#duties come before désires

[faithfulmaiden]

📖

after padmé’s funeral, rabé has totally changed : forget the handmaiden who grins &. soothes others’ doubts. the lady became the epitome of a hopeless wanderer, of an elusive passenger. she’s not a rebel, don’t be surprised to not recognize her usual self.

as the old wardrobe mistress &. a forlorn creative lady, rabé’ll not cease to scrutinize vader’s outfits : stygian, modest, proffering a daunting tenebrosity worth eulogizing — hm, she’ll not hesitate to advice him on how to appear less intimidating sometimes, exchanging wise philosophies like getting rid of the mask that blocks him away from real happenings, to confront worlds in all his glory whilst discarding with pride others’ foul judgements about his new appearance &. this ? unwise choice to discuss about his mandatory suit. NOBODY IN THE EMPIRE MUST RECOGNIZE THE NEW VISAGE, the result of hubris &. warning that condemns the arrogance to linger on burnt marks. yes … perhaps ridiculous to mention that a suit like his is for the better, enemies can take advantage of his physical condition ( like targeting his weakest spots &. transforms the battlefield into a show of mockery ), so she’ll apologize &. jokes around like ‘‘ what about smiling instead of this cold facial expression ?’’ excuse her, she wants to pamper him like she pampered padmé before … BUT IT DOESN’T STOP HERE : everything is new, or just drastically met alternatives that the republic would’ve liked to dodge, political ethics should be thrown away with firmness, rabé’ll encourage vader to not tolerate a mistake &. to correct insubordination, explaining that duties come before personal needs &. it’s a honor to sacrifice for hefty commitments. vader, with this hidden identity like the phantom of his own opera, coercing anyone to follow orders shall also follow the advices of the book THE PRINCE, ‘‘be machiavellian’’ to sum it up : BE FEARED, NOT LOVED, for love is a weakness, near obsession &. guides the strongest outlet to a tragedy ‘‘like all misery, it begins with apparent happiness, &. in a kingdom, there’s no friends.’’ why all above–mentioned advices are judged bad ? because the old rabé would NEVER act like this, but after manifold tries to find good distractions, a new opportunity to prosper … SHE GAVE UP ON BEING BENEVOLENT, loss &. ennui, mingled with chaos &. despair, affected her. NOT ONLY THIS, but vader might never expect to see a drastic change in the old handmaiden of his precious padmé.

#RABENE TONSORT &. VADER #finally answered. #Mun is speaking : my apologies if it is lame but i actually see rabé following vader for padmé #rabé has taught padmé how to obfuscate &. she became her wardrobe mistress #someone capable of using makeup &. wide–ranging outfits to cover one’s identity #to hide &. to canceal like a form of tenebrosity #just hide &. act for the public’s sake #rabé never lived for herself : just present to help &. guide others without caring about her own desires #duties come before désires #so she will not hesitate to advice vader to maintain power #to not lose power… #but the verity is : rabé doesn’t want to lose anakin like she lost padmé #so anakin became vader ? alright #she will please the husband with questionable advices being undoubtedly machiavellian or faustian #husband of her highness that she has sworn to protect &. serve*

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 7: "Mon cœur te désire"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: Tonight was the Carrington Ball and therefore, your debut in society. With your suitors there and their purpose of making you theirs for the night, you had to endure every second as best as you could. Everything was going as smoothly as expected, the evening spinning around friendships and confessions, until Benedict decided to tag along.

Word count: 4.1K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

"Finally found you!" Eloise exclaimed as soon as she saw you. "You are the only reason I came to this stupid ball."

You snorted. "Don't you let Lady Carrington hear you insult her ball, we have worked so hard to make it perfect, dearest Eloise."

"You organized it, too?" She frowned, looking around. Everything was gold, white and shades of red, and Eloise had to admit it wasn't hideous. "It is perfect, then."

"Lady Carrington has been aware of my hosting abilities for a while, since she has attended a few events when in France," you replied. "As the lady of the house, my father had imposed that duty upon me. I take pride in having hosted remarkable balls in the Palace of the Dukes, in Burgundy, or in the Château de Bagatelle, in Paris… My Papa, before he passed, said on his deathbed that the first event I am to host in the Palace of Versailles must be my wedding."

"I hope you invite me to your wedding so I can pretend, but in a palace."

"My beloved guest you will be, dearest Eloise," You winked at her. "You get to stay in the second best bedroom of the Palace."

"I will be honored, dearest Y/N," she replied. "I hope that no other Bridgerton gets this privilege."

You shook your head with a small smile. "You certainly are the only special one!"

"So you will be able to host your wedding at the Palace of Versailles?" she wondered. "As your father was the Duke, I suppose he is family with the King of France, is he not? Would it be a gift from them to let you have your wedding there?"

You nodded. "Yes, my father was his third cousin. I own the Palace of Versailles, though. It needed renovation and the Royal Family decided to move to Paris," you replied, modifying the truth slightly. "My father offered to buy the Palace and take care of the renovation, which has been in process for a few years now. It was finally finished, and I must return to France soon to pay it a visit."

"What? And you're not coming back?!"

"I want to, but I'm not certain," you replied. "I was planning on staying some more time, but there are a few matters that require my undivided attention back home."

"Is there no one else who can do it for you? Don't you have a cousin being the lord of the house?"

"Yes, but the Palace of Versailles is not a thing that concerns him; a ship from the Americas arrived and I must take care of it… My grandfather is visiting and asking for me, plus, I need to make sure my cousin hasn't done something that threatens the well-being of the region."

"How are you allowed to do all of this?"

You shrugged. "My father wanted a son but ended up having me instead. Never one to leave things in untrustworthy hands, he taught me every single thing needed to be a Duchess playing the role of the Duke."

"Your cousin isn't the Duke?"

"Not on my watch."

Eloise sighed, trying to ignore that you, her only friend other than Penelope, are leaving. "But you will come with us to Aubrey Hall."

"I will, I already promised you, dear Eloise," You smiled gently at her. "I am looking forward to that moment!"

"The Sharmas and Lady Danbury will be there, too, but I was not allowed to bring Penelope. You cannot leave me alone."

"I won't." You laughed.

"Sister, Lady Y/N," Colin interrupted your conversation, and under your apprehensive glance, he corrected himself: "Y/N, my apologies."

"Good evening, Colin. Are you enjoying yourself thus far?"

"I certainly have, it is a lovely ball."

You nodded. "Thank you! Helping Lady Carrington organize this ball reminded me of how much I adore all this," you mentioned. "I cannot wait for the Bal des Onzièmes, to which the Bridgertons will most certainly be invited this year. I expect you to add the middle of November in the Palace of the Dukes to your calendar."

"We would be delighted to attend," Colin nodded with a smile. "I was wondering if you could give me this dance, Y/N."

You took his hand. "I would be honored to, Colin. See you in a minute, Eloise."

She nodded, watching you leave with a frown. Eloise looked around in search of her older brother, Benedict, and as soon as she found him, she rushed to join him.

"Colin seems to win her over just fine, does he not?"

Benedict looked at his sister and then at you and Colin dancing in the ballroom. You were laughing, but he thought that Colin's jokes couldn't be funny at all. Perhaps it was the jealousy talking, but he just knew he was better than his brother.

Colin could not paint you or give you the attention he knew you deserved. Colin would not kiss your brother either, so he had a bonus on that one.

"He doesn't bother me, Sister."

She laughed, irony invading her voice. "Of course, dear Brother. I just think it would be such a shame that Colin marries the girl that is your perfect match."

"Since when are you a marriage enthusiast, Eloise?"

"Since she is leaving for France next week and most likely not returning."

"What?!" Benedict questioned. "They- she- she cannot go back to France yet."

"Ah, why not, Brother?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Because."

"Well, I can tell you of what I was told that it is a must she returns," Eloise said. "She could always have a reason to come back to London. Or even better, go accompanied to France… If you do not tell her you love her as much as your eyes do, Colin will be that person."

He frowned. "You don't think that she would say yes to Colin, do you?"

"Not if you ask first."

When Benedict looked at you and Colin again, the dance was finally over, and you were approached by Lord Weber.

He knew he shouldn't interfere. He knew he had no right to, especially after what happened with Antoine.

Benedict didn't know what that meant, he didn't know what to do either. You he could be with. It was socially acceptable, you were endearing and fun and there was something in you that had his heart beating with a fluttering rhythm he had never felt before; with him was the entire opposite. If Benedict were to justify the decision he made when he kissed him, he would blame it on the alcohol and the way Antoine bared his soul to him, telling him his deepest secrets even after just a few hours of having met because there was a connection. One Benedict couldn't ignore or diminish.

Antoine spoke so highly of you and seemed as the most caring brother there could be, Benedict even envied him for a moment. He wishes he could bring his sisters the stability Antoine brings you, he wishes he could give it to you, because no matter what he felt for him, you weren't nearly out of the equation.

"I have only met her twice, so how could I?" Benedict looked at Eloise for a brief second, as if after only having met you two times wasn't enough to make him feel like he was feeling, before returning his focus back to you and Lord Weber.

"So has Colin, and don't you doubt he would ask her to marry him right this second if he knew what you know."

He rolled his eyes, leaving Eloise alone.

The ball had been nice, but after spending an hour with Lord Weber, and it is not like the dislike was a personal matter, you decided you could not take it anymore, though only your face made that clear.

From afar, Anthony Bridgerton choked a laugh next to his mother as he looked at you.

"She looks like she will run away any second now, the poor girl," Violet said to her eldest child. "You should go and ask her to dance as it is obvious she is more than displeased with Lord Weber's company."

He frowned. "Mother, I cannot, it is not appropriate."

"Do not be ridiculous, it's just a dance. And for a good cause."

"I have just starred in the latest scandal, Mother. I do not think it would be good advertising for her in the marriage market to be seen dancing with me, as much as I would like to save her from the displeasing company of Lord Weber." Anthony used that excuse, looking at Miss Sharma from afar. His mother gave him a look that could reduce him to ashes, so he just nodded and approached you.

"Lord Bridgerton, I am glad to see you!" you exclaimed, knowing you couldn't call him by his name in front of Lord Weber or it would be questionable. "Have you enjoyed this evening so far?"

"Very much. Good evening, Lord Weber," He smiled. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, my Lady?"

You nodded eagerly. "It would be my pleasure!"

Anthony offered you his hand and you took it.

"I can see Lord Weber has set his intentions in courting you," he noted with an amused smile. "What is more notable, is that you are not particularly pleased with it."

"Was I that obvious?"

He nodded with a smile. "Very much."

"I sure hope Lord Weber did not notice."

"He most certainly did, though he would gladly ignore it," Anthony replied. "You should tell him if you do not like him. Our family appreciates you very much, and we wouldn't wish for you to be engaged to a man you do not love. Even worse if it is Lord Weber, you do not want to see him drunk."

"Is he a mess?" you asked in a chuckle.

"Mess is a short word," he answered. "And my brother seems quite interested in you."

You raised your eyebrows, thinking immediately of Colin. He meant Benedict, but it's not like you knew they were related. "Is he?!"

"Do not tell him I told you," He smirked. "He would kill me."

"I wouldn't want to marry a killer, Anthony, so I do not wish to marry him then."

"That was a joke."

"I know," you whispered, making him smile. The dance ended. "Thank you for saving me."

"Always a pleasure."

You smiled at Anthony and left in the opposite direction as him.

You looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to you, and started writing down random names on your dance card so you could make sure to avoid any new suitor you did not want to encounter.

"It is a great shame that your dance card is full," He startled you, making you put your hand where your heart is and throw the pen to the table. "Here I was to ask you to dance."

The anxiety died when you cleared your throat and looked him in the eyes. "I am afraid that dancing is a dangerous game."

"Did I ever tell you that I am a man of challenges?"

"You have not."

"Now I have," He smirked, eyeing the card in your hand. "I think that Théo Moulin does not exist."

"I guarantee you he does."

"My bad, Lady Y/N," he apologized, not quite honestly. "Will he dance with you or do you think he could give me his turn?"

You hesitated, but ended up intertwining your arm to his and followed him to the dance floor.

It was awkward at first. The only thing in your mind were those kissew you shared and how much you hated that Antoine was the one who owned the moments, not you. What you hated more, was that Benedict had kissed him a few nights ago, had ignored him in the Academy, shared a wonderful night last night, and was now here with you, as if the kiss meant nothing to him. For you, it meant everything, and you could puke if someone asked your mind to give it color your heart did.

Those were your first and second kiss, and you wished for nothing else but to repeat it once, twice, three times and as many as the amount of breaths you've taken throughout your life, but as Y/N.

Then, it wasn't as uncomfortable. Benedict's eyes would not let go of yours, and everytime you averted his gaze, his hand found a way to drive your focus back to him.

"I met your brother at a party the other day," Benedict mentioned as the dance required for you to get closer, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin so delicate to his mere existence near yours. "He mentioned a thing or two about you."

You cleared your throat. "Did he? I have not seen him in a couple days and he never mentioned meeting you."

Benedict let out a relieved sigh. "He did, yes. Nothing but wonders and nothing I was surprised to hear."

"He better have."

He smiled with a smile you would hate to not see anymore, and you smiled back at him with the strength of your aching soul.

"You are certainly more enchanting than I have heard."

"Have you heard about me?"

"More accurately, I have been asking about you."

"Who did you ask?" you inquired.

His hand caressed your back more than needed, and you closed your eyes when the temptation threatened to appear. "Lord Weber was very informative. Mr. Rogers and Lord Collins, too. They were fools for you."

"I do not care for men that let looks drive them to oblivion," you confessed. "Love is not supposed to empty your mind, but to enrich it and help it connect with the heart."

"I had never thought of it that way."

"Then I am afraid you have not loved nor been properly loved before."

"To you I can admit I have not," he confessed. "I was never interested in love or marriage or dancing."

"Perhaps you only ever needed the perfect partner."

He smirked. "Would that be you?"

"I do not believe one can be sure of it after only one dance."

"Oh, then it is good that the night is young."

You shrugged. "I, unfortunately, have my dance card full for tonight. We could continue in the next ball if you'd like?"

As soon as the dance was over, you let out a shaky breath and left him there.

"Ah, was he not a good dancer?"

You looked up, seeing Grant Lawrence in front of you with a sweet smile. "I am not very familiar with the English standards of dancing, so I might have to wait and see."

"Well, I have been told I am decent at dancing, so perhaps I could help you picture said standard. As long as you allow me, I can show you."

"That seems like a nice offer, but I was told I cannot dance with a man whose name I ignore."

"My apologies, my Lady. Lord Lawrence." He asked for your hand and you gave it to him. Lord Lawrence left a sweet kiss on your knuckles.

"Lady Y/N of Burgundy," you answered, remembering that you could not be linked to Antoine Voclain in any way. "Enchantée."

He grinned. "You are Lady Y/N? I have heard about you."

"Oh, and which category are you part of? The ones who think I am desperate, the suitors or the friendly ones?"

"The suitors, I believe."

"And which subcategory?" you teased him. "The pathetic ones, the desperate ones, the gold diggers or the ones who only want to have fun?"

"I think I am a little pathetic, so perhaps that one."

You laughed, moving your head so it could point at Benedict. "Then you can meet him there."

Lord Lawrence chortled, stealing everyone's attention. You looked around trying not to laugh with him.

"Everyone is staring, my Lord!" you whispered.

"You certainly are one of a kind, are you not?

"And I could be worse." you joked.

"Worse? How so?"

You clicked your tongue. "I could always have one of those irksome suitors fight you for my love."

"You think Benedict would?"

"He is not courting me, my Lord. But Lord Collins certainly is, and I have been told he enjoys boxing, does he not?"

"He does," Lawrence confirmed. "Are you passionate about something, Lady Y/N?"

"Oh! I adore playing the violin, writing, and obviously reading also!" you replied. "And I promise you that I can come here with a better painting than every artist in this ball all together."

"I am an artist!"

"I am certain I am better than you."

He laughed loudly. "That a woman can only dream for!"

"I beg your pardon?" You looked at him with disdain as he kept that cocky look in his eyes. "I do not find that as hysterical as you believe it is. And are you not embarrassed that everybody is looking at us?"

"Let them stare all they want, I am right here with a lady unlike all I have seen before."

You raised your eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"For starters, you are fun," he said, thinking you would be flattered. "Those other ladies could never stand before me and show interest in art, music and literature, and be fun to be around."

"You do not know many women, do you, my Lord?" you asked with sarcasm.

"Oh, I do," He chuckled lightly, the double meaning of his message evident enough. "You should know I have an impeccable success rate."

"Oh, do you?" You wrinkled your nose, every ounce of negativity hiding in your bones coming to the surface as you answered. "Well, not anymore."

You left before he could try to reach you, and disappeared among the Ton.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Eloise yelled once she saw you, and locking arms with Penelope Featherington, she reached you. "Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Ugh, I just met the most awful man London has shown me!" you exclaimed, noting how they both seemed to have been drinking more than it was socially acceptable in a lady. "Hi, Miss Penelope." She smiled at you.

She frowned. "Who?"

"Lord Lawrence and his ideologies of me being not like the other ladies just because I made him laugh," You scoffed. "I am exhausted from doing everything the best I can and still not have the satisfaction of knowing it was good enough! I just… wonder each day if I would be taken seriously if I were a man."

"Of course we would be taken seriously if we were men," Eloise replied. "Our value is only defined by the man whose arm is intertwined with ours."

"It sure is," You pursed your lips. "Would you like to go someplace quieter and talk about how awful those men are?"

Eloise got beside you and you walked outside.

Everything was quiet with only the moon witness of your conversation as Eloise talked about how her Mama wished for her to marry and how difficult it was for her to live inside Daphne's mold, one she did not fit in, when everyone expected her to be her sister's equal. Penelope silently agreed with her.

Then, Penelope complained about her Mama's power over her and how much she loathed having to live what she feels like it is someone else's life. Eloise mentioned that Penelope does not often talk about those things with her and that she was grateful for her trust.

Eloise told you about a boy she had met called Theo and that she could not quite decipher what was happening there.

And you all agreed with how out of place you felt.

"I feel like I should have never come here," you confessed. "If I tell you something, you promise you will keep the secret?"

Both girls nodded, though Eloise was more eager and interested in your secret.

You looked around, and once you were sure no one was nearby, you muttered your biggest secret. "I go to the Royal Academy of Art."

"What?!" Eloise exclaimed in a whisper. "How?!"

"I stole my cousin's clothes and everyday I tell the Carringtons that I am with one of my suitors doing any silly activity," you answered. "Men are unbearable, but I have learnt how to be one. Trust me when I tell you that Lord Lawrence is one of the most charming, fun, and amiable men I have ever encountered. But not with me, no. He is a great friend, always including me… him… in their gatherings and everything."

"You must stop doing that, someone will catch you and you will get in so much trouble!" Penelope advised.

"I cannot. I have come far enough."

They were stunned.

"You will not tell a soul about this," you ordered. "Swear to God or I will kill myself in front of you!"

"Alright, I swear!" Eloise widened her eyes. "Pen, swear!"

"I swear!"

You nodded. "Good. Now, what if we go back inside?"

"Sure." Both agreed.

However, your intentions vanished as you saw some gentlemen expecting you inside. You stopped before going in, then. "Uh, you know what? I will stay here for a few minutes. See you later?"

They both nodded as you returned to the darkest side of the backyard of the Carrington Mansion.

"I could have sworn you were dancing in there," Benedict commented, making a gesture to ask if he could join you. Then, he sat next to you on the bench. "With that dance card so full you could not have set a foot out of the ballroom."

"You are hilarious, Benedict." You rolled your eyes, hiding a smile. "The Moon looks particularly beautiful tonight."

"Not as beautiful as you, dare I say."

"Well, do not dare say anything else." you ordered, having mixed feelings about your encounters with him.

He frowned. "Why are you acting like this? I thought-"

"Whatever it is that you thought, forget it."

"Why would I forget how your eyes scream for me every time they meet mine? Why would I forget the ways in which you say my name, Y/N? Benedict, like a forbidden prayer… because you know you shouldn't call me by my name, and you do nevertheless, you love to… You do not care about those pathetic rules that this society has imposed upon us, because if you did, I would not be sitting here next to you," He gave you a look that spoke louder than his voice, and you could not help but melt under his words. "You cannot see it, but when I look at you, I feel like everything falls into place. Your voice echoes in my mind and in my entire body, and I wish for nothing but to hear it again. I go to the Academy and I just want you to appear as inadvertently as you did the first time… You are there when I close my eyes and I have wasted so much time on women that reminded me of you when I only want you."

You gasped at his words, not knowing what to say.

"I have read about love my whole life, but those words are meaningless compared to the way my heart longs for you. I do not know enough about you, but I do know that you make me put a piece of you in every painting I paint, in every poem I write, in every dream that I dream… My soul aches for you and knows no remedy until it senses yours nearby."

"Benedict…"

He sighed, getting close to you. "Every part of me hurts when I see you with another. The promenade with Weber, that morning in the park with Cortez, just now with Lawrence, with whoever that is not me, and the only thing that could bring me a piece of peace of mind is having you."

"I want you, too," you confessed, feeling his smile inches away from your hesitant lips. "I have never wanted anyone before, but I want you. Benedict, I will be gone soon, but for once, I want to live like tomorrow does not exist. Perhaps it won't exist for us, but I want you."

"The only way there is no tomorrow for us is if we let this go, and know that I will not give you away," he said, his hands cupping your cheeks. "I cannot conceive a future in which you and I are not together."

You could feel his breath merging with yours and his nose gently meeting yours. "That you want me feels impossible."

"I hope to God you are a believer, then." Benedict whispered, driving one of his hands to your waist and the other to your chest, just above your heart. He gave you a soft kiss on your right cheek.

"I'm afraid I am." you replied as he kissed your cheek again and a few times more, and then the corner of your lips.

"I have been taught to be a gentleman, my Lady, but my lips will not stop hurting unless they meet yours…"

"Meaning...?"

He almost laughed at you, but found it sweet that you were somehow ignorant of his intentions. Benedict got impossibly closer, closed his eyes and as if a reflex, so did you, and his lips gently grazed yours. You could barely feel the touch but it was enough to make you want more.

You nodded, hesitant as you thought of the consequences. Nothing mattered anymore when his lips finally danced with yours and then you were kissing.

It was soft and it was a very ridiculous setting, but it was perfect.

Everything is perfect when you share it with the right person, and he was the right person for you.

"We shouldn't do this," you whispered against his lips, not parting from him anyway. In reality, you did not care. If you were to marry him, you would return to France and there no one would know the scandal that brought you to marry. You wouldn't hate it if he became your husband, quite the opposite: you would die for him to. "Someone will see us."

Benedict looked around without getting too far from you. "No one will see us."

So he kissed you again, and again, and again until your brain couldn't comprehend anything, and his hands toured your body as best as he could with your ballgown still on, and you just needed more and more and you were well aware you couldn't have it. Not right here and right now, and knowing you had to acquiesce in the situation made you break the kiss.

"Stop this, stop this," you told him, your mind exploring the memory of the other kiss under the moonlight and the darkest night, with your hands buried in his soft hair and the need growing inside you, or the kiss inside that studio, accompanied only by the candlelights, trust, and the intense passion threatening to take over your bodies. "I cannot do this. I must go back."

"Y/N, wait!"

"Let me go, please..."

Seeing your tired, afflicted eyes, he did not insist anymore, letting you return to the ball.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton