#the lost grand duchesses

[otmaaromanovas]

The Lost Grand Duchesses: Part 1 - Anna Petrovna

Anna Petrovna was born in January 1708, officially out of wedlock. Her father, Peter ‘the Great’, had six daughters; Ekaterina, Anna, Elizaveta, Maria Natalia, Margarita, and Natalia. Peter planned to marry every daughter that survived infancy to a European house in order to consolidate alliances and friendships with Russia. Peter did not raise Anna, instead giving her to his younger sister Natalia Alexeievna and her husband Alexander Danilovich to raise. Peter’s plan to use the girls as alliance pawns influenced their childhood greatly; their education included embroidery, literature, dancing, and etiquette in order to be perceived as proper and lady-like. By her teenage years, Anna could speak five languages, no doubt to make her more attractive to European houses. Meanwhile, Peter’s sons were taught geography, history, and mathematics.

In 1721, serious marriage was on the table. Karl Friedrich of Schlewsig-Holstein-Gottorp was called to Russia, in order to meet Anna and her father. Karl had just entered his twenties, and his denouncers insisted that he was rude and arrogant. In comparison, Anna was barely thirteen years old, and incredibly shy.

This did not deter Peter, who was incredibly attracted by the idea of a Schleswig-Russian alliance. After a few years of shopping for other potential candidates, the marriage contract was signed. Ironically, the bride was not on the contract, and it was her father Peter and Karl Friedrich who signed. When the men signed the contract, Anna’s right to the Russian throne was instantly revoked.

In 1725, less than a year after the marriage between Anna and Karl Friedrich, Peter ‘the Great’ fell seriously ill. He called for Anna, whom he asked to write his will under his dictation. There has been great speculation over whether Peter planned to name Anna his heir; even though she had been forced to revoke her right to succession when her marriage was arranged, the Tsar of Russia still retained the power to elect his own heir regardless of the marriage contract terms. Peter was unable to speak, passing away shortly after, before declaring his heir. Whether or not Peter desired to make Anna heir remains one of history’s big ‘’what if’ questions.

In 1727, Anna and her husband Karl Freidrich moved to his native Kiel. Anna was deeply unhappy, missing her sister and nephew Peter Alexeievich; the Grand Duchess loved children. She wrote copious letters to her sister, Ekaterina, detailing her depression at being taken away from her home country. The rumours of Karl Freidrich’s arrogance appeared true; he preoccupied himself with affairs, leaving a pregnant Anna isolated.

In February, Anna gave birth to a baby boy, named Carl Peter Ulrich. Just days after, Anna contracted Puerperal fever, then known as ‘childbed fever’, a postpartum infection most likely caused by contaminated medical equipment and/or the medical staff not practicing proper hygiene. Anna became gravely ill, and requested to be buried back in her homeland, alongside her father in St. Petersburg. Her son Carl Peter survived the labour, and outlived his father, becoming the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp. When his aunt Elizaveta, Anna’s sister, died in 1762, Carl Peter became the Tsar of Russia, adopting the name Peter Feodorovich, Peter III.

Despite refusing to parent Anna himself, trying to marry her off when she was a child, and signing a marriage contract without Anna’s signature of consent, Peter claimed that Anna was his ‘favourite daughter.’ Only three of Peter’s fifteen legitimate children survived into adulthood. Anna died when she was only twenty years old. Her brother, Alexei Petrovich was imprisoned and tortured under the order of his father, dying from the torture. Only Anna’s beloved sister Elizaveta survived unscathed - the only out of fifteen siblings.

#the lost grand duchesses #anna petrovna #petrovichi #peter the great #he sounds like a tosser #alexei petrovich #old romanovs #russian history #romanov family #1700s #18th century #royal history #womens history #women in history #peter iii

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

“Lost Crown” by Sarah Miller has issues (Or I am extremely nitpicky when it comes to OTMAA)

I love “Lost Crown.” I may repeat that a thousand times. It is an almost perfect book and I doubt any Romanov historical fiction book will ever compare to “Lost Crown” in quality of writing, characterization, historical accuracy, depicting the love this family had for each other, wholesomeness, and pretty much anything else. I have reread that book three times. I admire Sarah Miller a lot for what she accomplished, hers is one of the few books I have re-read and I swear I hate re-reading the same books, so this is a huge deal.

If you are looking for a review praising it though, you are in the wrong place, because I actually think the book is flawed and I am going to be talking exclusively about said flaws (Single flaw? It depends on how you see it, it is mostly one issue).

I love “Lost Crown”, but I am also ridiculously sensitive regarding Sarah Millerʼs attitude towards Alexandra and Alexei, the latter most of all, because he was a child.

“People can stomach the political necessity of executing the tsar, the empress, and maybe the 13-year-old heir to the throne, but there was no reason for those four sisters to die”- Sarah Miller.

That is from an interview. I can not find the exact source, but I am sure I read it somewhere and that it is accurate. Sure, she was talking about what OTHER people feel about Alexeiʼs death when compared to OTMAʼs, but she did NOT make her own opinion known, which makes me think she either doesn't consider that way of thinking discusting or even disagrees too much.

Wow, Miller, really? Does that mean that if Nicholas had removed the Pauline Laws you would have “stomached” the deaths of these girls you wrote a masterpiece about better?

Nothing against Sarah Miller herself, as many people outside the niche Romanov fandom bubble have this mindset, but I genuinely find these sorts of comments and opinions gross. For any who think like that:

A) Premeditatedly (And assuming you are of sound mind) killing innocents for super logic and pragmatic, even downright Einstein level of genius political reasons is just as evil as killing them for any other reason. Yes, ANY other reason. Come at me with whatever “buts” you like. The reasoning of murderers throughout history may be diverse, more or less understandable, or even nonexistent in some cases, but if the effects are the same (Innocents end up dead as a consequence of their immediate actions), then they are just as evil in my eyes.

B) They also had political reasons to kill the girls. They could have been used as a White symbol of resistance against the Bolsheviks, who also wanted to demoralize the upcoming armies by killing the entire family (Further proof that “tactical” doesn't take away from the “evil” of it all).

C) He was 13, the literal youngest, you psychos. His murder was as wrong, sickening, shocking, and unjustified as that of his sisters. I don't care if he doesn't fit your aesthetics OTMA-edit-blog-whatever “Which Romanov Sister are you most like?” quiz or feminist college dissertation on how OTMA were overlooked in favor of him (Bo freaking hoo you care more than OTMA, who loved their brother, did, get over it).

Ok, rant over, let's get to the point. This all brings me to the only aspect of “Lost Crown” I have trouble coming to terms with: It is obvious reading it that Sarah Miller feels little for Alexei, projects those feelings onto the girls, and the worst part is that people don't notice. Well, I do. At first I thought I was seeing things, because not a single Romanov enthusiast had pointed out the same stuff I have issues with, but then I read that quote in the interview and thought: “Maybe I am not so crazy after all, I may be a sensitive little bitch, true, but I am not crazy” lol.

It should be said that I don’t think like this because I consider Alexei’s characterization on Lost Crown bad, on the contrary.

Alexeiʼs characterization is perfect in my view, and it is clear that Sarah Miller did her research on his personality, which is not what troubles me. She might feel “little” for him (Sorry, vibes she gives) but she does feel, I have never claimed she is not compassionate. It is hard to read about him without feeling a twinge of compassion. Sarah does feel for him and his illness, it is clear she does.

The best portrayal I have read of Alexei in Romanov fiction is actually from Sarah Miller’s Lost Crown. It is clear she TRIED to write him with a lot of empathy and sensitivity. But here is the thing, Sarah flawlessly described the POV of each sister but decided not to include Alexei’s POV, which I believe she would have been perfectly capable of handling. I read a review that said that Sarah probably knew too many POVs would ruin the book, but I think that is just silly, because four POVs are already too much. If you are fine with using four I don’t think a fifth one would ruin the story. Sarah is a talented writer, if she had wanted to include Al, she would have.

I think maybe Sarah felt Alexei’s POV was unnecessary for a book marketed towards teenage girls, or that it “ruined” the almost perfect young adult theme of the four sisters. I mean, even “serious” nonfiction author, Helen Rappaport, left Alexei out of the title of her “Four sisters” book, even though the book also talked about him a lot, almost as much as it talked about each of the four sisters individually. Alternatively, Sarah didn’t WANT to include his POV because of reasons already mentioned, she didn’t feel as much for him, which is fine, I mean, it is her book. This is not necessarily the issue.

What I truly freaking dislike are all those scenes where “Olga” is literally jealous of Alexei. Once, because he was allowed a friend to play with him in Tobolsk while her own friend was sent away (Ok, fair, that made a lot of sense), and the second time, when he was comforted in the Rus because he was afraid of the gunshots (The soldiers were killing seagulls). It makes sense Olga was afraid and wanted comfort as well, especially on the infamous Rus where they were not allowed to lock their doors, but her character gave these vibes: “Why DoNt theeyy comfOrt uus? Whaat about uss? He doesnʼt even need it as much!! His fear is not ValiD in comparison to ours!!! I am so jealous and resentful of my brother and I am totally Olga you guys!!!!”

The worst part is when Tatiana is jealous that the fake rescuers wanted to take Alexei down the window first (Oh, I don't know… maybe because he was ill and taking him down would be the hardest thing to do?! Maybe because as Sarah Miller HERSELF said, his murder made most political sense, and at that time, it was logical people thought he was in the most danger??), and “Tatiana”, the most mature, virtually Alexei’s second mother, and the best friend of politically astute Olga, who was bound to know all of this, was jealous, something we are the readers are supposed to view as “fair” and sympathize with.

I would have believed this jealousy arousing from fear coming from Anastasia, the youngest girl and almost a child herself, but not 21-year-old Tatiana. Romanov fans love bitching about authors making up fake cat fights between the girls and antagonizing them, which I sympathize with, one of many reasons “The Tsarina's daughter” was trashed (As it should be) and I don't want to read it. But Sarah Miller makes Tatiana jealous of the fact her disabled brother (Who it makes more political sense to kill) is being put into consideration first in a dangerous rescue attempt and no one bats an eye only because “Lost Crown” has more prestige in the fandom, and “Tsarina's daughter” was in general inaccurate, had insulting scenes, and the author had the nerve to give it a more satisfying ending by making Tatiana survive (Oh no! That didn't actually happen! The horror!! How dare the author put fiction in that fiction book!!!!).

I don't care anymore if people come at me. It is almost perfect, but some parts still irritate me and feel as insulting as parts of “The Tsarina's daughter”, or even the “The Last Tsars” and “The Passion of Marie Romanov” scenes where Maria has sex with a guard. Yea, THOSE scenes. There, I said it. Parts of “Lost Crown” actually offended me MORE, because Maria exploring her sexuality (gasp! horror!) with a guard in FICTION is not as bad as “the Romanov sisters mocking their little brotherʼs fictional self-harm issues” in fiction (I will get to that). Oh! And an added plus is that the author of “The Passion of Marie Romanov” is, as I am, just as horrified about the murder of Alexei as she is about the murder of his innocent sisters, as everyone should be.

Not only are Olga and Tatiana irritatingly jealous and resentful of her brother... but Anastasia is irritatingly jealous and resentful of her brother. The one described as the closest to her brother is. She is suuper annoyed about the family focusing so much on him after they all arrived at Ekaterinburg. Picture this: She has been separated from her parents and favorite sister, her other half of the pair, for weeks. She has missed Maria and wants to see her “so much it is pathetic'' (As she similarly described in a letter), she has worried for their well being and their conditions for weeks, and instead of being happy about the reunion, she is resentful about her brother receiving more attention from his mother for his silly “so painful it can make you pass out” hemophilia attack. She literally says something similar to “what is the use of being together again after weeks of worry and longing if people are paying so much attention to my sick brother, also, I totally am Anastasia, the same girl that wrote a letter to Ekaterinburg talking about how sweet Alexei was, you guys, the same girl that tried to cheer him up and make him laugh when he was ill you guys” *rolls eyes*

“But usernamesuggestionsarefunny...” you say, “you are too sensitive,” you say. “They could have had those thoughts of jealousy for their brother in real life because they were human!” You say.

I am fine with the authors exploring less than perfect sides of the characters (But Alexei-related jealousy issues are the go-to for most Romanov fiction writers, it is overused and rarely done differently, I said what I said), it is fiction, and in real life they weren't perfect and must have had their fights, we just have less information on that. What I don't like is when the narrative doesn't call it out as something wrong, or it villianizes, even if slightly, one of the characters, making you take the other characterʼs side even when, once you reflect about it, is not 100% guaranteed. It is especially obvious why these scenes annoy me when you consider we don't actually get Alexei´s POV. Sarah Miller didn't give us one. So we are just supposed to sympathise with Olgaʼs and only Olgaʼs thoughts and feelings of jealousy, not with Alexei´s own fear of gunshots. We are supposed to sympathize with Anastasiaʼs feelings of jealousy. We never know if Alexei sensed this resentment coming from his favorite sister, how it made him feel if it did, sometimes he is almost treated as some obstacle of sorts to the girls´ happiness instead of a character, I don't know how to explain it, but it is so blatant and annoying.

Oh wait! None of what I mentioned before is the worst part of the book, the part that angered me the most, that angered me more than “Maria having fictional sex with a guard” levels of anger. I leave that for the last part of my rant: The worst part is that Sarah Miller literally implies that after they arrived at Ekaterinburg, Alexei hurt himself on purpose. Now, I don't think this is true in real life, but I understand why Sarah Miller got the idea from: Nicholas´s diary entry, where he mentioned that Alexei bumped his knee against the bed “as if on purpose”. I personally think his expression was meant more as a “This is so freaking inconvenient” or “Why did it have to happen now?” kind of thing, like, Alexei was not in the best health before and now the bump had made the situation worse, you know what I mean? Maybe Nicholas was even annoyed at Alexeiʼs carelessness, but that is it. I donʼt think Nicholas meant he LITERALLY thought Alexei had done it on purpose. He just didn't, in my opinion. It is also possible he was simply going through a typical puberty growth spurt, which as most teenage boys and men are aware, makes you a bit clumsy because you are growing too fast and can´t calculate the size of your limbs lol.

Now, I am not bothered by Sarah Miller's interpretation of Alexei doing it on purpose. It wouldn't bother me even if it could be 100% disproven (I literally support escape plot fictional additions in Romanov fiction for the sake of the plot/story/character development/satisfying end/you name it wholeheartedly). It is fiction after all. I just want serious elements added or included in the story to be treated with the severity they guarrant.

Sarah made the girls aware of the fact their brother might have hit himself on purpose, which, considering his illness, would have caused him a lot of pain, like, A LOT, and it did. He kept his family awake with moans of pain in real life. I am sure Sarah Miller knows about this. I am sure by this point in his life Alexei knew his own body enough to realize this as well if it were true that he did it on purpose (Which I genuinely doubt). This tiny “detail” she decided to include in her book was literally self-harm.

Well, she made the four girls dismiss their brotherʼs self-harm as something selfish he did for attention, and I felt sick. I knew girls in junior high, around Alexei´s age, who did this. No laughing matter, and SUPER out of character for OTMA, even, I would venture, Anastasia, to dismiss this with a laugh as they did, but for some reason not even literal Romanov experts and scholars in the book reviews who are faaar more knowledgeable than me noticed this, maybe because they were blatantly tricked by the narrative (And so were you).The girls making light of their brother self-harming is treated by the narrative as a “cute” and “funny” sister bonding moment (It literally is treated that way, why did no one else notice? Why am I the only one upset about this?). The girls were right and their brother is an attention-seeking asshole for self harming. Also, self-harm is funny and if people do it “for attention” (Which in fact means there are deeper mental health issues that should be attended to), it should not be taken seriously. That is what we are supposed to get from that scene.

This wouldn't bother me if, again, we got Alexeiʼs point of view of this situation, so we the readers could see why he is doing what he is doing and empathize, maybe raise awareness to the serious mental health topic of self harm. Like seriously, hemorrhages into the joints, or in general some hemorrhages cause a lot of pain, and I think Romanov fans underestimate just how much. For example, in Spala, he sometimes had to pass out to be free from it. If he had bumped his knee as a form of self harm knowing it would cause that sort of physical pain, it would have probably meant that his emotional pain was becoming almost unbearable to cope with. That is one of the explanations people who self harm give (Not the only reason people self harm though, and it is much more complex than that), that the physical pain distracts them from the emotional pain. Like seriously, few people would go through that pain for attention, but we the readers are just supposed to believe Alexei was “playing with his illness”, and that he was not taking into account his motherʼs *cough cough his jealous sistersʼ cough cough* suffering.

Like for real, read the following passage from Anastasiaʼs pov and imagine if Alexei had been a 13-year-old girl and her older sisters mocked her self-harm issues behind her back, we would be calling the sisters bitches, Cinderellaʼs step sisters. If the older sisters were older BROTHERS people would go even further, some would call them abusive and uncaring pricks. Think about it for a second, how the way the narrative portrays something tricks you to see this as a “cute” sister bonding moment.

~

Every time the crowd in the doorway thins, I can see our brother sitting there in Maria’s cot like it’s a striped throne and he’s Tsar Aleksei II.

“I bet he hurt his knee on purpose,” I whisper to my sisters.

“If that’s true, I’d like to take him across my own knee,” Olga says.

“Olga!” Tatiana scolds. “How could you?”

“After what we went through for all those weeks because he was too sick to move? It isn’t fair to play with his illness like that.”

“The first time was not on purpose, Olga.”

“I know it. But think of how Mama suffers. It’s selfish of him.”

“Mama doesn’t seem to mind,” I say. “She looks pretty pleased to have someone to fuss over.” Tatiana’s jaw falls open so far her teeth ought to drop out. “And the only good part so far is that Mama’s hovered so much, Aleksei hasn’t had a chance to notice his own dog is missing.”

“Don’t, Nastya,” Maria begs. “Not on our first day all together again.”

I shut my mouth, but what’s the use of being all together again if everybody’s going to set up camp around Aleksei’s cot and never mind the rest of us?

-

Lmao I can't with “Anastasia” here. She is so selfish and annoying, sue me.

Nooo, H-O-W D-A-R-E Alexei have legitimate mental health issues as a result of his imprisonment when the book is about OTMA and THEIR thoughts and emotions during imprisonment? How dare I expect Alexei to be treated as a character and not a prop or obstacle to show how nice the poor girls are to put up with his spoilt ass, the attention he gets and his silly "selfish" cries for help?

Sarah actually does give us scenes of Alexei coping with the separation from his parents. His character is treated sensibly while he is at Tobolsk, and to that I give the author a lot of credit, but if she had already touched upon Alexei’s coping, as well as some of his feelings about the separation and of his illness, what was the need to include this fictional self-harm mini plot then? To make it about the girls and how much it annoys them? This is another thing I have noticed, a small minority of exclusively OTMA fans, most often people new to the last imperial family (so Sarah Miller has no excuse lol), talk about Alexei´s illness as if the only real victims were the girls, the people forced to”put up” with it and how much their brother's illness diverted their mother's attention from them, and Sarah Miller does write about Alexei´s illness like this in SOME parts of her book, which is infuriating. This does NOT mean the girls were not deeply affected, or the side effects of his illness, including potential favoritism, should not be mentioned or even extensively explored in fiction, but I don't like when it is made out to be the only important thing, when Alexei is right there, literally about to die in excruciating agony or something but... oh,well.

By the way, how come no author writes about how it affects the girls to see or know their brother is suffering? How come that is not made into a source of conflict for them? Pierre Gillard literally writes it affected their moods, never mentioned jealousy. Like seriously it would be super interesting, kind of accurate and still focus exclusively on the girls if that is what the author is most interested in, but I guess writers prefer to project THEIR personal “my parents loved my youngest sibling more than me” traumas onto OTMA lmao. I mean, Pierre Gillard said his sisters worshiped him, which I genuinely think is hyperbolic and immensely whitewashed. I take the “too good to be true” memoirs with a grain of salt, just like most people and *clearly* Sarah Millar. Of course the girls were human, and I think they got fed up with and bored of their brother once in a while, but if Pierre wrote that they worshiped him it was because he mainly witnessed love between them, more than fights or resentment, and he wanted that love remembered. Why is it the LAST thing remembered in Romanov fiction then? Why does Sarah Miller gloss over that at the worst possible times?

Romanov fans know this is a book true to reality that has no escapes or twists, so this self-harm side-plot leads to NOWHERE in the narrative, a total dead end (Absolutely no pun intended). It was literally added for the “lols”, or as a mini side plot. I hated it, I truly did.

How dare I expect something as serious as self harm to be given importance by the narrative after the author herself decided to add it to the story for no reason at all when she could have easily explained the incident away as an accident? Like seriously, that diary account from Nicholas is all we have and in no way is Alexei doing it on purpose the only valid or even most obvious explanation. If you still want to write about it, good! It might be interesting! But treat it S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y I guess I am super sensitive but that is just me. I literally can't believe no one else has pointed this out.

Not everyone will get the reference, but an example of characters being treated unfairly by popular characters, and the narrative wanting to make you side with the popular characters, who are being unjust, is the case of Percy and the twins from Harry Potter. I love the twins and don't care for Percy that much. The twins are my favorite characters, but the fact is that they were bullies to Percy, and the narrative never called this out. It made you side with the twins and not Percy. It made you angry at Percy for his admittedly cruel actions but not the twins for their unwarranted mocking of their brother. After Percy apologized, the twins should have also done so, but this never happened. According to the narrative, the twins did nothing wrong.

Obviously, the popular characters in this case are the Grand Duchesses, who in Lost Crown didn't actually do anything nearly as bad as the twins. It was just gossip and private thoughts, but again... Alexeiʼs POV people! We don't get it! Or at least, if Sarah didn't want to write it or it took too much space, an explanation of his self-destructive behaviour through a heartfelt talk between the siblings. The narrative convinces you that the way the sisters are talking about their self-harming brother is completely fine. It never calls it out, it never proves them wrong, in fact, most readers didn't notice nor cared, but might come to internalize the belief that people who self harm are attention seeking, or that people that are chronically ill are wrong to have mental health issues because they are not being “grateful” enough to the people who care for them, they are being “unfair” to them, and not “appreciating” all the caretakers have had to do for their sake. It is a pretty toxic message, I don´t know, don´t mind me, I am a sensitive little bitch.

Alexei behaves horribly with Anastasia in Ekaterinburg as well, by the way. I hated him in that scene. He “pranks” her in a way that could have easily killed her. But the anecdote is told from Anastasiaʼs POV, we rightfully side with her and see how scared she is. The narrative shows us Alexei crossed the line, that is the difference.

To be honest, this other book is objectively less accurate, but I preferred “Anastasia and her sisters” to “Lost Crown”. Sure it has a made up romance between Anastasia and Botkinʼs son, and you know what? That innocent fictional addition is not nearly as harmful as Sarah Millerʼs diary-entry-based self-harm side plot and the possible message it sends to the readers, something that, admittedly, she may have not realized as she wrote it was harmful.

Another thing, this is more tongue in cheek. The only sister who never thinks of Alexei with humorous over the top resentment is, as far as I can remember, Maria (At least my fave Maria escaped from that terrible detail in the girlsʼ characterization lol). I appreciate Maria never did so, not even when Alix said “Thank God it wasnʼt Alexei!” when Maria hurt her eye. The only thing Maria thought was that her motherʼs expression hurt her feelings, which I completely get. I mean, that line was so obnoxious and obviously put there to show the readers how horrible Alexeiʼs existence was for the girls lmao, and it is impressive that Sarah Miller held herself back there from making Maria have an internal monologue on how little her mother loves her even though it was clear what Alix meant (Though I still don't like the line, it was downright cruel, sure Alix could have said it in a moment of carelessness, but in context with the rest of the book, it sounds as if the author was trying to tell me: “Look how poor OTMA were neglected by Alix in favor of the brat Alexei”). Mariaʼs love for her brother is also connected by the narrative to her nurturing nature and longing to be a mother, which was so ashfkdfhgdfgi I loved it! I canʼt believe Sarah Miller seems to think the same way as I do, that Mariaʼs personality makes it unlikely she was not as close to her brother.

The fact Maria is often talked about as the “jealous” one or “least close” to her brother for literally no reason (no evidence whatsoever) makes me consider the fact she escaped this book intact from resentment a triumph honestly, at least in that aspect I applaud Sarah Miller.

Tatiana doesn't escape from the rescentful part of the characterization, and many of the times she worries about Alexei, she clearly does so solely for her mother's sake (Literally, when she is caring for Alexei she barely thinks of him as a brother but as her motherʼs “sunbeam”, when Alexei calls for his mother in a clearly upset tone because they just literally ARRESTED his sailor nanny, Tatiana is like: how ddaaare he annoy my poor sick mother!!! When he is EQUALLY SICK!!). I loved the way Miller portrayed Tatianaʼs love for Alexandra btw. Tatianaʼs love for Alexei just doesn't appear to be as genuine as that of Maria in this book.

In conclusion, Lost Crown was almost perfect, and I have waaay less problem with the book than I have with the way the fandom blindly worships it as if it were the Bible of Romanov historical fiction. Sure, love it! I have read it 3 times and plan to do so again, maybe that is why I noticed these details while other fans did not, maybe I love it more than you do guys lol. In fact, I advise you to read it again, or buy and read it if you haven´t, maybe you will do so with new eyes, maybe not. But don't just appeal to it as authority on what good Romanov fiction is. Lost Crown is far from perfect, and if you have stuff you have issues with (I hope someone will say something in the comments, maybe even something new, and prove I am not alone, lol), or you like another Romanov fiction book more, even “silly” and inaccurate “they escape” fantasy books, you should be free to speak your mind without being called ignorant.

#romanov #romanovs #otma #olga nikolaevna #tatiana nikolaevna #maria nikolaevna #anastasia nikolaevna #alexei nikolaevich #grand duchess anastasia nikolaevna #grand duchess olga nikolaevna #grand duchess tatiana nikolaevna #grand duchess Maria nikolaevna #lost crown #Sarah miller #otmaa

[annebrontesrequiem]

Started the Last Grand Duchess today and disappointed that it immediately starts with a smattering of historical inaccuracies. I guess we’ll see how this goes :/

#ugh #truly we’ll never be as lucky as we were when the lost crown came out ever again will we? #the last grand duchess #romanov #bern speaks

[dark-and-kawaii]

The Pet Names

╰› Raphael carries himself with a supreme level of self esteem, and should you be the one who captures his attention, be prepared for endearments as rich as his most exquisite wines. You are not merely his "little mouse" anymore, no you’ve become something much more significant now.

Little Mouse <- Still his favorite

My Dearest

Love

Eternal Bloom Of My Soul <- When he’s in his poetic mood

My Queen

My Duchess

As Raphael leads you onto his grand floor, the lost soul in the corner playing the violin ever so diligently. With a graceful step, your devil draws you close moving in rhythm to the music, his voice a tender whisper, his breath warm against your ear. He murmurs one of these cherished names he’s given you, and oh how it makes the rest of the world fade away in your mind, leaving nothing but the two of you, swaying in a moment meant only for you.

╰› Haarlep is a demon, an incubus, hence it's unrealistic to anticipate endearing pet names at every moment. Nevertheless, it's evident how much Haarlep has developed an attachment to you, and that shows when they slip with something sincere.

Little Dove

Delectable Delight/Treat

Pet

Darling <- Always says it with a smirk and a chime to it.

Play Thing

Brat <- Haarlep loves when you call them a brat as well

Pretty Little Fuck Toy

Bitch In Heat

Bunny <- Haarlep finds it cute because they could devour you whole if they pleased. You’re the perfect little prey for them.

Regardless of the array of belittling names bestowed upon you daily/nightly, you consistently find Haarlep at your side, some form of him always touching you as if to show others you are indeed theirs- a silent declaration of possession. And when Haarlep can’t be around you they wait impatiently on your bed, their tail flickering about restlessly. And once you show yourself, the incubus always strides over towards you seductively, their tail snaking around your thigh to bring you into his chest so that his wings can envelop you.

“Oh, come now, my little dove, must you always wander away for so long?” They lament with a playful pout, “You know every second you’re gone, I’m here wasting away in a sea of sheets without my favorite delectable treat.” They draw you closer, their embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Consider a poor incubus’s heart, won't you? It’s quite cold without you here warming me, afterall.” Haarlep coaxes, their plea wrapped in a cheeky yet sincere veneer of need as he nuzzles against your cheek tenderly.

╰› Zevlor is a grown man, not a mere boy. He holds you in the highest regard, adores you, treasures you, and is prepared to go to any lengths for your sake. His nicknames for you may seem straightforward and unadorned, yet they are laden with affection and are so endearing that they leave you wanting more.

Darling

Sweetheart

My Dear

Beloved

Beautiful

Each night, just before you drift off to sleep, Zevlor tenderly cradles your face and gently presses his forehead to yours, whispering one of these cherished names. As he draws back, he reassures you with a reminder not to fret over him while he's out safeguarding the city. He promises that, regardless of what happens, he will return to you, ready to envelop you in his embrace as the day concludes.

╰› Rolan is new to pet names, so he’s not necessarily used to this. You’re his first serious relationship/first person he’s ever taken real interest in. But believe me when I say, it doesn’t take long for Rolan to get used to calling you special names. With a voice dripping in self assuredness, Rolan would call you:

Dear

Sweetheart

Pest <- It’s never malicious though

Angel <- always says it with a smirk

Fiesty Little Flirt

Cheeky Brat

Troublemaker/ Trouble

As you entered his dimly lit study, you could smell the scent of old books and melting candles within the room. Rolan feels a shiver of delight as you wrap your arms around him from behind. You could feel how his tail encircles around your waist, pulling you firmly against his back, anchoring you to the warmth of his body. Before you could rest against him he spun within your embrace to cradle your face, “Has my troublemaker come here to lure me away from my duties?” Your cheeks flushed deeply as you simply nod. "How greedy of you," he whispers just as he claims your mouth with his.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #Raphael #bg3 raphael #tav #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #rolan #rolan bg3 #haarlep bg3 #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav

[tiaramania]

Tiaras of the future Queen Mary

I love a good list and @duchessofostergotlands requested one of the tiaras that Mary will wear as queen. As usual I had a lot to say.

Crown Jewels

Queen Caroline Amelie's Emerald Tiara

Denmark is unusual among modern monarchies in that they still have wearable jewelry in their crown jewels. There is a diamond set, a pearl and ruby set, and of course the beautiful emerald parure. This tiara cannot be taken outside of Denmark and is only worn by the queen. I really hope Mary wears it for her first official portrait as queen.

Major Tiaras: Non-Restricted

Princess Louise's Pearl Poiré Tiara

This tiara has only been worn by Queen Margrethe during her reign but previously was worn by crown princesses and princesses. It is a very important tiara but I wouldn't mind Queen Mary loaning this one occasionally to other people like Christian's future wife.

Queen Désirée's Ruby Parure Tiara

Queen Ingrid kept this tiara even after her husband passed and then left it to Crown Prince Frederik for his future wife so it was never worn by Queen Margrethe. I expect Crown Princes Mary will continue wearing this tiara for now as the parure was extensively remodeled to suit her. When Christian marries, she may decide to pass it on to his wife establishing it as the de facto crown princess tiara, keep wearing it herself, or ideally keep wearing it while also loaning it the future crown princess.

Minor Tiaras

We don't yet know how Queen Margrethe will handle passing on her jewelry. In other countries with recent abdications, Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands still attends tiara events but Queen Paola of Belgium and Queen Sofia of Spain do not. If Margrethe decides to keep attending them she may hold on to some of these for a while.

Grand Duchess Louise of Baden's Palmette Tiara

This isn't my favorite tiara in the Danish vault because of the way it ends so abruptly instead of tapering off. Queen Mary's going to have to pull off some great tiara hair to cover that up.

Crown Princess Margaret's Turquoise Daisy Tiara

Queen Mary looks good in turquoise but I'm really looking forward to seeing this tiara on Princess Isabella and Princess Josephine.

Queen Ingrid's Floral Aigrette Tiara

I've loved the way Queen Margrethe played around with this tiara but I am looking forward to Queen Mary putting it back on a tiara frame like Queen Ingrid wore it.

Queen Margrethe's Naasut Tiara

Queen Margrethe was given this tiara by Greenland in 2012 and I have been waiting for day it is worn by Queen Mary. I think the delicate gold flowers are really going to look great against her dark hair.

Personal Tiaras

Wedding Tiara

Queen Margrethe gave this tiara to Crown Princess Mary as a wedding gift and Mary later had optional pearls added.

Ruby & Spinel Necklace Tiara

Mary bought herself this tiara at an auction and debuted it 2015. I think it was a very smart move because it was only 8050 EUR (probably less than some of her gowns) and it will be a great piece for her children to wear in the future.

Every country and monarch handles jewelry a little differently. Queen Margrethe gave each of her daughters-in-law a tiara but did not share any of her tiaras with them. She did share with her nieces (the daughters of her two sisters) when her sisters didn't have enough tiaras to loan them for events. I would like to see the future King Frederik X and Queen Mary change how the jewelry is dispersed.

First of all they need to stop giving away jewelry. The mainline has already lost the Queen Alexandrine's Diamond Drop Tiara to the Countess of Frederiksborg and Princess Dagmar's Diamond Floral Tiara to Princess Marie. Those are both beautiful, versatile tiaras that would have served the family well in the future. In the previous generation, Princess Benedikte was given Queen Sofia's Star & Pearl Tiara and her Floral Birthday Tiara made from other jewelry and Queen Anne Marie was given Crown Princess Margaret's Khedive Tiara and her Antique Corsage Tiara made from other jewelry. There's no reason to give away tiaras anymore to people whose descendants will have little reason to wear them.

Then to make up for not giving away any jewelry there needs to be more sharing! I don't want to see the same person wear the same tiara to every event. Queen Mary will have the Emerald Tiara exclusively and then may choose to keep the Pearl Poiré Tiara and Ruby Parure Tiara to herself but everything else should be shared among her daughters, daughters-in-law, and other members of the extended Danish Royal Family. It would make things so much more interesting.

#Tiara Talk #Crown Princess Mary #Queen Mary #ugh I'm going to have to change her tag #Denmark #Danish Royal Family #I didn't include the Golden Poppies because I didn't want to #tiara #royal jewels #Queen Margrethe #Queen Margrethe II

[xximpressions]

The Duchess (11)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: Shock

Word Count: 1,100

A/N: For those of you who need a boost :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

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Following some more much needed rest after your wondrous conversation with the Viscount, your body’s healing continued to progress in the way the doctor had said. By the time the next morning came around, you were recovered enough to make a celebrated appearance at breakfast.

Upon stepping foot into the dining room, the surprised cheers and sighs of relief welcomed you to the table.

But before you could take a seat, the youngest Bridgerton shot out of hers in order to wrap her arms around you in a generous hug.

“Duchess! I am so glad that you are alright!”

Smiling to yourself at such a kind reception, you returned the girl’s embrace before graciously saying to her and the rest of the room alike,

“As am I, Miss Hyacinth.”

Lady Bridgerton, after also allowing her eyes and mother’s heart a moment to be reassured of your happy recovery, made sure to direct her daughter to let go of you so that you both could have a seat at the dining table.

But her eyes were not the only ones to catch how, as you approached your usual chair, Anthony rushed out of his in order to assist you in sitting down.

Because you made sure to send him a grateful smile after he did so, you missed how the rest of the Bridgertons and Bassets that were present sent and shared secretive smiles amongst themselves once they witnessed such a display.

From that breakfast onward, you contently continued regaining your strength. And by the end of the week, you were well enough to travel back to London along with everyone else who had retired to the Duke’s country estate.

Wishing to show your appreciation to the family that had shown you nothing but kindness, you made it a point to have individual notes sent to the two different households as soon as you arrived at and were home within your own city dwellings. Those notes invited them to a private tea party you had decided to host during your journey back.

Holding an intimate gathering such as a tea party compared to the grand soiree they had hosted for you seemed like such a small return on such a big favor.

However, you could not help telling yourself that it is was at least a start.

Due to your attention to detail, your stride was a little less than measured as you walked from the variety of light dishes that were being served, to adjusting the cushions laid on the couch, and then to your own pacing back and forth as you waited for them on the day of.

Though you were aware of your duties as a Duchess to host gatherings, the required year spent mourning your late husband had deprived you of any chance to do so until now.

Thankfully, when their presence was announced, the nerves you previously held almost immediately melted away at the sight of the Viscount being one of the first through the door followed by the rest of his siblings, his mother, and the Duke of Hastings.

As if no time had passed, everyone was quickly settled in and conversing amongst themselves while tea was served.

You were sitting next to and happily speaking with Anthony on one of the sofas in the drawing room while he sipped at his cup and you at yours. Once again, you almost got lost in the world he seemed to always create around you both when you were brought back to reality by the approach of a footman who held a silver tray carrying an envelope.

Bowing and holding it out to you, he waited till he was able to interrupt your conversation with the Viscount by saying,

“A letter, your Grace.”

Given the fact that you rarely received such a thing, you were unable to hide your perplexion as you accepted it and thanked the servant.

But as soon as the envelope was in your hands, your confusion turned to concern as you realized what you were holding.

Apparently, you were not the only one since Lady Bridgerton could not help asking from across the way,

“Is that her Majesty’s royal stationary?”

Holding the note a bit more reverently, you nodded your head at her question and said in reply,

“Yes, I believe so.”

Though your fingers were set to pull the ribbon that held the envelope in place, it was only after you received an encouraging nod from the man seated next to you that you were able to do so.

So focused on your task, you did not notice how a tense silence had blanketed the room as those present waited to hear whatever news you had to share.

Opening, unfolding, and quickly using your eyes to read through the letter’s contents, the atmosphere became tenser still when you announced in a grave voice.

“The Queen has summoned us all to the palace.”

With a confused and furrowed brow, the Viscount questioningly replied,

“But whatever for?”

With a thick swallow of your throat, you said,

“Someone has brought forth a challenge to my claim as Duchess, so we are all apparently summoned as witnesses to determine if the challenge holds any merit.”

As the seriousness of the situation made the silence return, you simply took in a deep breath before sighing and resignedly saying,

“We must leave at once.”

Being met with no resistance, everyone quietly rose from their seats and filed into their respective carriages that soon set off in the direction of the palace.

After reaching the meticulously manicured and decorated building, you, the Bridgertons, and the Bassets alike were all escorted to the room in which her Majesty held court and were greeted with the sight of the Queen regally sitting on her throne.

While the others joined the crowd of courtiers standing on either side of the aisle, you gracefully made your way to the front until you were at the foot of the throne and gave a respectful curtsey before rising again as the Queen began to address you.

“Duchess, you have been accused of being unsuitable for the occupation your title affords. What have you to say?”

Swallowing your nerves, you only took a moment to compose your response.

“Only this your Majesty…might I be allowed to face the one who has deemed me to be unsuitable?”

With a brief nod of her head, the Queen directed her guards to let in your accuser.

And you really wanted to be anything but surprised when you saw your former brother-in-law begin to be escorted into the throne room.

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Taglist:

@urfavnoirette | @itsprashimusic | @esposadomd | @magical-spit

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton x black!reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction

[rinbowaman]

ROMAN HOLIDAY

Part one

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

Some fluff, minor comedy, slow burn type romance. Part 2 will have smut.

Had to take a break from MT's final chapter (it's almost done I promise) but I needed a break from Heedam (trust me…the man is getting juicy with his y/n.) so please enjoy this heartwarming piece based off the film with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Sorry not proofread.

"Princess Y/N of (home country) has safely arrived to Italy as part of her European tour, becoming the diplomatic voice for the troubled youths of today's generation. The heir to King (your father's name) throne has received the warmest welcomes as she is greeted by the local nationals and the royal families of Europe.

Tonight, a grand ball will be held in the Princess’s honor, attended by the most pristine global guests at the Il Colosseo Rosa, where the sole heir will personally greet and address both, the royal and political unions of the continental divide.”

You gracefully appeared before the massive audience as General Hector Lucino, head of the royal guards, escorted you to the head of the ball room. The guests sigh and gasp at the sight as you delicately take your steps, greeting them with a warm smile and gently nodding your head in modesty. The level of class and sophistication within your aura wasn’t just a part of the years of royal grooming. No, this was the natural inheritance of your pure bloodline as the sole heir of your father’s nobility. 

Taking his place by your side, the general stands by amidst the colonels and high ranking officials, along with your closest staff, the Duke of Sagewick, the Marquis of Pemberton, and the Duchess de Barbarac, your personal headmistress that cared and looked after you religiously. 

The national anthem was played beautifully by a live performance, followed by your formal introduction as the announcer represented you to the public. Lined up before you, was the lengthy row of ambassadors, military officials, royal members of various continental houses, and more. As the announcer formally calls out their names, you greet them with grace and a formal introduction. 

The gems of your necklace, earrings, and tiara shined brightly, yet still was no match against your heavenly smile. Your eyes, glistened by the chandelier lighting, twinkled like the stars in the sky, while your gown flared your noble appeal. 

Moments after greeting the first ranking official, you lost track of the time. You were quite certain it had been at least thirty minutes since the announcer called the first name, and your feet were reminding you of it. You swore, it never mattered how often you wore these low heels, your body could never adjust to the extension as the balls of your feet began to beat with a sense of soreness. You did your best to shift between each foot, uncasting them from the intrusive pressures of the silkened pumps. Back and forth, between left and right, you shifted out of the pumps and wiggled your toes, stretched the arch, and returned back to your modest posture, never letting out a clue as to what was going on beneath your dress–at least, up until you mistakenly lost your balance, a rookie move for a seasoned princess. Failing to feed your foot back into the heel, you shifted in motion, causing a slight disruption when greeting the Grand Duke Casta of DeLatitia. You remained composed; your smile stayed ever so gentle as you tried your best to not pay any attention to the sudden note of humiliation. 

Finally, the last member was called, and you would have felt relieved if it weren’t for the fact that your right, silk threaded pump falls over. You did your best to delicately put it back in place so that you could slip it back on, but to no avail. Between the sheer, slick material of your stockings and the smoothness of the pump’s material, you lost all will to place it back on foot. The audience all wait for you to take your seat, you nearly forgot as you remained ever so focused in getting your slipper back on, when the Duchess de Barbarac gently places a hand on your elbow, giving you a slight tug as she guides you back into your chair. Admitting defeat, you take your position and watch as everyone takes a breath and is relieved to finally sit down, only to find that laying lonesomely before you, was your abandoned slipper. 

The general and royal staff members all signaled to the Duchess with a sense of urgency in their expressions. It took a few seconds for her to notice, but once she did, a frown of dismay nearly disrupted her calm look, but she caught herself and remained unperturbed, something she had mastered from years of training you. 

The General whispers into the Marquis’s ear. Standing straight and tall, the man presents his hand, a formal gesture to ignite the first dance, in which you took the hint and accepted as you placed your palm in his. Taking a step down, he levels your balance as you were able to strategically hover over your slipper, and slip it back into place. All was well. 

After spending the evening with the routines of royal responsibilities, it was finally time to lay the night to rest. 

“Duchess?”

“Yes?” 

“May I request a readjustment of my wardrobe?”

The duchess continues her tasks without pause, merely raising a brow in slight vexation. “A readjustment? What for?”

You finish brushing your long strands, placing the gold victorian brush down on your vanity. “My nightgown…I hate it.” 

“You shouldn’t use the word ‘hate’ my dear, it’s very unsuitable for someone from your station.” 

“But I do hate it–and I hate all of my underwear too.” 

Slightly rolling her eyes, the Duchess bids you to come to bed. “Come to bed Y/N, we have crackers, and milk in a fine glass.” Tucking you in, she sets the tray table over your lap while grabbing onto her filefax, preparing to go over tomorrow’s schedule. “Now my dear, I know you dislike going over tomorrow’s events, but it must be done. Finish your milk and crackers, I will proceed.” 

She places her thin glasses over the bridge of her nose, penciling her notes as she reads off the strict time hacks of all the press conferences, the visit with local orphanages, and the meeting with the Commandant of the Italian military forces. 

“First thing, we have the press conference to address the rising concerns of global inequality within the woman’s workforce and illegal recruitment of children conducting factory labor.” 

You sigh out as you munch on the saltine cracker. “I’ve visited this topic many times, how must I change the world when I am the sole individual addressing these concerns?”

“Oh my dear, that’s not proper language. You will have to accept and review the notes on the daily report.” Pulling out the document, the Duchess goes over the new avenues of approach to further emphasize the issue at hand, one that you had expressed on many occasions. Reading off each bullet point, you whispered out “Please…enough.” 

“And statistics also show that many women have…”

“Please stop.

“Then there are the points of view of the religious community that you will have to address.”

“No thank you…”

“Furthermore, there are many cultural aspects that interfere with the viewpoints of women in the workplace that you must take into consideration as the diplomatic figure of your family’s household–.” 

“STOP!!!”

The Duchess jumps at your tone, you finally snapped. It was long coming, yet the pressures of maintaining appearance and dignity only created a passive ball of depression that stormed in your chest, and tonight, it decided to burst out. “I can’t take it anymore! Just stop!”

“It’s alright Y/N, calm yourself, it's just nerves.”

“Nerves?! How dare you? Why does it always have to be this way? Why can’t I just be away from it all for once?”

“Your highness!” The Duchess raises her voice, doing her best to bring you back to a rational level, yet you continue to burst out in tears as you whimper out your absolute unhappiness with everything. The duties, the schedules, the constant controlling of your movements, the way you spoke, acted, thought, and felt–everything was too much, and you reached your breaking point. 

“I will get doctor Rue.” The Duchess dismisses herself, hastily telling the guard to quickly alert the general and royal staff that their presence was urgently requested at once. 

Moments later, the royal physician arrived with the royal staff following suit. You continue to cry and voice out your bitter disappointment; you certainly didn’t mean to act out, but who in the world could ever understand you? Everything was so mundane and dull, you lacked any excitement and spark in your life. WIth all the regulations and overhaul of agendas to fill your day, you barely had any time for yourself, much less to do anything memorable. The life of a princess, it was only glamorous and fashionable in the eyes of the public, but within closed walls, it was a disastrous lifestyle that you wish you could trade out in a heartbeat. 

Doctor Rue fetched out a syringe and needle, his face remained poised as he presented the solution to your ‘problem’. “Your highness, here is a little something to help you rest.”

“I don't need to rest…I want out! Out! I want out of this life!”

“Now, now.” Pinching the flesh on your arm, he sticks you with the needle tip, injecting the clear fluid. “What’s that?” you asked while hiccuping your tears. 

“Just a little something to help put you to sleep. By tomorrow morning, you’ll be good as new.” 

After taking your vitals, he and the staff left you alone; you laid fully awake, gazing at the cathedral ceiling. From outside your window, across the river, you could hear the laughter, dancing, and musical air that flowed and graced the night. How wonderful to be that free and joyful? 

“...I wish to be that happy.” you remarked to yourself, when your own mental voice presented you an ultimatum. So why don’t you? 

You quickly got up and out of bed, dressing yourself in modest casual attire, if you could even label it as casual. Everything you owned was sophisticated, elegant, and lavish. The most basic pieces were still eye-catching, regarding the most high end fabric and design. But that wasn’t going to stop you, not one bit. 

You peeked out through the door, to find the guards caught up in chit-chat. They stood in one end of the corridor, leaving the opposite path open, but just barely. You slipped through, hiding behind statues until the two pairs of eyes were looking away, which afforded you a chance to get by. Getting out from the inside was easy, it was the perimeter of the entire building and exiting the gate that was problematic. You were determined, which was further fueled by your success in getting out and hiding in the royal garden. Thankfully, you knew all the station points of where each guard and camera was set. The viewpoints of the camera lens were expansive, yet there were just enough blind spots for you to hide under as you swoop through, finding the organic market truck delivering fresh produce and meat for the chef and kitchen staff. Quickly, you snuck in the back of the cart, hiding behind a wooden cart of milk bottles as the driver closed up the tail, and started the vehicle. 

With a left turn, and straight ahead, you took a quick peek to find that the truck left the gates behind, closing for the night as everyone contained within are left thinking you are still in your bed, when in all reality, you were finally free. 

I did it…

You couldn’t believe it, this was entirely too good to be true. You finally made out and left the Colosseum. Resting your chin on the wooden crate, you watched all the happy couples taking their nightly stroll laugh and enjoy the Roman night. How dazzling it must be to be able to meet new people, go on dates, dress the way you see fit and to build companionship–a close and personal one at that. A world without having to be politically correct, not involved with the aggressive issues of world affairs and global diplomacy…just a life of chosen happiness and freedom. What a blissful and wonderful life that would be to have. 

The truck finally stopped, subtly waking you as you began to drift off. It would seem that doctor Rue’s medication was starting to take effect, but you had come so far to just merely return and fall asleep. You had to see and experience more, ride a motorbike, go sightseeing and even drink real Italian soda, or eat ice cream from a cone, for once. 

Walking along the sidewalk, you admired the dazzling architecture and fountains, graced by such remarkable statues. 

“I can’t wait to see everything.”

…………………………………..

“Alright, show face gents.”

“I got nothing.”

“Got a straight.”

Ethan strokes his chin, leveling out his hand, revealing a full house. “Oh, a full house. Bet you were feeling lucky, eh Ethan?” Jake, Ethan’s best friend remarks with a devious tune in his voice. “Let’s have it.” Ethan mumbles out, already figuring he lost this round as he tosses the remainder of his poker chips. 

“Royal flush! Go ahead and weep boys.” Jake announces delightfully as he scoops up his entire night’s winnings. 

“Whatever, I’m out. I got a early morning tomorrow.”

“Ah, the press conference with Princess Y/N?”

“Yup.” Ethan lets out a tiresome sigh while placing his jacket on. “You heading out soon?” He raises a brow and extends an inquiry towards Jake. “Yeah, after a bit.”

“Cool, see ya.” At his que, Ethan leaves. 

With his casual suit and tie, he takes a nightly stroll as his hands remain nestled in both pockets. What a night, another game ending with him losing a week's worth of pay, so much for a fun night out with the boys. 

Up ahead, he spots a peculiar view. Drawing closer in, he notices you asleep on the bench. Odd. Why would a young lady, neatly dressed be asleep on the street. 

“Miss?…Miss! Wake up.” 

You mumbled as he dipped down to shake your shoulder. “Miss, you shouldn’t be sleeping here.” 

“Mmm…not…not sleeping…”

“Uh huh.” Rolling his eyes, Ethan buries his hand back in the pocket before mocking your pitiful state. “You know, typically if someone can’t handle their liquor, they shouldn’t drink. Especially at this hour.” 

“Mmm…” you flutter your lashes as you blink, all the while Ethan half-heartedly sits you up. “Mm…Art thou afeared to be the same in thine own act and valour as thou art in desire?” You drew out your tired voice as you reiterated your favorite verse, succeeding in impressing the rather stoic young man at your side. “Do you know who wrote that?” You questioned as your eyes go back to being shut. 

“Huh…so you’re not only well dressed, but you’re also well educated.” Ethan tosses a small pebble in the air, catches it before skipping it against the placid surface of the water. “What is someone like you out here charting lines from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”?” His tone was playful and teasing, but you hardly noticed as you drifted off. A nearby taxi drives close, and Ethan waves it down. “Well, see ya chica.” 

He opens the car door before taking another pitiful glance at you. Your body goes limp as you lay yourself back down, nuzzling against the backrest of the bench. 

Ethan comes back and taps your arm. “Hey, you take the cab. Come on, take it and go home.” 

“Mmmmmmmngh….”

“Come on…” lifting you, he rests you against his shoulder as he helps you inside the back of the taxi. “Senor, where to?” 

Ethan shuts the door as he does his best to stabilize you in the back seat. No matter how he tried, you kept slouching over, mumbling out tiresome moans as you expressed may times, over and over that you merely needed to sleep. 

“Senor—“ 

“I know, I know.” Ethan appeases the cab driver as he grips your shoulders, and inquires your home address. “Miss, where do you live?”

“Mmmmmnnnngh.”

“Miss?”

“Mmmm….the….the colosseum..”

Ethan and the cab driver both exchange looks before proceeding once more to get a legitimate answer. “Uh…miss? Miss, where do you live?”

“Mmmm.”

“야!” Growing impatient, Ethan’s Korean roots comes out as he takes a harsh tone and verbiage to you ”진지하게…“

“Signore, per favore devo andare—“

“Okay, okay.” Rubbing his temples, Ethan winces out of frustration as he reignites the question once more. “Miss, where do you live? Don’t say—“

“Mmm colosseum….”

“…the colosseum.” He whispers in defeat as faces the cab driver. “Please driver to Casa Gabriella.” 

“Ah! Thank you Signore!” The cab driver enthusiastically thanks Ethan before driving to the street belonging to his own residence. 

Between going back and forth with trying to get an answer out of you, and reasoning with the driver, Ethan found himself in a pickle, having no choice but to take you in for the night. “Damn…” he huffed under his breath.

He pays the driver before seeing you in through the gated entrance. Thumbing through his pocket, he fetched for his keys, yet paused upon feeling a sudden density resting against his back. He looks over his shoulder to expand his peripheral sight, catching the subtle image of you sleeping on his back and barely standing with his frame as support. Clearing his throat, he faces back forward as he unlocked the gate.

Leading you through the entrance, Ethan guides you in by the hand. You walked closely behind, practically sleep-walking with your eyes glued shut. He knew that your ‘inebriation’ was the cause in your lack of functionality, yet he couldn’t help but think of how childish you appeared as you rubbed your eyelids, tucked in your chin, and gently stomped your heels while being dragged through the outer corridor. 

He proceeds to climb the staircase, when your hand began slipping through his grip. He looked back, only to find that you managed to continue forward, but on the opposite of the stair rail. 

“Oh come on…” Ethan sighed tirelessly, raising your hand above head and once again, guided you all the way back around and on to the steps. 

He fishes through his key ring, grabbing the one that unlocked his front door. You stood behind, eyes shut, swaying as you waited, not at all coherent. He only looked away for a second as he grabbed the house key, when he looked back just in the nick of time. Aiming for the door, you recognized the structure of the entrance to Ethan’s neighbor, even at your sleeping state, you managed to not only realize that there was a door beside you, but also decided to act brazen as you marched straight for the frame with your fist balled up, seemingly ready to knock at such a late hour. 

“Shit!” Ethan harshly whispers as he leans forward and by the grace of God, was able to catch onto your wrist before you made contact with the door. 

“Wheeeeeeeew….” Breathing out steadily, Ethan regains his posture, while pulling you back in and behind him. He quickly enters and drags you to his apartment, finally able to take a breath. This was much harder than he expected. 

You merely stood by his bed, your chin still tucked in with your eyes closed. Now that you were in a stable environment, Ethan was able to take a breather and sipped on some scotch, trying to take the edge off from being bestowed as your babysitter. 

“Mmmmmnnn…do you know my favorite Shakespeare verse?” You mumbled out, drawing your words in a somber tone. 

Eyeballing you as he sips from the glass, with hand in pocket and his frame casually leaned against the wall, Ethan tucked in his lips as he relished the taste of liquor gracing his tongue. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” he sets the glass down and digs through his drawers. 

“Here.” Presenting you with a pair of cotton, checkered seat pants and an oversized tee shirt, you lazily received them as your eyes opened just a sliver. “Pajamas?” 

“Yup. The bathroom is to your right, you can change in there.” His tone expressed annoyance, watching as you half wittingly untied your neck tab. “May I have a silk nightgown with baby rose buds on the hem?” 

Ethan raises a brow, tucking his hands back in his pockets. Did you seriously just request for something so lavish after all you had put him through? ‘Huh…typical rich girl.’

“Sorry princess, you’re gonna have to rough it out with these tonight.”

He turns back over to fetch his glass and finishes off his drink. “May I have some?”

Ethan nearly choked out upon hearing you request for a drink. “No! Go change and get to sleep!” 

He wipes the leaked beverage from his lip and checks the time on his wrist watch. “I’m going to step out for a bit. Change over and you’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Will you assist in my undressing?” 

‘What did she just ask me to do?’……

“Come again, young lady?” 

“Please undo my attire  so that I may retire to bed.” You expressed as you tilted your nose up into the air. Your eyes remained closed as you slightly spread your arms apart. 

Peaking a perturbed brow, Ethan rolled his eyes before ‘assisting’ in undressing you. He squares up and looks down and reviews your sleepy countenance. “Uhh….um…here.” Pulling the neck sash loose from your collar, he hands it to you and watches as you barely grabbed onto it. “There. I helped.”

Turning hastily, he locks up the scotch before grabbing onto the knob. “I’m going out for a bit. Remember, you sleep on the couch, got it?” 

You loosened the fabric belt and unbuttoned your skirt, turning around, you flared your wrist and delicately graced the air with a fingered motion. The moment you rotated, your skirt drapes downward and falls to the floor. “You have my permission to withdraw.” 

Ethan simply rolled his eyes once more as he shuts the door. “Whatever princess, don’t touch anything.”

……………

Walking back up the stairs, Ethan rubbed his eyes. He was so tired, while he was out, he effortlessly asked around to see if he could find anyone that recognized your description, but it was futile. Guess you really had to stay over in his apartment until you sober up in the morning. Re-entering his apartment, he tosses his keys before noticing, much to his dismay, that you were nestled into his bed. 

“Oh Hell no! Come on! I said couch…couch!” 

He flings his jacket aside as he loosens his tie. Placing both hands on his hip, what a night this turned out to be. 

He changed over to his own set of pajamas before attempting to configure a way to fit himself in the bed. Placing a row of pillows between both your bodies, he attempted to gain comfort and place head to pillow, when in a blink of an eye, his goose-feathered fortress was demolished as you turned over. Swinging your arm and leg, you rolled over in your sleep as you limbs held onto him. “What the—“

He flings your limbs away and sits upright. His full size bed was simply not large enough for you both, so he was left with only one other option. 

“Move over.” 

Bouldering you to the edge, he rolls you right onto the couch beside the bed and watches as you land against the stuff cushion. “So happy…” you mumbled out. 

“Shut up.” Fluffing his pillows, he lays back down and finally, at precisely 3 am, he was able to get some sleep. 

“….Mmm…so happy...”

“Girl, I swear to God…”

………………………..

“General, we’ve searched the entire premises. There is no sight of Princess y/n.”

“Keep each detachment commander on standby, we must handle this with the utmost discretion. Understand? The Princess is the direct heir to the throne, we must avoid any stir with the press.”

The guard snaps a salute before pivoting and taking his leave. The royal staff all sit around in complete disarray. “We will issue a public statement that the Princess is ill, that will excuse and cancel out the list of events we have coordinated.” 

The general strokes his chin as he listens to the Marquis. “Well…all that’s left is to notify their majesties…”

The royal staff all stood, eyes widening as they prepare to take in whatever was coming. Your father, the King, was known to be a fair and benevolent man, but overly harsh and stern when it came to grave mistakes—in this case, losing his only child.

……………

Ethan fluttered his eyes open, harshly greeted by the sun peering through the window. What time was it? Time…the time! 

Jolting up, he snags his watch from the bedside table. “Shit…the press conference with the Princess…Fuck!” 

Jumping out of bed, he quickly got dressed, not at all paying attention to the abandoned ‘drunk’ he had watched over from last night. You remained heavily asleep on his couch, which was all dandy with him. He didn’t have time to arrange for your departure; right now, his job was at stake. “Fuck fuck fuck!” 

Running out, he catches a cab ride and proceeds to the office, unaware that various media outlets had published countless articles of your ‘illness’ and the cancellation of the arranged conference. 

“Ethan! Mr. Park has been looking for you.” 

“Yeah…got it.” 

Taking in a breath, Ethan walks in to greet his boss. “Hey.” 

“Where have you been?” 

“You want the truth or a harmless lie?” 

“Don’t even bother Ethan.” Jay, a longtime friend and employer of Ethan and Jake, eaves his hand as he dismisses his friends lack of responsibility. “I stopped giving a shit a long time ago. If I continued to stress over you, you would have been fired a hundred times by now.”

Ethan smirked as he issued a slight nod. “Sorry, I overslept. I had a…rather rough night.” 

“What? Did boys night end so badly that it kept you from sleeping?” 

“I wish.” Ethan sighed as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Anyhow, I know I’m late but I’ll head over to the press conference and see if I can catch the end of it.” 

Jay perks up a brow. “The press conference?”

“Yes sir.”

Jay scoffs as he rubs his forehead. “It’s rather ironic that you were for a media outlet but you can’t keep up with current events.” 

“What do you mean?” Taking a sip, Ethan stares at Jay wide eyed, completely unaware of what his friend was referring to. Tossing a bundle up newspaper article towards him. Jay snaps his fingers as he gazes at a mischievous expression. “Read it. Princess is out sick, the press conference was canceled, dummy.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed together as he unraveled the paper and proceeded to read the headline, when the image header nearly caused his heart to skip a beat. 

“It’s postponed until further notice, so saddle up because I have a feeling that once she’s in the clear to make public appearances, there’s going to be a riot of journalists trying to get their greedy questions answered.”

Ethan didn’t hear a single word, instead, he stared into the portrait styled photograph that graced every front page in the country. 

“J-Jay…”

“What?”

“Is…this the princess?”

Jay shifts his elbow on the desk, leaning cheek to palm as he breathed out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, smart one. THAT, is the princess, y/n.”

Ethan crinkles the paper, internally giggling as he grabbed on to the fortuitous opportunity. “If I got an exclusive interview…what would that get me?” 

Raising his brows, Jay slowly raises his head, his interest peaked at Ethan’s words. 

“Yeah, that’s right you heard me. EXCLUSIVE…”

……………………

Building up beads of sweat, Ethan hurried back to his apartment. He couldn’t relish the details to Jay, but he only hinted enough to shake on a granted promotion and independence, should he gain an one of a kind interview with you, Princess Y/N. 

He bursts through the door, and to his everlasting joy, you were still asleep. He quickly shuts the door and maneuvers the furniture in his flat, and tidies up the bed stand. Looking overhead, he made a sudden realization as it dawned on him that you were on the couch. He made you, the Princess, sleep on a couch. 

“Let’s fix that real quick.” 

Huffing under his breath, he lifts you up and over, placing you back on the mattress as he fixes the pillows and bed spread. 

The sirens of local national security could be heard roaming the streets, he already knew the meaning behind it. Taking a final glance at the paper, he compares your face to the image. “It really is her…” 

Clearing his throat, he shoved the paper behind his headboard before gently waking you. “Um…your highness?”

“Mmmm….”

Not exactly the response he was looking for. Trying once more, he issues a more authoritative tone as he lightly taps your leg. “Your royal highness…are you awake?”

“Yes, what is it?” You rolled over, refusing to open your eyes or get out of bed. You felt so exhausted. “Please close the curtains, the sun is too bright, doctor.” You softly commanded as you nuzzled your nose against the pillow.

“Ah…sure.” Ethan was ecstatic, this could practically be a route for him to take on early retirement. 

“Your highness, can you sit up for a moment?” 

“Mmm….doctor….I had the strangest dream.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your eyes remained shut as you recounted whatever details you could vaguely recall from last nights ‘dream’. “I dreamt that I was away…and I met a man.”

“Oh?” Developing a mischievous grin, Ethan probes. “What did he look like?”

“Mmm…tall…he was so tall.” 

“Yeah?”

“Tall….handsome….and he was so mean to me.” You frowned at the bitter end of your sentence, which had Ethan’s grin quickly transitioning to a somewhat guilty look. 

“Is that so?….Sorry to hear that.” 

You flung your arm over your eyes as you bashfully grinned out. “It was wonderful…”

Ethan’s grin reappears. “Glad to hear it.” 

Basking in the warmth of the sun's rays, you slowly opened your eyes to spot the blurred silhouette of the man before you. It must be a side effect of the medication. Blinking, you cleared your vision as you re-opened your eyes one more, only to find that the clarity of your sight displayed the truth of your detailed account. 

‘What…..who….where am I?’ 

You stared endlessly as the voice in your head questions the current nature of the setting, when Ethan’s voice shocks you. “Good morning….” 

His face…this man is…

Part two coming soon…

Authors note: I promise “Devil Wears Prada” is in the works. That one has a more elaborate storyline.

Perm Taglist:

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #hee smut #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung au #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #enhypen #lee heeseung smut #engene #heeseung fic #heeseung angst #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung x y/n #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic

[lesyoussoupoff]

"The Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess Vladimir spent their summers at Tsarskoe Selo. The Grand Duchess had the graceful bearing of a great lady of the Renaissance. She was born a Princess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and ranked immediately after the two Empresses. She was very able and intelligent and carried out all the duties of her position with perfect tact. She was always very kind to me, and was much entertained by accounts of my adventures. For a long time, I was in love with her daughter the Grand Duchess Helen Vladimirovna, later Princess Nicholas of Greece, whose beauty fascinated me. She had the loveliest eyes imaginable, and everyone fell under their charm." -Prince Felix Youssoupoff, Lost Splendor

#Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna #Grand Duchess Elena Vladimirovna #Prince Felix Yusupov #Prince Felix Youssoupoff #Romanov #Yusupov #Yussupov #Youssoupoff #Youssoupov

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (19/∞) ♛

↬ The Glencairn City of Warwick Fringe Tiara

Like their mainline cousins, the Glencairn branch of House Warwick has gathered quite the jewellery collection over the past seventy years. The City of Warwick Fringe Tiara is one of the oldest in their extensive collection. When Lady Esther Jungman (1926 - 1988) married the youngest son of King George II in 1954, the royal family did not skirt the costs, as it was the first royal wedding since the end of World War Two. Plus, Esther was no stranger to the royal lifestyle, she was a great-granddaughter of King George and Queen Alexandra. Esther's maternal grandmother was the ill-fated Grand Duchess Anastasia Georgiyevna (1873 – 1919), who was renowned for her irreplaceable jewel collection. This made Esther a great-niece of Tsar Nicholas II—and a second cousin of her husband-to-be. The twenty-eight-year-old bride was described as extremely beautiful, with quantities of dark hair, wide-set blue eyes, and a slightly retroussé nose. Wedding gifts were shipped in from across the world, each befitting for a quasi-Romanov princess. The most notable gift was from the City of Warwick itself: the tiara Esther used to secure her wedding veil. The tiara was modelled after a similar piece, the only tiara Esther's mother, Grand Duchess Natalia Georgiyevna (1902 - 1977), retained after the Russian Revolution forced her into exile. Like her mother's the fringe tiara featured rounded spikes set with diamonds. Esther was emotionally moved by the gift, thanking the city's mayor several times. Following the wedding, the new Duchess of Glencairn reached for the tiara frequently, sporting it at state visits, galas, and at the inauguration of her brother-in-law, King James II (1915 - 1970). Esther adjusted to royal life well, even after her husband was killed in a 1962 plane crash, she continued a wide variety of work. Thirty years after Esther's wedding, the tiara graced the head of another royal bride. Esther's middle daughter, Princess Frances, wore the tiara to marry Lee Wayne Grierson (1948 - 2024) in 1983. The televised wedding was attended by several prominent guests, including King Louis V, who walked the bride down the aisle. Unfortunately, Esther died before the 1998 wedding of her youngest daughter, Princess Valerie, who ended up inheriting the tiara. This wedding was more lowkey—greatly overshadowed by the wedding of her cousin James, Prince of Danforth to Lady Tatiana Farnsworth—but all the same, Valerie honoured her late mother by wearing the tiara to her wedding reception in New York City. The tiara stayed with Valerie and she wore it as much as circumstances would allow, including for several portraits taken in the '00s. To this day, the tiara continues to be one of the most recognizable tiaras from the Glencairn collection, reminiscent of an empire lost to history.

HRH Esther, Duchess of Glencairn wears the tiara in a 1957 portrait

HRH Princess Valerie of Glencairn wears the tiara in a personal photograph from 2005

#warwick.jewels #ch: valerie #ch: esther #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 royal #ts4 storytelling #ts4 edit #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 legacy #ts4 royalty #ts4 monarchy #ts4 screenshots

[ladyanidala]

Masterlist

Hello hello!

Welcome to my fledgling masterlist, the place where you'll find just about everything I have written over on AO3. Below, you'll find my works, request guidelines, and anything I think of after I publish this. Enjoy!

LadyAnidala

Ships

Reader Insert

Masterlist

Anidala

Masterlist

Obitine

Masterlist

Rexsoka

Masterlist

Sabezra

Masterlist

Kanera

Masterlist

Rebelcaptain

Masterlist

Merrical

Masterlist

Alternate Universes

(Eventually this section will be updated with individual chapters and more masterlists, but as of 5/7/2024, I can't be bothered)

We're Not Needed Here

General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Grand Army of the Republic, Jedi General of the 212th Battalion, has had enough.

Series link is here.

Her Step Forward

In the galaxy far, far away that we know and love, Anakin Skywalker fell to the Dark Side, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

In another galaxy slightly closer, yet still far, far away, the wife of Anakin Skywalker took a step forward on Mustafar, not backward.

Series link is here.

Letting Go

Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi have kept Duchess Satine Kryze alive. The mission is complete, and they're heading back to Coruscant for a well deserved rest.

They never make it back.

Series link is here.

And With A Cry, My Chains Are Gone

It is the eve of the Fall of the Republic, and Anakin Skywalker is terrified of losing his wife.

The Force isn't having it.

Story link is here.

Oya'la

This story centers on Olyssia, a young woman with amnesia who finds herself aboard one of the Venators belonging to the 501st. The only thing she can remember is the order to kill Palpatine.

What Once Was Lost, I Have Found Again

Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala were dead. His corpse stayed behind on Mustafar, while hers was on a backwater planet, trying to survive for the sake of her children.

Commander Thorn had defected. There was nowhere in the galaxy he could go, and he wanted out. He was tired of fighting.

Story link is here.

Event Participations

Obitine Week 2023

The series can be found here.

Miscellaneous

Fox

Left on Read - based on a prompt found in the wild on Tumblr. Fox goes home to surprise his brothers, and none of them see him. Modern AU.

My Time Has Come (Brother, Let Me Weep) - Fox finds out about Ponds' death from the shiny grapevine. Soldiers can't mourn, and so he doesn't.

Ahsoka

Seeping Through My Memory - Ahsoka can't stop seeing death when she closes her eyes. She ends up at Anakin's quarters, desperate for comfort and life to go back to normal.

The Bad Batch

You Weren't There (Brother, I'd Hold You To The End) - Crosshair can't handle living after everything he's done. He sends a final message to the Batch. Written before s3 aired.

Jedi Survivor

Ghost Star, Are You Very Far? - Two times Kata gets to hear a story about her parents.

Request Guidelines

So you found your way down to the bottom of the abyss- ah, the masterlist. Welcome! I can only assume you're either curious about what I'll write, or you want to request something yourself. Either way, happy to have you here!

A couple rules...

I will not write smut or suggestive content. I don't feel comfortable writing literary porn whatsoever. Any requests asking me to write smut will be deleted. (If you're ever interested as to why I won't write it, feel free to send a message/ask! I don't mind talking about it!)

I will not write clonecest or same sex romantic pairings. Again, these are things that I'm simply not comfortable with. Any asks for these will be deleted.

Beyond those two things above, go wild! I love a challenge, and am down to write platonic and romantic pieces.

#ladyanidala masterlist #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #satine kryze #captain rex #ahsoka tano #rebelcaptain #thornidala #anidala #obitine #reader insert #x reader #ao3 #fanfic writer #fanfic #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb tech #rexsoka #sabezra #kanera #kanan x hera #merrical

[ofhouseadama]

sometimes i like to toy with the concept of garak's biological mother being the lost scion of a prestigious political family (ie an iliana ghemor type, just fifty years in the past) and just rotate that in my mind along with the idea of post-war cardassia being out of legitimate living heirs for these late, great houses and deciding to mandate (or heavily suggest) that the population all contribute to one big open cardassianancestryDNA. garak is huffy but does it so he can hit back to his opponents in the press that he is a bastard AND an orphan, thank you very much, but then his mom comes up as essentially the grand duchess anastasia who disappeared mysteriously on cardassia iii six months before he was theoretically born

#emily watches ds9 #mila is obviously also his mom #i just like to ping pong back and forth on if she is his biological mother

[otmaaromanovas]

The Lost Grand Duchesses part 2: Alexandra Pavlovna

When she was born at 7:40 in the morning in 1783, the baby Grand Duchess Alexandra Pavlovna was instantly viewed as second class. Her grandmother, Catherine II ‘the Great’, wrote “I infinitely more like boys than girls”, and told her staff that she found the newborn to be very ugly. She called the baby “a very ugly creature.” This dislike of Alexandra continued into her toddler years, when Catherine continuously compared the young Alexandra to her baby sister, insisting that little Elena was much more charming and intelligent than Alexandra.

Despite this, Alexandra adored her grandmother, who wrote that the little girl would do “anything just to please me.” Alexandra and Elena were painted together as a gift to Catherine, and the two little girls lovingly hold up and caress a diamond encrusted miniature portrait of their grandmother.

By the age of four, Alexandra’s education had begun, and her intelligence in languages (being fluent in four) and writing made Catherine finally pay more attention to her, but for entirely different reasons.

As soon as the little girl turned eleven, Catherine wrote that the little girl who loved to dance, draw, and play music, was now to be “considered an adult”, and be made to marry. “It is time for the older one to get married” she concluded, not even mentioning Alexandra’s name.

A long and embarassing debacle followed, in which the child was left at the alter. Catherine admitted that the young girl, not yet a teenager, often adopted a “confused look” when having to meet with potential husbands, and did not want to speak to them.

Catherine died in 1797, temporarily putting Alexandra’s fate in limbo. She returned to her daily life as an unmarried girl, and even published anonymous articles that she had translated in French under the pseudonym ‘A’. However, in 1799, the prospect of an Austrian-Russian alliance was apparently too attractive to pass on, and the thirty-year-old Archduke Joseph of Austria, the Palatine of Hungary, travelled to Russia to meet the thirteen-year-old Alexandra.

The marriage was finalised, and Alexandra was forced to leave Russia - and her family - in order to move to Hungary with her new husband. Joseph wrote a letter to his brother in which he stated he was “convinced that with this marriage my domestic bliss is assured for the entirety of my life.”

Alexandra, on the other hand, was miserable. Countess Varvara Golovina, a lady at court and potential lover of the Tsarina Elizaveta Alexeievna, wrote in her memoirs that Alexandra was sad, and did not want to be forced to leave Russia. Her father, Pavel I, constantly said that he would “not see her again” and that she was “being sacrificed.” Despite this, Pavel could have prevented the marriage at any time. A single lock of golden hair fashioned into a flower was all that she left behind.

Although Alexandra was popular in Hungary among all classes, she was deeply depressed. Her friendly and charming personality had been replaced by a new temperament which was “always serious and sad”. Alexandra especially did not get on well with her mother in law, the Empress Maria Theresa of Hungary, who was intensely jealous of the young girl’s popularity. Maria Theresa intentionally antagonised the teenager, and sought to treat her badly.

In 1800, Alexandra fell pregnant, and was struck with health problems. Her mother-in-law ordered the hiring incompetent doctors (known to her to be incompetent) and insisted that the doctors obey her orders, rather than present their own educated solutions. Orders from Maria Theresa included cooking meals which Alexandra would not be able to eat, making her weak and frail.

In March 1801, Alexandra gave birth to a little girl, named Alexandrine of Austria. The pregnancy and labour had been incredibly difficult, and the baby sadly passed away within a few hours of birth. Alexandra, depressed at having been forcibly taken from her home and after having to endure cruel treatment by her mother-in-law, said: “Thank God that my daughter was now with the angels, without experiencing the miser that we are exposed to.”

Alexandra contracted puerperal fever. The doctors misdiagnosed her poor health after the birth several times, treating her for gastric diseases and typhoid rather than ‘childbed’ fever. She succumbed to the disease aged just seventeen years old.

Alexandra was not buried until two years after her death due to disagreements in the Catholic Austrian court over where to bury a Russian Orthodox. In 1981, thieves broke into Alexandra’s Mausoleum, looting her coffin and taking jewellery and clothing from her remains. Due to the vandalism, she was reburied with the deceased wives and children of her husband in the crypt of Buda Castle, which went against her wishes to be buried in an Orthodox Church. In 2004, she was reburied at the Üröm Mausoleum, in a small park surrounded by a moat. Inside the tomb, Orthodox icons line the walls, a reflection of Alexandra’s beloved faith, and her deep connection with Russia, which endured even after being “sacrificed”.

#the lost grand duchesses #alexandra pavlovna #what happened to her was so preventable #they just didn't love daughters enough to care #1700s #1800s #womens history #romanov #romanov family #russian history #hungarian history #pavel i #paul i #tsar paul #get the tissues out #justice for alexandra #the alexandra curse

[winxanity-ii]

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄

╚»★«╝ 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: hella angst

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you find your emotions teetering between rage and the fierce love you harbor for your sibling.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 2.8k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Had to dive deep into the emotional turmoil for this one! Simon's story really hits a nerve for me and wholeheartedly believe Daphne should have had consequences for what she did, but I digress. Can't wait to hear what y'all think!.

★·.·´🇧‌🇷‌🇮‌🇩‌🇬‌🇪‌🇷‌🇹‌🇴‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You've lived in luxury your entire life, born into a world where opulence is as common as the air you breathe. Your family, known for its ancient lineage and vast wealth, has always moved in the highest circles of society. The grand estate you call home is a testament to generations of prosperity, its sprawling gardens and ornate architecture speaking of a legacy carefully cultivated over centuries.

From the moment of your birth, your life was set against a backdrop of gilded halls and whispered secrets. Your childhood was a tapestry of private tutors, elegant parties, and summers spent in villas overlooking the sea. Yet, amidst this world of privilege, you always sought something more genuine, something real beyond the facades of high society.

Your father, understanding your thirst for knowledge and your disdain for superficialities, had a special room created just for you. It was designed to be a haven, a place where you could escape the endless politicking and shallow conversations that dominated the rest of the house.

Now, as you sit in this very room, the memory of its creation still vivid in your mind, you're surrounded by the comfort it provides. It's spacious, with high ceilings and a warm, inviting ambiance. The walls are lined with rows upon rows of bookshelves, each filled with volumes collected throughout your life. From classic literature to modern tales, every book holds a story of its own, not just within its pages, but in the memories of when and why it was added to your collection. Some were gifts from distant lands, others were discoveries from your own adventures, each one handpicked and cherished.

In the corner of the room, large bay windows stretch from floor to ceiling, framing a picturesque view of the estate's lush gardens. The windows are designed to capture the day's natural light, casting a soft, serene glow across the room, perfect for reading. Sheer curtains dance gently with the breeze, adding a touch of elegance.

Your rocking chair, an oversized, plush piece, sits in the middle of the room. It's heaped with soft blankets and pillows, creating a nest of comfort. Here, you spend countless hours lost in the worlds within your books, the chair gently swaying to the rhythm of your imagination.

To your left, Kira, your personal maid, is a constant presence. Her Blasian heritage gives her a unique beauty, with reddish-dark auburn hair that cascades in gentle waves down her back. Her light brown eyes are expressive, often reflecting her mood before she even speaks. Her skin is a rich dark brown, sprinkled with freckles that add to her distinctive appearance. Tall and slender, she moves with a grace that belies her underlying strength, and her voice, airy yet slightly scratchy, fills the room with a comforting familiarity.

As she knits you a pair of winter gloves, Kira speaks up, her tone carrying her characteristic brashness mixed with a hint of humor. "You wouldn't believe the latest rumor I heard from the market," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Apparently, Lady Edith was caught in a rather compromising situation with the Duchess of Wohrmans. It seems high society isn't as prim and proper as they pretend to be."

You can't help but chuckle at her comment, appreciating her candidness and the way she always manages to bring a slice of the outside world into your sheltered life.

"Kira, you do realize that half of these rumors are probably just wild tales, right?" you reply, amused.

Kira looks up from her knitting, a sly smile on her face. "Oh, of course. But it's always fun to speculate, isn't it? Besides, it's the only entertainment we get around here, given how these snobby lords and ladies turn their noses up at everything."

Her brash temperament, so carefully controlled yet so openly shared with you behind closed doors, is a refreshing contrast to the often stifling decorum of high society. Her rants about the various characters you both encounter are a source of much-needed levity in your life. But in truth, Kira is more than just a maid; she's a confidant, fiercely loyal, and the only one who hears your true thoughts about the high society you navigate.

The tranquility is shattered when the doors slam open. You look up, startled, to see Simon, your older brother.

Simon's visits are always a highlight for you, especially given the circumstances of your life. Your father's dying wish was that you reside in the family home until you are eligible to wed. At nearly 19 years old, you are yet to experience the onset of your period, a traditional marker of marriage eligibility in your society. This delay has kept you bound to the family estate, a situation made more bearable by Simon's infrequent but cherished visits.

Ten years your senior, you and Simon share the same father but a different mother. The tragic fate that befell your mother during childbirth mirrored the loss Simon experienced with his own mother, creating a unique bond of understanding and shared loss between you two.

As Simon steps into the room, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement, curious about the latest news and gossip from town. The last you heard, he had attended the 1813 social season hosted by Lady Danbury, a significant event in high society. Simon's experiences in these social whirlwinds often provide you with much-needed connection to the outside world and the intrigues of the upper class.

"Simon!" you exclaim, rising from your chair. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Tell me everything. How was the social season? Any interesting gossip, brother?"

Simon always had a commanding presence, his handsome features often drawing admiring glances. His skin is a deep, rich brown, a perfect complement to his neatly styled black hair. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, are a striking contrast to his dark complexion. But today, those eyes are different. They're dim, lacking their usual spark, and you notice a wetness behind them that others might miss. This ability to read him so well comes from a lifetime of shared experiences and secrets.

The smile on your face drops as you take in his state. His face is stony, but his eyes betray the turmoil within. Quickly, you gesture for Kira to leave, understanding that whatever Simon is about to share requires privacy. As he approaches, you can't help but feel a knot of worry forming in your stomach, bracing yourself for what's to come.

As she exits, Simon shuffles over, his posture a stark contrast to his usual confident stride.

In almost a whisper, laden with concern, you call out, "Simon… are you alright?"

Suddenly, he breaks down, his sobs echoing through the room. Gently, you pull him into an embrace, offering silent support and feeling his body shake with each sob. "It's okay, Simon. I'm here," you whisper, trying to soothe his anguish.

Tears fill your own eyes as you feel your brother's pain. You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable and broken; a mix of protectiveness and sorrow envelopes your heart.

As his sobs subside, you gently lift his face to meet yours. With a soft handkerchief, you carefully wipe away his tears. "Simon, what's wrong? Did something happen? You're scaring me."

Simon looks at you, a storm of emotions playing across his face as his eyes fill with sorrow. "Before I say anything… please promise me you won't do anything rash."

Perplexed but concerned, you slowly nod. "I promise."

He takes a deep breath. "It's… Daphne." he finally admits, his voice a fragile whisper.

"Daphne?" Your heart skips a beat. "What about her?"

Simon looks away in shame. "She… forced me into… into having a child with her."

Your body goes rigid, your mind racing with shock and anger. "Daphne… she… she what?"

"Y/N…" Simon grips your hands, seeking to ground you, his own trembling. "You promised. Please, just listen."

"Promised!?" Your voice rises in disbelief. "How dare you ask for calm when I've just learned that… that she…"

Simon interjects urgently, "Y/N, please…"

"…raped my brother!?" The words are like venom, filled with fury and disbelief.

Simon flinches at the word, a silent plea in his eyes as tries to calm you, but you're incensed. "It's sickening, Simon! She knew you didn't want children. You told her, and she still…"

"Y/N, I know, I know," Simon's voice cracks. "But please, don't do anything… don't make it worse."

You finally quiet down, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "She doesn't deserve you, Simon. She never did."

Through his tears, Simon begs again, "Please, don't do anything rash."

You give a non-committal response, your mind already racing with thoughts of retribution. Your heart aches at his vulnerability, but your anger towards Daphne burns fiercely. "How can she live with herself after doing this to you?"

Simon shakes his head, lost in his own turmoil. "I don't know. I just… I need some time to think."

Realizing he needs comfort more than anything, you soften. "Alright, Simon. Let's just… let's just sit for a while."

You call for Kira, giving her a specific look that she immediately understands. "Bring us the Night's Whisper tea, please."

Kira nods, aware of the tea's purpose. Night's Whisper is a special blend you created for your insomnia, known only to you and Kira. As she leaves to prepare the tea, you turn to Simon, who sits beside you, his frame shaking slightly from the weight of his emotions.

"Simon," you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's always been you comforting me… It feels strange, being on this side."

Simon offers a weak smile, a ghost of his usual charm. "Yeah, roles reversed, huh?"

You sit together in silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. When Kira returns with the tea, the delicate aroma of Night's Whisper fills the room, offering a brief respite from the heaviness of your conversation.

As you both sip the tea, you gently probe, "Simon, tell me… how did it all start? That night with Daphne?"

He takes a deep breath, his voice a wistful whisper. "It was a normal night, just like any other. We were both getting ready for bed, the house quiet around us…"

Simon's words transport you to that night, his narrative painting a vivid picture. "I remember the coolness of the sheets, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the room. We talked a bit, just mundane things… nothing out of the ordinary…" The story unfolds, each word heavy with regret and betrayal. Simon's normally animated face is now a mask of sorrow. You reach out, placing a comforting hand over his.

The tea works its subtle magic, and Simon's eyelids begin to droop, offering him the peace and safety he so desperately needs. You need more to feel drowsy, but for Simon, it's enough to gently lull him into a peaceful sleep in the comfort of your chair. You sit with him, a silent guardian, as he drifts into a much-needed sleep.

As Simon rests, you sit beside him, a mix of emotions swirling within you. Your mind is set on protecting your brother, no matter the cost. Sitting up, you press a tender kiss on his forehead. Turning to Kira, your voice is firm, "Get my horse ready. I need to go."

As you ride your favorite horse, the wind whips through your unraveling braids, your focus laser-sharp on reaching Simon's home. You care little for the dirt staining your clothes or the disarray of your hair; all that matters is confronting Daphne.

Arriving at the house, you bypass the maid, your steps resolute and swift. Daphne is in the common room, surrounded by her friend, Penelope, and another highborn lady. She's elegantly dressed, her light skin contrasting with her strawberry-blonde hair, styled impeccably. Her face, usually composed and serene, is animated as she speaks of a hopeful pregnancy.

You've only heard of Daphne through gossip and Simon's reluctant admissions of their arrangement. An arrangement that now reveals its ugly truth.

With swift strides, you approach her and, without a word, call her a "harlot," your hand connecting sharply with her cheek. The sound echoes in the room, drawing gasps.

Daphne recoils, her hand flying to her face in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of anger and confusion.

"You know exactly why I'm here, Daphne," you say coldly, your voice laced with barely contained rage.

Her confusion deepens. "I have no idea what you're talking about. How dare you assault me in my own home?"

"You've done far worse in this very house," you retort sharply. "What you did to Simon…"

Daphne's expression shifts as realization dawns. "Oh, this is about Simon?" she says with a sneer. "He lied to me. He said he couldn't have children."

You can't believe what you're hearing. "He never said he couldn't. He said he wouldn't. There's a difference, Daphne. Still, a misunderstanding on your part doesn't justify what you did."

Her defiance is palpable. "I did what was right. He needed to continue his lineage. It's what anyone in our position would do."

"Please! Don't lump me with the likes of you!" You hiss out in distaste, your anger boiling over. "You had no right to take advantage of him! If you were confused, you should have talked to him, not… not violate his trust and his body!"

Penelope and the other woman watch in stunned silence, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You're twisting the situation," Daphne argues, attempting to regain her composure. "Simon is my husband. It's my duty to—"

"Duty?" you cut her off, stepping closer, towering over her. "Your duty doesn't include rape, Daphne."

She tries to meet your gaze, but there's a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "R-Rape? You're overreacting. It's not like...not like—"

"Not like what?" you snap, grabbing her chin firmly, forcing her to look into your eyes. "Not like betrayal? Not like a violation of the deepest kind?"

Daphne's eyes widen as she gazes into yours, and for a moment, she sees Simon in you—the same eyes, the same intensity. The resemblance is uncanny, and it shakes her, the reality of her actions hitting her.

"Stay away from my brother," you command, your voice low and dangerous. "I'm serious, Daphne. If you ever try to come near him, or even attempt to justify your heinous crime one more time, you'll have to deal with me. And to the gods above, that's a threat you don't want to test."

Releasing Daphne's chin, you straighten up, your gaze sharp and unyielding. The room, once filled with the light-hearted chatter of high society, is now heavy with the weight of unsaid truths and unveiled secrets. Daphne sits there, her face a mix of shock and realization, finally understanding the depth of her transgressions.

You quickly smooth out your dress, restoring some semblance of poise to your disheveled appearance. Turning towards the other women in the room, you lock eyes with Penelope Featherington, her face a picture of shock and fascination. Beside her sits Lady Clarissa, a minor yet prominent figure in your social circle, known for her penchant for gossip and extravagant hats.

With a flourish of mock politeness, you offer them a sweet, yet blatantly sarcastic smile. "Ladies," you say, your voice laced with faux cheerfulness, echoing with underlying scorn.

Executing a curtsey with exaggerated grace, the irony of the gesture hangs heavy in the air. Penelope, the voice behind Lady Whistledown, seems at a loss for words, her usual knack for capturing society's secrets momentarily stilled. Lady Clarissa, on the other hand, looks utterly bewildered, her eyes darting between you and Daphne, trying to grasp the full scope of the scandal unfolding before her.

Straightening up, you hold their stunned gazes for a moment, letting the impact of your actions resonate. Then, without another word, you turn on your heel and stride out of the room. Each step is measured and deliberate, echoing with the resolve of someone who has just fiercely defended a loved one.

As you leave, the room remains in stunned silence, the ladies left to ponder the events that just unfolded. Your heart is heavy with the burden of what you had to do, but it's buoyed by the knowledge that you've done what was necessary to protect Simon. The walls of the grand house seem to close in on you as you make your way out, the echoes of high society's hollow pretenses fading behind you.

lololo i hope you guys enjoyed, my bby simon deserved more frfr 🥹❤️❤️

#simon basset #bridgerton #saltfic #siblings #simon x reader #bridgerton insert #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton #colin bridgerton #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-simon basset

[loiladadiani]

The Romanov Martyrs

I wanted to put together a little memorial that included all the members of the Romanov Family (as well as the members of their staff) that were murdered by the Bolshevik terrorists. This seems like a good week to keep them in our minds. Although we love and mourn the children especially, there were others we cannot forget.

Tsar Alexandre II was hunted down until finally blown to pieces.

Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna lost two sons and five grandchildren (no wonder she could not accept they were dead)

Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich was also hunted down and blown to pieces

Three Mikhailovichi brothers were murdered

Four Konstantinovichi were murdered, three of them brothers; I cannot imagine what their mother, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mavrikievna, went through...and so on.

May they rest in peace.

#russian history #imperial russia #romanov family #Nicholas II #Tsar Alexander II #Empress Alexandra Feodorovna #Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna #OTMAA #Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich #Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich #Grand Duke Pavel Alexandrovich #Grand Duke Nicholas Mikhailovich #Grand Duke Georgiy Mikhailovich #Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich #Grand Duke Dmitry Konstantinovich #Prince Ioann Konstantinovich #Prince Igor Konstantinovich #Prince Konstantin Konstantinovich #Dr. Eugene Botkin #Anna Demidova #ivan karitonov #Akexei Trupp #Sister Varvara Yakolevna #Feodor Remez #mr. johnson

[maluarty-blog]

New IF :D

History:

After years of working as a prostitute in one of the wealthiest areas of your city, you find a job as a caretaker of a duke who has been wounded by the war. Hired by his sister, you are invited to live in their mansion with your son. Life really does seem to be giving you quite an opportunity, doesn't it?

Romantic options:

(Liah Chancellor) THE BLACK WIDOW:  Female

She's the woman who hired you, Cesar's older sister.

She returned to the city after her husband passed away. Her personality is calm, carefully rehearsed, perfect, worthy of a duchess.

Appearance: The duchess has long curly hair tied up in a low bun and dark skin, her dark brown eyes do justice to her striking appearance. She is short and is always seen wearing black garments.

(César Chancellor)  THE LOST KIN:  Male

He was a war hero, but his glory days have left their mark.

You've been hired to look after him and his needs. He seems to judge everything you do, sharp dark blue eyes that seem to look for any mistake, or does he simply want to get to know you better? There's no way of knowing unless you break through his invisible barriers.

Appearance: His skin is dark brown, marked with old scars. His long, wavy hair reaches his back like the light waves of the sea. His stories were grand, but the man in the wheelchair seems nothing more than a vague ghost of what was left behind of his greatness.

(Tiana Reed)   THE EXILED CHILD: Trans-Female

Tiana currently lives with Liah and her brother. She left home after her gender transition, losing her job as a lawyer and consequently her circle of friends. Many say that in childhood her hand was given in marriage to Liah, but the engagement was cancelled for unjustified reasons. With a light-hearted personality, she always seems to have a smile on her face, even if it sometimes looks worn.

Appearance: Her skin is fair and her blonde hair is cut short, she is of medium height and has round blue eyes. She is quite fashion-conscious, enjoying dressing up in a variety of outfits.

(Bruno Vanverd)  THE KIND HEART: Male

Bruno is a childhood friend of Dimas, your older brother, and consequently yours. The son of one of the biggest merchant families in the region, Bruno has always liked to be with people and be close to them, even if it's against his family's wishes.

Appearance: He's tall, towering over almost everyone around him, his messy brown hair and fair skin are well known on the streets of your neighbourhood, as are his careful, attentive honey eyes.

(Jean ??)  THE REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE: F or M

Jean is what they call a real troublemaker and a challenge for their family. Not even their lessons have been able to fix the rebellious person who only thinks about enjoying life's pleasures, without bothering about their family's problems. 

Appearance: Red hair (short and wavy if male, or shoulder-length and wavy if female) and pale skin. They're tall and their eyes are a shade of brown.

I intend to post it this weekend, I'm finishing correcting it and I also plan to release the complete prologue of Behind your eyes this week too! (finally!! because it's been ready since December, but I haven't had much time to do anything about it these past months, I really like to go over and over things, because English is not my first language and I really worry about how I write, I make a lot of mistakes on the keyboard with double letters ksks, and even though I've been on holiday, I've had a lot of exams and other matters( and cof baldurs gate 3 cof cof)).

#twine if #twine wip

[thedemonofcat]

At the lavish Masquerade ball, Geralt finds himself in the role of a hired protector, tasked with ensuring the safety of the Duke and Duchess amidst rumors of a lurking vampire threat. To maintain a low profile and avoid raising suspicion, Geralt adopts the guise of a mysterious guest, his features concealed behind an intricately crafted mask.

Much to his surprise, amidst the swirl of masked revelers, Geralt's keen eyes catch sight of a familiar figure: Jaskier. It dawns on him that the Duchess, a friend of the Pankratz family, has invited Jaskier, who currently fulfills his duties as the Viscount of Lettenhove, to the grand affair.

It's been some time since Geralt and Jaskier last crossed paths, their last encounter etched into memory against the backdrop of a treacherous mountain. As Jaskier approaches, engaging Geralt in conversation, it becomes evident that the mask has cloaked Geralt's identity from his friend's discerning gaze.

In a spontaneous decision fueled by a desire to relish this fleeting anonymity, Geralt decides to embrace the charade, assuming a new persona for the night's festivities. As the music swells and the dancers twirl around them, Geralt and Jaskier share a momentary reprieve from their usual roles, lost in the enchantment of the masquerade.

However, their idyllic interlude is abruptly shattered when the ominous presence of the vampire materializes

#the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #joey batey #the witcher #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #anya cholatra #the witcher season 3 #anya chalotra #the witcher season three #witcher yennefer