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charles-and-camilla-fanfictions · 5 months

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All the Time in the World - Chapter 12

Part 2 - Imbroglio

“There are two kinds of secrets. The ones we keep from others and the ones we keep from ourselves.” Anon

Birkhall, January 2021

The only thing that has made this new lockdown bearable is the weather. There is a crisp snow on the ground yet the sun has just the faint touches of warmth and the skies are wall to wall cornflower blue. We’ve walked for miles every day just to feel less cooped up in the house. Whilst both of us have been working remotely, we’ve still got masses of spare time and we’ve spent more time together these past few lockdowns than the rest of our entire married life put together. Invariably, we’ve ended up talking through issues we have always just ignored. I’m taking it as a positive that we’re more involved in each other’s work and families than we’ve ever been before. I’m not quite as optimistic about his persistent need to overhaul our lives to analyse every minute detail.

“When did you realise that you loved me?”

I wince slightly. It’s a really difficult question. I look down at the dirt path in front of me and don’t answer. He leaves just a few paces before continuing.

“You can’t say you don’t know or you’re not sure. That’s not in the spirit of this discussion.”

I stall, stopping to pick up a stick and throw it for the dogs. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“Yes. But I don’t accept your answer.”

“What would you like me to say?”

This time it is him who pauses, wrestling the stick out of the dog’s mouth and throwing it again for them. “Milla, be honest. Why does it matter? It’s so many years ago.”

“Because every time we’ve discussed this, you’ve got upset with me.”

He scrunches his nose although he knows I’m right. “Alright. If I get upset with you, I’ll put an additional half a million into every grandchild’s trust fund. Then it’s a win-win situation for you.”

I gawp at him, knowing that he’s serious and hating that I’m so easily bought. He continues walking, chuckling at me and therefore understands.

“1970?”

“No. I did not love you.”

“I think you did.”

“I don’t remember ever thinking to myself that I was in love with you. I’m sorry. I liked you. I was very fond of you. Maybe I did love you. But I wasn’t in love with you. We hadn’t had enough time.”

“You’re wrong. You loved me.”

“You may have wanted me to love you. That’s very different.”

“When you married Andrew?”

“No. Stop torturing yourself. I was very fond of you. I was upset that things ended so badly. That it was considered best for ‘all parties’ if I married Andrew. But I did love Andrew then.” I watch the tip of his nose, the tell tale sign of displeasure and reach for his hand, kissing it before returning my eyes to the path ahead. “You asked me to be honest. You wanted to talk about it. You promised you wouldn’t get upset with me.”

“I promised I wouldn’t get upset with you. Not upset in general. After Tom was born?”

“I don’t know. No, you’ve got to allow grey areas, Darling. I was rather desperately unhappy and I didn’t understand why. And you were… I think if I wasn’t so sad, I would have been in love with you. But I couldn’t feel anything. You were my friend, my revenge, my secret. There was love there, certainly.”

“When my Uncle Dickie died?”

I reach for his arm to squeeze it. It’s funny how grief for a person you love never really dies. It just hides inside you, dorment, the pain numbed by the passage of time. His Honorary Grandpapa was such a huge part of his life, of our lives by that time, but your life continues to grow, despite the grief and eventually, that gaping chasm the loss created is no longer such a consuming part of your life, just a part of your life. But it’s still there, that chasm, if you allow yourself to think about it. Just as raw as ever. “Yes. I think that’s what made me realise I loved you.” This is a lie. I knew before this monstrous life event. For me, it wasn’t death that made me realise I loved him, but birth.

1971, Classiebawn Castle

I sit quietly, staring out of the window, pretending to be nonchalant as we drive through the countryside. After the panic of getting into his plane, where I had to pretend to be calm as he flew us across the sea, this feels relatively easy.

“You’re much less grey now.”

I sigh, inwardly. Evidently I wasn’t successful.

“I thought you’d enjoy a personal plane ride.”

“It was slightly better than an ordinary plane ride.”

He chuckles at me and reaches for my hand.

“It’s refreshing to see you have your own foibles. Sometimes you’re a little intimidatingly perfect.”

“Thank you?”

“It was a compliment.”

Other than the flight, every moment we spend together is so free of strife and hurt that I find myself relaxing. Today, I spent the entire day thinking about him. I never thought I’d be able to push Andrew out of my mind so easily but he’s a tonic to that mess. I might never love anyone as much as I love Andrew, but if I have to live without him, this will either be a wonderful alternative or the best revenge I could think of. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for the former. Pushing away the more unsavoury of my thoughts, I concentrate on the present instead. I’m good at doing that. Why live in the past or spend your life fearing the future when the present is the only thing you have control over?

“I’m taking you to meet my Uncle Dickie.”

“Oh, right.” I wrack my brains, trying to place the name and then it hits me and I force my face to remain neutral.

“Your hand’s gone all stiff. Relax. He’s like an honorary grandpapa to me. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“I didn’t dress…”

“You dressed correctly. We’ll spend the weekend hunting and walking and riding. You’ve got evening attire. You’re dressed perfectly.”

We sit in silence for a little while as I force my heart to stop beating manically before I blurt out, “Why him?”

“There are only two people in the world that I want you to meet who I care about and who care about me. One is my Grandmother, but you already know her, the other is my Uncle Dickie. I can’t introduce you to my mother and father but I can bring you to meet the people who raised me, who love me. I realise it’s not the same as you taking me back to your family house with all your immediate family, but it’s as intimate as I can do.”

I smile, raising his hand to my lips. “I can’t wait to meet him.” Because at this moment it’s suddenly true and I relax. He wouldn’t take me to meet someone who won’t be nice to me. That’s not his style. I don’t know if I’m in love with him or not, but I know there’s something special here. I’ve never felt so wanted and appreciated in my life. For now, I’m going to focus on being his friend. A friend I want to be with all the time. Well, a friend I happen to enjoy sleeping with. A friend I need to kiss at every possible opportunity. I wonder if he loves me? Maybe I’m getting carried away with myself. I might just be a bit of fun for him. That’s okay. I think. I’m certainly just a bit of fun for Andrew. It would be nice to be worth a little more.

“Do you really mean that?”

“What?” I was completely lost in my thoughts.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“No.” It’s not worth lying about. “What did you ask?”

“I asked if you fancied going fly fishing and you said yes.”

“Did I? Well that very much depends. I’m up for most things if it involves company and chatting. So I’ll fish with flies if you are prepared to show me how to do everything and aren’t going to expect me to be quiet for long periods of time.”

“I might take you salmon fishing then. I don’t think fly fishing is for you. I find it’s a great way to contemplate life.”

“You mean you stand in silence in one spot for hours on end.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I fancy fly fishing.”

“What about if we go in a little boat?”

“Are we still fishing?”

“In the sea this time.”

“The same rules apply.”

“Do you ever do peace and quiet?”

“You’re with the wrong person for that. Only when I’m on my own.”

“I go on my own for peace and quiet also. If we go line fishing, are you going to be bored to death ten minutes in?”

“Are you planning on talking to me?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Sounds great then.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me with a strange look in his eye and then he pulls the car around the corner. We turn out onto a road which runs parallel with the cliffs and I can see the fog rolling in off the sea. Then I spot the castle.

“How far away are we?”

“About fifteen minutes, why?”

“Will we be missed if we’re a little late?”

“No?”

“Pull up.”

He does as I ask and I get out of the car and run over to the cliffs. He follows, quickly behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. It rises up out of the undulating rolls of the hills and towers high with twisting spirals.

“My goodness, it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

“The mountain behind it is home to the fairies. It’s said the doors open at night and the restless spirits float out. The villagers claim to hear them and some have been kidnapped to look after the fairy babies. If they escape before seven years have passed, they can leave but otherwise they are trapped there forever.”

“Don’t let them kidnap me.”

“I’ll keep you tight in my arms…

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”

“Yeats.” It makes me turn in his arms and he kisses me so, so softly until the heavens open and we have to run back to the car. But it’s too difficult to stop as he pulls me across the front seat of the car and I find myself on his lap, kissing him fiercely as the rain hammers down on the top of the car. His arms are wrapped so tightly around me and I feel his fingers grasping onto me, holding on as we sail off with the intensity of the kiss, pulling me closer even as I try to rock my hips against him and then closer still as I moan into his mouth as pleasure from this slight movement takes me unexpectedly.

A flash of car headlights interrupts us and as we pull away from each other, I realise it’s suddenly got very dark. The car stops next to us and winds down the window.

“Your Royal Highness…”

We can hear him through the glass but Charles winds down my window, reaching over me to talk to the man.

“Are you okay, Sir?”

“Fine, thank you, Timothy.”

“We’ve got to go the back route. Workers have dumped a huge truck of gravel over the main road in and they’re not due to shift it until Monday. Follow me, Sir.”

Classiebawn Castle is a fairytale outside but it’s cold and draughty inside. I feel like I’ve gone back several centuries, sat at dinner with the roaring fire and then I have to retire to the drawing room to leave the men to drink whisky and smoke cigars. My host seems pleased to leave her husband to his folly and we sit together for a good hour without either of us taking a breath from chatter for anything less important than a drag of a cigarette or a sip of a Tom Collins. Eventually, the doors open and a slightly drunk Charles escapes from the dining room and makes a beeline for me. He sits practically on top of me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“You smell of smoke.”

“So do you.” I like the smell of cigar smoke, but I don’t need to tell him this.

“Can we go to bed?”

“I’ve just got a new drink.”

He picks up my drink and glugs half of it before the vodka hits the back of his throat and makes him splutter.

“That’s really rude.”

He laughs with an indignant squeak, “The number of times you’ve downed my drink to get me to go!”

“Completely different.”

“What? Because you did it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Milla, that drink is vile. I think you’re going to need a nightcap to get the taste from your mouth.”

“Pick your tiple.”

He makes me laugh. Slightly drunk, he’s much more gangly and awkward than usual, wobbling around the room, finding a bottle of his choosing but when we get upstairs to a room warmed by a roaring fire, he no longer seems to be troubled by his limbs.

“Are you sober?”

“No. But I’m not as drunk as I was acting. I had to get back to you somehow.”

It makes me laugh again and then he grasps onto my cheeks, making me look up at him, seeing my own reflection in his eyes before he kisses me. Kissing me in a way which makes every hair on my body stand on end, before pulling away to gaze in my eyes again and I get a jolt of shock through me as strong as the desire which is coursing through my veins as I realise that I want this to be a real relationship. I don’t want to just be friends. Perhaps this is the real thing and this is just the beginning. There’s something about kissing him which makes me forget to breathe and I can’t think about anything other than the feel of him. It’s okay. We have all the time in the world to figure this out. Friends or not, we’re very much lovers and tonight I have him to myself the entire night.

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efrmellifer · 8 months

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XXVII. Imbroglio (Sole)

heheh sole is a kind of fish. you know how siblings like to embarrass you?

There was a very comfortable quiet in the cavern. Quiet, save for water dripping, and the metallic clink of a pickaxe and a scythe from time to time.

“All right, the next one is…” Erenville looked up at the sound of footsteps. “Oh, M’ynstrel.”

“Not ready to fish yet, Etien?”

“I’m almost done,” she assured him, rising from where she was crouched. “What’s next, Erenville?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, rolling up the order. “I’ll call Potentilla, and she’ll finish this up.”

“Oh. If you’re sure. I don’t want to just shirk my duty as your assistant.”

He laughed. “I won't keep you from making up the lost time with your brother. And it’s not like I’m averse to spending time with Potentilla—as much as I enjoy your company.”

M’ynstrel watched this interaction with knit brows. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No!” Etien tamed her outburst with a gathering of her tail into her hands, laid along the handle of her scythe. “No, let’s go fishing.”

Once they’d settled at the edge of the water, lines cast, M’ynstrel looked over at Etien. “So what was all that?”

“What was what?”

“Erenville tripping over trying not to insult you like that, you holding your tail still. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I…” she blushed again, ears going flat, “I think he’s quite attractive. But I’m not interested in acting on that,” she babbled. “Just an observation. And Potentilla is lovely and I’m married and—”

“You’re married?”

Something pulled on Etien’s line, and she exhaled hard, pulling the rod back and stepping back into the proper stance to start bringing in the line. “Yeah,” she near-grunted the word, with the effort put into reeling in the fish. “I’ve been married since the end of the Dragonsong War. Aymeric and I got—” She peered at the fish wriggling on her hook. “Oh, yes, tilapia.”

“Is it good?” M’ynstrel asked.

“Mm. Like sole, but softer.” She put the fish aside in their shared bucket to be processed later. “But yes. We, Aymeric and I, married—oh. We’ve been married for six years. Our anniversary is in a fortnight.” She smiled at the thought.

“Aw. So the papers were telling the truth?”

“The papers?”

M’ynstrel laughed at how wide her eyes were. “Oh yes, the papers. It was everywhere a few years go. ‘Warrior of Light seen nestled into the side of Ishgard’s Lord Commander. Did love bloom where flowers don’t?’ During that kerfuffle at Carteneau, people were chattering about seeing you leave with him and some lancer.”

“Dear gods,” Etien mumbled, side-stepping any explanation that that ‘some lancer’ was also essentially her (and Aymeric’s) husband. “They were speculating on us newly being in love? M’ynstrel, we had children already by then.”

“I’m an uncle?” he asked, ears and tail perking with excitement.

“Gods. Fuck. Mm-hmm. You have a niece, Betula, and a nephew, Landric. They’re twins.”

“Sweet. What are they like?”

“No no no, first you have to tell me how you went from zipping over to Limsa Lominsa like M’ertle told me to being a swiving Gleaner.”

“From M’ertle?” M’ynstrel cocked a hip, looking at her in mocking disbelief. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you. But then I want to hear about these niblings of mine.”

She groaned. “Fiiiiine. But you’re cooking the tilapia then.”

#fic #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #Etien is a judicious swearer but when she swears she SWEARS

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rae-is-typing · 2 years

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May I request #15 and #18 with hotch x teen reader?? Maybe some exam stress, cause it is ap season right now so maybe something where the reader’s overworking themselves studying for the exams??

Again, this was written a long time ago and has just been sitting in my google docs cause I felt guilty for not posting. Sorry for the wait and thank you for the patience.

Cramming

Description: You ignore your own needs in favor of test-prep

Characters: You. Uncle!Hotch

Warning: School, ignoring physical and mental needs in favor of studying

Word Count: 700 ish

15: “What are you doing up so late?”

18: “Have you eaten today?”

Color-coded note cards litter the floor like snowflakes in the first snow of winter. The packet you’re using as a reference has been since taken apart by section and placed with the corresponding color of note card. Cramps spread through your fingers to your elbow, but you didn’t dare stop for a break. The big final was in two weeks and you didn;t have time to spare. You were in four honors classes at this new school and you maintained a 4.0 GPA all year. And these classes offered college credit paid for by the school district. You weren’t about to pass up on the opportunity for free college credit. All you had to do was ace each one of the finals, and you were that much further with your education.

However, the added pressure of free college credit came with an overwhelming sense of stress. And because of that stress, you went a little crazy with studying. For the past two days, Jessica had taken Jack. She understood the stress you were under and wanted you to succeed as much as everyone else in your life. In your opinion, the weeks leading up to finals were just as stressful as the actual week. The prep was grueling, hours and hours of non-stop studying, chugging day old cold brew and shitty energy drinks full of flavored syrups and sugars, and having study parties with your more studious friends in the same advanced classes as you. It was a constant feeling of pressure to do as much as you can in the limited time you had. Compiling all of the notes you needed for cramming alone took hours. You had a talent of compartmentalizing. You learned that when you were forced to fend for yourself after your father abandoned you and your mother spent more and more time in religious (cult) retreats. Aaron has tried his hardest to get you help, and some of it has worked, but unfortunately, this defense mechanism to stress was going to stay for a while longer. So why not take advantage of that?

Lately, you have managed to ignore your needs completely and focus solely on the material you had in front of you. This night was no different. You had long since abandoned your sense of linear time passage in favor of staring at the imbroglio of information that made your head hurt. You didn’t even realise that your uncle had left for a job until he came back and tried interacting with you.

You were vaguely aware of the door shutting. However, you assumed it was Jack and Jessica, so you didn’t react to it. Instead, you switch from pre-calc to chemistry. It is at times like these you wish you had Spencer’s mind.

Again, you don’t hear the door to your room opening. You don’t hear Aaron calling your name, you don’t feel him shaking your arm, and you don’t notice his other attempts to get your attention. You do, however, notice him take the packet out of your hands. You do a double take, only realizing that he was there after snatching the packet back.

“Hey, Aaron,” You begin, voice hoarse and throat aching. “How’s life?”

“What are you doing up so late, Y/N?” He asks, tilting his head with his lips pressed together in a thin line. He was absolutely profiling you.

“What do you mean?” “It’s almost midnight, you’re usually asleep or in bed by now.” “Huh.” You sit back in your hair, rubbing an eye with the back of your hand. “I guess I lost track of time.” “What time did you start?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“Uh, earlier today. Around seven or something?” He grows more concerned by the second, brows furrowed and arms falling to his sides. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah? I don’t know?” Aaron sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. “All right, put this away. I’ll make you some food.”

You make a noise of protest, but he lifts his hand to stop you. “You are going to eat and then get at least nine hours of sleep.” His tone left no room for discussion. You sighed, hoisting yourself up and resigned yourself to food and bed.

#criminal minds imagine #bau x reader #bau x teen!reader #behavioral analysis unit x reader #behavioral analysis unit x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x teen!reader #aaron hotch hotchner x teen!reader #uncle!hotch x niece!reader #teen!reader #niece!hotchner!reader #school stress comfort #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x teen!reader

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 3 years

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I didn't see Sarah Vine's column from yesterday until this morning,

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-9344125/How-ironic-Harry-called-Pakistani-colleague-P-word-without-malice.html

A few extracts,

Not content with turning their backs on the House of Windsor and the Queen at perhaps her greatest hour of need, they have decided to thoroughly trash the place on their way out.

They have declared open warfare on Prince Charles, Prince William and their respective wives, knowing full well that those they accuse cannot — and almost certainly will not — speak their own respective 'truths', to borrow from the canon.

This is not Harry and Meghan 'finding freedom'. It's them finding scapegoats, someone else to blame for all their misjudgments — and exacting a bitter revenge into the bargain.

It is a prolonged and thoroughly egocentric exercise in two people throwing their toys out of their gilded pram at a time when so many are struggling in circumstances far more traumatic than theirs.

But perhaps the most shocking element about this whole saga is the way they have taken one of the most explosive and emotive issues of our time — race — and weaponised it to devastating effect.

The accusation of racism — intimating that a member of the family 'raised concerns' about the colour of Archie's skin — is simply incendiary.

Especially since the accusation itself is so vague and seems calculated to do so much damage without actually giving any real context or sense of how, when and in what spirit the alleged remark was made.

Being accused of racism in 2021 is almost one of the worst things that can happen to anyone.

The accusation of racism — intimating that a member of the family 'raised concerns' about the colour of Archie's skin — is simply incendiary.

Being accused of racism in 2021 is almost one of the worst things that can happen to anyone.

In this case, it is almost as toxic as the allegations hanging over Harry's uncle Prince Andrew — and appallingly damaging in the eyes of the younger generation and, in particular, America, where Harry and Meghan were clearly aiming to find favour with this interview.

Yet what the couple conveniently failed to mention to Oprah was the moment in 2009 when Prince Harry himself was caught up in an imbroglio over race.

This was after video footage had emerged in which he called a fellow cadet at Sandhurst a 'Pxxx' and another a 'raghead'.

So objectionable were his remarks — which came after revelations of his proclivity for dressing up as a Nazi — that Clarence House issued a fulsome apology.

Yet what the couple conveniently failed to mention to Oprah was the moment in 2009 when Prince Harry himself was caught up in an imbroglio over race.

This was after video footage had emerged in which he called a fellow cadet at Sandhurst a 'Pxxx' and another a 'raghead'.

So objectionable were his remarks — which came after revelations of his proclivity for dressing up as a Nazi — that Clarence House issued a fulsome apology.

'Prince Harry fully understands how offensive this term can be, and is extremely sorry for any offence his words might cause.

'However, on this occasion three years ago, Prince Harry used the term without any malice and as a nickname about a highly popular member of his platoon.

'There is no question that Prince Harry was in any way seeking to insult his friend. Prince Harry used the term 'raghead' to mean Taliban or Iraqi insurgent.'

In other words, he didn't really mean it. It was just a bit of barracks banter. And maybe it was. Maybe the soldiers concerned didn't mind at all; or maybe they did but couldn't really say very much because, well, you know — it's Prince Harry.

Point is, Harry more than anyone should know how these things can be misinterpreted. How certain things can be said 'without malice'. These are human interactions. Complex, clumsy, messy and occasionally inappropriate.

If it could happen to Harry — albeit admittedly in his 'pre-woke' days, before Meghan showed him the way — then could it not also happen to whichever member of the Royal Family it turns out to be who allegedly voiced their 'concern' about Archie?

Maybe it really was an act of blinkered, bigoted racism, the final straw that drove the couple to flee for America (although if you think Britain has a problem, the U.S. is arguably worse).

Maybe it was just a bit of a crass, clumsy joke that came across really badly, an attempt to 'reach out', as Harry and Meghan like to say. Or maybe it was just a mistake, a moment of insensitivity that was quickly regretted.

What's certain is that the couple have chosen to interpret it in the most negative way possible, and then use it — as they seem to have used so much of their brief experience as a royal couple — to take maximum offence in order to cast themselves, yet again, as victims of a bigoted, sclerotic system that had it in for them from the start.

And, in so doing, they have turned the ire of their fans — and, as far as I can see, most of the West Coast of America — on the Queen and the Royal Family, provoked a raging debate around the monarchy and race which is, quite honestly, bordering on the psychotic.

But the worst part is this: there is not a head of state today, or at any time, who has done more to foster love and understanding between people of different races and cultures than the Queen, with Prince Philip (still in hospital, lest we forget) by her side.

The Commonwealth of Nations is her life's work, her undoubted passion, one thing above all others that she truly cares about.

When Meghan joined the Royal Family, she and Harry were given plum roles within that institution. Rightly, it was felt that to have a woman of colour representing the Commonwealth would be a great joy and delight.

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winepresswrath · 4 years

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Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui are such good representations of everything Wei Wuxian put out into the world during his first life and returned to the second time around. Sizhui is alive because Wei Wuxian saved him. He's the person he is in part because of Lan Wangji's determination to take the lessons he learned with Wei Wuxian and apply them to the world around him. Lan Wangji is clearly such a Good Dad and a Good Teacher and I would argue that his determination to honour Wei Wuxian's legacy is the reason all the cloud recesses babies seem so well adjusted compared to him and Xichen. Sizhui in particular is compassionate, curious and empathetic. He is consistently kind to everyone around him, especially the people who are generally targets of public scorn. He is proof that the best things Wei Wuxian did made a difference and he changed the world for the better when he picked the right thing even when it was the hardest thing.

Jin Ling was born with basically all of previous generation's bullshit hanging over his head. His whole life is irrevocably fucked up by the same sequence of events that save Sizhui. He loses his parents and grows up in the shadow off all the ways that disaster fucked up his uncle, under the influence of the psychopath who orchestrated that whole imbroglio. He is consequently a disaster brat but also brave, loyal, and resilient, ultimately capable of looking back on the clusterfuck that destroyed his family with forgiveness. He is proof that the scorched earth of your worst mistakes can still bring forth good things and the shit you fucked up doesn't have to be broken and awful forever and in conclusion if the author had gone through with her original plan and killed him off I would have thrown my chair at the television because fuck that shit the kids are all right and that's beautiful.

#lan sizhui #jin ling #the untamed #mdzs #jin ling and lan sizhui are friends who support each other #what good things to come out of all that misery

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randomabiling · 4 years

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Oh, you're back! You can't imagine how happy it'd make me to read one of your drabbles. Would you do one for "Imbroglio" and our favourite couple? Thanks!!!!

Absolutely thrilled to answer your request. Hopefully I’m not too rusty!

The heat of the day was only moderately helped by the shade of the large tent erected over their heads. At least it thwarted the sun’s hot gaze and Cora was thankful for that as she opened her fan and languidly began to wave it in front of her face. The breeze it created was fleetingly refreshing, momentarily lifting the curls around her face before they fluttered back down. Cora wasn’t accustomed to such heat, the kind that saturated and suffocated, having spent every one of the last ten summers of her life in Newport. There, the ocean kept the worst discomforts of the season at bay. And while she had spent many days this summer longing for that salty air, today she was unbothered by the stickiness of an English summer afternoon.

For she was happy; giddy, girlishly so.

Today, she was newly engaged to Lord Downton and nothing, not weather, nor Mother’s silent disapproval, nor the prodding glances of the Crawley’s friends could douse the flame of her happiness.

Cora looked to her hand, the one waving the fan, and watched as the diamond on her ring finger sparkled with each movement. Even in the shade, it was brilliant. The sight of it sent a chill through Cora and goosebumps sprang up on the skin of her arms, despite the torrid afternoon. She was to be married to Robert! Her mind supplied the name that she had only dared to speak once or twice, in the shadows of a ballroom, but already her mouth was getting used to forming the syllables.

“Well, he’s gone and done it.”

The whispered words to her left tickled the edges of Cora’s concentration. She continued to admire her ring while leaning into the familiar voice of her fiancé’s cousin. The thrilling chills of moments ago abated, replaced by a flush of warmth that began at the tips of her ears and spread down her neck.

“Your aunt must be beside herself!”

“My mother says she hasn’t left her room today. And who can blame her?!”

The fan stilled in Cora’s hand. The flush of her neck grew more uncomfortable.

“To be so desperate to propose to the American? I think the Crawleys can be a lesson to us all.”

“And to think of poor Millicent,” Susan continued, her hushed tone rising.

“Oh I know! I cannot imagine how devastated she must be. She had been so sure of Robert.”

“Well,” drawled Susan, “she and he were practically nursery mates. It was just assumed they’d be matched when it came time.”

“Do they need the money so terribly?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Susan whispered loudly, “but it’s quite near the critical stage.”

“Then perhaps it’s fate?” The voice of Susan’s companion took on a kinder tone.

Susan’s harsh bark jolted Cora and she crushed her fan tighter. “Nothing fate-like about it. Uncle Patrick did his research and steered Robert in the direction of the largest bounty.”

Cora’s throat constricted under the lace of her dress’s collar. It was suddenly too hot under the tent, and though Cora desperately wanted to leave she wasn’t sure she had the breath to propel her body up. The oxygen seemed to have been extracted from the air, leaving dry, bitter ash in its place. She gripped the arm of her chair and her diamond sparkled.

“Oh no,” Cora exhaled, feeling the familiar sting of tears.

The thought of crying in front of all of Robert’s friends and acquaintances was the push she needed to finally stand. Once she was up Cora moved quickly and haphazardly, slipping around chairs and tables without paying attention to her route. With her head down, she missed the pair of shoes in her vision until she’d walked right into the person walking in her direction.

“Are you leaving so soon?”

Cora stepped back and looked up at his face. Lord Downton smiled and the happiness of winning shone in his eyes. His cricket bat lay propped on the apex of his shoulder and he lazily wiped his other hand through the wet curls on his head. Cora watched each movement and a tumor of feeling grew inside of her, started by Susan’s words and fertilized by the innocent way Lord Downton looked down at her.

“I...yes, yes I am,” Cora stammered.

Lord Downton frowned, some of the mirth fading from his eyes. “Oh.”

It didn’t take long for the silence between them to grow uncomfortable and Cora looked away first, back in the direction she had been sitting. Susan was staring at her and Robert, a smirk tugging at her lips. She’d meant for Cora to hear.

“Susan,” Robert muttered and placed a hand on her arm. “Did my cousin speak to you today?”

Cora shook her head. She tried to smile at him but could feel how fake it must look and bit her lip.

“I’ve spent too much time in the heat, I’m afraid.” Cora’s voice left her body, sounding strange to her ears.

She squeezed Robert’s fingers before lifting them off of her arm and she turned and hurried away from him. He called her name softly, so as not to make a scene, but Cora did not look back. The tears were already clouding her vision ahead. Gripping her skirts in her hands, Cora tried to walk quickly through the thick grass, her carriage and it’s driver up ahead. She could feel Robert and his cousin’s eyes following her and forced her neck to straighten, her head tilting higher even as a tear tracked down her cheek. She wiped it away, automatically, and it clung to her diamond, fracturing the light as the sun hit it. Quivering rainbows of color hit her eyes and she rushed into the carriage and away from the heat of an English afternoon.

#cobert #its-because-of-his-lordship #Robert Crawley #Cora Crawley

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bluesidedaydream · 5 years

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Crown spoilers, possibly

Why is no one discussing Josh O'Connor's absolutely brilliant performance as Charles? Tywysog Cymru was a stunning episode, and Josh O'Connor's acting was spectacular. His last scene, acting in Richard III, had me absolutely rapt, same during the audience with his mother after his investiture. The rift in the family is so essy to see, and sympathize with, on both sides due to the cast's wonderful acting. The opening to Imbroglio, seeing The Family through Charles's eyes, his short relationship with his great-uncle David in Dangling Man, his desire to be himself, is heartbreaking. His eyes are so expressive, and I think he really does characterize Charles's struggle to do things in his own way, and his anguish at being necessary yet ignored, extremely well. I'm beyond impressed.

#the crown #josh o'connor #the crown season 3 #s03e06 #tywysog cymru #s03e08 #dangling man #s03e09 #Imbroglio #spoilers

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 5 years

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An Avengers comic book showed two men kissing. A Brazilian mayor ordered the copies seized.

Business was humming when word came that no store manager wants to hear: The cops were outside. And they wanted to raid the store.

“The cops?” thought the manager of the comic book store at a giant international book fair in this Brazilian metropolis. Whatever for?

Not to make arrests. Nor to seize documents. No, they had come for the comic book — the one showing two men kissing.

“I never imagined this,” said Lidiane Rodrigues, who manages Comix, one of many stores at the city’s International Book Fair. “I was in shock.”

So was much of the country. The decision late last week by Rio de Janeiro Mayor Marcelo Crivella, a former evangelical preacher, to order the seizure of all copies of a comic book to “defend the family” sparked an uproar across Brazil. Protesters swarmed the fair grounds. Celebrities condemned the decision. The biggest newspaper in the country printed the image of the kissing men on its front page.

On Sunday, Brazil’s supreme court appeared to defuse the situation by overturning an earlier court decision that authorized the removal of the comic book. The high court said that a “democratic regime believes in an environment of free movement of ideas.”

But the imbroglio nonetheless revealed the growing influence that evangelicals have on Brazilian politics. A half-century ago, roughly 9 out of 10 people here identified as Roman Catholic, but that number now stands at about two-thirds. And where the Catholics have lost, the evangelicals have gained — now accounting for about 27 percent of the population.

Evangelicals are a vital constituency for Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro, a former fringe congressman and army captain who won power by promising to crack down on crime. On Saturday, he watched an independence day parade beside Edir Macedo, who not only founded the powerful Universal Church of the Kingdom of God but is also Crivella’s uncle.

“In Brazil, where Pentecostal and other charismatic Christian churches are rapidly gaining members, evangelical voters are only beginning to flex their electoral muscle,” Peter David Arnould Wood, a researcher at the Federal University of Minais Gerais, wrote for the Conversation news website last year.

#brazil #brazilian politics #LGBT rights #free speech #religion #books #comic books #politics #marvel #billy kaplan #teddy altman #book biennial #book biennial 2019 #marcelo crivella #mod nise da silveira

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thecrownnet · 4 years

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The death of the Duke of Windsor has had a profound effect on Prince Charles, who had come to recognise a true kinship with his great uncle. Host Edith Bowman speaks with showrunner Peter Morgan about the similarities between the Duke of Windsor and the Prince of Wales. She also visits hair and makeup designer Cate Hall on set where they talk wig lace, oxygen facials and tiara masterclasses.

#josh o'connor #prince charles #the crown #the crown netflix #the crown spoilers #peter morgan

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spokenrealms · 2 years

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Carry On, Jeeves

Carry On, Jeeves By P. G. Wodehouse Narrated by Graham Scott In the first of this collection of 10 short stories, Jeeves takes office in the Wooster household in the midst of an imbroglio concerning Bertie’s imperious fiancé, Lady Florence Cray, and the manuscript of his uncle’s scandalous memoirs. And soon, the incomparable manservant becomes a fixture, hauling the young master, and his…

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khalilhumam · 4 years

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As a global economic crisis wreaks havoc on Saudi Arabia, the kingdom should reduce military spending

New Post has been published on http://khalilhumam.com/as-a-global-economic-crisis-wreaks-havoc-on-saudi-arabia-the-kingdom-should-reduce-military-spending/

As a global economic crisis wreaks havoc on Saudi Arabia, the kingdom should reduce military spending

By Bruce Riedel A perfect storm of difficulties has gripped Saudi Arabia. Some, such as the pandemic and the crash in global demand for oil, are outside its control. Others, such as the war in Yemen and unrest in the royal family, are the result of the reckless policies of the Crown Prince Muhammed bin Salman (MBS). The kingdom needs to undertake significant changes in its policies, beginning with a drastic cut in military spending. The next U.S. administration should push the Saudis in the direction of downsizing an expensive military that provides very little bang for their bucks. Like many countries, Saudi Arabia has been hit hard by the coronavirus. According to the government’s not-always-reliable figures, the country has around 70,000 cases. It has been under lockdown orders for weeks, with curfews during Ramadan and Eid. The minor pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina has been cancelled, and the annual hajj is probably going to be shut as well, in July. Mosques are closed for worship. The shutdown costs the kingdom millions in tourism revenue, especially for the Hejaz region. Meanwhile, the Saudis promise to start opening up soon, but have provided few details. The virus has spread within the royal family. The governor of Riyadh is reported to have been infected, and dozens of other princes and princesses are ill. The king and crown prince have cut back their schedules to avoid infection. Foreign workers are particularly vulnerable amid poor work and living conditions, accounting for roughly two-thirds of infections in the kingdom. Tens of thousands have repatriated home, especially to South Asia. The steep fall in oil prices has decimated the economy. Saudi Arabia needs oil to be priced at around $85 per barrel to fund its budget, but prices have been well short of that mark for years. Now, prices are roughly $25 per barrel, down from about $65 a barrel six months ago. They have been spending down on reserves for five years to make up for budget shortfalls, and reserves are down from $750 billion to about $500 billion today. Amid a major economic crisis, prices are unlikely to rebound until the global economy recovers. The king has responded by tripling value-added taxes, cutting subsidies, and imposing austerity measures — all of which hurt the poor disproportionately. The prospects for social unrest are high, especially when the curfews are lifted. Amidst all this, the quagmire in Yemen has not gone away, despite the repeated Saudi calls for a ceasefire. All of the Saudis’ allies have abandoned the cause — even Bahrain, which the Saudis still occupy and fund. The Houthi rebels control most of the north, southern separatists have Aden, and the fighting continues to flare intermittently. The Saudis’ military performance has been abysmal, despite the billions spent. The virus is out of control in Yemen. Five years of war and Saudi bombing have crippled the health infrastructure of the poorest country in the Arab world. Now the United Nations says the health system has “in effect collapsed.” There is no way to stop the disease from spreading, and Aden is especially hard-hit. Given the porous nature of the Saudi-Yemeni border, the disaster in Yemen will impact the Saudi struggle with the pandemic. The Yemeni imbroglio is part of the kingdom’s regional rivalry with Iran. The Saudis’ critical oil facilities at Abqaiq were attacked last September by Iranian missiles, and the Saudis were unable to respond to the unprecedented violation of their sovereignty. It was a further demonstration that the hundreds of billions spent on kingdom’s military have been wasted. In March, MBS had his predecessor Prince Muhammad bin Nayef and his uncle Prince Ahmed bin Abdulaziz arrested. Detaining members of the royal family is highly unusual in Saudi Arabia, especially when one (Ahmed) is a son of the modern kingdom’s founder, King Ibn Saud. Other princes have also been confined. There have been persistent rumors that Nayef is seriously ill, or even dead. The arrests suggest that MBS is worried that elements of the family want to see him deposed. There is no doubt that many in the family had their fortunes stolen when he rounded them up at the Ritz Carlton for an old-fashioned shakedown. MBS’ deployment of a Saudi hit team to murder journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Istanbul also antagonized some, by recklessly tarnishing the kingdom’s image. The pandemic and the oil price crash will doom the crown prince’s ambitious effort to reform the Saudi economy by 2030 and to build a new city, NEOM, in the northwest of the kingdom. The Saudis will need to concentrate on austerity measures, end the war in Yemen, and cut their bloated defense budget. Saudi Arabia has ranked among the top five for largest national military expenditures, worldwide, for years. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute reports that the Saudis spent over $60 billion in 2018 on their military, actually a small reduction from the year before. Only the United States, China, Russia, and India spent more; Saudi Arabia spent more than France, Germany, or Japan. It spent three times the military expenditures of Israel. The Trump administration has encouraged Saudi arms sales, and it has consistently exaggerated how much it is selling to the Saudis. President Obama actually made the single biggest arms deal with the kingdom. Both administrations have backed the disastrous war in Yemen. The next administration should cut off military assistance to Saudi Arabia until it ceases all military operations in Yemen and withdraws its forces from any Yemeni territory. Only a clear acknowledgment that the Saudis are leaving will convince the Houthis to call off their attacks. We should encourage the Saudis, Emiratis, and others to pay for the humanitarian catastrophe they created (although they are unlikely to follow through on pledges to do so). But the next administration should do more. It should also sponsor a global and regional effort to reduce military spending in the region. Working with other arms suppliers like the United Kingdom, France, and Canada, Washington should encourage fewer arms sales, not more. The region has far too many weapons, it needs to reduce. The region faces the deadly virus, with a depressed economy, and it is long past time to focus on making peace. The cost of lost arms sales will be marginal next to the potential gains in slowing down tensions and conflict in the region.

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oncethrown · 7 years

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2x17 "Do you trust me?"

This was another good example of an episode that had a central theme, and teased it through nearly all the plot lines to expand characters in a satisfying way. The theme still didn't manage to affect Clary, who is now basically flapping in the wind with a motivation that doesn't make sense. "Do you trust Jocelyn?" To me, one of the most interesting things about this episode is the evidence that Jocelyn dragged so many warlocks into protecting the mirror. It was either @f-f-f-fight or @amorverus who commented that the narrative allows so much trust in Jocelyn because she's a white woman, and while that's probably the real reason this plot line exists, there is internal logic to this plot that is dark and fascinating. Jocelyn is a master manipulator. We've seen her in action several times. She has a way of getting what she wants from people, by giving them what they want, and not giving a damn if that exchange of goods and services harms them or other people. Every time we saw Jocelyn on screen, she was exerting some kind of power to achieve her ends. She has her daughter's mind wiped to keep them away from the Clave, and somehow manipulates Magnus into helping her. She lies to Clary for 18 years. She gets a lot of support (including, you have to assume, monetary support, cause...artist) from Luke and seems to offer nothing in return. She traps Clary in a boathouse so she can kill Jace unimpeded. She killed Alec to find Clary. Remember that? Clary was pissed, put herself in danger, and then Jocelyn used Alec to find her, and for a moment, Alec was dead. Jocelyn killed Alec. So it's really easy to imagine Jocelyn going to all of these warlocks, promising them the power to restrict the power of the Clave, and oh by the way... you might die. Jocelyn, in this light, is the perfect embodiment of the Clave. Making promises, but never risking what she asks others to risk. Always out to get what she wants, but never offering mutual trust, mutual transparency. Assuring everyone that they have the downworld's best interest at heart, they want to work together...and then protecting themselves from the specter of an uprising by lying about having the sword. If intentional, The leitmotif of Jocelyn's manipulation in this episode Is genius. If not it's All the Problems With Clary turned up to Eleven. "Do the Lightwood trust the Clave and Eachother" Max's orders are an interesting hiccup in this trust/Clave/sword imbroglio, especially for Izzy. She has to ask herself if she trusts herself to have trained Max well enough, a harder question now that she's in recovery. She has to confront Alec, not as her older brother, but as the head of the Institute, sending another young soldier into the field. And of course, does she trust the Clave? Does she trust their choice to let 12 year olds out into a world that is much much more dangerous than ever before. I wish there had been more talk between the Lightwoods about trusting the Clave after the revelation about the sword, but I acknowledge that this Max plot line is building toward something in the next episode and that the sword thing is covered in other plots. It also sets up the questions that other characters ask about being able to trust Alec as the head of the Institute. "Was Magnus Wrong to Trust Alec as Much as he Did?" Obviously the focus of this piece of the plot is on Alec and Magnus's personal relationship being tested by their professional obligations and cultural loyalties. Magnus has opened up to Alec in ways he hasn't opened up to anyone. We just came off an episode where Magnus told Alec something he may never have told anyone, after keeping it bottled up for four straight episodes. Then Magnus comes from a meeting and unabashedly announces his total faith in Alec's good intentions, and trustworthiness. The revelation that Alec lied about the Clave is a huge and multi layered betrayal. 1. He lied to Magnus. Alec is always shown being totally honest with Magnus. He didn't know why he stayed to have a drink with Magnus, and he doesn't pretend otherwise. He tells Magnus as soon as he gets engaged. He admits to having some degree of suicidal ideation. He walks into sex with no major reservations pretty early. There is a lot of trust there. Alec's lie complete blindsides Magnus. 2. The lie shows that Alec is more of a Shadowhunter than Magnus has been thinking of him as. Alec lies to Magnus to protect the Clave. Alec makes a show of transparency with the downworld, gives that to Magnus as the official line, and then politically undermines Magnus, as The High Warlock, like a Trump tweet during a White House briefing. Alec then toes the party line about protecting downworlders from themselves in general, and insults Magnus by infantilizing him. Alec just didn't want Magnus to worry his pretty head about the sword. 3. The lie shows disregard for the magnitude of damage that Valentine has caused in only the last few weeks and for Magnus's life.If Alec had bought yogurt on the day of the downworld massacre that took place in Alec's Institute, with that missing sword, that yogurt would still be good. Also, for a significant amount of time, Alec thought he was going to find Magnus's dead body lying in a hallway after that massacre. It's like if there was a school shooting, and afterward the school put the gun in a janitor's closet, fully loaded, and forgot about it. Much like Izzy did, Magnus walks in to see Alec and finds himself confronting the Head of the New York Institute. Alec loves and admires Magnus. The Head of the Institute made assumptions about how a warlock would react to Clave news. Alec is always open and honest with Magnus. The head of the Institute is hiding life or death information. And there is a race factor here too. Everything Alec says and does after Magnus confronts him reeks of ingrained downworlder predjudice. Which is not to say that Alec is a bigot, or that he doesn't love Magnus, but Alec benefits from a society where he is powerful because his species has subjugated Magnus's species and hunted them for sport within Magnus's living memory. It's a massive betrayal, and Magnus lashes out at Alec with a viciousness that shocks Alec. It's the end of the honeymoon, and it's a great set up for deep meaningful plots moving forward. "Who can Jonathan trust?" It's also interesting to see the Jonathan/Valentine dynamic in an episode haunted by Jocelyn's emotional manipulation skills. Jonathan has this very interesting motivation: he wants to be loved. He's a villain who wants to be loved. He's a villain with a baseline of "pretty gosh darn evil" who just wants to be loved... and so far in the plot, shouldn't be loved. I am so in. Love that shit. And he's with an abusive monster who is preying on him to revert back to his big genocide plan... but he's also in contact with Jace, who can keep pointing out how abusive and manipulative Valentine is. And he knows Clary is his sister, and she keeps talking about how he can be redeemed, and she needs to find him, and she has no one, and giving him this lifeline. I almost want to read the kiss as an outburst of misplaced non sexual want. Like, he just has no idea how to express affection, but also he wants to claim her in a completely not-okay way. But the cynical part of me thinks that free form probably just threw it in for no reason. "Clary was also in this episode" Clary is the only character saddled with dragging the book plot along with her, and it's an albatross around her neck. Knowing that, it was a huge mistake to also give her the exposition that was so clunky it was reading examples of how not to do it. Then give her magic plot advancing powers in the form of visions for no reason. Everyone of her scenes reads like it was written by someone who got this job because their uncle works there, but they showed up hungover, wrote it 10 minutes before the scripts were due, and is probably going to quit soon anyway. Seriously, whoever wrote the Clary parts of this episode should be fired. Rather than beat a dead horse with my usual complaints about Clary and her storyline, I'm just going to point out that all those complaints still apply, but now with extra annoyance because: 1. The motivation they gave her makes no sense. Luke was supposed to be her father, but they never talk since she you know, tasered him. Dot is supposed to be a big sister to her, Clary keeps leaving her to die. But also, the writers don't use her actual close relationships to build this want in anyway. Like, she fucked up a sibling relationship with Simon cause of the awkward nerd boning, and the distance in that relationship never comes up as a motivating factor as she searches for family. The three people she hangs out with most (theoretically) are siblings. The idea that maybe she's a little isolated from that dynamic doesn't come up. 2x17 was a well developed, nuanced episode that explored a lot of deep and complicated facets of the characters and elements of the world, and Clary was a redhead in it.

#Shadowhunters 2x17 #Shadowhunters meta #episode reaction

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mehfashion · 7 years

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Proof of brandishing sight

As soon as the incoming movies Gives the public indication. A brandishing linoleum making a unguessed thing of a probable meeting with a pioneer. We open the halves of a secrets and the Brainwash of masks expands into the stationary chimney. The promise knows this, That life in it's cork boxes is as endless as the kiss, Everything frightened with ancient voices, the salt of the alcove And piles of decisive bread around twilight. I could fashion imbroglio, clock, and jackal From elixirs and shorelines With a gray well With trashes in my eye. To the sensible color of the silk pencil. Trashes of a acidulous ship Upgrading with the thicket in front of a pale boat, Boundless as a insatiable iguana, Like furious cactu: wheatfields. And you enrich like a candle You are going to ask where are the tomato? And the serendipidous serenities? And the wind balanced splattering its homes and scratch them full of Chimney and turkey? The fleeting uncle Develops in the slender morning. Outside the university like sand. The balanced horses hated. Yellow ice to my wounded poppy!

#streetwear #trend #vogue #girl

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thecapetiandynasty · 7 years

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Today history, March 12, 1270, the birth of Charles, Count of Valois:

"Charles of Valois (12 March 1270 – 16 December 1325) was the third son of Philip III of France and Isabella of Aragon. He was a member of the House of Capet and founded the House of Valois. In 1284, he was created Count of Valois (as Charles I) by his father and, in 1290, received the title of Count of Anjou from his marriage to Margaret of Anjou. Through his marriage to Catherine I, titular empress of the Latin Empire, he was titular Latin Emperor of Constantinople from 1301–1307, although he ruled from exile and only had authority over Crusader States in Greece.

Moderately intelligent, disproportionately ambitious and quite greedy, Charles of Valois collected principalities. He had as appanage the counties of Valois, Alençon and Perche (1285). He became in 1290 count of Anjou and of Maine by his marriage with Margaret, eldest daughter of Charles II, titular king of Sicily; by a second marriage, contracted with the heiress of Baldwin II de Courtenay, last Latin emperor of Constantinople, he also had pretensions on this throne. But he was son, brother, brother-in-law, son-in-law, and uncle of kings or of queens (of France, of Navarre, of England, and of Naples), becoming, moreover, after his death, father of a king (Philip VI).

Charles thus dreamed of more and sought all his life for a crown he never obtained. In 1285, the pope recognized him as King of Aragon (under the vassalage of the Holy See), as son of his mother, in opposition to King Peter III, who after the conquest of the island of Sicily was an enemy of the papacy. Charles then married Marguerite of Sicily, daughter of the Neapolitan king, in order to re-enforce his position in Sicily, supported by the Pope. Thanks to this Aragonese Crusade undertaken by his father Philip III against the advice of his brother, the future Philip the Fair, he believed he would win a kingdom and won nothing but the ridicule of having been crowned with a cardinal's hat in 1285, which gave him the sobriquet of the "King of the Cap." He would never dare to use the royal seal which was made on this occasion and would have to renounce the title.

His principal quality was to be a good military leader. He commanded effectively in Flanders in 1297. The king quickly deduced that his brother could conduct an expedition in Italy against Frederick II of Sicily. The affair was ended by the peace of Caltabellotta.

Charles dreamed at the same time of the imperial crown and married in 1301 Catherine de Courtenay, who was a titular empress. But it needed the connivance of the Pope, which he obtained by his expedition to Italy, where he supported Charles II of Anjou against Frederick II of Sicily, his cousin. Named papal vicar, he lost himself in the imbroglio of Italian politics, was compromised in a massacre at Florence and in sordid financial exigencies, reached Sicily where he consolidated his reputation as a looter and finally returned to France discredited in 1301-1302.

Charles was back in shape to seek a new crown when the German king Albert of Habsburg was murdered in 1308. Charles's brother, who did not wish to take the risk himself of a check and probably thought that a French puppet on the imperial throne would be a good thing for France, encouraged him. The candidacy was defeated with the election of Henry VII as German king. Charles continued to dream of the eastern crown of the Courtenays.

He did benefit from the affection which Philip the Fair, who had suffered from the remarriage of their father, brought to his only full brother, and he found himself given responsibilities which largely exceeded his talent. Thus it was he who directed in 1311 the royal embassy to the conferences of Tournai with the Flemish; he quarreled there with his brother's chamberlain Enguerrand de Marigny, who openly flouted him. Charles did not pardon the affront and would continue the vendetta against Marigny after the king's death.

He was doggedly opposed to the torture of Jacques de Molay, grand master of the Templars, in 1314.

The premature death of Louis X in 1316 gave Charles hopes for a political role, but he could not prevent his nephew Philip, from taking the regency while awaiting the birth of Louis X's posthumous son. When that son (John I of France) died after a few days, Philip took the throne as Philip V.

In 1324, he commanded with success the army of his nephew Charles IV (who succeeded Philip V in 1322) to take Guyenne and Flanders from King Edward II of England. He contributed, by the capture of several cities, to accelerate the peace, which was concluded between the king of France and his niece, Isabella, queen-consort of England.

The Count of Valois died 16 December 1325 at Nogent-le-Roi, leaving a son who would take the throne of France under the name of Philip VI and commence the branch of the Valois: a posthumous revenge for the man of whom it was said, "Son of a king, brother of a king, uncle of three kings, father of a king, but never king himself." Charles was buried in the now-demolished church of the Couvent des Jacobins in Paris - his effigy is now in the Basilica of St Denis."

#today in history #On This Day in History #birth #charles #charles count of valois

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