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cadotoast · 1 month

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Chapter 1- Jousts and Announcements

Minors DNI please. About 5k word length

Lances readied. Visors lowered. Steeds pawing the earth. The crowd holds its breath.

The thunder of hooves! The jangling of armor! The collective gasp!

You stand on your toes, heart in your throat as you watch your brother's lance shatter, his body swaying in the saddle. His opponent thunders past towards the other end of the list field, dirt flying from his horse's hooves. The crowd lets out a cheer, and you exhale, albeit a tad shakily, as your brother stays in his seat. He guides his mount to where his squire stands ready with another lance, sparing a glance over to where you stand on the sidelines, hands clasped at the front of your breast in anxiety. His grin is free, comforting, and you smile back at him, wishing him luck. He taps a small cloth tucked at his neck, your token of favor to him being your personal handkerchief.

"How exciting!" Your attention is momentarily pulled to your best friend, Jenny, who is clinging to the fence post in front of her. Her eyes practically have hearts in them as she stares at your brother, her cheeks flushed with the anticipation and thrill of the moment. "I always knew your brother would make a wonderful knight. He is proving himself true, in witness of the royal family no less!"

At the mention of the royals, your gaze flickers up to the raised dais where the King, Queen, and crown Prince sit with the rest of their court. They seem to be enjoying themselves just as much as the commoners that mingle in the stands and on the fairgrounds below them.

"He is doing very well." You agree, leaning gently against the fence in front of you, tugging lightly on the sleeves of your dress. "I was worried when he told me he would be joining the tourney. The Kings' Men are participating, after all."

"But that's not a Kings' Man." Jenny points to where your brother's opponent is readied once more, silver armor gleaming in the light, the emblem of a crimson griffin his standard.

"You don't need to be a member of the kings' inner circle and guard to be a formidable foe," This voice comes from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to smile at your father. His eyes twinkle at you as he squeezes your shoulder gently, before looking to the knight in question. "That man there is Ser Mathis. He's a shoo-in for King's champion in a few years."

The next run has started, and you lean forward with bated breath once more as the two knights thunder towards each other. The harsh clang of lances meeting shields accompanies the surprised yelp your brother lets out as he is launched from his saddle, landing heavily on his back in the dirt.

"Jonas!" You leap onto the lowest rung of the fence, heart in your throat.

"Relax, he's fine, see?" Jenny grabs your arm to prevent you from hiking up your skirts and vaulting into the arena. Sure enough, among the cheers of the crowd, Jonas is getting to his feet, greeting his squire as the young man runs to attend him.

Ser Mathis is heading off in the other direction, surely to rest up before the next joust with whichever opponent in the tourney bracket he would next be facing.

"Who is jousting next?" Your father asks, looking up the field to where standards and flags wave in the summer breeze. You cast back in your memory, trying to remember the roster.

Before you can speak, two more knights are approaching the listing field, their standards held aloft. Your father makes an impressed sound in the back of his throat.

"This is going to be a good fight," Jonas has rejoined you, his squire Richard at his side. "That's two of the Kings' Men, Sers John and Kyle."

You look between the two knights, comparing the stature of each. Ser Kyle is slimmer than his opponent, but both are similar in height. You watch as Ser Kyle waves at the crowd, his expression jovial, before he places his helm on, lowering the visor. Ser John appears more somber, his eyes narrowed slightly, his frowning expression framed by a rather becoming set of facial hair.

"Ser Kyle Garrick was the squire of Ser John Price." Jonas says with a smile. "We started as Pages together. I am sure the student is looking forward to unseating his master."

Both knights have acquired lances, and now Ser John's face is obscured by his visor. The men salute the King, and then ready themselves. You lean once more against the fence, eyes darting between the combatants.

The fight is indeed thrilling. Both knights' lances shatter on the second pass, and suddenly there is a ringing of steel as Pupil and Teacher go sword to sword. You find yourself cheering as long with the crowd, caught up in the excitement.

"Put him in the dirt, Kyle!" Jonas roars.

The swords engage and disengage, the horses rearing, their masters urging them onward. But in the end, Ser John proves the better, looking down at where Ser Kyle lies winded on the dirt, sword knocked from his hand. The crowd erupts in cheers once more as Ser John dismounts and helps the other up. They embrace and slap each other on the back, ignoring the armor apparently, as men often do. When they lift their visors, both are grinning at each other, and you can't help but recognize the older's handsomeness when he isn't scowling.

"Ser John is one of the commanders of the King's forces." Your father remarks, leaning against the wooden rail next to you. "It would be telling of his aging if he was bested by his former squire so soon." His eyes twinkle as he glances sideways at you. "It was a close fight, though. I think the commander has some old war wounds that bother him."

You hum thoughtfully, eyes trailing the knight has he leads his mount off of the jousting field, making room for the next set.

Your face is red from the sun and sweat is collecting in your hairline and along your back when the jousts finally finish, emerging with a Ser Simon Riley as the victor. It's not surprising, seeing as he is a mountain of a man all donned in black-polished armor. You and Jenny leave your father, Jonas, and Richard to discuss the jousts, choosing instead to wander the fairgrounds, examining various wares from vendors as you make an attempt to cool down from the unforgiving summer sun.

"Did you hear that there was supposed to be some sort of special announcement done by the King in the evening?" Jenny asks as she examines a glass bauble. "I wonder what it could be?"

As a matter of fact, you have not heard of this, at least not yet. You purse your lips thoughtfully, counting the silvers in your purse as you contemplate buying a necklace with a charm that claims to offer the wearer good luck and protection from evil spirits.

"Maybe he is lowering the taxes for the townspeople?" You offer, handing over your silver coins to the merchant in exchange for the charm. "It has been a good year so far, and we aren't at war. Maybe he will ease some of the burden of the lower class."

"It would be nice, wouldn't it?" Jenny sighs, a bit wistfully. Her own purse only holds a few coppers, the most she could spare from her laundry washing earrings. You pass her a silver coin, which she tries to give back. You refuse.

"I never got you a gift for the winter feast. This is my late gift to you, buy something for yourself." You make sure that no sound of pity escapes from your voice, and keep your eyes on your friend's face, and not the worn, patched clothing that she has to call her "Sunday Best" Jenny gives you a sheepish smile, and then hands over the silver piece to the merchant, a small glass figurine clasped gently in her hand.

The two of you continue to wander the fair grounds, admiring the young men in their armor and the pretty ladies vying for their attention.

"Would you ever want to be married to a Knight?" Jenny asks you as you watch a group of young women surrounding a dashing Knight with a rather peculiar haircut. He wears a plaid kilt around his waist instead of the traditional armor of the knights of the kingdom.

"I'm not sure," you confess, beginning to walk over to where the local tavern has set out tables outside, drinks and food being sold to the festival goers. "With them having to go out and lead armies for the King, I would be worried that he would never come home."

"Even commoners like our fathers can be called to arms at times of war," Jenny reminds you. "How is that any different?"

Leading the way to an empty table, you ponder the question. "I suppose in the grand scheme of things, they are quite similar." You tuck in your skirts around your legs as you settle on the worn, wooden chair. "Maybe I just think that having a knight for a husband would be aiming above my class. My status." Never mind the fact that your brother is a knight himself. "We need no rumors spreading that I am simply looking for a higher rank in society."

"Hmm..." Jenny settles across from you, flagging down a young woman who is carrying a tray of pints. You run a nail along the grain of the wood, turning to people-watch those wandering the town square. The queerly-dressed man has been joined by Sers Simon, Kyle, and John. All have changed into more comfortable garb, but Ser Simon has his face covered with a black cloth so that only his eyes peek out. They all seem in high spirits, and the kilted man stretches up to place a flower crown on top of Ser Simon's clothed head.

"All four of them are in the Kings' Men." Jenny says, her gaze following yours. "The man in the kilt is Ser John MacTavish. Though I hear that his close friends simply call him 'Johnny'."

The men in question move as a group under the shade of a tree nearby, settling at a table. You watch them subtly as they banter and laugh, your attention only diverted when a tankard of chilled cider is set in front of you, along with a plate of hearty stew and a thick crust of bread. You thank the tavern maid with a smile, and take a sip of the soup. It's delicious, as to be expected from this particular tavern.

You find your attention drifting more and more to the table of knights, your stew cooling and your cider warming in tandem. It takes several repetitions of your name, and a harsh kick to your shin under the table before Jenny can pull your attention back to her and the conversation. "You're staring," She says bluntly, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. "Which one of them's caught your fancy?"

Your face floods with a heat not caused by the summer sun, and you take a hasty gulp of your lukewarm cider to chase away the mortification stuck in your throat like a dry piece of bread.

"It's nothing," You deflect. "My head was in the clouds is all."

Jenny raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, then tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder with a snigger. You in turn glare at her playfully, before ducking your head to eat some more of your meal. Your ears, however, stay piqued towards that particular table.

"How are ye feelin' after that joust, Captain? I hope I didnae batter ye too badly," It's the kilted man who is talking. His accent is thick and foreign, exotic, you think. I bet it's barely understandable when he's deep in his cups.

"If you think I'm huffin' and groanin' after a few bouts with you lads, then I might as well turn in my sword today," Grumbles Ser John, but his expression is playful. "I ain't in the grave just yet."

"I'll say," It's Ser Kyle this time. "I'm going to be sore until next summer. You sent me flyin' with that lever you call a lance." A chorus of playful jeering erupts, and there is some shuffling as the men push and shove each other in their banter.

With a meaningful clearing of her throat, Jenny draws your attention back to her. You blink at her a bit owlishly, a sheepish smile turning the corners of your lips. Jonas is standing above the two of you, wearing a cheeky grin.

"Searching for a suitor, darling sister?" He drawls. You try to glower at him, folding your arms across your chest.

"Not at all, Jonas." You try for a cool and collected tone. "Just observing. One must stay vigilant at all times."

"Vigilant of all the eligible, dashing knights, that is," Jenny's wearing a wicked grin.

"You are one to talk," Your gaze cuts momentarily to Jonas, and then back to Jenny's face. Her eyebrows furrow slightly as she narrows her eyes at you, and you simply beam at her, the picture of benevolence and Innocence. Jenny huffs, rolling her eyes, as she gets to her feet.

"Jonas here was going to take me to see the stables, do you want to come along?" Something flashes in her expression, and you have to bite your lower lip to suppress a grin.

You shake your head, waving both of them off. "I'm just going to stay here and cool down. Don't let me ruin your fun." The responding smile is answer enough to your unspoken query, and you watch as Jonas, ever the gentleman, lends Jenny his arm as he leads her through the crowded fairgrounds.

Now alone, you find yourself feeling a bit awkward. You fidget with the new charm around your neck, pressing the cool, smooth glass to your lips. The tavern maid refills your cider and takes your empty bowl, as well as a few silvers for the meals you and Jenny ate.

You're contemplating getting to your feet to wander the fair once more, when a loud scream sounds from behind you. Startled, you jump to your feet and spin on your heel, searching for the source of the commotion.

A heard of horses, which had presumably been picketed at one point, have been spooked into a stampede, still tied together by lead lines. The crowd is scattering, some getting out of the way quick enough, some not. And just to your luck, the herd veers sideways and right towards you.

Cursing in a very unladylike fashion, you rush to escape the horses' path, but your skirt snags on a split in the wooden log that makes up the bench, and you tumble over it to the ground, landing with a pained grunt. Winded, stuck, and in the path of a deadly stampede, you're frozen in place, watching your demise trample towards you.

You barely register the ripping of fabric as two strong hands wrap themselves around your upper arms and pull, jerking you free and dragging you backwards over the dirt. The herd of horses blunders past, shrieking and whinnying as they crash into tables and benches, and overturning barrels of mead and ale.

A rushing in your ears drowns out most sound as you stare at the spot where you had previously been lying, now deluged with hoof prints. The scrap of fabric from your skirt is pummeled into the soft ground. Belated in their arrival, a troop of guards runs in the direction the horses have fled to, shouting orders and trying to clear the way of injured townsfolk.

"Are you okay?" A deep voice sounds in your ear. You're leaning back against a warm, broad chest, its steadyness contrasting to the trembling of adrenaline shaking your body. With a deep, shuddering breath, you pull your gaze from what would have surely been your early grave, to look into the face of your rescuer.

Ser John looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed low in concern. He wears a frown, his brilliant blue eyes looking you over, assessing you for damage. "Are you hurt, my lady?"

"I think I'm okay..." You absently run your hands over yourself, feeling for anything amis. "Maybe a little bruised." Your shin smarts from where it had collided with the bench.

"Looks like your skirt took the worst of it, lass," On your other side kneels Ser MacTavish, his own gaze wide with concern. "Tha was a narrow scrape ye had there."

Ser John assists you to your feet, and supports you while your knees tremble. After you have gained stability, you step cautiously away from the knight, turning to face him as you brush grass and dirt from your skirt to the best of your ability. Sers Kyle and Simon watch from their table, the former's gaze twisted with concern.

"Thank you so much Ser," You say to Ser John, lowering your gaze respectfully. "Without your help, I would surely be injured."

"You're sure you're alright?" The man in question asks, his gaze roaming your body in a cursory examination. "Did I hurt you at all?"

Your hands rub your upper arms where the man's hands had nearly swallowed you, a phantom heat lingering. "No, Ser, you did not hurt me."

Ser John straightens as he looks down at you, hands on his hips. He gives a soft grunt of acknowledgement, settling down in his seat only after giving you one final once over.

"You're Jonas' sister, aren't you?" This question comes from Ser Kyle, who has gotten to his feat and pulled up a seat for you. It seems rude to refuse him, so you settle in the chair, mournfully fingering the rip in your skirt.

"Yes, I am." Your lips curl up at the corners. "He mentioned that you and he were squires together, Ser Kyle."

"What a lad," Ser Kyle beams, his teeth shining on contrast to his darker skin. "One of the best in our group. I don't understand why he ever declined the position."

You blink. "The position? What position?"

"Ye dennae ken?" Ser MacTavish stares at you. Heat wells in your cheeks self-consciously. "He was offered a place in our ranks as a Kings' Man."

The table falls silent as you process that information, watching absently as the tavern keeper rights some of the tables. You note your spilled pint of cider and mourn its cool refreshment silently.

"He never mentioned it," You finally admit. "Granted, he doesn't like to talk about his work too much when he comes home to father and I. Prefers to stay on lighter matters, I suppose." You glance once more at Ser Kyle. "He was supposed to be a Kings' Man?"

"I was second pick for the opening when Ser Richard resigned to his manor by the sea. Your brother was the first pick, the King asked him to join pretty much as soon as he earned his title and standard."

You chew on that for a moment, curiosity itching at you. "He's a rather modest man," you say. "My guess is that he probably thought he wasn't up for it. That someone more capable should take his place."

"Not that I am ungrateful for the position," Ser Kyle glances at his former Knight-master, "but it should have been Jonas."

"If I had to take my guess," Ser John is the one to speak, his sentence broken as he takes a sip from a pint of ale. "He declined it to stay closer to you." At your confused expression, he pushes onward. "Even as a page and a squire up at the castle, he spoke of you often. More often than not, actually. He desired to be able to support you, especially after the passing of your mother, and with your father becoming more elderly and declining in his health. He wanted to provide for you until you wed, and even then, to be close by if you ever needed him. Us Kings' Men are sent all over the realm to do the work of the King. If he had taken the position, he would not have been able to remain as close to your side."

You don't know whether to be embarrassed by your brother's apparent coddling, or touched by his thoughtful nature. Gazing down at the grains in the table, you run a finger over your lower lip in thought, turning over the Ser's words.

"Ae, sounds like somethin tha lad would do." Ser MacTavish agrees.

"If it is as you say," You muse, a smile gracing your features, "It seems rather fitting of him."

"Speak of the Devil," Ser Simon speaks up, looking over your shoulder. You glance behind you, grinning when you see Jonas, Jenny still on his elbow, walking in your direction. Jonas is wearing a flower crown of daisies, which Jenny keeps grinning at, a bluish sitting high in her pale cheeks.

"Heard I missed some action," Jonas calls, his gaze roaming over you. Despite his cheery expression, you can see the worry in his eyes as he takes in your rumpled condition. "Is everything alright around here?" The underlying question about your welfare rattles in your brain like a gong.

"The Tavernkeep might be needin' to seek out the carpenter, and the las's skirt might need some mendin'," Ser MacTavish replies, leaning back to pull up a few more chairs for the new arrivals. "but as far as we can tell, she is no worse for wear. Ser John here kept her out of harm's way."

"And for that, I thank you, Ser," Jonas dips his head to Ser John, a respectful look in his gaze. He then looks to you once more. "You are uninjured?"

"A little rattled," you say with a smile. "But my pride, a bruised shin, and my skirt are the only casualties."

Jonas leads Jenny to her seat, right beside the rather imposing Ser Simon. Jenny gives the large knight a rather nervous look, taking in what features were not hidden by the face covering he wore, and managed a small smile as she gathered her skirts around her. Jonas sits easily in his chair, his arm slung over the back of Jenny's.

"We were just discussing your promotion to knight," You tell your brother, raising an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me the King offered you a position in his guard?"

"Wasn't for me," Jonas replies instantly. "I do my best work close to home. There is plenty for me to do here, I'll let the other more adventurous knights such as our present company go gallivanting around the kingdom."

The other men chuckle good-naturedly, and Jonas calls over the tavern maid to order a round of drinks for the table.

"Hey Jonas, did you hear about Prince Aldous?" Ser Kyle suddenly interjects, his expression conspiratorial. Jonas leans in immediately, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What about him?"

The other knights groan in synch, and you and Jenny look at each other in interest. The crown Prince is a good-looking, but rather pompous young man. Despite his attitude, many women in the kingdom seem to be falling over themselves to get his hand in marriage if possible.

"He failed out of his test of Knighthood."

"Again?!"

"Again," Ser Kyle can't seem to keep a mirthful tone from his voice. "That makes three times."

"Must be a record," Ser MacTavish chuckles.

"Careful," Ser John admonishes, his voice a low grumble. "He is still the Crown Prince."

"Well the Crown Prince is a--" Jonas' words are cut off as you kick him sharply under the table, eyes flashing in warning. He gives you an embarrassed sort of smile, then clears his throat. "well, he leaves something to be desired," he finishes, albeit a little lamely.

"He's still young, there is time to learn." You say, drumming your finger against the wooden table, smiling at the tavern maid as she sets a fresh pint of cider in front of you. Ser Simon makes a noise of agreement into his ale.

"He's only a year older than yourself," Jonas reminds you with a smirk. "Maybe you should try for his hand."

A flush fills your cheeks, and you shake your head adamantly. "Me? A Princess? No thank you."

"You'd be a Queen, too," Jenny's eyes glitter. "When he takes the throne. I think you would make a wonderful Royal."

You merely shake your head again, taking a sip of your cider to cool the flush in your cheeks. "No, I don't think so. Too much attention, for one thing."

"The royals are always under constant scrutiny," Ser Kyle says with a nod. "It is a lot of pressure. Not everyone is fit for it."

"Maybe you should try for his hand, Jenny," You tease, knowing full well her answer. She narrows her gaze at you, pursing her lips at your grin.

The conversation flows easily, and time speeds by as the sun descends towards the horizon. As the sunset approaches, Sers Simon, Kyle, MacTavish, and John excuse themselves from the table, begging pardons, but they have to return to their duties as Kings' Men. Not long after, you can hear trumpets sounding from the festival grounds.

"That's the call to assembly," Jonas says, stretching. "Whatever announcement the King is going to give is going to happen there, we will probably want to be there."

Jonas takes the lead in heading towards the festival grounds, clearing away through the crowd for you and Jenny to pass through safely. You keep your eyes peeled for potential troublemakers. As vigilant as the local guards are, instances of pickpocketing and sudden brawls are not exactly unexpected on festival days.

A large crowd of people are gathered on the green lawn, facing a large wooden podium set up underneath a pair of ancient oak trees which provide a natural canopy. The King, Queen, and Crown Prince sit on makeshift thrones up on the podium, flanked by some now-familiar knights. Ser John stands almost directly behind the Crown Prince, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. Sers Simon and MacTavish are behind the King and Queen, with Ser Kyle standing off to the side with a handful of other knights belonging to the Kings' Men, whose names you can't recall at this time.

Jonas picks his way to the side of the crowd, where a small copse of trees offers some shade to some lower-level knights who shelter there. They greet Jonas with friendly waves, and don't protest when you and Jenny settle in the lush green grass.

"How were the horses?" You ask Jenny, settling your skirts around yourself modestly.

"Oh they were wonderful!" Jenny giggles, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Jonas took me to see all of the knights' mounts, including that bay he rides. Her name is Anika. She likes carrots, daisies, and chewing Jonas's tunic." You both giggle at that last bit, and you turn to examine your brother. The shoulder of his shirt does appear a little gnawed-on. Jonas himself is chatting with the other men, gesturing exaggeratedly with his arms.

"He probably forgot to take a bath, and that was Anika's way of telling him he smells," you joke, biting your lower lip as you chuckle. Jenny snorts quietly, shaking her head back and forth.

"His Majesty, the King!" A herald shouts, and the buzzing of the crowd dies down to a hush, raptly focusing on the podium. King Cassian Godfrey is a handsome man, dark haired and tanned skin. His eyes are a dark brown, almost black, that demand the attention of everyone around him. He is a good king, though the graying along his temples reflects his age, and the promise of his son someday taking the throne is a rather daunting one. His Queen, Helen, bares a remarkable resemblance to their son, her fair blonde hair shining like gold in the dying sunlight. She is known to be kind and philanthropic, a mother of the realm, so to speak.

"I come before you today with a joyous announcement for our Kingdom," The king says, his voice projecting across the lawn. "My son, the Crown Prince Aldous, has come of age. After much discussion, it has been decided that he will be allowed to pick a bride of his own choosing." A murmur ripples through the crowd, mixed with some gasps from some women in the crowd. Aldous looks rather bored up on the dais, turning a ring over on his finger and watching it glint in the dying light.

"Every eligible woman will be sent a summons to the palace where they will be required to present themselves before the prince. He will then make a selection of ten women with which to court for a period of time. Of those ten, he will chose his bride."

"A summons?!" The word slips out of you, hushed and shocked. Your sympathies seem reflected by those in the crowd.

"We always knew the family was a bit eccentric," Jenny murmurs, worry in her gaze.

The buzzing of the crowd has risen slightly, emotions melding together in a mixing pot as the realization sets in to the citizens. A mandatory summons. That means equal possibility for all of the eligible women in the kingdom to potentially win the hand of the Prince. But that also means that the initial summons are not optional. Weather or not you are interested in becoming royalty, you are required to present yourself to the prince for his approval or dismissal.

"All unmarried women of eligible age will receive a date of which to present themselves. If they are selected at the end of the first presenting, they will be offered accomodations at the palace for the rest of the courting season."

A headache starts to develop behind one of your eyebrows, your previous words from the evening slamming against your skull like Athena prying herself from Zeus' skull. "Me? A Princess? No thank you."

"Summons will be delivered to those eligible beginning next week. The first presentations will begin the week following. To the families of the ten selected women, a monetary stipend will be paid to cover any loses of income should the women in question be employed to support their families." You and Jenny glance at each other, both thinking of the meager jobs you have managed to acquire to assist your families.

"What if someone who is selected for the ten women does not wish to be?" Someone in the crowd yells. The King pauses, looking in the direction of the speaker.

"It is the belief of the royal council and of myself that it is a service to the country to be accepted to this position, and that any women selected should be honored to do so."

"So in other words, its not optional. You can't decline." one of the knights behind you says in a hushed tone. Jonas grunts, glancing down at where you and Jenny are sitting.

"I suppose if one didn't want to be selected, they would just try to appear as unappealing as possible," Your brother muses, but there is a dark lilt to his tone, and his jaw clenches.

The crowd murmurs among itself, the mixed sentiment evident.

"Thank you for gathering and enjoying the festivities today." King Cassian finishes, before stepping down off of the podium, his family and the King's Men following him.

You sit there on the grass, gazing down at your clasped hands, your heart beating out what seems to be your funeral dirge as reality sets in.

You are unmarried.

You will be presented.

#john price x reader #cod mw2 #alternate universe #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick #john price #medieval fantasy #historical inaccuracies #Writer has not played COD

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ungodlysai · 1 year

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Patroclus: The man I love was prophesied to die after killing his rival…

Younger Patroclus: Who was his rival?

Patroclus: The man who killed me.

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #patroklus #achillesandpatroclus #greek mythology #tsoa achilles #ancient greek #historical inaccuracies #quotes #the song of achilles #madeline miller #tsoa spoilers #inaccurate greek mythology #tsoa

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lemony-snickers · 1 year

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happy belated smuttiversary to me, i guess! (and apologies to the rest of you for subjecting you to my nonsense for 730+ days.) i posted my first-ever smut fic i missed you on 3/16/2021 and now here is this for some reason.

Title: Love. Honor. Duty. Summary: When your parents throw a party to welcome a potential suitor, Kakashi must walk the fine line between his honor as a samurai, his duty as your guard, and his love for you. Word Count: 7,810 Warnings: 18+ only, (eventual) NSFW, gn!reader, references to Sakumo's suicide, blood and injury, fellatio. historical/royalty/samurai au. honestly might not actually be e-rated, leaning more m, but you get the idea. no beta (or proofreading) we die like my dignity. .

A migraine throbbed behind Kakashi’s eyes as he stood guard outside your chambers.

That today would be difficult had always been a given, though Kakashi had perhaps underestimated precisely how difficult it would be.

The great house buzzed with activity, everyone zipping this way and that as they finished a slew of last-minute preparations to ensure the impending formal gathering would be perfect. Receiving dignitaries was always stressful, but receiving them as potential suitors intent on wooing the only child of one of the most powerful Shogun in Fire Country? Far more so.

(Read More on AO3)

#kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #gn!reader #kakashi smut #kakashi x you smut #kakashi x reader smut #royalty au #samurai au #historical au #historical inaccuracies #dni if you are a historian you will abhor this #lemony smutters

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fraieiles · 10 months

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probablt the stupidest thing i’ve ever madde

#alexander hamilton #john laurens #washington had no reason to be here tbh #amrev #historical inaccuracies

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dougielombax · 3 months

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So.

I’m not Jewish. As you know. (I was raised Catholic if you’re curious. But that’s not strictly relevant to this post)

But, speaking as someone who has a degree in history and who has read up a LOT about the Holocaust (and the Armenian Genocide).

I can’t help but find The Boy in the Striped Pajamas to be a shameful piece of work.

(I like how the kid refers to Hitler as The Fury but that’s it)

Now I have no issue with writing fiction about a genocide. None at all. The Forty Days of Musa Dagh by Franz Werfel springs to mind as well as Maus, among others.

That is not the issue here.

Rather it comes from other aspects of the work.

(WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE AUTHOR WROTE A SEQUEL????????!!!!!!!!!)

For one, there are quite a few historical inaccuracies. Normally I can look past such things in fiction, but NOT when it comes to subjects like genocide or persecution.

Doing this risks spreading disinformation, misconceptions or LIES!

As well as a false equivalency between the victims and perpetrators of genocide.

It fuels the disgusting myth that the German people were completely in the dark about the Nazi persecution of Jews (and others like Romani people), they weren’t.

Sure they didn’t have all the facts but they knew for DAMN aside that Jews were being sent away and killed somewhere.

In turn this feeds the myth of the German people bearing little to no responsibility for the genocide and that they were brainwashed.

Endearing sympathy to them in turn. Which isn’t a good idea in my mind. Oh no. This leads to absolving them of any blame.

While there was propaganda and indoctrination the fact remains that many people were more than willing to be complicit in such atrocities. (No I wouldn’t, get off your high horse!)

These myths and misconceptions have become QUITE widespread and have done immense harm to Holocaust education and perhaps even to genocide studies as a whole.

And one can’t forget how the book tries to make one feel sympathy for Nazi SS officers and prison guards. BAD idea!

And no I’m not calling for anyone to harass the author of the book. That’ll only lead to trouble.

I just felt like I had to say this much.

Again I’m no expert.

I’m just working with what I know.

I’ll leave a few articles below sharing my sentiments, they might articulate my points better.

Feel free to reblog.

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undeadbetareads · 6 months

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I love the historical inaccuracies of OFMD. Especially Roach creating spa days.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #roach ofmd #roach #our flag means death season two #ofmd spoiler #ofmd s2 #spa day #spa #historical inaccuracies #our flag means death spoiler

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romanov-family-photos · 2 months

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The 1997 Anastasia movie, while most likely being most people’s introduction to the Romanov Family and their history, was incredibly inaccurate.

Here are some of those inaccuracies

In the first opening moments, of the film we see the Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna boarding the carriage to go to the ball. The footman greets her as Your Highness. In fact, the Dowager Empress addressed as Your Imperial Highness (there was a huge difference as Princess and Princesses were only entitled Your Highness.)

The Romanov Tercentennial was in fact 1913, not 1916.

In 1916, as the movie claims, Anastasia is 8. In fact, Anastasia was born in 1901, making her actually 15 at the time of the ball.

When we see Anastasia greet her grandmother at the ball, Marie Feodorovna wears a wedding ring on her left hand. In Russian Orthodoxy, the wedding band is worn on the right hand.

When the ‘evil’ Rasputin party-crashes the ball, Nicholas tells him he is a traitor. In the time Rasputin spent with the family, there was never any evidence that he betrayed them. He offered them his support, albeit for questionable reasons, but was only sent away for a short time by the Tsar under pressure from his ministers.

The raid of the Winter Palace occurred well into 1917, not 1916 as portrayed in the film. By this time, Nicholas had already abdicated (March of 1917) and they were imprisoned first at the Alexander Palace, then in the Governor’s mansion in Tobolsk, before being moved to the Ipatiev House in 1918, where they were ultimately murdered. The murder of the imperial family did not happen until two years after the ball in the film.

When Anastasia runs back to her room to retrieve her music box, we see the room to be rather “royal-looking” with a single large bed in the corner. Anastasia shared a room with her older sister Marie for all of their childhood, and their beds were in fact camp-beds; hard and not as luxurious as other royalty’s of the time.

Ten Years Later, 1926, Anya leaves the orphanage for a job at the fish market. When Anastasia reaches the fork in the road, the sign says Saint Petersburg. During the Great War, St. Petersburg was renamed Petrograd, a less German-sounding name. After communist leader Vladimir Lenin died in 1924, it became Leningrad, when it did not become Saint Petersburg again until 1991. Throughout the film this inaccuracy is repeated, most significantly in the song Rumor in Saint Petersburg. One would think even the peasants would be accustomed to a new name of their city after 10-15 years.

When Anastasia reaches the train station, the station guard wears the red cap with the Soviet crest. This crest wasn’t used in fact until the 1930s. It was only 1926.

A number of times, the peasants and Dmitri call her The Princess. In Russia, this would have been a great offense to her title, as Anastasia had always been, a Grand Duchess. The title Princess ranks significantly under Grand Duchess

Anya, is in fact a Russian nickname for Anna, not Anastasia. Anya was the name of her mother’s lady-in-waiting and close friend Anna Vyrubova. Anastasia’s nickname was Nastya, Nastia or shvibzik “imp”.

In 1926, the Catherine Palace was being used as a museum and its park area was open to the public, not quite as run down as in the film.

It wasn’t also the Imperial Family’s home, as suggested; they preferred the comfort and privacy of the Alexander Palace at Tsarskoe Selo, a little while outside the city.

When Olga, Tatiana and Marie come down to dance with their sister during the song, they all look to be around the same height. In truth, Anastasia was much shorter than her sisters. Tatiana was the tallest in the family, standing at around 5’9

The same mistake was made with Nicholas. When he and Alexandra come out of the portrait, he looks to be much taller than Alix; he, like his daughter, was actually rather short, only about 5’6, and stood around the same height as his wife.

When Bartok watches Vlad, Anastasia and Dmitri leave the ball room, he says All the Romanovs are dead. This simply wasn’t true. In 1919, around 30 Romanovs managed to escape via various methods, including the Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna.

On the boat to France, Rasputin attempts to force Anya to jump off the side of the ship. She dreams she sees her father, sisters and brother playing in water. Nicholas calls her “Sunshine”, which was actually the nickname of her little brother, Alexei.

In this same dream, Alexei jumps from the top of the cliff down into the water. It was well-known that Alexei had a severe type 2 case of hemophilia, and there was no way Nicholas nor any of the sisters would have allowed him to make such a dangerous leap.

When the gang are journeying to Paris, they hope to meet the Dowager Empress. In 1926, Marie was actually living in Denmark, after the death of her beloved sister, Queen Alexandra of England the year before.

When Anastasia meets Sophie, she is asked how she likes her tea. Anastasia tells her she doesn’t like tea. But there have been many anecdotes of the real Anastasia drinking tea in the mornings and afternoons with her sisters and parents. (This of course may have changed as she aged).

When Dimitri refers to Anya and the Dowager Empress as ‘your grace’ this title is also incorrect. “Your Grace” was commonly used only amongst non-royal dukes and duchesses, and archbishops of the United kingdom.

When Vladimir announces ‘we have found the heir to the Russian throne’, this is completely innacurate. Even as the closest surviving member to the last Tsar, Anastasia would, sadly, have no right to the throne. There were around 30 dynastic members of the family surviving in 1926, and many available males. In Imperial Russia, the line of succession was strictly male-primogeniture; the eldest son would inherit the throne. In 1926, by law, this male would be the Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich.

The Dowager Empress could not have possibly had the means to offer a 10 million ruble reward for the return of her granddaughter. The Romanov fortune had all but disappeared and she largely relied on the charity of the English and Danish Royal Family.

The biggest inaccuracy, however, was that Anastasia survived. She, along with the rest of her family, were murdered by the Bolsheviks in 1918

#russian history #tsarist russia #anastasia romanov #anastasia 1997 #film history #historical inaccuracies

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hiidkwhatimdoing7525 · 30 days

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was researching about Von Steuben when I came across this

proving my Washette theories, Lafayette class himself Washington's adopted son...

#washette #george washington #marquis de lafayette #amrev #historical inaccuracies #historians will say they were close friends #amrev fandom #von steuben

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thereeljon · 8 months

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It just occurred to me that two of the most popular musicals of the last decade (Hamilton and The Greatest Showman) are also completely historically inaccurate because they were based on ahistorical biographies.

If I had a nickel for every time that happened, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

#musicals #musical theatre #hamilton musical #the greatest showman #historical inaccuracies

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nesiacha · 2 months

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I repeat one of my comments posted on Youtube

If I had my say on the way Suleiman's children were portrayed, because like a lot of people, I didn't like the way it was written in Magnificent Century, that's what I would do. ( In my eyes, Mustafa was seen as a pure white sehzade, which therefore made him in my eyes more stupid and less interesting than he actually was. Mehmed was practically erased of his personality and seen as a pure Gary Stu like his half brother. Cihangir, who I adore, yet in the series was too naive. Selim is seen as evil, etc...)

I would respect the historical point of view more. I propose an alternative version, I would have added Suleiman's children he had when he was sehzade with his other concubines before he became Sultan and met Hurrem and then had them die of the plague as it was historically.

Sehzade Mustafa - I would keep his childlike personality, except he is not close to his siblings (because of the fratricidal law), and I wouldn't put him close to Ibrahim at least until he becomes an adult and allies himself with him. I would let his mother take care exclusively of his education. A young man who craves recognition and attention from his father, who often neglects him in return over his other children due to the fact that Mahidevran is the Sultan's least beloved concubine. The more he becomes an adult, and especially a father, the more he resents his father because of the way he treats his mother and him. He does not really understand his father and therefore his fears due to the fact that he did not grow up close to him. I would keep his efficient heir personality because he performs very well despite his father never teaching him well because of his mother who is a very good advisor. Instead of doing something for his military glory or showing off his harem too much, I would focus on how he improves the lives of common people exhausted by too much conquest. I would make his guilt very ambiguous, at the start it is clear that he wants to wait for his father to die to have the throne and restore his mother's honor, however, he realizes that his father lets his vizier lead his life impossible to see even encourages him, does not hide that he preferred to have a son of Hurrem on the throne no matter what Mustafa will do. Following this, the sehzade wants to have a second plan like his grandfather in case Suleiman wants to abdicate in favor of another of his sons which would put him in danger (which could explain the Venetian correspondence, others say that it was a plan to prevent his brothers from escaping if one day he became Sultan) but hesitates to actually carry it out, then after some hesitation goes to his father's tent and gets strangled. Instead of doing Atmaca, I would focus on Mustafa's son-in-law, Nergissah's husband who started as Rustem's ally and becomes his most loyal supporter ( it seems that it is more a legend than truth, but I didn't remeber well as I didn't have on me my books of historian like Halil Inalcık) . So I would avoid making a treacherous Sehzade, his mistakes would be understandable, but he wouldn't be a pure white Sehzade.

Sehzade Mehmed: it's more complicated for him because he died without having proven himself in a complicated province like Amasya, so it's quite difficult to make a comparison with Mustafa. But I would make sure to give him a real personality: initially close to some of his brothers like Selim and Bayezid, he becomes, despite his mother, more distant towards them because of the fratricide (Mehmed II had therefore legalized it there is not much way to escape from it at the time unlike MCK) although he is very close to Cihangir and his sister. Unlike Mustafa, his father trained him in the regency of the palace and he did very well by dint of advice and practice. When he is sent to the provinces, he often listens to his mother's advice when she visits him. Knowing that he has the support of the statesmen against Mustafa he realizes knowing his father better than his half brother that he will have to play the role of the obedient sehzade not interested in politics although deep down he prepare for it. He has the happiness of being a father but dies immediately afterwards.

Mihrimah Sultan- I would make sure to respect the historical Hurrem who wants her daughter to have a marriage of love and happiness. However Suleiman prefers Rustem, and she accepts him immediately because she will do everything to save her brothers and convince her mother to accept this marriage. I would rather show her as a politician as well as her diplomatic relations. However, I would underline the unjust side of Suleiman, he had Mustafa executed and condemned Mahidevran to poverty but refuses to punish Mihrimah by banishing her because she would have helped Bayezid financially during his rebellion. Their relationship would be cold for a time before reconciling. She will be reconciled with her brother Selim because basically they only remain and will be an ally of Nurbanu.

Sehzade Abdullah- I would have included him even if he died very young.

Sehzade Selim- Initially a cultured young man very focused on charity work like his mother and sister and very sober. Nevertheless it is often sad due to the law of fratricide. When Mustafa dies, he realizes he has a chance to escape it and he will fight in a wicked way especially for his son Murad because he knows that Bayezid's temper will put him in danger besides fratricide. He knew how to recruit powerful and efficient state members. He is on the whole an obedient sehzade but who is disgusted with his father's treatment of Mahidevran (after all she is no longer a threat to him she no longer has a son) and who will take risks to her by helping her financially. As the hardships go on, his depression increases he drinks more and more especially after his sister takes the part of Bayezid, that his brother Bayezid dies, and the fact that he is obliged to make other sons in the case where Murad dies without an heir which means that he knows that his other sons will be condemned to death. He has become a broken leader although he makes sure there is effective governance.

As a Sultan he must face his father's mistakes, including the way he led the Empire, including too many wars and unnecessary conquests in Europe.

Sehzade Bayezid- Him complicated. Due to his explosive temper he is the black sheep of his siblings (Mustafa does not count since he is a half brother, they do not even know each other) and the most incompetent of Suleiman's sons and Suleiman is worried because he has inherited the worst faults of Selim Yavuz like being angry easily (without having had his qualities). Yet deep down he wants affection and that's why he has several children even if it's irresponsible, his mother favors him because she's afraid for him because he has too impulsive nature . Mihrimah comes to his aid only in memory of his mother, because deep down she prefers Selim, Bayezid knows this, which means that he hardly listens to her. She only helps him financially as a last resort because she couldn't convince him to call off the rebellion. Suleiman was more lenient to his mistakes that Mustafa (we could once again underline the unfair side of Suleiman again with this) until the point that he took refuge to the Shah.

Sehzade Cihangir- A cultured young man very close to his parents and very sick. I would make him a supporter of Selim because although he is close to him, he also knows that he is his only chance of survival because he is not close to Bayezid at all. He often sends information from the Palace to Selim to better aid him in managing his province and at times advises him to be more ruthless in his quest for the throne while remaining an obedient sehzade. It would therefore be a good adviser for Selim (and it would give him more personality). He cannot therefore be limited to the role of a simple supporter but also of a valuable advisor.

And that's how I would portray them if I were in the place of the screenwriters. They are all very nuanced (we avoid all white or all black), we can freely pick a favorite without trying to favor another sehzade at all costs, and I try to be consistent with what we know about them and try to explain why they did mistakes or make sucess.

#magnificent century #mihrimah sultan #sehzade bayezid #sehzade selim #Mustafa sehzade #hürrem sultan #suleiman the magnificent #sehzade Mehmed #mahidevran hatun #Şehzade Cihangir #historical interpretation #historical inaccuracies

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