of her parents but she was still a woman and could not inherit the lands. Her family was comfortable, but she was far from being an heiress and could not live on her annual income alone for the rest of her life.

And though he was twice her age, the Earl was kind to her. He treated her with respect and seemed to actually care to know what she thought. 

He made no pretense that he was in love with her. His affections were platonic. But he promised to care for her. 

And at the time it had seemed to be the best deal she’d been offered.

Josephine had, perhaps naively, hoped that she could learn to love one another. But that seemed to be wishful thinking to cover the ache in her heart after she and Anthony had fallen apart.

There may not have been love, but Jo had been content with her life in Scotland. Contrary to popular belief she had enjoyed the quietness of her new life, she found herself envying the Scottish spitfire and found that in the bone-chilling cold weather, she endured for half the year she felt less desire to go out or really do anything besides sit by the fire and read. 

Josephine hosted parties. As the Earl, her husband had certain duties, and while her husband was rarely in attendance for very long, Jo made friends among her fellow northern lords and ladies. 

She found she had very little to complain about. Her husband provided her with a good life, it was more than many women in her situation received. She was lucky. 

In her marriage she found a relationship born out of respect, she had found a companion who cared for her, was never cruel, always gentle and kind.

But when Charles died it was like the fog lifted. She had lived ten years of her life with him (with being a generous term) and she had nothing to show for it. No children. No home. No accomplishments. Some grief, but just that for the loss of her friend.

The man she had shared a bed with for ten years had still, in many ways, been a stranger to her when he passed.

Bridgerton House, London, 1814

Jo tried to wipe the thoughts of what might have been from her mind as she entered the Bridgerton’s home on this warm spring afternoon.

“Oh!” Jo exclaimed in surprise as she entered the drawing room expecting Violet and Daphne only to find Anthony sitting at the table. 

“Jo,” Anthony says as he looks up from the paper in his hands.

“Anthony….I um, your mother and sister… well,” Jo stammers as she glances around a bit helplessly.

She hadn’t been alone with him, properly alone since they’d reacquainted themselves at the beginning of this season. The last time they’d been alone had been when everything had fallen apart. And the sting of that memory could be felt in Jo’s eyes as well as her heart as she stood helplessly in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. 

“Mother has gotten far more conniving in the last few years,” Anthony replies with a sigh. “She plots now,” He adds as if it explains something.

“Oh?” Jo asks.

“Yes, I imagine this is one of her matchmaking plans,” Anthony says.

“I see, you think your mother wants us to reconcile our childhood affections,” 

“Childhood affections? Is that what we’re calling it?”

Every fortune hunter was eager to tip his cap to the beautiful widow, but she certainly did not need to marry if she did not want to. Anthony knew that. That even though he felt the same pull to Jo that he had felt before, she did not need to marry him and she clearly did not want to.

Whatever it was that they’d once had was long gone. Lost to the same place that had stolen his childish naïveté. 

“Yes, I do not know who you are anymore,” Jo replied. “Viscount Anthony Bridgerton has always been a stranger to me.”

“I could say the same for you,” Anthony replied“You have changed insurmountably since our youth.” 

“And not for the better.”

“Our circumstances had their effects on us both, I certainly shall not deny it. But I did what I had to. I will not apologize for that. What excuse can you offer?”

“My father died,” “I became the Viscount to an estate at eighteen years old. I became responsible for my mother and siblings while I was still a child myself.” 

“Yes, yes, trust me, I am well aware of the grief that still holds you,” “But you cannot use it as a crutch to avoid your emotions, not forever.”

“Do you want me to wallow? To flounder and break? How would that benefit you? I am seriously asking. Because you seem to see what I have become as vindication of your choices. So I hope you’re pleased with them. Because I can assure you I am not,” Jo replied sharply, her voice cracking with emotion as she said that last sentence.

She straightened slightly as she tried to regain her countenance. 

“Tell your mother and sister that I felt unwell and returned home to rest. We will have to go another day.”

“Has Josephine not arrived yet?” Violet asks as she whisks into the drawing room a few minutes later. Pulling her gloves on as she looks around expectantly.

“Your plan did not succeed as you had hoped,” Anthony replies without fully looking up from the paper in his hands. Though he hadn’t read a single word of it in the last few minutes since he’d picked it up again. Josephine’s words still rang in his ears.

“What plan?” Violet asks.

“You might as well have locked me and Jo in a closet together, you’re really not as subtle as I thought you were,” Anthony replied.

“Not everything is a plot against you, Anthony,” Violet replies with a sigh. “I was supposed to promenade with Josephine and your sister Daphne, but we got held up with the planning for the ball, I did not realize you’d be in here.”

“Oh,” Anthony replied a bit dumbly.

Violet Bridgerton sighed.

“What happened?” 

“I didn’t say anything hurtful to her,” Anthony replied. But he was so obviously defensive that it wasn’t hard for Violet to pick up on the fact that he had upset her. And that he knew it.

“No, we can get to what happened this afternoon later, what happened between the two of you?” Violet replies. 

“What do you mean? She married someone else,” Anthony says. 

Violet shoots her eldest son a look he’d gotten well acquainted with in the last ten years. 

“I’ve known Josephine my entire life, she has never been cruel, and she was in love with you, so why would she marry someone else?” She asks him.

“Because I told her to! Is that what you want me to admit, mother? I knew I could never make her happy, and so I let her go,” Anthony spat at his mother. His anger was not directed at her but at himself. At the world. At the unfairness of life and the unpredictability of it all. Of life and death. And how a healthy man who loved his family could be alive and well one day and gone the next.  

“I gave her a chance at happiness because I loved her, and I knew being married to me would only give her the opposite.”

#Bridgerton #Bridgerton Series #not the same as it was #(not) the same as it was series #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton series #anthony bridgerton x original character #anthony bridgerton x ofc #bridgerton ofc #bridgerton original character #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton drabble #bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton x josephine

[sapphircs]

GOOGLE DOCS.

an independent, private, selective multi-muse blog. featured fandoms include tolkien, bridgerton, grey's anatomy. my muses are multiverse and multi-ship. please read guidelines before following. mun is 32 y/o, so interactions with minors won't happen.

Mains: @asoulunbound, @reiignonme

MUSE LIST UNDER READ MORE

✶ PRIMARY ✶ Thinya Somerville, OC - Bridgerton/Grey's Anatomy

✶ ON REQUEST ✶ Queen Charlotte - Bridgerton Daphne Bridgerton - Bridgerton Meredith Grey - Grey's Anatomy Cristina Yang - Grey's Anatomy Dwalin - The Hobbit Fili - The Hobbit

#( ✨ self promo ) #bridgerton rp #bridgerton oc #bridgerton indie #queen charlotte rp #queen charlotte indie #grey's anatomy rp #greys anatomy rp #grey's roleplay #grey's anatomy indie #tolkien rp #tolkien oc #tolkien roleplay #original character rp #oc rp

[envyq00]

Kevan brighting narrates a 3 book and they are all ✨️spicy✨️ and fluffy that's all I'm going to say

Don't be shy... Share the names with the class for us 👁️👁️

#envy answers #I know he narrated the bridgerton books a while back sooooo 👀👀?? #All joking aside #and putting all thirst aside #I really do want to commission him one day to narrate one of my original stories #or something #he definitely fits the feel of a certain character I have 😩😩

[faerytle]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋!

hit the ♡ for a starter. length will vary. if you are a multimuse, please specify the muse, otherwise I will choose at random.

#indie original character rp #indie rp #indie oc rp #arthurian rp #indie arthurian rp #merlin rp #indie merlin rp #indie lit rp #literatur rp #indie shadowhunters rp #indie acotar rp #indie bridgerton rp #indie fellow travelers rp #indie rwrb rp #indie got rp #indie tvd rp #𝐢𝐯. starter call ✿ hit the heart

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

𝙊𝘾 𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙀 2023: 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦: 𝘉𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘐𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘺

Movies depend on a lot of things, but time and place helps create the ominous feel for it. Like Crimson Peak that belongs to the revival gothic period of 1880s or Jason Voorhees waking up on a spaceship in the year of 2455, give your character(s) a new decade to explore and even monsters to face.

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 1990'𝙨? ✸ {𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘯 90’𝘴 𝘈𝘜}

✨ Taglist: @carmens-garden@eddysocs@faerieroyal@daughter-of-melpomene@megandaisy9@misshiraethsworld@arrthurpendragon ✨

#ohc2023 #oc halloween challenge #bridgerton oc #fd: bridgerton #oc: delia hathaway #ocfairygodmother #ocappreciation #ocapp #fyeahbridgertonocs #original character

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Dinner gone wrong

make me feel masterlist

navigation | a/n : this took a long time to post lmao, enjoy! | warnings : intense arguments? | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @fangsp1der-2099 , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss , @tiana76 , @navs-bhat , @starkleila

Morpheus and Death approached the footman that stood guard in front of the doorway to the Bridgerton’s manor.

“My Lord, my Lady.” The footman extended a hand into the wide hall, motioning for them to enter. “Enjoy your night.”

Lady Death nodded her head with a polite smile whilst Morpheus nodded once.

“You ought to get some manners.” Death whispered harshly under her breath, the annoyance of their discussion a few days before still plaguing her with annoyance.

Morpheus resisted rolling his eyes at his sister. “You ought to get over yourself.”

“Lord Morpheus! Lady Death! I’m so glad you could make it!” Daphne approached them gleefully, reaching out to embrace the woman before her. Morpheus stepped back a little, hoping she wouldn’t want to embrace him too.

“It is lovely to see you, Lady Daphne. I hope we aren’t late.” Death greeted her with a question.

“Oh, of course not! You’re both just on time!”

Daphne led them to the dining room, motioning to the two vacant seats across from one another.

Death quickly took the seat next to Kate, leaving Morpheus with the empty seat next to you.

Morpheus gave his sister a subtle glare as he sat down.

“Hello.” He heard a small voice next to him. He turned to see you sat looking at him, your face flushed.

“Hello,” Morpheus returned the greeting equally as silent.

You turned your gaze back to your empty plate.

Anthony raised his glass, tapping it to get everyone’s attention. “I’m thankful to all of you for accepting this invitation to dine with us tonight. Now that everyone is here, shall we tuck in?”

The night was filled with laughter and jokes, everyone told stories of their childhood and other parts of their past, or how they had met their now lovers.

“I remember when Benedict was a child, he never had any friends because he was too immersed in his art.” Violet laughed delightedly at the memory as Benedict covered his face in embarrassment, laughing along with her.

Death perked up at this, recalling a memory of hers that was similar. “Hmm, that reminds me a lot of Morpheus.”

The Lord looked up at the mention of his name.

“He never had any friends either, he always had his nose stuck in a romance novel.” Death laughed at this, but Morpheus didn’t find her very funny.

Simon’s brow raised in surprise, which Death took notice of.

“A stark contrast to now, isn’t it? He’s always going on about how he doesn’t want to find love and other nonsense.”

“Death,” Morpheus warned her. “You’re drunk.”

Death shook her head. “Maybe I am brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth!”

“Sister, that is enough.”

“You can’t be alone forever, Morpheus. I’ve tried to get you out of your bubble, but you’re not willing to accept help.”

Morpheus looked at her through narrowed eyes. Everyone looked between the two anxiously.

“Dream,” She pleaded. “Not everyone is like mother and father.”

“I know that.” His voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes turned glassy.

“But do you truly?”

Dreams' gaze turned almost hateful. “Yes, I do.”

He slammed his hands on the table and left the dining room, stepping out onto the large land the Bridgerton’s owned.

You looked after him worriedly as everyone recollected themselves. “Excuse me.” You said, following after Morpheus.

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