#the widower with a daughter who wish his father live his life again

[themalhambird]

The world is not real: Charlotte cannot touch it. This -news-, this tragedy  is not real either, and it cannot touch her. There’s too much cotton in her ears, there’s an endless, keening chime slowly boring through her skull- in at one temple, out at the other- a continuous line, all the way through…

She is sitting on the sofa. There’s a cup and saucer cradled in her hands. She doesn’t remember picking it up, but the steam is ghosting over her face. It’s fresh. (Her husband is dead). Polly must have given it to her. (Her husband died at his own hand.) They have a visitor, she ought to be showing more hospitality. She wonders if there’s any of that fruitcake left. (Alfred confessed to murder. Alfred confessed to murder,  and then Alfred murdered himself)

“Mama?”

Polly’s voice, soft and tentative as it is, makes her jump. Tea sloshes, spills over, pools in the delicate saucer. She shakes herself and focuses her gaze on Sir Julian. “That’s not,” she tries, but the sound barely forms. Charlotte pauses, swallows, tries again. “That’s not right,” she says, unsure if she’s really addressing Sir Julian Harker or merely facing his direction whilst trying to bargain with a Higher Power. “That’s not- none of this is right, Alfred wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do any of it, any of this…” But he has. He has, he has, he has, and when he comes home she’s going to skin him alive. “What will we do?” she asks, as the first beginnings of fear worm their way through the numbness of shock. “The disgrace of it-”

“Mama!” Polly cries, indignant. “At this moment, of all moments, your thoughts cannot be of what other people will think- what does that matter, what do any of them matter!”

It matters because they have never been reckless with money, but savings will not last forever and Charlotte doesn’t know if the widows of Police Inspectors who confess to capital offences and then take their own lives qualify for any sort of pension. It matters because the disapprobation of society in any circumstances can be death by a thousand cuts, whereas the widow who has the sympathies of her community has a better chance at maintaining a somewhat genteel situation. It matters because the infamy of the father will cast a shadow over the life and the character of the daughter- the best chance for Polly, now, is marriage, but what respectable, decent man would want a father- in- law six feet deep in unconsecrated ground?

“Mrs Hillinghead,” Sir Julian says solemnly, “I wish to assure you that you and your daughter will have the fullness of my protection. The events of the last twenty four hours- they will not reflect on you, nor on your daughter. You have my word.”

She acknowledges his words without really understanding- it will not be until much later, lying in a too-empty bed and staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep- that Charlotte will consider that Harker told Polly about Alfred’s death before he told her, that he stood as close to Polly’s chair as proprietary allows for, that he has seemed- these past few weeks- to admire Polly: her beauty, her music. And perhaps nothing will come of it but friendship- , but the friendship of a man that powerful is not an asset to be scorned. And if it turns into anything more…

They were nineteen, she and Alfred, when they married- they had been friends their whole lives before that. And she had known about him:  years before they had married, she had known that  his desires steered his eyes not towards the ranks of giggling, frivolous girls who batted their eyelashes at his well built figure and handsome face, but to other members of his own sex. And she had ignored it, because she knew him: he was too good a man to act on those desires. And he was kind, and gentle, and they were friends, and a husband who would be perfectly happy to conduct a marriage with minimal activity in the matrimonial bed suited Charlotte. She had courted him as much as he had courted her, really, although whether he ever realised that…

And he’s dead. Her best friend of nearly forty years. The murder confession, she has already written off- she neither knows nor cares about the details. If it was a false confession, then he confessed to try and protect someone- probably that journalist, given the confession it prompted to her, and she is furious at him. She is furious at him for not protecting his wife and child, and for not letting the journalist face whatever justice he merited- unless, of course, the man threatened to reveal Alfred’s inclinations, and take the Inspector who had detected his crimes down along with him. That seems, to Charlotte, the most likely explanation. And if the confession is- was- true, then Alfred must have had good reason for taking another man’s life: she has seen him carry spiders in the palm of his hand to release them outside, rather than squash them underfoot; she has listened to him vent his frustrations about officers being too heavy handed with their arrests at more dinners than she can remember. Taking another human life…it must have broken something in his mind, which would explain being in such a state that he would…. It does not matter. Alfred is dead, either way- she is a widow, either way. And she will encourage Julian Harker’s friendship, because if Polly can catch him she will have a comfortable home, and a husband who seems a good hearted and generous man. And she, Charlotte, will grieve Alfred Hillinghead. But if his death unravels into the scandal she fears, then she will take care to grieve him quietly. She will survive this. She has to. She has to survive this so that there’s someone who remembers that Alfred Hillinghead played cricket as a boy and took two sugars in his tea.

#bodies netflix #bodies 2023 #suicide ts #homophobia ts #(victorian-typical attitudes) #alfred hillinghead #charlotte hillinghead #trying to flesh Charlotte out a bit beyond 'generic victorian wife/mother #(also trying to get a handle on the Polly and Mannix happy timeline because they seemed to get married very quickly #but Charlotte wasn't in mourning dress during the ceremony so either there was a much longer gap than implied or Charlotte wasn't following #the usual customs for victorian widows) #anyway she didn't seem surprised when Alfred told her he was attracted to other men so I'm working on the basis that she worked it out #for herself long ago #And because I can I'm imagining Charlotte Hillinghead as somewhere on the ace spectrum who had #doesn't want sex every ten minutes #at the top of her shopping list when considering potential husbands #my fic #long post

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

#mine. #oc: diana #pair: ewskers #click for better quality cause it's large & tumblr ate it ♡ #hii so happy birthday diana !! queen is 60 today :] #um. there's no template cause i made this from scratch...i couldn't find any i was vibing with so i was like you know what lmaoo #i'm sorry for the essay...it was meant to be just a short rundown of the family but well...that happened. typical leah fashion... #oh and guys. did you know that there's a limit to the amount you can put in one blockquote? that's why the rest is just left like that caus #i didn't like how it looked with a blockquote each paragraph...cause the spaces between were unever. you understand 😔 #with the tree i was also going to include weskids adoptive parents but i couldn't figure out how to arrange it all & make it look nice !! #cause i also wanted to have spencer in there as well cause he's a big reason why the weskids are the way they are...was maybe gonna include #sherry as well. like connected to jake (hehe) and then do her parents too but that would've made things so wide & it's already big enough #yes. i hc that albert & alex are biological twins. just for clarification there :] i don't think i added anything else that isn't canon or #implied with canon. cause the weskids were put in homes (or at least whatever ''controlled environments'' means) where they were monitored #by umbrella but were unaware of it. so yeah. i don't think i really changed much there !! #honestly i could've kept rambling cause there's alex's whole situation. there's my lore with jake's mum. there's way more with the ewskers #but it's already so long & i can't be concise so there's that lmaoo oh also diana's grandma. so much stuff #also meant to say the weskids birthday in that ramble. it's january 15 1960 :] they are capricorn sun leo moons but alex was born earlier s #their rising signs are albert is a scorpio rising & alex is a libra rising !! #had to redo the image cause typo on diana's birth year for some reason lmao so if that messed up the formatting i will sob

[tarulink]

OOT Zelink is possible after Majora's Mask (theory 2024)

We don't really know what happened after MM so everything is possible until Nintendo denies it so here is my theory:

Everyone thinks that the only place Link could go after his trip through Termina is Lon Lon Ranch, but what if not? After all the last memories he had were about Zelda wishing she could meet Link again, she was THE ONLY PERSON who actually waited for him after his trip. THIS IS IMPORTANT!!

So after his trip he goes to Zelda and tells her everything that happened to him, she believes him, in fact she might be the only person who believes him because he believed her when she had her visions of Ganondorf.

Link does not necessarily have to have worked on the ranch, there are many other jobs in castle town, I would like to think that he got a job near the castle so he could continue meeting Zelda.

As the years go by their relationship becomes even closer, unfortunately Zelda has to marry someone else so Link decides to continue his life without her. He meets someone else and they get along well, he decides to rebuild his life and marries that woman (Maybe that's why Nintendo never said with whom he had a child, because it was probably with a random woman we don't even know lmao). He has a daughter (I would like to think he has a girl) and thinks she is the most important thing he has now in his life.

Zelda does not love her husband but by the laws of nobility she has to give him an heir. Zelda becomes pregnant and although she does not love her husband, she loves her baby. She thinks it is the most important thing she has in her life now.

Link and Zelda rarely communicate because they already have priorities to maintain (each one with their children).

If you notice this is where the lineage of TP Link and TP Zelda is born!

As fate would have it Link's marriage doesn't work out and he gets divorced or she leaves him with his daughter.

The king passes away.

Do you see where I'm going with all this?

Zelda as queen can do whatever she wants now, so she goes to visit Link after so long. They both talk about their lives and realize they still have romantic feelings for each other. Zelda offers Link to be her personal knight and he unhesitatingly accepts, she gives him a special armor (the armor we see in Twilight Princess).

He becomes her prince consort.

However they have no children or maybe they had one but that son never had descendants Take it as you wish!

We don't know how exactly Link died, but everything points to the fact that he died in a war and lost his eye. Maybe he knew he wouldn't survive and that's why he went to the Lost Forest, dying there and regretting not having taught his techniques, so his spirit stays there until the other chosen one arrives to teach him his techniques.

Zelda is widowed again, that's why we see Link's grave in the castle graveyard in Twilight Princess (like why would his grave be in the castle?)

Years go by and both Link's daughter and Zelda's child grow up. Link's daughter decides to leave the castle and make her life elsewhere, she takes Epona with her, playing the song that HER FATHER taught her (because it is not necessary for Link to have married Malon to learn Epona's song)

Zelda's child takes the throne once she dies.

So with this we have the birth of TP Link and TP Zelda many years later. The reason I don't support the Link and Malon theory is because I find many inconsistencies: TP Link is an orphan, he lives in a tree not in the ranch (he doesn't even own it, the ranch belongs to Fado and he is a human) Link is the only Hylian in Ordon. It's probably that Jaggle or Pergie are descendants of Malon bc their sons are named Malo and Talo (probably she married a human knight or probably Nintendo just put those names bc yes lol)

Also remember Sheik's words? Young love become deep affection Link and Zelda spent time together before Link went on a trip to Termina, I think these words are a reference to them, how much they care about each other ♡

Of course these are my thoughts, you may agree or disagree with me!

#zelink #oot zelink #tp zelink #loz #ocarina of time #twilight princess #MY BABIES DESERVE TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Now a year later after the both of you went your separate ways, it would seem like the goodbyes you both exchanged were not permanent.

Warnings: none.

part 1, part 2, part 3

Part 4 [final chapter]

Aemond felt that Ashai seemed to be dull in comparison to King's Landing but then again he sensed that it was simply because he was presently a bit down after having to say goodbye to his princess.

Stop it, he scolded himself, you knew this was going to happen the moment you dared to fall for her.

Still, it had been well over a few months since he'd made his arrival to this new town and it was bothersome that he still felt for you the same way he did when he first kissed you.

Aemond had taken up a proper job this time, instead of resorting to his regular ways of stealing. He had started out as a chimney sweep for a Barron; Robert, a widower, who lived further down the harbour in a lavish manor. Then later he'd been given the job to read to the older man since he was a bit short-sighted. Eventually, Robert began to treat Aemond like a son, even though he had one of his own. He had Aemond dine at the table with him and his boy. The baron and his son weren’t as close and with the man taking a liking toward Aemond, it only increased the animosity between father and son.

Robert had then begun to take Aemond's input regarding his business of wine and Aemond was happy to give insights, which proved to be beneficial to the business. Aemond was granted access to the manor's library and he spent his spare time reading. He began to take an interest in history, particularly the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, it had nothing to do with you.

Aemond was well aware of the fights that arose between Robert and his son on his account and had many times considered leaving but the Baron told him to ignore his boy. Finally there came a day when the Baron's son wanted to make a life of his own, away from this small town. He took whatever wealth he needed and left, leaving the Baron quiet heart broken.

"Aemond" Robert called for the boy who was sitting in the library but a few feet away from him "come here son"

Aemond put away his book, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted when he was getting to the best part. He was reading about this war dragon, Vhagar.

"Yes, sir?" he politely asked as he sat in a chair across from the older man.

"I have no wife, and now it would seem that my son has left as well" he spoke in a calm voice "my business has been doing well as of late, I suppose I have to thank you for some of your suggestions"

"I was happy to help" Aemond smiled.

"Yes, and it would seem that the royal family too has much appreciation for my wine," he said rather proudly "They wish to serve it at a grand feast they’re having at the end of this month, a feast to which I have received an invite. How would you like to go with me, as my heritor"

"Uh.. I-" Aemond was at a loss for words. Was he truly considering taking him to the royal feast?

"I'm getting old and more weak by the day, I need someone to take on my business and carry my name after I have passed" he went on "Someone who is equally just as involved with the winery as I have been"

"That is quiet an honour, sir" Aemond subtlety pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

"First off, we need to buy you something better to wear. Maybe something that might catch the eye of the princess Y/N"

"Princess Y/N" Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name "she-she'll be at the feast?"

"Of course she'll be at the feast, it's been arranged for her to begin with," Robert said as a matter-of-factly "Oh you don’t know about the details of the feast do you?"

Aemond only nodded in confusion.

"It is a gathering for the princess to find herself a suitor"

As excited as Aemond was for the feast, he felt just as much nervous. The boy felt like a fish out of water. He had never stepped foot inside the castle and once he found himself in the midst of nobles, he immediately felt out of place. And it did not help when people constantly kept turning to stare at him and his eye patch, it made him even more self-conscious.

"Don’t fidget" Robert whispered and Aemond immediately stopped fiddling with the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve.

The hall in which the feast was being held was rather spacious and Aemond immediately felt so small.

"I'll only be a moment" Robert told him before he wandered off to find the king and the queen, to thank them for the invite, leaving a rather nervous Aemond amidst the sea of nobles.

You were seated at the large table next to Aegon. You huffed a sigh as you slouched in your chair and Aegon snickered at the sight.

"You have a room full of suitable husbands and this is how you spend the evening?" he raised a brow as he playfully nudged you "you should feel lucky you get to pick who you marry, a privilege I was not granted sadly"

"I hardly call this a privilege" you scoffed in response, reaching for your goblet of wine "all these men are here only because of my title. Besides, I did not wish to get married so soon"

"Remember when we were children, we promised each other that if we didn’t find a partner, we'd marry each other" Aegon chuckled at the memory "gods, we were so naïve"

You smiled softly as you took a sip of your wine. Things were so much simpler when you were younger. All you had to worry about that time was which dress you'd wear for the day.

You lazily looked around and almost choked on the wine you were drinking. You immediately spat it back into the cup, not caring how improper that was of you.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked with concern, patting your back as you began to cough.

"I'm fine" you responded in a strained voice before you quickly stood up, your chair screeching against the stone floor as you pushed it backwards. You left the table in a hurry, not bothering to say an 'excuse me' before you walked toward the crowd of nobles.

"Finally" Aegon sighed, thinking that at last you decided to go and actually talk with the men who had come with hopes of being betrothed to you.

You did not care about them. No, a certain someone with an eye patch, who was looking around like a lost puppy had caught your eye instead.

You were unsure at first, if it was truly him. What would he be doing at the Red keep? He was in Ashai to your knowledge or maybe he had left for Dorn, where he'd told you his younger sister was staying ever since she joined the sisters of the faith. Still, there was an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was him.

"Aemond?" you called out, expecting no reaction from the boy who was curiously looking around as he fidgeted with his sleeves.

To your surprise, he turned at the mention of his name, his blue eye meeting yours.

You froze, as if you'd seen a ghost or worse: as if you were dreaming. Your breath hitched in your throat and by the looks of it, even Aemond seemed stunned.

"What are you-"

"How have you-"

The both of you spoke at the same time and immediately, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. Aemond only smiled, allowing you to speak first.

"You're here" you simply stated, taking a step toward him and Aemond instinctively responded by holding out his hand for you to take, just like how he always would when the both of you met in secret.

"I am" his voice came out in a whisper when he felt you slip your hand into his.

Your eyes darted from his face toward his neck and you reached out with your other hand to gently examine what caught your attention. Aemond drew a sharp breath when he felt your cool fingers graze against the skin of his neck as you touched the piece of jewellery he wore. It was a simple silver chain with a small ring dangling from it. Your ring.

"You still have it" the corners of your lips turned up to form a smile.

"Of course" he looked down adoringly at you as he tried to pinch himself to make sure this was real, a gesture that you happened to catch.

"I'm here" you assured as you gently caressed his cheek, right below his scar and Aemond tilted his head a bit to further press his cheek into your palm.

"How did you.." you wanted to asked him how he entered but you knew it sounded rude. By the way he was dressed, in a sharp formal attire, there was a chance he was accompanied by someone "Who are you here with?"

"Oh, the Baron of Ashai, Robert" he told you, momentarily looking away to find him in the crown but to no avail. He turned to look at you again "He's the one who is supplying wine for the feast"

"You're with the Baron?" You repeated, a bit shocked "he mentioned he was here with his son"

"Ah well, he sort of-" Aemond heaved a nervous sigh "he's named me his heritor. I must admit, him calling me his son is a touch overwhelming"

"So that means you’re a Barron" You asked to which Aemond responded with a shy grin. Gods you had missed his smile.

"Man with a title" he looked down at you with a playful smirk "something I recall being of some sort of importance when it comes to courting you"

You bit your lip to control your girlish giggle but it didn’t work; Aemond never failed to make you laugh.

"I take it you are hoping to win my hand?" you asked with the same amount of playfulness to which Aemond simply shrugged, pretending at first that he didn’t care which only made you giggle more to his reaction.

"Will kissing you help me being named victor?" he asked slyly and you rolled your eyes at his playful demeanour.

"It most certainly will" you smiled but quickly placed your finger on his lips when he leaned closer. You went to whisper in his ear when you saw confusion flash across his face. He clearly did not know of the mannerisms one had to follow at court and that was alright, you were patient enough to tell him about each one "not here. It would give rise to quite a scandalous rumour"

"Oh" he cleared his throat "apologies, I thought that since-"

"It's alright" you assured him with a gentle squeeze of his hand "come, I have to introduce you to my kepa"

"Kepa?" Aemond asked as he followed you.

"My father" you translated "he's at the table with the rest of my family"

"Oh your family" Aemond felt the nerves getting to him again. He did not know if he would manage to maintain his calm composure in front of the King and the Queen "m-must I meet them?"

"It is a requirement if you wish to court me" you playfully nudged him "don’t worry, they're not as intimidating as they seem. Besides, you do have to speak to them at some point if you wish to discuss a possible betrothal"

"I- I can ask for your hand in marriage?" Aemond had never been more grateful for his title and suddenly seemed to be a touch more eager than yourself to meet your family.

As you walked, you turned to look at him and without thinking you leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, catching him by surprise.

"Thought you said kissing was off limits for now" he grinned.

"I think an innocent kiss to the cheek is alright" you smirked up at him to which Aemond chuckled in response.

The both of you walked toward you family, laughing joyously, hand in hand.

Taglist: @yentroucnagol @kateris-world @praline357

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #tom bennett #world on fire #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aegon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen #queen alicent

[historia-vitae-magistras]

It makes my heart soft for Arthur to treat Zee so gently not because she's his daughter but because she's a woman in a time where it was particularly awful to be a woman. He tried his best to respect her as a person and as his child without making her feel she's 'just' a woman. I'm curious how Lord Father would react to some poor bastard coming to ask him permission to court his daughter. I imagine it's that best laugh he's had in a long time, straight up doubled-over with tears in his eyes. Let's him know he'd have a better chance asking her directly but considering this start he's going to have a hell of a time. To quote Thedore Roosevelt: "I can either run the country or I can attend to Alice, but I cannot possibly do both."

ALL of this. It's not like the man isn't sexist because he is, but in a way that isn't purely Victorian. He's lived a long life; the first British person we know much about is Boadicea. He is the last son of a goddess who ruled with blood, sacrifice, fear and cunning. Brighid and he will have a testy relationship, but she was the high-status centre of the Celtic Christianity he will draw upon again and again. England's wealth before the empire was caught up in cloth. Women's work created him, and he knows that. As a child in the world of late antiquity, he sat at his mother's and Brighid's feet as they worked the loom. Disrespecting women's work disrespects most of his own history. Plus, if you read Anglo-Saxon poetry, there are these tantalizing hints that women's work was seen as more important to civilization than men's. He isn't a fantastic father, but he does view her as a person if nothing else. The sheer amount of regnant queens he's had.

And I do feel like he and Zee did direct any potential suiters to him first because very late Victorian/Early Edwardian courtship and society meant that his rejections on her behalf would pull any social blame of her being a bit haughty or potentially deviant and redirect it to him where it was fine. After all, a daughter's marriage is still much the father's prerogative. It was socially acceptable for her to remain unmarried as widowed men or even just men fond of their daughters often gave them the choice of staying home if they so wished. It could be a better setup, but it maximizes her freedom. Answering a question about why she is unwed with "because I'm a lesbian and I don't bloody want to be" is unacceptable and degenerate. But "Oh, I could never leave my poor dear Papa; he utterly depends on me" makes her ultra respectable and dutiful even if she hasn't seen the old fart since Christmas. It's also a way for Arthur to keep an eye on her. If people are writing to him about courting Dearest Eleanor, it's intel.

But the first time it happened? Oh, good lord, the man lost his absolute shit. Partially because she's his baby and just absolutely not, that's his last child. She's not even a century old; he does not care. She is a teenager now she is a baby. Two, the audacity some of these potatoes have. Whenever Zee puts effort into playing the part of being the beautiful young socialite in just the prettiest clothes, putting on her best manners, and utilizing all that intelligence for social purposes, he's got a line out the door. When Zee is cranky with him, she puts on a particularly flattering blue or green dress and goes to a dinner party and just fucks up the old man's week lmao. She goes on a social campaign to get her way about something, and Matt might end up taking a nap in a coffin on the dining room table to shut it all down if he's particularly irate with her because no one can come courting to a house in mourning lol. But man yeah, there is a reason her slightly anti-social ass wears so much mourning black to keep off.

#zee || ahakoa he iti he pounamu #arthur || stone set in the silver sea #arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats #the ask box || probis pateo

[bohemian-nights]

Lady Danbury Chapter 4

Word Count: ~6,353

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Lord Ledger x Lady Danbury

Description: The new Lady Agatha Danbury was decidedly not happy. Neither was Lord Ledger. Perhaps they might find a bit of happiness in each other.

AN: This is a Lord Ledger x Lady Danbury AU fic. Some plot lines from Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story have been axed🪓

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Death is not always a great tragedy. Befalling on those not deserving to be taken away so soon. It is not always a burden. A misfortune to those closest to them. It is a fact of life as simple, as involuntary, as breathing. Depending on one’s definition it can be a release of said burden. Bringing about long-awaited freedom, but it is not quite the freedom one hopes for those left behind. Especially the freedom which is bestowed upon young widows.                           

Freedom is a most curious and strange thing. Agatha had learned that over the years. The definition of the word she had looked up many a time. Liberation from restraint or the power of another. That is the definition she liked best. The one she lacked.                      

She had felt as if she were a bird. Trapped in a pretty gilded cage made to do tricks, chirp out niceties, and sing songs for all those who visited her. For those who owned her. She had no recollection of life outside of that cage. Of sun on her, the wind fanning her with a gentle breeze. She had been put there before she had learned the world around her.  

That gate was now open. She could venture out any time she wished to. To come and go as she pleased or never step foot in it again. She was free. Freed from her capturer. Freed by death. In name she was free, but name is different than practice.

Death is simple. It is the easy part of it all, Agatha decided. Freedom is not. For it is living and living is never so simple. It was living that followed after it all, after being trapped in that cage for so long that she found the hardest.   

Coral found her wandering the halls alone in the wee hours of the morning after Lord Danbury's funeral. Drinking a glass of port. There was a whole case of it left without its owner. “His favorite,” Agatha told her. Not hers. Never hers.   

It had been a long day and an exceedingly tiresome fortnight. The doctors had come and gone the morning Lord Danbury was carted away for one final time at the Danbury residence. The hermit had come out of his shell. Arriving at first light, word had been sent to him by one of her late husband's men, from his country house where he spent his widowerhood in seclusion with a daughter off married, but she was no longer married. 

She had joined him in widowhood. Agatha supposed she gave her father a renewed purpose. He had presided over the whole business. The first order of which had been her womb. Ordering his doctors which he had brought with him to inspect her person. 

“One has to be sure of these things, Agatha. We must know.” They would not take her word for it. They had to be sure that she did not carry the Danbury heir inside her. The new Lord Danbury. The pronouncement was the same as all the times before. She was not with child. Her belly remained empty. 

With the last of the doctors dismissed, the funeral was the next line. To that, too her father took command of. Agatha had not left her bed for a week. She did not grieve for her husband’s passing.  She had not the grief for grieving. She honestly did not know what she felt then, but she did not wish to deal with it all. To fake her sadness which she did not have. 

She wished to run and never stop, but would not be allowed to be out and about, to go on, and she did not wish to deal with the army of those who wanted to pay their respects to her. So she feigned fatigue. Melancholy. Despondency. Whatever she could, she said. Whatever act she had to perform, she did. 

She burst into tears when Lady Kent and Lady Smythe-Smith had come up to visit and would not take no for an answer. When her sister-in-law had come down from Bath she had fainted at tea. Having to be carried back up to her room by a footman as Coral took to fanning her. “Give my lady some room to breathe.” 

Agatha had tried the same with her father when he had called her to Lord Danbury’s study on some opinion on the service, having set up camp there among her dead husband's things, but he saw through her act.  “My dear it is just us. There is no need for theatrics.”  He would not bother her as long as she kept appearances. “You will need to save it for his funeral.”

She did. Lord Danbury’s funeral was a procession.  It seemed a silly thing to dress up so fine for one in mourning.  Her act of pretend languishing around her room seemed more real than having her stays laced so tight that she could barely breathe. To be stuffed into an ostentatiously black embroidered gown like a bird for show. A lace veil fastened to her curls to hide her tears that would never come, but yet that is how one mourns. 

Lord Ledger was there.  His wife was nowhere in sight as he stood a lone figure draped in black like and unlike the others. A shock to her eyes for he was one of the few from the old Ton, along with Lady Allen who winked at her from where she stood with an ever-present ill-contained grin, who had come, well Agatha could not name why she had come other than to imagine herself in her place and Lord Allen in Lord Danbury’s. 

Agatha wished to speak to the lord. He was the only person among the parade of falsity she wished to speak to, but she was whisked away to greet and thank the murmurers who wanted to give their vain condolences. Apart from Lady Allen who had paid her respects with a kiss. Not so quietly imparting to her with glee that caused a stir from the other mourners, “Now the fun begins my dear.” 

Lord Ledger had disappeared when she gazed back at the spot where she saw him last when she had managed to pull her attention away from the jackals. Agatha half wondered if she dreamt his person for she found nowhere in sight once Lord Danbury had been lowered into the ground. She put the lord out of her mind for a time. Everything that morning had passed by in a blur.  

Soon enough she had found herself in the entryway of her home. Standing in the morning she thought was still night. Drinking a glass of port. Finally giving words to that feeling which she could not name. Emptiness. 

She felt empty. Lord Danbury took up so much space in their marriage that he left no room for her. Agatha was a foreign creature. She caught glimpses of her in her reflection some days, but Lady Agatha Danbury was his creation. She was molded for and now he was gone. 

Lady Agatha Danbury drank port because that is what he drank. She suffered through blood lettings, stale food, lecherous doctors, and foul tonics because she had to bear him a son. She wore gold far too often for her taste because that was his favorite color. She did not dance at parties, becoming a sentient who stood on the edge of the dance floor gazing on because he could not or would not do so. 

Lady Agatha Danbury wore gowns of black because her husband was dead. She wore a veil over her face because she must mourn a man who had taken away her girlhood. She had to cry, to faint, to languish around, or say her thanks to those who pitied her loss all to show her grief over his death. 

That girl who wished to drink what she may, wear shades of violet, and be twirled around the dance floor with laughter was stifled under Lady Danbury.  Agatha could not exist. Her existence was a thing that continued to be ignored. Lady Danbury may be free for she could no longer exist as she was, but Agatha was not.  

The funeral had not put an end to the mourning business nor had it given her the freedom and independence of a widow. Her freedom had in fact become a  complicated matter. Agatha was a widow, yes, but a childless widow. A young childless widow who had yet to reach the age of thirty.

“You are not me Agatha,” Her father warned her when he had called her to Lord Danbury's study that morning after.  A room that she wanted to lock up and never step foot in again, but it was slowly turning into her father’s place. Joseph Robinson had become a permanent fixture at the Danbury residence. “You are too young for widowhood. The Danbury line is lost to us, but our line must continue on.” His dark eyes had grown uncharacteristically soft, but his words told another story.  

There were girls, respectable girls from the best families in the country who had never married at her age. The Danbury’s, the Robinsons, and families of the like were the new blood of the Ton. They could not afford to make mistakes. They could not afford to do as the others did. Especially when so much of their futures remained uncertain. 

Agatha was not free. This widowhood was a temporary thing. A thing that would be remedied once her mourning period ended. She was young. Well bred. A pretty thing that men wished to gawk over. More than like fertile with a more virile match.

Agatha of course made her protests. Tried to argue. She had her duties. She was the queen's lady-in-waiting. She had married once. She had tried to give birth to her husband's big-headed babe. She had done that duty, perhaps in time she might find some worthy man to, but her father held firm. She could not stay a widow for there was one area in which she lacked. An area that prevented her freedom. Income.  

He treated her like a child because of it. Ordering her about. Keep watch over her. Telling the servants to keep an eye on her when she ventured from her room. It was fine when he had first come down, a relief in fact when he helped her with Lord Danbury’s funeral arrangements, but Mr. Joseph Robinson had begun to overstay his welcome at his daughter's home. 

Though he had not been entirely wrong about her predicament, he, much like Princess Augusta, would not help her solve her circumstances. Not when it benefited him to do nothing. 

The Dowager Countess Lady Agatha Danbury was not a wealthy woman. She had found that out when her husband’s solicitor had been called for. It was he, and a host of others who Agatha herself procured replaced the doctors who frequented the Danbury residence. 

Under normal circumstances, her late husband's title and estate would pass on to their eldest son, but they had no children let alone a son which to pass his earldom and all that was entailed upon him to. His title would die with him. His estate would wither.  A fact which caused the other lords and ladies, of the new ton, much distress 

“Lord Danbury was the first of us to pass on.” Lord Smthye-Smith had said when the lot of them came over requesting an audience with her. “What is to become of us?” 

That was their woe. Their titles and estates. What would become of them when they too followed Lord Danbury to the grave? What would become of their children? Their heirs. What would become of the next generation after them? 

Would their sons inherit what had become their birthright? Their titles, their land, and their place in society. Will their daughters be seen as the sweet genteel young ladies of good breeding they were? Would their children be seen as worthy matches for the sons and daughters of their fellow lords and ladies? Would they be accepted and seen as true equals in mind and title?  Or would this progress be gone in a generation? 

The crown was no help with providing no answers to these dire queries. “It is up to the king to decide whether or not this experiment will continue on past this generation.” ‘Twas Princess Augustas reply at the palace. The king, that is how she skirted around the issues. How she loved to remind Agatha that she was the king's mother, not the king himself. She did not have the authority to act. She, like the others, was but a humble servant. Serving at his majesty’s pleasure. 

“How is our queen?” Information. That was her price. Her face was marble as she sipped upon her infernal tea. Lord Butte sat a sour-faced statue at her side though he looked pleased with the Princess's steadfastness. The other lord’s in attendance were not worth noting. They simply did nothing. 

The representatives' crown and the government would never act to secure their interests. Princess Augusta would not advocate for them unless she saw some manner of gain or benefit in it for said crown. They would watch on and see how things played out as if they were an orchestra merely there for their entertainment. 

Mayhaps the king might have been more sympathetic to their needs and endeavored to resolve their precarious state, but the king was nowhere to be found. His queen was too busy worrying over her distant king on top of her carrying the next.  Agatha would not add to her stress nor would she be the case of. So they were set adrift.  Their circumstances were left to run their course unaided. Oh, how they ran. 

Under normal circumstances, Agatha would be a wealthy woman. By the laws that governed their country the bulk, which amounted to two-thirds of her husband's fortune prior to his lordship, was to be inherited by Dominic Danbury, her husband's nephew. The boy was his closest living male relative and his chosen heir in the absence of a natural-born legitimate son. 

The remaining third, a mini fortune that could sustain her independence, as well as her dowry, which was rather a meager sum of five thousand pounds, was entitled to Agatha as his surviving widow. However, Lord Danbury’s estate had been left in near ruin.

“These are unprecedented dealings. Of course, we know that Dominic can not inherit your late husband's title or estate. The crown would never bestow the lordship and its holding upon anyone who was not Lord Danbury’s direct male descendant.” The solicitor had begun when he had answered her summons. 

Riffling through her late husband's papers in that study of his. Their meeting place after she had forced her father to vacate Lord Danbury’s chambers. Agatha was still the lady of the house and her father a guest. He could not nor would he keep her from conducting her affairs.  

The solicitor was an older fellow. Agatha reckoned that he had attended Eton with Lord Danbury. He was not patronizing. He did not treat her as a simpering widow or speak to her as if she lacked sense. Quite the opposite for he did not mince his meaning. 

“Your husband spent a great deal trying to appear as one befitting of his new station that  he failed to take into account the limitations of his income.” The man let out a sigh as he peered up at her. “His personal holdings not tied to the earldom are few and far between.” Agatha felt as if she dunked in ice water at his words. 

“My husband was one of the richest men in the country.” She wondered if perhaps she might be dreaming. Retracing her steps that day and her surroundings to see if anything was amiss. Surely what she heard had to be a lie. A figment of an overactive imagination from sitting inside this cursed house most days with her only outlet being teas where she was made to simper and conciliate. 

The late newly titled Lord Danbury was the son of a king. One of the wealthiest kings in Africa. He held one of the greatest fortunes on the continent. That kind of wealth could not be spent in a lifetime. “My husband's fortune could rival even the wealthiest of dukedoms. How can it be gone?” 

Gone it was. Lord Herman Danbury was a spendthrift who was prone to bending the truth. On so many accounts it seemed. He had spent his money on well-bred horses and fine carriages. New staff, lavish furniture which to decorate their new estate, tailors who made their suits and dresses, and club fees. “The fortune I'm afraid was not so great as your late husband led you to believe.”

Her dowry along her husband's fortune, a mere fourth of the sum he boasted of holding, was near depleted. Spent to assuage the man’s avarice. The money that was not spent for mere vanities sake was put into the estate. Out of reach to Agatha and her nephew. 

The old estate where she had spent the majority of her marriage was gone as well. a considerable number of linens was placed upon the property in exchange for lines of credit. Her late husband's greed knew no bounds.  

Agatha needed to remarry. She could not stay a widow. She lacked. Her freedom would be sacrificed and she would become some other lord's wife. His plaything. With haste. Or attempt to secure Dominic’s position. Secure a lordship for the boy. Attempt to secure her position as a woman in her own right by way of his guardianship, she could be free from the will of a cruel master twice over. 

She had taken a page from Princess Augusta’s playbook. Inviting her sister-in-law to join her for afternoon tea in the sunroom. The woman had not left for her home, but Agatha could see that she, unlike her father, grew weary of her continued stay at the Danbury residence. 

“I trust you find your stay with us pleasant under the circumstances dear sister.” Even to Agatha’s ear, her words dripped of false pleasantries. The woman sat before her had never been dear to her nor a sisterly, however, appealing to one’s better nature, establishing a more familial connection never harmed. Especially when one was trying to keep her son for her own benefit. 

“I have never been one for society or these people. Not as you or Hermain.” Her sister-in-law's characteristic air of disdain was absent. She looked hesitant as she sat her tea down. Drawing nearer to Agatha to occupy the seat next to her. 

“I leave for Bath on the morrow. I have already told your papa.” The two got along well. Agatha imagined that her papa would prefer a daughter like Mrs. Danbury to herself. A daughter who did her duty without complaint. Who had secured the family line .“I do appreciate what you are trying to  do for Dominic, but your father is right about your widowhood.” She placed a pat on the back of her hand. If it had been meant to comfort Agatha it only served to distress the lady further. Hoping that her leave would trigger her father to make his own preparations for his leave of her.

True to her word Mrs. Danbury departed for Bath that morning. Leaving her son in Agatha’s care. However, her father showed no signs of preparing for his departure. Mr. Robinson seemed content to stay right where he was. 

He was content watching Agatha scramble for independence. Content to see her make her way back from teas at the palace dejected. Or coming home from visits with the queen at Buckingham House with a headache. Quite content to see her under his thumb once more. Floundering and clawing trying to reach the surface. Drowning and he would not save her. Even to toss her a line so that she may save herself. Sinking deeper. Suffocating.

It came to a head when she had come back from tea at Buckingham house, reassuring the queen over her own woes, to find a man in her sitting room. Seated in her husband's favorite chair. A gaudy thing which, as with most of their furnishings in this tomb of a house, cost thrice than what it was worth. 

Richard Stokeworth. Dickey, he wanted her to call him. “Your papa tells me that you are fond of art. Montague House is to open a new exhibit this weekend with some pieces from Macedonia.  It would be my honor if you would oblige me with your company, my lady.” A smile stretched across his face as he leaned back awaiting her answer. 

 He was tall. A head taller than Agatha. Handsome with a straight white smile that stood out against his dark skin. Young. Not a blemish to cloud his complexion.  He couldn’t have been older than six and twenty. Richard Stokeworthwas a statue carved from onyx yet she felt nothing, but a creeping pit of dread when she gazed upon him.  

She stuttered for a moment before sprouting up from her chair with a start. Words caught in her throat. She couldn't speak. She did not wish to speak. Fearing what words that might slip out. I’m sure you are perfectly lovely. You might be lovely for someone else, but I would rather fall into a nest of thrones than be your wife. With one last stammer. her eyes flitting to her father's ashen face, Agatha ran from the room as if she were a child. 

She needed out. To be out of the house. To be out of the race. Out from the demands of the queen, crown, and the Ton alike. Out from under him. That man who sought to tempt her back into imprisonment. It was a prettier cage than the last, but a cage nonetheless. She’d lose herself all the same. She'd lose her mind if she did nothing. 

Sitting there staring at the walls in her room. Attending endless teas where most of the ladies in the room wanted her gone, or to use her be it for information or to soothe themselves Finding strange men in her parlor while her father held a self-satisfied countenance standing lurking in some shadowy corner of the room. A puppet master who had grabbed ahold of her strings and would not release them until a new master was procured. This time one who would get the job done. 

Coral had offered to come with her when she had seen her darting out from the parlor into the entryway. Forgetting her cloak along with proper shoes as she grabbed ahold of her veiled hat. Her maid and her father rarely got on, but both acted as mother hens watching her every move, albeit her reasons were much more benevolent than that man. 

Agatha waved away her maids' concerns. “I shall be fine Coral.” She needed solitude. Required it. A break. A breath. That is what she needed. Setting out on her into the wilderness of her estate, well her estate for as long as the crown did not recall it.   

She could not recollect the last time she had felt the sun kiss her face. A sable face covered by black lace, for she was supposed to be in mourning despite the pulling of forces that would not let her be and her own lack of feelings besides resentment towards her late husband, nonetheless she could still feel its warmth on her cheeks. The breath she held in, released.  Carried off into the air. 

Her run had turned into a walk once she had made it to the edge of her garden. The green manicured lawn turned to wild brown grass. It would have reached her shoulders had she not walked along the narrow trail cut between the blades. A well-worn path. Blanketed by sunbaked grass with its rays beating down on it. As if someone had wandered upon it without a destination a thousand times before as Agatha did now.

She happened upon a small house. A shack really. Mayhaps it once had been a gamekeeper's cottage, but its occupiers had long since deserted the desolate place. A carriage wheel and an assortment of broken ends and odds were placed in a half shed next to the cottage.

An old, but sturdy in appearance, bench sat in front of the structure's entrance under the cover of shade. A lucky find for her feet, which were still in her heeled black pumps, an entirely impractical shoe for her wandering was starting to hurt. The leather of her shoes pinched at the skin. 

Setting herself on that dusty bench, whose appearance did not lie of its durability, she hiked up her layer of skirts to slip off her shoes. Freeing her aching feet from their confines. Focusing on trying to draw circulation back into her lower limbs she was utterly oblivious to the sound of steady footsteps nearing until a voice spoke. 

“I would not think those were quite the best shoes for the fields.” She had not seen him in weeks, but there Lord Ledger stood before her. Cloaked in green with a walking stick at his side and a hint of a smile. Bowing, not forgetting his manners as  Agatha scrambled to put back on her blasted heels. 

The lord's presence was not entirely alarming though a bit startling. For she had not expected him. “What are you doing out here?” On her estate in the middle of this little valley. Only it was not her estate nor her valley. It was in fact his. 

“There is your estate.” He pointed a finger over to where she had come from. “And here is mine.” His stick planted itself softly into the ground “We abut, my lady.” She was the trespasser though he did not seem to mind her presence in his fields. Promising to not set the hounds upon her with a smirk holding no menace. It was teasing yet kind.

“I cannot fault you for taking a ramble.” Rambles that is what he called them. To assuage Lady Ledger. One could not have a mad husband. Or the appearance of a mad husband. Agatha imagined that appearances meant more to someone like her than personal satisfaction and happiness. To all of that side of the Ton. 

A ramble was merely a break from all the chaos. Not a break of one’s mind. Insanity is the key difference between an aimless walk and a ramble. Though Agatha felt as if she were on the edge of it. Her father would not care if she were on that edge. If she walked off that ledge just as long as she did her duty he would not question. The dowager princess would not waste and queen might spare a two 

“I do not believe I am rambling. I am sure it is just a walk. For I feel mad.” A walk nowhere. A walk perhaps into insanity. Marching to a slow doom set out to consume her. “Or that I will go mad.” She felt like screaming at the wind. If Lord Ledger had not come upon she would have. If that was not madness she did not know what was.

Concern was written across his lined face. His amber eyes softened as he apologized for her loss. Agatha had to bite her lip to keep from saying that she was not very sorry. Angrier at the fact that Lord Danbury’s death had not freed her from want. That it had brought on a new set of complications. “Walking or rambling, it will make you feel better.” 

He straightened as another smile overtook his face, wiping away some of her weight that held her down. “I expect you to wear riding boots tomorrow.” He pointed to her shoes with his stick.  “We shall ramble together at the same time tomorrow.” He took his leave of her with a bow. Leaving no room for argument nor did Agatha wish to. Curiosity seeped through her bones overtaking the melancholy she had felt from inaction and invisibility. 

True to his word, Lord Danbury was there. At that same gamekeeper's cottage. That same time when the sun's light was at a high. The corner of her eyes crinkled up when he caught sight of her. It increased the lines upon his face, but she thought it suited him. He greeted Agatha with a My Lady and she with a Lord Ledger. She felt her cheeks heat when their eyes met. Thankful that her chestnut skin hid her blush. 

They talked for hours. Of nothing, and nothing was a great distraction. Her worries and fears faded away as she focused on what was there. They talked about nothing as well. The plants they came across. The trees. The birds. Games. Wordplay. Riddles. Poetry. He recited to her poetry. His eyes held a warmth in them when he spoke.  A warmth that traveled throughout her. No topic was too small or too great for the other ear. Sometimes they did not talk at all and yet that pause did not need filling. 

They walked for hours. Her legs burned from the exertion. Her curls frizzed from the intricate style Coral had carefully crafted, but In those hours spent in his company that blush did not leave her. Nor that fluttering when he spoke or when he simply turned his gaze towards her. A  Fluttering of life. She felt alive. She knew that now. She had not been alive. Not truly. She had been existing, occupying space on this plane,  but existence is not life,  and this was just a taste of it. 

A ramble turned into a dozen. Turned to two dozen. Meeting at that little cottage. They would walk side by side along that narrow brown path where they were undisturbed apart from the rumblings of nature. It never lost its appeal. 

It was easy enough. Finding an excuse to get out of that suffocating house. I am going for a walk, father.” Just a walk. “I shall be back before dinner.” It was the truth in a way. Agatha had found that a partial truth was always easier than a lie.  

Mr. Robinson did not mind. He did not ask to accompany her. Even when her dinner sat cold Why would he when she was just wandering around the estate's empty land? She never took a carriage. Her dress was not askew upon arriving. Her makeup was untouched and her hair was kinked by the wind. 

No strange men lurked about in shadows or letters from unworthy admirers were delivered at the Danbury residence. She was just in need of a clear mind. 

He knew of her frustrations. Her will for independence, but she in turn knew how things went. A walk was the extent of the relief from those frustrations. She could gain. After all her father thought it better to have a contented daughter if he were to auction her off like cattle once more. Give her some measure of freedom, some measure of control, leave that door open and she shall not complain of her cage too much when it is shut. She will always want to come back through that door. 

While her father remained oblivious to Lord Ledger's presence with her in what was supposed to be a solitary exercise out from her cage, Agataha suspected that her maid knew. Coral was, if ever, a busybody. A gossip who could rival the likes of Lady Kent or Lady Allen. but she would not tell her father or another soul of whose company she kept on her walks. She was good for keeping her secrets.

“Do not forget your hat, my lady.” Gifting her a sly smile that made the corners of her mouth upturn in a feline way while she helped her pin her veil and hand her an umbrella.

Off she went and yet when she came back she was reminded of just how dreary her reality was. The queen who was a mere girl beyond her depth that their very place within society depended upon. Princess Augusta and her displeasure with her absence of information. The line of suitors her father had procured that looked at her as if she was a piece of meat or a trinket to be possessed beneath their pleasantries. 

She had lived for a few hours in Lord Ledger’s company with the wild surrounding them and when she arrived back through that door her cage was there to greet her. Agatha had lost and she had gained so much yet she was still in that gilded cage. 

And so those talks of nothing turned to something. Sitting upon that old bench under the cottage's awning with Lord Ledger at her side. Squinting as the day's dying light sought to impair his view. The Lord was a more than willing audience as she unburdened herself to him. 

“What is there?” His gaze was upon the grassy landscape before them. His voice a gentle timber. Apart from Coral, it seemed as if he could sense her moods better than anyone.

“My maid Coral.” Her friend. Her only friend. She was Lady Agatha Danbury the widow of an Earl who was the son of a king and the only true friend she had which she could depend on and who wanted her complete happiness was her small maid. 

“What is not there?” She let out a sigh at that question. Pursing her lips as she ruminated. The absences. The wants. There were too many to name. 

Her title. Her estate that could be recalled by the crown at any moment. The men who vied for her hand who viewed her only as a vessel for their own ambitions. To further their line. Her father among them. Her supposed access to the crown. They wanted it all.

Everything. It seemed the appropriate answer, but at the same time, it failed to convey the extent of her troubles. It was far too simple an answer for that. “A future in which I do not dread waking up in the morning.” The truth. She did not wish to go back to the life she lived. 

“Lord Danbury?” She turned to face him. His eyes remained glued to the landscape, but his tone was hopeful. He wanted an answer. A real answer. He would not judge her for telling the truth. 

“I would not say he is something that I lack.” She missed him least of all. Agatha did resent him for the mess he left her to deal with but did not miss or want for his presence. “ I might be a monster for thinking so.” She teased the lord before her with a smile. It was the unchristian thing to say. Not a sentiment that any good respectable wife, a grieving widow, should voice. 

“You are no more monstrous than I.” He finally turned to her. His eyes held a sadness as he continued on. Freedom. He called her free. She had to hold back a laugh. If this was freedom. If this was the extent of her freedom then she was truly doomed. 

“My father wishes to see me marry again.” She did not dare glance over at him. Her smile was gone as she joined him in his watch of the setting horizon. “I’m a girl to him. He is my keeper.” Lord Ledger was trapped in a loveless marriage, but he was a man. He could do as he pleased even in the confines of his dreary marriage. 

 “Next week is my birthday.” Another year gone. “And I have nothing to look forward to.”  Another year was wasted. Another year to come that would not be her own. 

Perhaps with a babe on the way. That is what her dear papa would want. What her new husband, who she will doubtlessly be married off to by the end of the year when Agatha could no longer use the excuse that she was in mourning, would want.

That was what awaited her. Nothing apart from life as someone's pet once more. Someone’s doll, an incubator, a spy, a servant who was to perform and act as they all wished with no account of her own wants and desires. Happiness and joy were not hers to have. She was a reed bending in the wind at other's whims. 

Agatha supposed she had one final option. The life of a nun. No one would stop her. No one could stop her from saying those vows no matter how much it inconveniences them, but that was not a life either. That was not a life for her. Not a full life. 

She had the allusion of freedom for a few moments. For a ramble every evening beside Lord Ledger, but that was the extent of her freedom and that freedom too would be gone like the others all too soon. Trapping her forever in darkness. 

“Rambles are there.” It was as if he had lit a candle in her darkness as he spoke to her. The lord turned to face her. A quiet conviction in his voice. With hope in his eyes. A hope that reached past her woe gripping her. Commanding her to wake from the abyss that surrounded her. Guiding her out of it. Into something unknown yet it made her feel riant. “I am there.” Agatha felt her breath catch.  “Are you?” He beckoned her to him and she followed. Eagerly. Heading towards that light. It was like a spell as they leaned into one another. An internal magnet drawing them together. Lord Ledger's breath, which smelled of mint and spice, fanned her warm face as he hesitated for the span of it before they plunged into each other’s depths. His lips landed upon hers and Lady Agatha Danbury was gone.

Ao3 Link:

Taglist: @dd122004dd@nametoshort@gracienna@woahwwes-blog @librarydame

#lady danbury x lord ledger #lord ledger x lady danbury #lady danbury and lord ledger #lord ledger #lady dandury #young lady danbury #bridgerton fic #qcabs fanfic #bnbridgertonfics #bridgerton

[b-lessings]

Tw: short mention of abuse

Tunisia's celebrating Tunisian women's day today and everyone on social media is posting about their moms and honoring their moms - which is beautiful to see - and for the first time of my life I am thinking of my paternal grandmother, or as they put it in Turkish - which I find so beautiful - " babaannem". I love how they call the maternal grandma " anneanne " which translates to mother-mother and the paternal one "babaanne", which translates to father-mother. Anyways, I am deviating from my point as usual. Babaannem benim 🥹🤍 Her name was Khadijah, but as in every Tunisian family they used go by " Douja" and I know very little of her, she passed a way several years before I came to life, same as my mother's mom, I never knew either of them. But my mother always talks about her mom, she would show me pictures, she would say I looked a lot like her when I was a baby, and she would tell me funny stories about her all the time, that later on when I became older and understood life better I came to understand that she is one important link in the generational trauma we carry in this family lol, and with all due respect granma, no offense but you didn't do such a great job, or any, in raising the woman that gave life to me - side note my mom was raised more by her widowed auntie - but anywaaaaaays that's besides the point! So my mom wouldn't tell me much about babaannem, and she would always transmit to me the feeling that she didn't like her - even though she was her uncle's wife so like family and whatnot - she gave me the feeling that babaannem sorta mistreated her or at least treated her differently from her own daughters, and the narrative that was going around is that she was a harsh woman. However, there is only like 2 or 3 pics to her that I have seen my whole life and very little stories. But I know baba adored his mom, and alhamdullillah he was "بار بها". And again, now that I am older, more self-aware and I can understand life and womanhood better, I am in awe of how strong babaannem must have been and everything she went through! An orphan who apparently grew up poor, got married off very young to a man she didn't love - no offense granpa I know it's not your fault, It was the culture in the 1920s - and she was apparently mistreated, abused in her own home, in her own bed, but she had to live, for her babies, and Allahuma barik she had seven I think so that's at least seven times she lied under her husband against her will, a husband that I also understood he was absent a lot, and she had to fend for her kids, it was times of war, there was the active French colonialism then, and WWII going on, imagine the amount of horror and agony she was going through.. I am so sorry I never got to meet her, she literally existed a whole century ago, that's crazy, I can't wrap my head around it, but I think she died in the 80s because my siblings got to live with her when they were kids.. , I wish she somehow knew about my existence, her youngest grandchild, born to her youngest and favorite son, sitting here cross-legged in her maiden bed on this random summer night and actually " seeing " her, her strength, her patience, her resilience, her pain, her power, her wisdom, her anxieties.. oh God... Now I understand where baba's anxiety, and therefore my anxiety comes from! Sübhanallah.. And she raised such close children, so caring and affectionate for each other and for her, despite the age gaps between them, so that can only prove that she nurtured them with love and affection 🥹 my heart is exploding with feelings for her right now! Ya Allah, encompass her with your mercy, expand her grave for her and make it a rawdha from Jannah, ameen 🤍

I love you Babaannem, Happy Tunisian women's day my queen! I am proud to be your granddaughter, I only hope I walk on your footsteps in motherhood one day and learn from you resilience. I pray we meet in Jannah in shaa Allah 🤍.

#prsnl #reflections #tw abuse #but only a mention of it

[tevinter]

Can you give me some beautiful and wonderful lore about your oc? I am really intrigued by her.

Be careful what you wish for... Behold my very long ramblings -

Antigone is named after the character from Sophocle's tragedy, and I like to think that she has the same qualities I see in the original - extremely loyal, caring, stubborn, marked by death all her life but it never made her bitter or cruel. The 'memento mori' aspect of her character is such an inspiration to the way I think about my Antigone. From the very first scenes in the play Antigone makes clear that she is not afraid to die to do right by the ones she loved, because there is beauty in that because there is love. Her actions may be morbid but they are full of so much love and honour and stubbornness that it makes her one of my favourite characters of all time, and I wanted my mc to have those qualities too. I didn't want her to be a sad edgy girl (nothing wrong with those). She has an air of longing and melancholy and quietness, but it is the form of the gentlest happinness and wonder. I think of her as a bit ethereal, a bit morbid, extremely gentle. Like the ghost of a loved one. Or a little black bird that seems an omen of death but if you hold it in your hands you'll feel how gentle it is. And I think it fits so well with the time period! I really love the Victorian Era and its mourning rituals and memento mori-ness and search for spirits and séances.

She was born to a Lestrange mother and a muggle father, in France. Her mother was erased from the family tree à la Sirius Black when they married, for being a blood-traitor and whatnot, but her mother contracted tuberculosis close to childbirth and died soon after she was born. Before dying, though, out of spite, she gave Antigone the family surname. The Lestranges would not accept someone with their name being raised by a muggle, even though they despised her and called her a ''little blood-traitor spawn''. The elders of the family discussed the situation - they thought about killing her, but there was some distant great-aunt who was recently widowed and lonely in her estate in England, so they sent her there to be raised by her and keep her company. They obliviated her father's memories of his wife, daughter and the subsequent events relating to them. She did not show any signs of magical abilities during her childhood, but she could still see ghosts and eventually Thestrals, though they were rare.

Living with her great aunt was ok. She wasn't treated as a daughter, more like a pet. Sometimes like a dignified house elf. At least until she grew into a well-behaved, graceful girl. Then she was seen with kinder eyes. Her aunt was very much the typical Queen Victoria ''forever in mourning'', and black clothes were the norm in the household. They were the very contrast of old and bitter and young and spirited, though connected by their memento-mori-ness. Antigone lived in this estate and had to think of pasttimes that did not involve magic. She learned to play some instruments (piano and violin) and transcribed music sheets. When she went to London once, she got separated from her great aunt and found herself in a theatre, where there was a ballet presentation. She took opera librettos and some books back home. Sometimes she practised dancing like a ballerinna when she was alone. She also liked to roam the woods next to the estate, because she marvelled at nature. She was particularly fond of the magpies that nested there and the wild hares. She even loved the spiders, especially seeing their webs adorned with dew in the morning. It was a good childhood, despite the strict rules and chores, and lack of friends or familial love.

When she turned 14, she started showing signs of magical abilities. Her great aunt was a bit pleased, but also scared to be alone again, so she acted bitterly about it. Nevertheless, her Hogwarts letter came and off to Hogwarts she went.

I have more ramblings about Hogwarts and Ominis and the other characters but this is already too long.

Due to death being one of the first things she ever saw, her Patronus is a small Thestral foal.

#Antigone Lestrange #thank you for the ask 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[knittingdaisies]

I can’t sleep because I am so fucking angry at Mary Wollstonecraft’s husband and Mary Shelley’s father, William Godwin. This scum married the Inventor of feminism. She was writing shit that is still radical today! And then he knocked her up and she died because the goddamn fucking doctor didn’t wash his hands before brutally tearing out her placenta. Then Godwin wrote a memoir that systematically ruined everything she stood for. He discounted her independence. He ignored her intelligence. He wrote her, the woman so strongly passionate about expressing women’s inner lives, through the lens of whichever man was fucking closest. He alienated her sisters because he didn’t care to consult them about her even though she took care of them intimately her whole fucking life. He didn’t even care to learn her mother’s damn maiden name. I wish I could go back in time and eviscerate him. I wish a doctor with dirty fucking cadaver hands would shove germs into his goddamn fucking penis. And then he proceeds to disown his daughter for shacking up with a guy out of wedlock (after writing against the institution of marriage and wait, was that also him shacking up with Mary Wollstonecraft out of wedlock? You fucking hypocrite) while expecting her and Percy to support him and his miserable wife? Then he spends the rest of his life mooching off of his widowed daughter who is literally supporting herself and her son by writing, which is so hard because she’s a fucking woman in the nineteenth century. YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING WORM. YOU ARE THE SCUM OF THE EARTH. IF I COULD KILL YOU AGAIN I WOULD YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT.

#mary wollstonecraft #mary shelley #rage #fuck William Godwin #feminism

[alliluyevas]

One of the graves I most wanted to visit was Helen Mar Kimball Whitney: Helen was an avid diarist, and I've read about 800 pages of her diary entries recorded mostly over the last decade of her life after her husband died, so I feel like I "know" her from her writing. She also has a very poignant and frankly pretty upsetting life story, and I wanted to pay my respects to her.

Helen was the oldest daughter of early church leader Heber Kimball, and the only surviving daughter he had with his first wife, Vilate. Helen's parents converted to Mormonism when she was three years old. When she was five, her family relocated to Kirtland, Ohio, where the church was then headquarted, and where Heber was ordained as one of the original Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When Helen was fourteen, her life dramatically changed when her father took a plural wife and then arranged a marriage between his daughter and 37-year-old Joseph Smith. Helen was his youngest wife. A little more than a year later, she became a fifteen-year-old widow after Smith's assassination. Helen's later in life reflections of this period mingle memories of her teenage unhappiness with an adult perspective of religious piety and duty, which is reflected by contemporary letters from her father urging Helen to be obedient through trials in search of promised spiritual blessings.

Later, seventeen-year-old Helen married Horace Whitney, the older brother of her best friend Sarah Ann, who she had apparently had a crush on since before her first marriage, right before they left Nauvoo for Utah along with the majority of the church. Settling in Salt Lake City, Helen and Horace had eleven children, six of whom survived to adulthood. Eventually, Horace married again, and Helen lived in a house next to her sister-wife, Mary Cravath Whitney. Helen struggled significantly with chronic physical health issues beginning in her late teens, starting with difficult pregnancies and births. She also suffered from what she described alternately as issues with her nerves, melancholy, "deathly spells", and demonic attacks. Because of her disabling psychological and physical health issues, she often felt that she was not able to socialize or engage with her hobbies the way she wanted to. In her early teens, Helen had sung in the Nauvoo church choir, played piano, and had several roles in amateur theater productions. Horace, who played the violin, was also artistic, and their children were involved in music and theater as well. Her main creative outlet as an adult seems to have been writing--in addition to her prolific and vivid diary entries, she published articles and poetry in Mormon women's magazines, as well as two pro-polygamy pamphlets.

Helen experienced a lot of loss and trauma in her life, from the pressures of her early marriage to the deaths of several of her children in infancy. A little more than a year after the death of her husband, the family went through another tragedy: her younger son, Charlie, who was 21, killed himself. Helen struggled with both grief and shock at the nature of his death for the rest of her life. Another thing that drew me to the Whitney family gravesite was wanting to document Charlie's headstone. According to his mother's diary, he was buried next to his father, but there was no information on FindAGrave and I thought the headstone might no longer be extant. Thankfully, I was able to photograph Charlie's simple headstone and I will be creating a page on FindAGrave for him.

I'm very glad that I was able to see Helen and her family and leave flowers: her diary was very moving to me and I have a lot of sympathy for her. She seems like she was a very intelligent, talented woman who dealt with a lot of really difficult, crushing things in life, and I wish she hadn't had to. Especially given how much grief she experienced and that I know she hoped to reunite with her family in heaven, it was sort of comforting to see them all buried together, and the Whitney section is very beautiful.

The top image is Helen as an older woman. Middle is Horace and Mary. The bottom picture is her five surviving children, son Orson and daughters Lily, Genevieve, Florence, and Helen (clockwise from left). This picture was taken after Charlie died, I don't think there are any pictures of him. I was able to find the graves of every Whitney child except Helen--the area where she and her husband are supposed to be buried is kind of not in good repair and I suspect if the graves were in-ground plaques they may have grown over--you can see that one of Orson's wives had grown over and I had to kind of dig out her plaque. Charlie, Lily, and Genevieve are buried in the same plot as their parents, along with several half-siblings from Horace and Mary's marriage. Florence is with her husband's family, as is Helen (allegedly, as I wasn't able to locate the grave). (She's also named on the grave as F. Marion, though her family did not call her by her middle name. Maybe later in life.) Orson is buried with his wives in a different part of the cemetery next to his uncle, Solomon Kimball, who was Helen's youngest full brother whom she was very close to. (Note: Solomon was a widower who remarried, not a polygamist. Orson, on the other hand, had two wives at the same time).

#mormonposting tag #julia in utah 2023 #sorry for making the longest post of all time. appreciate her. and my studies.

[ask-a-w]

Ebony & Gold

For Aeon Week Day 6 - Historical

Summary: A blonde lord gets off on the wrong foot with a raven-haired princess and they try to make amends. A Victorian AU Aeon short story. (Their characterizations will definitely be different so go in with an open mind.)

AO3

FF.net

----------

In the earlier years of the Victorian era, a youthful prince from a far away land in the East was curious about life in the West. He learned about their mannerisms, with some disapproval from his older brothers. But being the youngest son, the Emperor doted on him and allowed the boy to pursue whatever he fancied.

With blessings from his father, he travelled to England as a diplomatic envoy, hoping to improve trade relations between the East and West. The prince charmed everyone he met there with his grace and slightly eccentric ways.

Soon enough, he caught the eye of many young women that were hoping to marry into a royal family regardless of the fact that he belonged to the Chinese imperial house. Like many couples of that time, the prince was matchmade with a lovely lass who was the daughter of a Duke.

However, things changed during the ball he and the lady were supposed to meet. They both managed to find partners of their own. The young prince met a daughter of a widowed Countess. She was the same age as him and both fell in love with each other. He and his loved one were married within the year they met and their union produced two sons and a daughter whom they cherished with all of their hearts. It was a rare thing to marry one’s true love during that time period and the prince unknowingly set a trend in his social circle for doing that.

Biennially, the family would alternate living either in England or China as ambassadors. Thus, their children grew up with knowledge from both Worlds and it was quite advantageous for them.

Having taken on an English name, Prince Gregory, Duke of the Orient, returned with Princess Wilhemina, Duchess of the Orient to her homeland as scheduled. Their youngest daughter, Princess Ada, now nineteen years of age, was the only child to accompany them on their adventures.

Her brothers were already married, having carved out their own very successful lives away from the family. They were lucky to have found soulmates they wanted to spend their lives with and wished their baby sister all the best with regards to matters of the heart.

As soon as word hit the streets that The Orients had returned, they were swamped with invites to balls and various engagements. Ada now stood in her bedroom as an attendant dolled her up.

Grace, her faithful lady-in-waiting about a decade older than her had been with Ada since she was a young girl, looked on worriedly. “Are you most certain, my lady?” She was concerned about a certain event from three years ago that affected her precious princess.

“I will be alright, Grace. My friends would love to meet me in person after corresponding with letters for the past two years.” Ada replied confidently as her hair was twirled elegantly on the back of her neck.

Grace nodded and gestured to another maid to serve up the tea. “You should eat something before you leave, my lady. I know you rarely do so when you attend balls. It is not good for your health.”

Ada stopped the attendant from sliding her gloves on and thanked the lady for dressing her up before dismissing the rest of the servants from the room. 

“It is difficult to partake in food with a corset. The tea and scones will have to suffice till then. Thank you again, Grace. You are ever so thoughtful.”

The princess sat down and helped herself to the food platter. Her parents would take a little while longer to be ready and she would just have to wait for the bell to chime. “You should eat as well, Grace. After all, you will be accompanying me as my lady-in-waiting.”

Under normal circumstances, Grace would decline but this was Ada they were talking about. She and her brothers were raised with both regality and modesty for others around her. They treated their servants as equals. Though others outside of the Orient household thought that the princess was an aloof and icy royal.

“You know I will not take no for an answer, Grace. Please, sit down and rest before the night’s events call upon us.” Ada implored and the older woman obliged, sitting down on the chair beside the raven haired princess and enjoying their snacks.

A few moments later, the bell rang and it was time for them to leave. Grace sat with Ada and her parents in one carriage while the other attendants sat in the other. Gregory and Wilhemina were both pleasant to be with despite their lofty titles.

“Ada dear, you look as beautiful as ever.” Her mother spoke and Ada gave a smile, “I have you and papa to thank for that.” The teenager teased and her parents chuckled, making light-hearted banter all the way to their destination.

----------

In the rolling hills of the countryside there was the mansion of the Earl of Adlitam. They were a noble family mostly invested in business, and had accumulated a great amount of wealth as well as a good reputation. Earl Matthias Kennedy had three children, two sons and an eldest daughter. The middle child, Leon, was currently in his office being lectured by his father.

“You need to take these things more seriously,” The Earl said as he paced back and forth while Leon read a newspaper. “You’re going to inherit this family’s legacy, and I don’t want our ancestors’ hard work to all be in vain because you were too busy showing interest in every young lady you meet. Remember that in this world, personal and professional matters often affect each other.”

“I don’t show interest in everyone, just the ones who are beautiful.” Leon replied, still more invested in the paper than his father’s lecture. “You want me to have my own family, don’t you?” Leon smirked slightly and Matthias gave an exasperated sigh, running his fingers through his greying hair.

“Leon, you have amazing business skills, but don’t be overconfident. This ball is for building good relations, but not those kinds.” The Earl said sternly and snatched the newspaper away from Leon. “Show these people that you are a respectable man and not just interested in their daughters. Limit it to one dance per lady. Now let’s get ready, I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Leon scoffed and stood up to follow his father. He had been to so many balls already it was completely routine to him at this point. Everyone already wanted to have good relations with the Kennedys that it seemed redundant to pander to anyone. Leon might as well make the most of them.

The blonde had his servants helping him get dressed for the ball. He put on his nicest suit with coat tails, bow tie, white gloves, and his best cufflinks. The servants made sure his shoes were shiny and his hair was neatly styled.

Once the preening was complete, Leon went to the hallway to meet with the rest of the family. His father, mother, and older sister Diana were soon ready to leave as well, while his little brother James stood pouting.

“I wish you would let me go to the ball,” James said. His mother patted his shoulder and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“When you’re of age. Now be good while we’re gone. Let’s not be late now,” the Countess of Adlitam beckoned the rest of her family to exit the mansion. Leon gave his brother a wave goodbye and a smile as they went out the door and climbed into the awaiting carriage to take them to the ball.

----------

Before they knew it, the Orients arrived at the mansion and they disembarked from their carriage, heading off into the house. After they handed over their coats and hats to the servants, her parents handed out the invitation cards to the doorman where he called out their names to announce their presence.

“Their Royal Highnesses, The Duke and Duchess of the Orient! Her Royal Highness, The Princess of the Orient!”

All eyes turned to them and Ada trailed after Gregory and Wilhemina who were met with old friends and acquaintances. The usual greetings and compliments of her growing more beautiful every two years were exchanged. All these pleasantries bored the princess and when her father finally addressed her to go enjoy herself, Ada curtsied to him and left to find her trio of friends.

She found them clinging to men on their arms and they greeted her fondly. “Princess Ada, it is good to see you again!” The ‘leader’ of the clique, Eleanor, spoke and the princess replied, “Likewise.”

Ada then turned towards the men with a curious look on her face. “All of us got married last year,” Eleanor explained and each lady introduced her spouse to the princess, making the royal slightly jealous.

“Is this the surprise you were talking about in your letter? Congratulations.” Her voice was tinged with a slight edge. Weren’t they the ones who promised that they would swore off men after her failed engagement a few years ago? They clearly broke it.

“I will see you later. Please, excuse me.” The princess turned on her heel and walked away, out of the ballroom into the balcony for some air. Grace was beside her in an instant.

“They were so crass, Your Highness. Some friends they are.” The older woman implored and Ada could only sigh, “I doubt they were truly my friends to begin with, Grace.”

A few minutes later, the Kennedys arrived and they entered the mansion, giving the servants their coats and hats as usual, and handed their invitations to the doorman.

“The Earl and Countess of Adlitam! Lord Kennedy! Lady Kennedy!”

The Kennedy family stuck together for a little while before Leon decided to go his separate way, but not before his father whispered a few words into his ears. “Remember what I said. We’re here for business, not just pleasure.” Leon gave his father a nod and a smile before he turned away. He began to prowl the ballroom for any young, single ladies whom he had not had the pleasure of meeting yet.

There were plenty of available women, some he had been acquainted with, and there were a few new faces. Leon danced with some of the prettier ones to get to know them a little better, but there were none here tonight that seemed to truly catch his interest.

Meanwhile, Ada spent the rest of her time outside, enjoying the beauty of the night sky. A few people lingered here and there in the shadows of the balcony, trying to sneak an intimate moment or two, away from prying eyes. The princess casually ignored the public displays of affection.

Grace was rubbing her arms and Ada spoke with concern. “Are you cold? You should go inside and have a drink to warm yourself up.” Her lady-in-waiting nodded but frowned a bit at the suggestion of leaving her charge alone.

It was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Ada’s keen eye. “I am capable of taking care of myself, Grace. You have seen me do it before.”

The older woman let out a small sigh, “I will be back soon, my lady.” She gave Ada a look of worry before reluctantly turning away to find refreshments for them both.

After several dances, Leon grew a bit bored and felt he needed some fresh air. The young lord did not want to return to his family just yet, and unfortunately not many of his friends were here, or they were busy with their own dances. He went outside for some quiet time and to look up at the night sky. 

Leon only saw a few people milling about on the balcony, which was just how he liked it. He did notice a young Asian woman in a scarlet gown and assumed she was the help of one of the guests, or a lady-in-waiting perhaps.

Inside the ballroom, Matthias learned that the Duke and Duchess of the Orient were here with their princess, and he prayed Leon would behave well around her. He was always at least polite around women. He knew better, right?

----------

The princess had a minute to herself before she heard footsteps behind her. Ada turned to tease her lady-in-waiting for returning so soon but did not say anything when she caught sight of a blonde man instead.

He was dressed like the rest of the males. Black suit with coat tails, white bow tie, and slicked hair. Sometimes she wished women could have simple outfits like that which could be worn repeatedly. Having to purchase new outfits for each season was bothersome. 

She kept her thoughts to herself and looked away, not in the least bit interested by the blonde’s presence at all.

Leon was feeling a bit stuffy in his formal clothing and with so few people around, he thought it would be alright if he loosened his sleeves to cool off a bit. He undid the cuffs, but was not quite careful enough, and accidentally dropped a cufflink on the floor. It rolled over towards the Asian woman, and the blonde let out a small sigh.

“Excuse me, you there?” He called out to her. “Could you be a dear and pick that up for me?”

His words caught the attention of the others on the balcony and they had to hold back their laughter. Did Lord Kennedy just address a royal princess so casually?

Ada heard a metallic ding against the floor and she frowned at his command. She turned to face the blonde and spoke coolly, “I beg your pardon?” Couldn’t he see that she was dressed regally in red and purple? “I believe your eyes might be deceiving you. I am not a butler.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Leon said, beginning to feel slightly suspicious. “No, you don’t look like a butler. I don’t believe I’ve met you before. Are you a guest here?” He asked with a charming smile, still oblivious. He decided to simply walk over to her and pick up his cufflink himself.

Ada gripped the fan in her hand a little tighter, weary about his forwardness with her. Royal protocol prohibited men from approaching her without the presence of her lady-in-waiting. Was this man that clueless about her identity? She also recognized the look of want on his face. The blonde found her attractive but she was not going to give him that satisfaction tonight.

As Leon neared the young lady, he could hear the faint whisperings of other guests and began to have a bad feeling. Upon closer inspection of the Asian woman he had to admit that she was quite fair, with beautiful brown eyes that right now seemed to be glaring daggers at him. Leon wondered for a moment about courting her, but pushed the thought aside. A gut feeling told him to restrain himself in this instance.

“I don’t usually see your kind around here.”

The princess’ eyes narrowed into slits at the last comment. Grace and her family had mentioned that whenever she was angry, her gaze always appeared to be piercing through a person’s soul. Leon was rooted to the spot. It was almost as if she was Medusa exerting her power over him. 

“My family was invited and my mother is English.” The princess replied venomously and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grace hurrying to her.

"Your Royal Highness, the Duke and Duchess are expecting you.” The older woman then noticed Leon standing in front of Ada and she immediately bowed to the princess. “My apologies for interrupting your conversation, ma’am.”

Ada shook her head. “No, we were done with our conversation.” She boldly took a step towards the blonde and whispered acidly. “Good night, peasant.”

Grace kept her surprise to herself and followed her lady back into the ballroom.

She left Leon standing there dumbfounded and speechless. That young woman was a Princess? How was he supposed to know that? He then chided himself when he recalled all the purple embroidery that was on her dress. That should have tipped him off that she was not a servant.

Leon headed back inside to look for his family and the young lord was suddenly keenly aware of all the staring and whispering around him. A wave of humiliation surged through his body. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see his father’s furious face, as red from anger as Leon’s was from embarrassment.

“What were you thinking?” The Earl of Adlitam hissed. “How could you speak to a royal princess like that?”

“I did not know she was royalty.” Leon whispered back. “I suppose she got here before we did. No one bothered to tell me there was a Princess of the Orient here.”

“You could have at least been more polite. This is what I was talking about.” Matthias glanced left and right. “You’ve not only embarrassed yourself, but also me and our family. I don’t want you leaving my side for the rest of the ball.” The two men went off to find the Countess and Lady Kennedy, and did their best to ignore the swarm of gossip in the air.

However, the damage was done and Leon and his father were both in terrible moods for the remainder of the night, though they did well to mask it when speaking to the other guests. His mother and sister heard what happened, but did not say anything, and no one else brought it up in front of them out of politeness, even if they had no trouble bringing it up behind their backs.

In another part of the ballroom, the princess finally made it back safely in her own little social circle. “Ada dear, we would like to introduce you to a family friend.” Wilhemina spoke upon seeing her daughter. The raven haired teen did her best to wear a mask of nonchalance but deep down, she was still rather ruffled by the encounter.

The greying man in front of the princess extended a hand. “I am Phillip, your mother’s tutor. I met you when you were a baby. My, how big you have grown.” 

Ada raised her gloved hand and the man kissed the back of the fabric politely. She dropped her hand down and continued to politely participate in the conversation. The princess did notice that every now and then, prying eyes would turn and focus on her. Ada coolly ignored them and stood her ground.

The ball passed… ever so slowly but Ada still stayed with her parents, refusing to move her feet at all. They would understand why she wouldn’t want to dance with a man.

Finally, it was time for them to leave and as usual, their status allowed them to depart first. Ada heaved a sigh in the carriage and her mother looked over to her. “What is the matter, darling?”

The princess feigned exhaustion and leaned her head back into the seat. “I am fatigued by all the excitement, mama. It has been two years since my last ball. Grandpa’s palace is relaxing and tranquil with the occasional fanfare.”

Gregory nodded. The East and West threw their parties differently and there wasn’t a mad race to be seen at events everywhere in China. “Then rest immediately when we get home, my dear.”

----------

The blonde lord did his best to go through the motions of the ball, though he did not want to dance with anyone anymore, and none of the young ladies seemed to want to anyway. Leon contented himself with drinking until it was finally time to leave.

The Kennedys all quietly put their coats back on and went to their awaiting carriage. They sat down and wordlessly rode back to their mansion. Leon knew his father would give him an earful once they got home though.

“How could you make such a fool of yourself?!” The Earl admonished his son once they were in his office while the rest of the family was getting ready for bed. Leon avoided eye contact and sighed.

“It was an honest mistake,” Leon retorted defensively, crossing his arms. “If she had been of a lower status there would not be such a fuss.”

“Well she wasn’t, was she?” Matthias asked, one eye twitching just a tad. “And it doesn’t matter what your intentions were, all anyone cares about is you made a fool of yourself in front of royalty. The Kennedys will be the laughing stock for months because of this.” He grumbled and rubbed his temples as the stress got to him.

“And not to mention that you’ve earned the ire of Princess Ada, and likely the Duke and Duchess of the Orient. They could have been good allies to have…” 

Leon quirked an eyebrow, “So her name is Ada?” They did not have the pleasantries to exchange names. Leon doubted she would want to know his after this.

His father turned to glower at him for his remark. Leon glared back in return, “If you think I want to court her, you’re gravely mistaken. She wasn’t exactly made of honey when we spoke, more like venom. I’ll be happy if that’s the last time I ever see her.”

“It does not matter, you are confined to this house until I see fit to allow you to leave,” The Earl replied. “Now go to bed. I expect you back to work in the morning.” 

Leon sighed and left the office, feeling much less happy tonight than he thought he would be.

----------

“He asked me to pick up his cufflink! What sort of gentleman does that? He also had the cheek to say that he doesn’t see Asians around and assumed that I was some sort of servant.”

Ada vented to Grace when they were both in her bedroom. The older woman was brushing the princess’ hair to get rid of any knots before she went to bed. “Sounds like an uncouth lout, my lady.”

While a maid would typically be helping the princess get ready for bed, Ada preferred to have Grace by her side. She could express her frustrations to her friend to her heart’s content. 

The royal handed a night cap to Grace and all her raven hair was gathered and placed into the cap before Grace slipped it on her head. “I was not wearing rags, Grace. Could he not see my dress??”

Grace patted Ada’s shoulder and guided her to the bed. “He must have been blind, then. Get some sleep, Your Highness. It is not worth it to be angry over a pompous fool.”

Princess Ada sighed and slipped under the covers. “I know… I guess my head will be cleared of that mess in the morning. Good night, Grace." Her lady-in-waiting then drew the curtains shut and extinguished the lamps.

"Good night, ma’am.” The older blonde woman called out at the door and shut it close behind her.

----------

The days passed and Leon grew ever more restless as he was stuck doing work with no time to spend with any of his friends. The best he could do was take a stroll through the garden. On the other hand, Ada’s time was spent with tea parties, dances, musicals, and any engagement under the Sun fit for a royal. 

A month after Leon’s debacle, the Earl knew he had to repair the damage his son had done. After consulting with a family friend, Phillip, the retired tutor decided to host a garden party where other families, along with the Kennedys and the Orients, would be in attendance. It was all carefully planned by Matthias and Phillip, to have both parties meet on neutral ground and mend their strained relations.

Phillip had tutored Leon as a boy, and who just so coincidentally tutored Ada’s mother. With everything proceeding as arranged, the invitations were sent. It was not a formal ball, but Matthias demanded that Leon be even more polite than ever, lest he be confined to the household for the rest of the year.

Unbeknownst to the young blonde, the Orients were invited as well. Leon would have had second thoughts about going if he knew that piece of information.

For the Orients, they received the garden party invitation from Wilhemina’s tutor roughly a month after the Kennedy incident. Needless to say, they gladly accepted the invite. Phillip was a treasured family friend, after all.

When the day of the garden party came, the princess chose a lightweight yet elegant viridian coloured day dress that went along with her parasol. She also wore boots as the grass could sometimes be uneven and slippery.

With Grace close to her, she mingled with the guests and indulged in some food as well. Her parents were off conversing with Phillip, without a clue on what the tutor had planned with the Earl of Adlitam.

When the Earl saw Philip with the Orients, he enacted the plan and made his approach. 

“It’s good to see you, Earl Matthias,” Phillip called out to him and they shook hands. “Matthias, this is Duke Gregory and Duchess Wilhemina of the Orient.”

Matthias smiled and gave them a bow of respect. “It is an honour to meet Your Royal Highnesses. Let me apologize once more for my son’s behaviour.”

If Gregory and Wilhemina were surprised to see the Earl of Adlitam, they hid it really well and instead, gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence. They had heard from Grace on what had happened to Ada on the balcony that night. Needless to say, they were not pleased with the young man’s disrespect.

Matthias looked behind him to see Leon conversing with guests normally. Luckily no one was gossiping quite as much about the incident anymore. “I trust Princess Ada is here as well?”

“Of course. We wouldn’t be able to do this without her, right?” Phillip said with a smile. “Go ahead and call your son over, Earl Kennedy.” 

Matthias nodded and turned around to wave at his son. “Leon, come here and say hello to Phillip. You two should catch up.”

The Duchess gazed at her tutor when he mentioned her little girl and Leon. “What are you planning to do, Phillip? Why must our daughter be involved with an uncouth man?” Her blue eyes were full of worry and the Duke put an arm around his wife’s shoulder, glaring at the tutor and demanding an answer. 

Phillip didn’t reply to them straight away. Instead, he waited for the young blonde to come over to make his greeting.

Leon heard his father and made his way over like he was asked. He found the party rather dull while he was being kept on a tight leash. At least Phillip might be nice to talk to. “Phillip, how are you?” Leon asked as he beamed at his old tutor. 

He then took notice of the Duke and Duchess, and immediately felt a pit form in his stomach. The blonde would not be oblivious a second time.

“Leon, this is Their Royal Highnesses, Duke Gregory and Duchess Wilhemina. Of the Orient.” Matthias said to his son. Leon forced himself to keep smiling at the royals and gave them a polite bow. “It is an honour.”

The Orients nodded at him stiffly and they could feel the temperature of the air around them dropping a notch or two.

Phillip then cleared his throat, “Matthias had this idea to help improve Leon’s image by allowing everyone here to have a glance of him and Princess Ada at least walking together. This is a very unforgiving society and Matt here is a very good friend of mine. I do not wish to see his family come to ruin.”

Wilhemina was about to interject that her precious girl will not be used to improve someone’s public image but Phillip continued to speak, “Of course, it would be most optimal if Leon apologized to her highness and they can both start off on the right foot. You did teach your children about forgiveness, Wilhemina. Leon made an honest mistake.”

It all made sense to Leon now. This was all part of an elaborate plan by his father and his tutor. His father gave him a slight nudge in the back, prompting Leon to bow deeply to the Duke and Duchess.

"I apologize for my ignorance and my impoliteness." The lord said, hoping that this would convince the Orients. He still did not think they had to go this far, but Leon also wanted to get this over with. “Please forgive me. It was wrong for me to treat your daughter that way.”

What Leon dreaded though was seeing Princess Ada once again, and he knew that it would be much tougher to earn her forgiveness. At least his father seemed pleased with his behaviour, smiling proudly at Leon for apologizing.

The Orients still weren’t entirely moved by his apology so Gregory decided to impart some wisdom. “You should not treat anyone in a rude manner, my boy. All of us deserve respect. Depending on where you are, you will not always be part of the majority race.”

Phillip nodded in agreement, “We bleed the same colour, Leon. Remember that.”

It truly was embarrassing for Leon as he did his best to smile and nod at the advice given to him. “Yes, you are right, of course everyone deserves respect. I will do my best to remember that in the future.”

The lord may or may not have actually heed these words, but for now he was simply acting how he thought they wanted him to. He would need to put on his best performance if he was to earn the royal princess’ forgiveness though. “Please, I really would like to apologize to Princess Ada myself. The guilt has been eating me up ever since that night. I’m glad you’ve given me a second chance.”

Wilhemina could see Leon was growing red with embarrassment and she looked to her husband. “Dear, I believe he knows he did wrong. Why don’t we call Ada over now? She is the one he is supposed to apologize to.

Acting was a skill that was needed to survive in this Victorian life. Whether they doubted Leon’s sincerity or not, the royals still had to give face and treat him politely.

Gregory nodded to his wife. “Phillip, please send someone to call for my dear daughter.” The tutor then gave them a bow and walked a short distance away to speak to a servant, leaving the Orients alone with the Kennedys.

To prevent awkward silence, Wilhemina participated in a little small talk. “How is your business going, Earl Matthias?”

Elsewhere, Princess Ada strolled with Grace through Phillip’s rose garden and admired the flowers that were in bloom. “Imagine all the rose jam you can make with this, Grace.” The princess spoke and her stomach rumbled slightly.

“Many cartons, my lady. Phillip already gifts your family rose jam throughout the year and you are still hungry?” Grace teased and Ada chuckled.

A maid approached them and bowed. “Your Royal Highness, the Duke and Duchess of the Orient request your presence. Please, follow me.”

Leon nervously waited while the servants fetched Princess Ada, and listened as the adults engaged in minor chit chat to pass the  time. He swore that when he was in charge, he would leave this sort of socializing to someone else, while he could do the real business alone. These politics were so tedious.

“Please, tell me, is there anything about Princess Ada I should know about?” Leon made sure to ask before she arrived. “I just want to make sure I don’t make any transgressions. Better safe than sorry.”

“She detests men who are rude to her and Grace, her lady-in-waiting.” Gregory replied simply as he recalled the times where Ada put a man in his place and he was proud of her for that.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Ada of the Orient!” A voice announced her arrival and the raven haired teenager closed her parasol and walked up to her parents. She stopped beside the couple before realizing the rude blonde man from that night was in close proximity to them.

Ada’s eyes narrowed slightly and she turned to her folks. “Mother, father, are you acquainted with this man?”

Wilhemina began to explain that they knew what happened on that fateful night at the ball and how Phillip came up with the idea for Lord Kennedy to apologize.

“He belittled me due to the colour of my skin, mother. That is not something that can be easily forgiven and forgotten.”

The Duchess became a little stern, “Everyone looks up to us and we must set good examples for them, Ada. A little kindness goes a long way.”

That is the way it is when you’re born into the royal family. I did not raise you to be stubborn.

Wilhemina could only think of those thoughts to herself but she hoped her daughter got the hint. Ada relented and turned to the blonde. “I am willing to hear you out, Lord Kennedy.”

“I did not mean to belittle you, really,” Leon began, being actually sincere about that. He was not perfect, but he certainly did not enjoy being thought of as some kind of a bigot. “I had no idea that the Duke, Duchess, and Princess of the Orient had come to the ball that night. Had I known I would have been much more aware.”

The blonde was not quite sure how much of him was acting and how much really was being honest. Perhaps both. Leon might have told himself he did not care about what these people thought of him, but deep down he had the feeling he wanted people to like him. He looked the royal in the eye as he proclaimed, “I was rude out of ignorance. I am completely willing to admit to that, but it was far from being malicious, especially in regards to your ethnicity, Princess Ada.”

Matthias nodded in approval at his son’s performance. He did not care if he was sincere or not, so long as he gained the royals’ favour. 

Phillip was a bit more of an optimist and believed there was something real there. “Ada, do you think you’d be willing to forgive Lord Kennedy?”

Ada listened to Leon with a calm expression on her face. Frankly, she just wanted to tune him out but there was something in his eyes when he apologized. It intrigued her. 

The princess turned to the retired tutor and regarded his question with a bit of thought. “I accept his apology.” She finally replied without any mention that she would forgive Leon.

That satisfied her parents and Gregory spoke up. “Good. I suggest the two of you take a walk along the grounds so everyone can see that you have made peace.” The Duke turned his gaze towards the older Kennedy. “I trust that would be sufficient, Matthias?”

Ada bit the inside of her cheek at her father’s suggestion. A walk with that lout? As long as she didn’t have to hook her elbows through his, she would maintain a respectable distance from the young lord.

For a very brief moment, Leon felt overjoyed that she accepted the apology. Now all of this could finally be put behind them. 

And then they asked them to walk together. He wished the ground would just swallow him whole. 

“Yes, of course it would be,” Matthias answered the Duke before his son could get a word in. “Leon would love to, wouldn’t you?” The Earl nudged him in the ribs discreetly and Leon nodded, getting the hint.

"It would be an honour." The blonde replied, doing his best to hide his ever growing annoyance at the entire situation. Just one short walk, then it would be all over.

“As it would be mine.” Ada replied and gave a bow to her parents before walking up to the blonde with her lady-in-waiting following behind her as a chaperone. “Shall we?” She made no indication to let go of her parasol and they walked out of the private pavilion side by side but at a respectable distance from each other.

When they were far away from the adults, the princess couldn’t help but whisper to him. “If you step out of line again, peasant, there will be consequences.”

She saw a hint of the other guests out of the corner of her eye and she put on a serene smile on her face. The crowd did a double take and almost stopped talking when they saw the Princess of the Orient and Lord Kennedy strolling beside each other along the sheltered pathway leading to the rose garden.

“Pretend to make some conversation, peasant. The sky is blue and the roses bloom red.”

"My name is Leon, your royal highness, not ‘peasant’.” The blonde whispered back to her. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his cool. At least he knew now that she was as insincere about accepting his apology as he was in giving it.

Leon did manage to force a small smile on his face while they walked together, though if one looked closely enough they would see the slight twitch of his eyelid. “Perfect weather for a garden party, isn’t it?” He asked, keeping up with their act. 

"Mmm hmm…” Ada muttered to herself when he irritably told her about his name. She continued to calmly smile back at Leon. “Indeed it is. Though you should relax the crease on your forehead on this beautiful day, it ruins your handsome face.”

Leon was momentarily stumped when the princess called him handsome but figured she meant it sarcastically. His mood turned dour once again. 

They strolled to the end of the walkway and that was enough to get the guests talking excitedly on how the Princess of the Orient and Lord Kennedy have set aside their differences.

The path led into Phillip’s rose garden once more. “Let us wait for a while before we walk back. Leaving too soon sets their tongues wagging again.”

Just then, a white furry creature popped out from the bushes and it let out a meow. “Ah, Phillip’s cat, Opal.” The beautiful white fluffy British longhair feline trotted up to them and rubbed her skirt, much to her delight.

“I don’t have food for you, silly Opal.”

The white kitty looked up and gave Ada an oblivious little meow before moving onto Leon, rubbing his legs and purring loudly. The lord’s features immediately softened into a genuine smile, and he knelt down to stroke her fur. Appearances be damned. 

"Hello there little Opal," The blonde cooed sweetly and scratched behind the cat’s ears, making her nuzzle into his hand and purr happily. “Are you enjoying the party too? I bet you are, with all the guests giving you treats, am I right?”

Opal flopped on the grass and allowed Leon to pat her smooth white belly. He let out a chuckle, “You are an adorable cat.”

“Cats are such mysterious little creatures.” Ada said with mild amusement as she watched Leon play with the cat and give her affectionate belly rubs. Other than her brothers, he was the first man she saw openly fawning over a cat. The princess slowly made her way to Opal so that it would not be startled.

When she was near enough to bend down and touch the cat, she spoke, “I have an equally snow white feline at home. She’s a Persian, a gift from one of the diplomats.”

“I would love to see her. What’s her name?” Leon said enthusiastically, before he caught himself and attempted to save face. He was not supposed to be enjoying this right now. The blonde stood up and took a couple of steps back, allowing Ada to have her turn with Opal. 

The princess was bemused by his enthusiasm and sudden coldness as he remembered that they were not on good terms. She decided to ignore his request about seeing her Persian and replied, “My cat is called Jade. Do you own a cat in your mansion?”

“Yes, we have a few cats at our house. One for me and both of my siblings,” The blond noble said, feeling a little at ease that Ada was not being hostile at the moment. “I have a British shorthair named Max.”

Ada found it rather endearing that the Kennedy siblings had a cat each and if circumstances were better, she would have wanted to see them as well. Alas, she had to be content with Jade and Opal.

She bent down and scratched the longhaired feline’s head before petting the creature from its head all the way down to its bottom. Opal was very content now as she closed her eyes in bliss. 

“Do you want to return to Phillip, little Opal?” The cat just continued to purr, obviously not understanding the human language.

“She seems quite happy right where she is.” Leon said as Opal curled up for a little cat nap. “Let’s leave her be. Cats can get quite cranky when you keep them from their sleep.”

“I know.” Ada stood up and bid the cat a quiet farewell. They walked past the little walkway again and the guests were chatting about them, as usual. It seems their little charade successfully convinced them to forgive Leon as well.

Both of them walked around the garden a bit more, and Leon was starting to forget that they were still mad. Their parents and Phillip noticed the duo as they came back towards them, and Matthias could almost sense a change in his son when he saw him.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” The Earl asked Leon. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable.” The blonde said, trying to sound sincere but not quite so sincere that it would tip Ada off that he truly enjoyed their time together. 

Ada could see Leon was attempting to feign sincerity again. “We met Opal in the rose garden, Phillip.” The princess happily spoke to her tutor and the older man smiled as well.

“Ah, so that would explain why some of my flowers have been chewed. I would have to build a little play area for her so she leaves the garden alone.”

“I’m sure Opal would love that.” Leon said with a soft smile.

The rest of the garden party went well, and both the Kennedys and the Orients left on good terms. Leon was not sure if he would ever see Ada again, but at least now he could put the incident behind him.

Princess Ada departed Phillip’s residence with a change of opinion regarding Lord Kennedy. For someone who loves cats, he wasn’t that much of a boor. She related the experience to Grace as the older woman was brushing her hair yet again. 

“It would seem that second impressions would be better than first impressions, my lady. We should believe in second chances.”

The raven haired princess looked at her reflection, deep in thought. “I suppose so, Grace…” She wasn’t sure she would entirely trust the blonde nobleman yet but he wasn’t so bad.

#Ada stories #Aeon Week 2023 #Ada Wong #Leon Kennedy #aeonweek

[iceandfiredrawings]

I would like to share a bit how I imagine Daella's life. THIS IS NOT REAL, these are just "inventions", "theories", whatever you want to call it, mine. why? because I love these characters and I like to imagine their plot, especially when George takes time to give us the official information! 😂 Anyway, this is just my imagination running and since I have nowhere to write it, I'll leave it here for whoever wants to read it. Please excuse my English, it's not my mother tongue but I hope you understand... 😅🙌😁

Daella was born in Summerhall, and throughout her childhood she wished to marry her cousin Valarr Targaryen, son of Baelor Breakspear and heir to the Iron Throne. Due to the difference in age and other interests involved, Valarr ends up marrying Kiera of Tyrosh, which causes Daella to hate Kiera deeply...

During her childhood, Daella begins to get close to her brother Daeron, although she got along with all her siblings (except Aerion) she always said that Daeron was her favorite brother.And he said the same about her.

When Daella grew up, she married Edwyn Swann, but he died shortly after the wedding during the third Blackfyre rebellion. After that, Daella did not marry again (at least for a time). Maekar and Lord Bloodraven wanted Daella to marry Daeron, even when he was asked to choose his wife, the prince chose his sister, but despite the fact that she showed certain doubts about whether to accept or not, she ended up refusing that commitment.

Following an incident at Aegon and Betha's wedding, Daella is sent to Summerhall, escorted by a guard led by Ser Duncan the Tall. There Daella became familiar with the common people, whom she began to help. Exile also brought Daella closer to ser Duncan, who despite knowing him for years did not maintain a close relationship... Until now. During that time, Daella and Duncan fell in love.

Eventually Daeron marries Kiera of Tyrosh and wishes to have the wedding and celebration at Summerhall.

—Of all the maidens in the realm, do you choose our cousin's infertile widow? Wise choice—Daella told her brother when she found out about the engagement.

—No sister. Of all the women in the kingdom, I chose you first, but you refused my hand.

During a tournament honoring the newlyweds, Ser Duncan is crowned champion. and names Daella Targaryen Queen of Love and Beauty, ignoring the bride (who was traditionally chosen at weddings). This aroused suspicion in the Hand of the King, Brynden Rivers, and convinced Maekar to find Daella a husband. Again the princess refused, as stubborn as her father, she did not agree to marry. Finally, Lord Bloodraven convinced Maekar to take Duncan away, and Daella lived in Summerhall with Aegon and his wife.

Years later, Prince Daeron dies and Daella travels to Dragonstone to bid farewell to her brother. There an incident happens, where Daella blames her sister-in-law for taking her brother from her. Again Daella returns to Summerhall, this time in the company of ser Duncan, with whom she has a relationship again, hidden from the entire court.

For a time Daella and Duncan have a secret romance, but Maekar sends a raven to Summerhall where he requests the return of the knight and Aegon to go to battle. Daella decides it is time to tell Maekar that she wishes to marry Duncan, but they both fear the King's reaction. Afraid that the King might take the proposal the wrong way, she decides to wait until they return from the war. During that time, Daella discovers that she is pregnant and seeks advice from her brother Aemon. He tells her that Maekar will never forgive anyone who has dared to dishonor his daughter and that Duncan's life could be in danger if the he finds out that Duncan is the father of the baby. Still hoping that her father will grant permission for the wedding, Daella enlists the help of Lady Shiera Seastar, Bloodraven's mistress, to intercede with the Hand of the King on her behalf. She does not tell her about her condition, she only informs her that she is in love with a man, who is lowborn but honorable and wants her father's permission to marry him as soon as possible.

Shiera knows Daella's condition and knows why the urgency of a marriage. Of course she reports it to Blood Raven. The Hand of the King has other plans for the princess, so he lies to her.

He tells her that the King will not allow his daughter to marry a "nobody", that her marriage should be with a noble lord and that if he finds out who is the man she is in love with, he will put his head in a spear.

Afraid of the king's supposed response, Daella decides to follow Shiera Seastar's advice, and marry a lord before her pregnancy begins to show. The chosen one is Lord Tarth, a kind and handsome young man.

Months later, the kingdom receives the news that the King has died in battle, once back in court, the Hand of the King convenes a Council to choose a successor. Duncan, who already knew about the news of Daella's marriage, tells her that Maekar never knew that she wanted to get married. The princess realizes the deception and confronts the Hand of the King, who tells her that he did everything for her good and that of the Kingdom, claiming that it was inevitable to convene a council to choose a new ruler and that an ill-fated marriage to Duncan would affect her claim to the Throne.

During the Council's time, Daella discovers that Lady Kiera has conspired with the Blackfyre to betray House Targaryens and place the usurper on the Throne. She reports this to Brynden Rivers, who orders Lady Kiera's death.

—You will be the one to inform your sister-in-law about her execution, I think you have earned that right.

Some say that Daella was the one who ordered her death, others say that despite the betrayal, the princess did her best to avoid a death sentence. But they all agree on something: the princess was not at all sad with the execution of her sister-in-law, in fact, the day of Lady Kiera's execution, Daella seemed the personification of the Unknown, who had attended only to take the soul of the damned with her. The princess looked pale, haggard, and although she had recently given birth, she was too thin. It is also said that her violet eyes never left the dais where Lady Kiera stood, not even when her head was detached from her body.

Some lords of the great houses of the west agreed that Daella should be Maekar's successor, even the Hand of the King supported her claim, as did her siblings. But Daella still held a grudge against Brynden for interfering with her plans with Duncan, so one day before her appointment, Daella appeared in the throne room and said:

—I am here thanks to you. I am here as a princess of the Seven Kingdoms, and as such, I know that I have a duty to you. I understand that. I have done everything in my power to serve this realm, to cleanse it of traitors, and to help the people. However, I am here today to inform you, that I renounce the Crown, and abdicate all rights I have to the Iron Throne in favor of my brother Aegon Targaryen.

Shouts from the lords of the realm rose to the ceiling of the hall, Blood Raven quickly questioning the princess about her decision.

—What have you done? I have given you the Kingdom and you reject it with this impudence?

—I will continue to serve the kingdom in any way I can from my place as princess, but I refuse to give my life to the crown. What have the Seven Kingdoms done for me but bring me misfortune? Two arranged marriages, they took my dear brother from me, they took my father from me, They took away my chance to marry the man I love. I am not willing to give my life and my family to this kingdom full of crows and snakes.

After that Daella went with her husband and son to Tarth and did not return to the court of King's Landing until years later.

Daella was at court when prince Duncan, King Aegon's son, abdicated the crown so he could marry Jenny of Oldstones. Some people say that it was she who advised her nephew to make such a decision... that decision led to the Summerhall tragedy years later. Daella was not on site when the tragedy occurred, having learned the news from her niece, and now queen, Shaera Targaryen.

When she learned of the fate of her brother, her nephew, and her beloved Duncan, Daella sank into a deep depression. One night, she told her husband that she would be praying for her brother and nephew in the sept of the Castle. She took her own life by hanging herself on the altar in the sept. Her remains were interred in the crypt of Evenfall, in Tarth.

#house targaryen #house of the dragon #daella targaryen #a song of ice and fire #ser duncan #duncan the tall #aegon v targaryen #dunk and egg #a knight of the seven kingdoms #fire and blood #fire and blood ii #fanfic #house tarth #house of the Dragon fanfic #brynden rivers #lord bloodraven #bloodraven #maekar targaryen #rhae targaryen #lady kiera of tyrosh #kiera of tyrosh #daeron targaryen #aerion targaryen #aemon targaryen

[nausikaaa]

WIP Wednesday

thanks for all the tags the past few weeks @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @facewithoutheart @forabeatofadrum @martsonmars @confused-bi-queer @ivelovedhimthroughworse and @takitalks!

it would seem nanowrimo really wiped me out, because i’ve barely had the motivation to write almost anything since. but then our of nowhere i was struck with an idea for ANOTHER original story.

more info below the cut because as usual i ended up rambling

so, the new story is also about greek mythology, and my favourite Trojan twins Cassandra and Helenus, but it’s a short story told through letters from Helenus to Cassandra, going on past her death as he continues to write to her whenever something significant happens in his life. the Trojans technically didn’t have written language, but i am clearly taking liberties.

the story will span their childhood, the rift that develops between them when Cassandra spurns Apollo and is cursed while Helenus accepts his advances and is blessed, their lives during the war, Helenus’s capture and torture at the hands of the Greeks, and then his life after the war as he rises from a slave to a king and father of dynasties. seriously, Helenus is so overlooked, most people who aren’t that into the myths have never even heard of him, yet he’s over here outlasting everyone and marrying both Hector and Achilles’s widows! his grandson goes off and founds FRANCE.

so anyway, in a haze of inspiration when i was supposed to be trying to sleep, i grabbed my phone in the dark and wrote my idea for an epilogue, a single letter from Cassandra in reply, written from the Underworld. here’s it in full, it’s not too long:

Helenus,

You once told me you could see not only through time, but through space also. While we could both see the outcomes of the future, you could see the present across the sea, to far distant lands. A rare gift I am glad I did not possess. It would only tire me out.

Perhaps you can see the present in other realms as well. Perhaps you can see me now, through whatever veil or crust of earth separates the living from the dead. Don’t look at my face. Watch my hands. You wouldn’t believe the deals I had to make to get my hands on paper and ink down here.

For all I exaggerate, Asphodel is not so bad. There are no more visions to plague me, and the wound barely stings. Stop staring at it. I know you are. Pay attention.

It’s mostly just very grey down here. Mist hangs in the air, white flowers bloom underfoot, and shades chatter about you, but it’s easy enough to find a quiet spot and be left to your memories if you wish.

My memories... Brother, I saw your future whenever I looked at you. So much suffering, but so much joy, too. I got your letters. I watched you write them through your eyes, that last time we saw each other, before fate took me to my death and you to a new life.

It took some time to figure out the order they were written in, but time is what the dead have an abundance of. It passes differently here, thick as molasses yet fast as a sparrow, but don’t worry about that. Just take each day as it comes. You’ll look very regal as an old man, and your children will make you proud.

Speaking of your children, I’m flattered you chose to name your daughter after me. I don’t know why I was surprised, you always were sentimental.

I won’t keep you any longer. Give Andromache my love. I look forward to seeing you again.

Cassandra.

#wip wednesday #greek myths #trojan war #the iliad #helenus of troy #cassandra of troy

[genderisareligion]

I hate my father tbh

Yesterday we went to a trip in the huge mall to get me new jackets and he noted how much I have changed since I got calmer I guess (I used to be easily upset and angry)

I mean he was kind, we spend nice time together in the mall, he supports me in my study.

But it made me think today how the truth is that I just started to put a better act of being respectful around him like honestly if I could be like how I truly feel towards him he'd surely beat me up or threaten to beat me up again, what a piece of shit.

It's just sooo sad I think he truly believes just because we spent some good time together we are all good now, fat chance the dynamic I have towards him isn't really different from the dynamic I have towards anyone I meet in context of work etc., the same dynamic I wouldn't miss if we were to part ways tbh.

He belongs to the "other men are worse" "you should have only positif feelingz or do you want me go mad??" moids that he puts a feminist facade in sense of what status it would bring if his daughters had higher education too to be independent to not marry an abusive moid (even though he is one but he is one of the GOOD ones right??)

when in truth is he is casually misogynistic whenever it suits him I genuinly hate how fucking lazy he is at home after work despite once having a "I go for walk for three hours" phase, not even during summer holidays he once bothered making anything in the household while my pick me mother who should finally regret having wasted her life unlike her younger sisters was on vacation. I think I adressed this twice or so and he just put a "I once did it, I do repair shittt" card. Guess who had to play cook as a fucking teen.

He went to therapy once and in the past everytime he demanded to know why I was pissy and I explained he'd just put a but but but just downplaying or dismissing my feelings, I felt like he only demanded to know so that he could "since to him it was a normal day when I was harmed by him" rationalize it away "look at me I don't care about that and let me tell you why" were the vibes I got.

I remember how he offered me to beat him while I was an angry teen which I did with a fist once and he acted all pained, piece of shit asked me if I did not feel sorry for him even though he never once felt sorry for me for the same thing when I was a kid who didn't know better. Funny how he had displayed extreme rage in public even towards his own boss yet never beat them up, as if he feared a thing called legal consequences.

I genuinly think once I'm independent and break contact with him that he will belong to one of the old fucks who ask on quora or yahoo why their children don't want to talk to them anymore, but never reflect on what kind of role their abusive actions against them played and even if they did they'd say it wasn't that bad, you deserved it, stop whining about it "my mom beat me up too" yeah your widow mom with 6 sons in a backwater muslim village with only income being neighbour donations.

Yeah anyways piece of shit was married before my mom and apparently he beat his first wife so hard that she had a miscarriage because of him.

And my mother knew her but didn't know she used to be married to him and when she announced her that she is going to get married to pos, his ex-wife warned her and told her not to.

Of course my dumb as shit pick me ma believed sHe wAs jUsT jEalOus, and I think she doesn't regret her worst decision in her wasted live enough.

His ex wife remarried years ago and I genuinly wish that she is married to some hvm but I bet she is either married to another physically abusive moid and gave it up or to a lvm who is perfect because he doesn't beat her up.

Jfc I'm so sorry you went through this anon. What kind of grown man looks at his own daughter and is like "I'm gonna ask her to beat me"?? Fathers are capable of the most deranged shit

I can relate to being told "others have it worse" with my dad, who wasn't nearly as bad as yours but definitely did the whole "my daughters will be highly educated and too independent for an abuser" despite being an abuser to my mom himself. He would act nicely (sometimes, depending on his sobriety I guess) to us and then treat her like he was a monster and say the most vile shit about her to us, yet we were supposed to believe that he thought women were smart and capable humans worthy of respect. Like bro you can't even treat the woman you "love most" that way, so...

Anyway daughters with shit fathers who survived deserve reparations

#shadow.txt #ask.txt

[pooma-islam]

EID MUBARAK

WE REMEMBER YOU ON THIS EID

தமிழில்

▪️Naadira Chhipa, Scholar of Islam

💕 To the sister who is experiencing her first Eid as a widow. Your garment, your protector, your supporter, your friend and your love was called back to Allah before he could see the beautiful light of the Eid moon. You cry and feel empty as you wish you could greet him with love just once more as he walked into your home after Eid Salaah, yet you wipe your tears and smile at the sight of your sons as you see his reflection illuminating on their faces.

💕 To the revert brother who is alone this Eid as he does not have family or friends who are Muslim. After experiencing an amazing Eid Salaah he goes home to an empty house and lonely thoughts.

May Allah bless you with a beautiful family of your own who will bring sunshine and joy into your home and your heart.

💕 To the elderly mother whose heart, eyes and arms are yearning to see and embrace her children and grandchildren. Her tired and wrinkled eyes search out her little window awaiting their arrival yet they do not visit her at her 'home' for the elderly. She does not even get an Eid phone call or message from her son and daughter, yet another Eid alone with tears and memories for company.

May Allah soften the heart, mind and soul of every child who placed their parents in a 'home' for the aged. May Allah place in their hearts love, mercy and time for their parents.

💕 To the recently divorced sister who is hurting. She feels confused and seeks comfort from her family and friends yet her heart can never mend.

May Allah erase your disappointments, heal your broken heart and give you happiness and peace again.

💕 To the brother who saved every spare penny, sacrificing his wants to purchase a sheep for Eid.

May Allah grant you barakaah and happiness always.

💕 To our beautiful brothers, sisters, children, parents and grandparents who are facing death and destruction, living in tents and in fear this Eid with not even a slice of bread or a bottle of clean water.

May Allah send aid, restore safety and grant you peace again. May Allah rebuild your home, hope and happiness.

💕 To the ones who are seeking life partners and feel lonely on Eid day although surrounded by family and friends.

May Allah unite you with your soulmate who will be an asset to your imaan and a mercy, love and happiness to your heart.

💕 To the husband and his children who stand outside the I.C.U ward on Eid day staring with tears in their eyes and hearts at the wife and mother who lies attached to a life support machine.

May Allah ease her pain and give you and your family comfort in knowing you will meet her again in a painless and suffering free eternal bliss.

💕 To the father who promised his wife and children new clothing for Eid, yet he does not even have enough money to buy a few items to cook a good meal on Eid.

May Allah grant you so much barakaah that whatever little money you have increases.

💕 To all those brothers and sisters out there: I know you have heavy hearts, restless souls and troubled minds this Eid.

May Allah soothe your soul, unburden your heart and mend your mind with love and happiness.

May this Eid illuminate your life with barakaah, peace, happiness, unity, trust and love.

May Allah bless you with so much happiness and contentment to erase your every worry, stress, tear and heartache.

May your day be filled with noor, beauty, peace and barakah. As you raise your hands and make dua on these Mubarak days and nights please do remember all your brothers and sisters around the world.

இந்த பெருநாளில் நாங்கள் உங்களை நினைத்து கொள்கிறோம்

▪️நதீரா சிப்பா, இஸ்லாமிய அறிஞர்

💕 விதவையாக முதல் பெருநாளை அனுபவிக்கும் சகோதரிக்கு:

உங்கள் கணவர்: உங்கள் ஆடை, உங்கள் பாதுகாவலர், உங்கள் ஆதரவாளர், உங்கள் நண்பர் மற்றும் உங்கள் அன்பு பெருநாள் நிலவின் அழகிய ஒளியைக் காண்பதற்கு முன்பே அல்லாஹ்விடம் திரும்ப அழைக்கப்பட்டார். ஈத் தொழுகைக்குப் பிறகு அவர் உங்கள் வீட்டிற்குச் செல்லும்போது நீங்கள் அவரை மீண்டும் ஒரு முறை அன்புடன் வாழ்த்துவீர்கள் என்று நீங்கள் அழுது வெறுமையாக உணர்கிறீர்கள், ஆனால் உங்கள் கண்ணீரைத் துடைத்து, உங்கள் மகன்களின் முகத்தில் அவரது பிரதிபலிப்பைக் கண்டு புன்னகைக்கிறீர்கள்.

💕 முஸ்லீம் என்ற குடும்பத்தாரோ நண்பர்களோ இல்லாததால் இந்த ஈத் தனியாக இருக்கும் மறுமை சகோதரருக்கு:

ஒரு அற்புதமான ஈத் சலாவை அனுபவித்த பிறகு, அவர் ஒரு வெற்று வீட்டிற்கு வீட்டிற்கு செல்கிறார் மற்றும் தனிமையான எண்ணங்கள்.

உங்கள் வீட்டிற்கும் உங்கள் இதயத்திற்கும் சூரிய ஒளியையும் மகிழ்ச்சியையும் கொண்டு வரும் உங்கள் சொந்த அழகான குடும்பத்தை அல்லாஹ் உங்களுக்கு வழங்குவானாக.

💕 தன் குழந்தைகளையும் பேரக்குழந்தைகளையும் பார்க்கவும் அரவணைக்கவும் இதயமும் கண்களும் கைகளும் ஏங்கும் வயதான தாய்க்கு:

அவளுடைய சோர்வு மற்றும் சுருக்கம் நிறைந்த கண்கள் அவளது சிறிய ஜன்னலைத் தேடி அவர்களின் வருகைக்காகக் காத்திருக்கின்றன, ஆனால் அவர்கள் வயதானவர்களுக்கான அவரது வீட்டிற்குச் செல்லவில்லை. அவள் தன் மகன் மற்றும் மகளிடம் இருந்து ஒரு ஈத் தொலைபேசி அழைப்போ அல்லது செய்தியோ கூட பெறவில்லை, இன்னொரு ஈத் தனியாக கண்ணீருடன் நிறுவனத்திற்கான நினைவுகளுடன். முதியோர் இல்லத்தில் பெற்றோரை தங்க வைக்கும் ஒவ்வொரு குழந்தையின் உள்ளத்தையும், மனதையும், ஆன்மாவையும் அல்லாஹ் மென்மையாக்கட்டும். அல்லாஹ் அவர்களின் இதயங்களில் பெற்றோர் மீது அன்பு, கருணை மற்றும் நேரத்தை வைப்பானாக.

💕 சமீபத்தில் விவாகரத்து பெற்ற சகோதரிக்கு:

அவள் குழப்பமடைகிறாள், அவளுடைய குடும்பம் மற்றும் நண்பர்களிடமிருந்து ஆறுதல் தேடுகிறாள், ஆனால் அவளுடைய இதயத்தை ஒருபோதும் சரிசெய்ய முடியாது.

அல்லாஹ் உங்கள் ஏமாற்றங்களை துடைத்து, உடைந்த இதயத்தை குணப்படுத்தி, உங்களுக்கு மீண்டும் மகிழ்ச்சியையும் அமைதியையும் தருவானாக.

💕 ஈத் பண்டிகைக்கு ஒரு ஆடு வாங்க வேண்டும் என்று தனது விருப்பத்தை தியாகம் செய்து, ஒவ்வொரு உதிரி பைசாவையும் சேமித்த சகோதரருக்கு:

அல்லாஹ் உங்களுக்கு எப்பொழுதும் பரகாத்தையும் மகிழ்ச்சியையும் வழங்குவானாக.

💕 மரணத்தையும் அழிவையும் எதிர்நோக்கி, கூடாரங்களில், ஒரு துண்டு ரொட்டி அல்லது சுத்தமான தண்ணீர் பாட்டில் கூட இல்லாமல் அச்சத்துடன் வாழும் எங்கள் அழகான சகோதரர்கள், சகோதரிகள், ��ுழந்தைகள், ��ெற்றோர்கள் மற்றும் தாத்தா பாட்டிகளுக்கு:

அல்லாஹ் உங்களுக்கு உதவி செய்து, பாதுகாப்பை மீட்டெடுத்து, உங்களுக்கு மீண்டும் அமைதியை வழங்குவானாக. அல்லாஹ் உங்கள் வீட்டையும் நம்பிக்கையையும் மகிழ்ச்சியையும் மீண்டும் கட்டியெழுப்பட்டும்.

💕 குடும்பம் மற்றும் நண்பர்களால் சூழப்பட்டிருந்தாலும், ஈத் நாளில் தனிமையாக உணரும் வாழ்க்கைத் துணையை நாடுபவர்களுக்கு:

உங்கள் ஈமானுக்குச் சொத்தாகவும், உங்கள் இதயத்திற்கு இரக்கமாகவும், அன்பாகவும், மகிழ்ச்சியாகவும் இருக்கும் உங்கள் ஆத்ம துணையுடன் அல்லாஹ் உங்களை ஒன்றுபடுத்துவானாக.

💕 ஈத் தினத்தன்று I.C.U வார்டுக்கு வெளியே நிற்கும் கணவனுக்கும் அவனது குழந்தைகளுக்கும், உயிர்காக்கும் இயந்திரத்தில் படுத்திருக்கும் மனைவியையும் தாயையும் கண்ணீருடன் கண்ணீரோடு பார்த்துக் கொண்டிருக்கிறான்.

அல்லாஹ் அவளது வலியைக் குறைத்து, உங்களுக்கும் உங்கள் குடும்பத்தினருக்கும் ஆறுதலைத் தருவானாக, நீங்கள் அவளை மீண்டும் ஒரு வலியற்ற மற்றும��� துன்பம் இல்லாத நித்திய பேரின்பத்தில் சந்திப்பீர்கள் என்பதை அறிவீர்கள்.

💕 தனது மனைவிக்கும் குழந்தைகளுக்கும் ஈத் பண்டிகைக்கு புது ஆடைகள் தருவதாக உறுதியளித்த தந்தைக்கு, ஈத் பண்டிகைக்கு நல்ல சாப்பாடு சமைப்பதற்கு சில பொருட்களை வாங்கக்கூட பணம் இல்லை.

உங்களிடம் உள்ள சிறிய பணமும் பெருகும் அளவிற்கு அல்லாஹ் உங்களுக்கு அபிவிருத்தியை வழங்குவானாக.

💕 அங்குள்ள சகோதர சகோதரிகள் அனைவருக்கும்: இந்த ஈத் திருநாளில் நீங்கள் கனத்த இதயங்களையும், அமைதியற்ற உள்ளங்களையும், கலங்கிய மனதையும் கொண்டிருப்பதை நான் அறிவேன்.

அல்லாஹ் உங்கள் ஆன்மாவை சாந்தப்படுத்துவானாக, உங்கள் இதயத்தின் சுமையை இறக்கி, அன்புடனும் மகிழ்ச்சியுடனும் உங்கள் மனதை சரிசெய்யட்டும். இந்த ஈத் உங்கள் வாழ்க்கையை அபிவிருத்தி, அமைதி, மகிழ்ச்சி, ஒற்றுமை, நம்பிக்கை மற்றும் அன்பு ஆகியவற்றால் ஒளிரச் செய்யட்டும்.

உங்களின் ஒவ்வொரு கவலையையும், மன அழுத்தத்தையும், கண்ணீரையும், மனவேதனையையும் துடைக்க அல்லாஹ் உங்களுக்கு மிகுந்த மகிழ்ச்சியையும் மனநிறைவையும் தந்தருள்வானாக.

உங்கள் நாள் வெகுமதி, அழகு, அமைதி மற்றும் அபிவிருத்தி ஆகியவற்றால் நிரப்பப்படட்டும். இந்த முபாரக் பகல் மற்றும் இரவுகளில் நீங்கள் கைகளை உயர்த்தி துஆ செய்யும்போது, ​​உலகெங்கிலும் உள்ள உங்கள் சகோதர சகோதரிகளை நினைவில் வையுங்கள்.

ஆமின்

[bloodyhoon]

the love club [ch 3]

genre: high school fanfiction, love triangle (park sunghoon x female!reader x sim jake) angst, fluff.

warnings: none. English is not my first language so there may be grammal or spelling errors.

words: 2.2K

taglist: open! send a ask or commented to be added.

masterlist.

The cloudy day that loomed through your bedroom window did not give you much hope as you were finishing getting ready, you knew that it was a matter of time until the rain would break out and with your bad luck it would happen right at the time you were going to leave to go to school.

"Y/n, you'll be late" your father's voice was heard from the other side of the door accompanied by two soft knocks.

You sighed and took one last look at your reflection as you smoothed the white shirt of your school uniform with your hands. The words that Yeji had said to you the day before still echoed in your mind and you looked at yourself once again in the mirror. You had never thought you were pretty, you didn't think you were ugly either, but you just saw yourself as just another ordinary girl. Your hair was long and extremely straight so you didn't know how to comb it and you always wore it loose on your shoulders, your face was quite pale and you had small dark circles under your eyes, but you didn't know how to use makeup so you never covered them. You only felt that you had a nice shape of eyes but because they were the same as your mother's. Thinking about that made you nostalgic and anguished, so you denied it several times to yourself and got up from your desk ready to meet your father.

"Good morning, my daughter" your father handed you your plate with breakfast while he drank from his cup of water.

You only had your dad to rely on, your mom had passed away when you were fifteen, so it was still sudden for you and you were trying to get used to the loneliness of living with only your father. It was not to misunderstand, you adored your father, but your mother had always been your faithful companion and you felt that you missed her in many ways. Your father had always been present and the moment he became widowed, he tried to be twice as present for you even though he was suffering as much as you, you would always thank him and at the same time you felt guilty that your father had not decided to live his grief to always be there for you, so you always supported each other.

"How are you doing at school?" he asked you while reading some random news on his cell phone like he used to do every morning before going to work.

"I think it's fine" you nodded. "I met up with Riki again and he introduced me to his group, they're friendly," you shrugged. You saw out of the corner of your eye how he looked up and thought about something.

"Riki? The same Riki I'm thinking of?" He gave you his full attention, you just nodded. "The boy who broke my daughter's heart?"

"Dad!" you lightly tapped the table showing indignation "He didn't break my heart... In fact, I'm glad I met him and that he helped me make friends" you smiled sincerely. Your father gave you an attentive look and sighed resigned.

He was not stupid and was very attentive to you. You were precisely his only daughter. He had noticed how from one day to another the boy had disappeared from your life and you stopped mentioning him, or taking him home. He noticed how you no longer saw each other after class and your mood had been noticeably affected. You looked sad all the time.

"I'm glad to see you well, little one," your father smiled at you. "And if you're okay being friends with that evil little boy, then-"

"Dad!" You complained again and your father let out a laugh as he crossed his hand on the table to hold yours tenderly.

(***)

Riki: Y/n, I won't go to class today, I'm a little sick.

Along with that message was an image of Riki covered in blankets and a cloth on his forehead. You sighed and wished him a speedy recovery as you put your cell phone in your bag and got off the bus, the bus stop was just a block away distance from the school so you walked calmly until you arrived.

It was a new challenge for you to enter classes and approach Riki's group without Riki. Although they already considered you one of them, you still had some distrust that some minimal interaction would go wrong and they would judge you. You had become so insecure that those thoughts always settled in your mind.

As you headed to your class you walked under the open sky that was beginning to drip slightly. Internally insulting yourself for not having grabbed an umbrella, you placed a hand on your head as if that would cover something of your body and continued walking, you still had a little left until you reached the overcast sky. Suddenly the rain stopped and you looked up, finding a black umbrella covering your entire view, you looked down to the side and your eyes met a big smile and bright eyes.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Jaeyun..." your body tensed a little when the boy approached you and took shelter next to you under that umbrella that was big, but not enough to cover both bodies.

"What are you doing in the rain? You're going to get sick" he scolded you gently. "And let me tell you, I think it would be a shame if your beautiful hair got wet."

You were surprised by the comment and your cheeks took on a slight pink color that did not go unnoticed in Jaeyun's eyes, but he preferred not to comment on it so as not to make you feel uncomfortable, instead he smiled and gently held your arm.

"Let me accompany you," he told you.

You didn't know what to say, you only thought about how the boy you had just met a day ago treated you, it was as if he had known you for a long time and you really were close friends, you felt strangely comfortable. The two of you walked until you reached the overcast sky and once you were sheltered, Jaeyun closed his umbrella. You noticed that his shoulder was wet while yours were completely dry.

"Hey" without thinking you touched his shoulder "You're going to get sick."

"Don't worry, it was just a few drops" Jaeyun let out a laugh, in fact almost all of his arm was soaked by the rain that had begun to fall harder 'You're dry, that's more important' accompanied by that comment, he winked at you.

"But-"

"Hasn't Ni-ki come?" Jaeyun cut you off before you could say anything else. “Has he abandoned you? That guy…"

"No, he's sick" you chose to show him the photo that the boy had sent you and Jaeyun laughed "By the way, thank you for this" you smiled at him for the first time and the brunette felt a slight electricity run through his body.

"It was my pleasure" the boy commented to you without thinking and then cleared his throat. "You must be late for class, here," he handed you the umbrella. You frowned in confusion. "Take it, when we meet at lunch you can give it back to me."

"A-at lunch?" you asked doubtfully.

"Of course!" Jaeyun exclaimed, smiling at you. "Don't tell me that because Ni-ki didn't come, you won't have lunch with us? We'll be waiting for you, you know, you're already one of our group."

"Oh" you twisted the black umbrella in your hands nervously and nodded "Y-yes of course, I'll have lunch with you" you didn't know where you had gotten the courage to say those words, but you couldn't take it back anymore and now you felt like you had a promise that achieve.

"Great!" Jaeyun was genuinely happy with your response. “So, see you later, Y/n.” He gently caught his lower lip between his teeth as he kept smiling at you.

You smiled back as you walked away from him, waving your hand in greeting to go to your class, not knowing that the boy was still in his place watching you walk away with an unconscious smile plastered on his face. As you continued on your way, you looked at the umbrella between your hands confused and wondering why he had given it to you if you were protected by the roof the entire way that remained.

(***)

Reality hit you firmly in the face. The lunch bell rang and you knew you had to go to the cafeteria and spend 20 minutes sitting next to Jaeyun and Sunghoon while they gave you those intense, penetrating looks. It's not that you didn't want to spend time with them, is because they both intimidated you too much to be able to handle having their full attention on you. You remembered Sunghoon telling you that he wanted your attention for himself and that made you even more nervous.

"Are you okay? You look pale" the voice of that boy with pretty cat-like eyes took you out of your thoughts. "Do you need to go see the nurse?"

"No!" You exclaimed, louder than you intended. "I'm fine, don't worry, Jungwon." You smiled at him in gratitude. The boy nodded, not very convinced, but he didn't insist and began to gather his things to go to lunch like everyone else in the class.

“Y/n, are you really feeling okay?” Yeji finished gathering her things and gave you her full attention. "You've been distracted for the last 10 minutes of class, I thought you were getting sick." She watched you with concern.

"Oh, it's nothing," you denied, while with trembling hands you gathered your things, killing time without realizing it. "It's the weather, you know. Almost no one likes the rain and it makes you feel down sometimes."

"Yes, you're right." Yeji rolled her eyes, looking annoyed. "Today my hair is horrible because of the humidity." You looked at her and you couldn't disagree more, in fact, the humidity gave her a little more volume and it looked even prettier than what she wore every day.

"You have perfect hair, Yeji," the girl smiled at the compliment, happy to hear it from you.

"Thank you, my friend," she gently caressed your head tenderly. "Do you want to have lunch with us? Since Ni-ki hasn't come." You were about to answer her question when the surprised gasps of the girls in the class pulled you out of your conversation with the black-haired girl.

"Hoon?" Yeji's voice sounded confused. You turned your face a little and found yourself face to face with Sunghoon, who was leaning next to you smiling softly at you, his body relaxed in the chair next to you and your faces almost at the same height. You leaned back, surprised that you hadn't heard him come in and land so close to you.

"Yeji, I love coming to see you but I'm not here for you, I'm sorry" he answered to his sister without looking at her, leaving her perplexed "Hello y/n" he greeted you when he noticed your attention on him.

“H-hello Sunghoon” you replied, your voice almost inaudible.

"You know, Jake and I want to know what's taking you so long, lunch time is almost over" the boy leaned back, waiting patiently "You told Jake you'd have lunch with us, are you going to break your promise?"

All the girls in the class were surprised by that scenario. How was it possible that you, being the new one, were already close to the most attractive and interesting boys in school? Some looked at you with admiration and others died of envy.

"Oh" Yeji intervened when she heard her brother "I was suggesting Y/n have lunch with us, but if you already had plans you should have told me, silly" the girl smiled at you, vaguely moving her hand, showing disinterest, then she looked at her brother. "Please be good to my new friend, Hoon."

"I promise that I will take care of her as if she were mine" Sunghoon blurted out that comment so lightly that you didn't know how to react, at this point you had lost count of how many times Sunghoon had left you speechless in such a short time "Now... would you come with me, Y/n?” He extended his hand, intending for you to take it.

You sighed deeply and got up from your desk, ignoring his hand without forgetting the umbrella that Jaeyun had given you and headed to the door under all the attentive gazes of your classmates. You honestly hated the attention, so you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Sunghoon giggled and followed you, heading towards the cafeteria.

"Hey, y/n" he called to you "Wait, we're going together" he stood next to you and looked for your gaze, but you avoided him at all costs. "Why are you avoiding my gaze? Do I make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry." Once you felt how sincere he was with his words and how he stepped back in place, so you looked him in the eyes for the first time. Sunghoon's look showed concern and he waited for an answer.

"Yes, I'm uncomfortable" you admitted, choosing to be honest as well. "But it's because I don't know how to react to the things you always say to me." Sunghoon smiled slightly at you when he noticed that he hadn't done anything wrong to you, then he approached you again and bent down a little to be slightly at the height of your face, that day he discovered that he liked to look into your eyes and hold your gaze.

"Oh, so you're not uncomfortable. Excuse me... -his hand gently removed a strand of hair that fell on your delicate face, taking you by surprise but not bothering you at all "I make you nervous."

You simply nodded, accepting that it was really because he made you nervous, while you did your best to hold his gaze. Sunghoon smiled until his eyes disappeared from how small they became and you thought it was the cutest smile you had seen on the flirtatious boy so far. It was a tender and relaxed smile, mostly sincere.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl" then he extended his hand again for you to hold, ready to guide you to the cafeteria where Jaeyun was waiting for you. You hesitated but this time and for the first time, you put your insecurity aside and took his hand indecisive, now he was the one who was surprised by the act. Your pupils trembled when you looked into his eyes and he gently caressed your hand with his thumb, smiling at you, letting you understand with that action that you needed to have more confidence in yourself and do things without thinking too much about it.

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