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smolvenger · 10 months

Text

Arise Fair Sun (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 3K

Fandom: The Hollow Crown

Summary: One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff! I guess brief mentions of sex.

A/N: This was inspired by @theartofimagining13's small post that can be found here! A lot of it was taken from the Balcony Scene from Romeo and Juliet (and no tragic ending in my fic, hooray!), bc I'm a basic bitch who genuinely loves that play, do not @ me. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @muddyorbsblr

“Y/N, a marriage to the Earl of Warwick shall be a wonderful match and you must consider it!” your father said at dinnertime.

You felt as if the roast chicken you had just eaten was curdling in your stomach. Though it was a warm summer night, you became very cold. You saw stars in the fields of your vision from the shock. The words were thunder to your ears- loud and shocking and bursting from nowhere.

You did meet the Earl of Warwick a few times. He was a handsome man, though he was older. Not elderly, but close to your father’s age to where they were friends. Often, they attended events and court with the king himself there. Just yesterday, he was there with you at a ball, hosted by the king himself. He had long since been widowed. Now it seemed he was open for a replacement.

Though you did dance with the handsome young king, Henry the Fifth. His eyes were piercing but his face had a gentle smile on you. You were sure he was not betrothed to any princess. At least not yet. The times you spoke with him and attended events with him, he did speak to you. And he was so…so…

No, it was impossible.

“Father…am I…am I betrothed to the earl?” you asked, still dazed at it.

To think, you were already set for a marriage without your knowledge! Yes, you knew it would happen eventually. You never thought it would happen now! Your fingers curled into the table’s wood as if it could support you.

“No, I will tell you, you are not. At least, not yet! He is only interested in courtship first…then we can consider a betrothal,” your father replied. He wiped off the sauce of the meal from his mouth.

Your mother turned to you.

“But the earl seeks you as his lady love. And you shall consider him, shall you?” your mother encouraged.

You blinked rapidly.

“I…I will consider it,” you answered.

“Then, we will invite him to dinner and if this continues further, a marriage for you will finally be settled. Isn’t’ that wonderful?” your father asked with a smile.

You nodded politely, despite the racing of your heart. You reached for your goblet of wine and took a sip, resisting the urge to gulp it down to calm your shock.

Not that he wouldn’t be a good husband to any wife. But…in the depth of your heart, you wanted to marry out of love. Like with….with….

No, that was impossible. Don’t dwell on him, you urged yourself.

This was it. Done and done-at this rate, you would have to start signing your letters as Lady Warwick.

That night, you were troubled. You found it hard to relax to sleep. The stifling heat on the blankets on a summer evening didn’t help. You knew marriage was never for love, but for duty and diplomacy. Love was only for knights who pined for already married women. And even that was never to be except for all the yearning and sighing. And you didn’t think of yourself as worthy of a knight’s adoration either.

You put on a white shift and a pink robe over should a servant run nearby. You went out of your room to go out to the balcony outside. It was a lovely night. The moon was up in the sky, full and round and white. Stars were sprinkled as light as sugar dust over the ebony sky of midnight. It ran over the back of the house where you could peek over the wall that surrounded the house. Right below was the garden where trees grew so tall their leaves could kiss your fingertips. And even though you could only smell the garden and never touch it, vines and flowers blossoming from them bedecked the balcony wall. Moonlight glowed over it all, giving it a shine making it seem more ethereal.

You leaned onto the balcony railing, putting a hand against your cheek. You let out a deep sigh, just enjoying it and the sounds of the crickets of this summer night. It was cooler now with a breeze that made you shiver a little. It was as if the world sighed down with you. Crickets and owls sang their music.

Then you heard the distant whinny of a horse. Your head turned, jumping from its suddenness. Did one break from the stable? You walked up the walkway to where you could peek over the wall and saw that there was a white horse on the other side. A horse you did not recognize!

Zounds-a burglar!?

You ran down to where you saw the garden. You noticed a figure in the dark with a dark cloak running forward. Your heart raced with panic. As you lowered your jaw to let out a scream and alert someone, the hood lowered.

“Don’t be afraid, my lady!” cried a familiar voice.

Out came a head full of auburn curls and a handsome, ivory face with a goatee. And you fought the urge to let out another yelp. Of all the men on God’s creation who could be down there-fie! It was the king of England, Henry! The panic ran its cold lightning down your body.

“Your grace!” you said out of surprise, dipping into a bow out of habit.

You returned up. How beautiful his curls and skin shone against the moonlight. There was a faint glow caught in his high cheekbones. He wore a dark cloak and gloves over his red doublet, its color bleeding out between the folds of the cloak.

He placed his hands out in peace and walked forward to where you stood over. The most powerful man on earth but here he seemed so little. He looked up at you like you were a giant. Like you could squash him between your thumb and forefinger.

“What brings your majesty here and why? Without your guards? No one to protect you?” you asked.

“I do not need nor want them here. Here, my dear lady… I come here under the cloak of night-she hides and protects me.”

You began to clutch the railing of the balcony, leaning over.

“How did you get in here?” you asked.

He let out a smile that made your insides wriggle in excitement.

“I climbed over the walls-I was always quite good at climbing,” Henry said.

Peeking over, you noticed how tall they were. You forgot he was young and spry, even if he was royalty. He had the energy and strength to get over a tall wall. You turned down to look at him.

“You…didn’t answer my first question. Why are you here?” you asked.

He folded his gloved hands, looking up. His brows furrowed and his shoulders began to raise.

“I spoke with your father today-and he was making a boast that concerned me…are you betrothed?” he asked.

You felt your eyes go wide. You shook your head.

“No…no I am not. The earl of Warwick is interested in me. But no, there’s no betrothal. Not yet,” you told him.

Henry let out a deep breath and loosened his shoulders.

“I am relieved…” he commented.

“What…what do you mean, Henry?” you asked, swallowing.

You saw him smile as you said his name.

“The night brought me here…and Love.”

The air stilled around you, and the earth stopped as he spoke. His own jaw trembled and though his voice was soft, you heard him clearly. Reality surpassing your dreams.

“Love gave me wings and urged me forward…and here, in this garden tonight, I am not a king who can only speak in declarations and laws and propriety. Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly. I can speak to you as a man. As a man who loves you.”

You were almost dizzy. Processing it. You held onto the railing to keep your legs from knocking.

“You…you love me?” you repeated.

“Y/N…I…I wanted to give you a speech. Recite poetry and verses. But your eyes make me turn red. The sight of you and I am speechless. I cannot say a word from the fullness and longing of my heart. So I speak plain- I love you, Y/N. And that I will not be ashamed to say aloud. Not anymore.”

You then eyed the tree right next to where you stood.

“Can you climb up here…can you talk to me there…”

He then moved to the wall before yours. Easily, he pulled himself up the trees. With the grace of a dancer, he moved up and through until he went to the branch right before where you stood. He caught his breath from the exertion, holding onto the branch to support him.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I have never felt better as I did.”

“Then come forward, Henry-I don’t want you to fall!” you cried.

He walked down the branch, making himself steady. You reached out a hand-touching his leather gloves, and helped him on. Though you paused when you realized- you were in the intimate position of an embrace. He didn’t let go. You didn’t want him to.

“Well-this is better, my lady…” he remarked, with a naughty twinkle in his eye.

“At this point in the poems, many men call their ladies the moon….a few call their women the sun…That should give you a hint of what to say…” you teased.

Henry glanced up at the sky, he then returned to you with a smile.

“Then…then you are the stars, Y/N. The light of this night…perhaps this does make you the sun. The sun itself is a star and all go about come alive when they rise. So should the world come to life when I see you. There were times I wished…I wished I was a mere insect in this house, Y/N.”

“An insect?” you repeated with a small laugh.

You saw Henry turn pink and both of you dipped your heads into laughter again, then he continued.

“I envy each bug. Each small crook and mouse that can go in. That can lay eyes to you, hear you speak and laugh and sing and whisper. I would trade my crown to be them. For they can look at you and hear you all the time, but Harry of England cannot.”

You never thought your smile would grow as big as it currently did. He removed his gloves and set them on the railing. Then you took your hands in each other. A touch of bare skin upon bare skin. He twined your fingers between yours. He held your hand so smoothly, a great treasure. Worth more than anything he materially possessed.

“I don’t know who would get more in trouble if my father arrived. If it would be you at the sight of a man so near me, or if he would get in trouble and be exiled by the king of England!”

Smiling and bursting into laughter-how easily you could speak to and laugh with this man. The pure joy that tingled inside you when he was near!

“I won’t exile him…at least, not too long,” he said with a wink that made you flutter in your insides.

“I love you. No other embellishments- I love you. It is like you haunt me, Y/N. There were times I’ve wondered if I’ve only dreamed about you. Then I feel the itch of my clothes or the scratch in my throat and I could cry with bliss. For it means you are real.”

You began to tear up with happiness.

“I had to tell you how I felt. Before you were sold off forever. Before you followed your father’s wishes.”

“Couldn’t you command him?” you questioned.

“When I was not sure if you liked me?! And have you hate me all for forcing your hand? I couldn’t! I had to be sure how you felt about me! And I wanted you to…to like me. Like me a little. I had to tell you my feelings before we had to say nothing for all eternity. Before a loveless marriage was forced on me too. I wanted it to be genuine- nothing of crowns and laws and power. Only my own heart beating fast when I see you smile at me.I…”

He paused. His mouth dropping to a gentle frown.

“Y/N…How do you feel about me?” he asked.

You felt yourself warm up.

“For someone who insists he is plain of speech…you are pretty with your words…and I like them, Henry- I do. And I like you. And I…I love you too…”

Giving in, you embraced him. He cupped your cheek and kissed you. Fire engulfed you as you leaned in. You felt his hot breath from his nose against your face. You could have stayed there forever in his arms. You reached up a hand to run through his hair as you kissed again. He pressed further and your body was shot. You were so drunk on love, on his touch.

Fie, the great trouble that would land you! Both of you-more you than him! And in fact…

You pulled from the kiss.

“Henry…you come here with honorable intentions-that of marriage, do you?” you asked.

He shook his curly head.

“My lady, no- I come here with no thoughts of anything vile but only with the sweetest, purest sentiments. I swear on myself!” he promised.

“Oh, good! I’ve heard of men saying things to women to seduce them…I’m glad.”

You went up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it, kissing the palm of your hand. His eyes as bright and shining to rival the moon. Then he took both his hands to touch yours. You sat on the railing, and he knelt down to talk to you, his voice and eyes earnest.

“Y/N, I am relieved you love me as I love you. As you are a bright gem to me, a sweet pet. But I come here not because I wish to possess you- only to stay by your side. I was crowned king of a nation but here, I am only your humble servant!”

“Then…could you kiss me again?” you asked.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around you. He began to repeat your name as he laid a kiss on each of your cheeks, then your neck and lips as you melted into laughter from his arms. He kept murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as he held you, nuzzling you close.

“The sweetest, dearest name…loveliest, most precious of women….”

Both of you let go. How warm he felt compared to the chill of the night.

“Then…then you will speak to my father. Tell him you are interested in me. Insist on yourself as a suitor with intentions on marriage,” you urged him.

“Yes! Yes I shall!” he agreed, nodding.

There were footsteps from inside. The air stopped in your lungs and both of you fled to a shadow. But seeing that no one approached, you let out a sigh of relief.

“To think…we have to go…there might be some to hear you…” you mused sadly.

“I can’t remember how much delight I’ve had in this hour since my tavern days…to think we could be caught-the thrill of it!”

“Henry…we should exchange tokens of love.”

Both of you plucked the flowers growing on one side against the balcony. He gave you one. You gave him one. He tucked his own flower, a large, bright pink blossom, into his doublet. He put on his gloves in the strands of his belt for security.

“Here….symbols of us. To remember each other…” you said.

He said, tilting your chin up to his. You touched his arm gently and smiled.

“Henry, when you talk to father-come here. You could see me tomorrow…I’ll put my ears against the door when you talk to Father! I doubt he could refuse the king of England as a son in law and his daughter a…a…”

The word, in your disbelief, went to a mere whisper of your voice. The idea gripping you.

“a…a queen.”

“And what a queen you shall make!”

He took his hands on you and lifted you up in an embrace to where your feet didn’t touch the ground. He twirled you around. You let out a small shriek in spite of yourself, despite the risk from the surprise.

He kissed you again on the lips. The man was insatiable for you, but you would not complain about it.

“I’ve never been…been this happy…I am not sure if I want to leave…”

“Well then…you must…you don’t want my parents to suspect anything. And servants like to talk- wouldn’t you provide some interesting gossip for them,” you sighed.

“I could brave them all if I had to. But if I must…”

He held your hand as he began to climb out to the tree branch. Your own arm reached out, holding his. Just enough so that you still felt secure on your balcony.

“I will see you on the morrow, when the sun rises and all of dawn and day shall behold your face where it will stand by mine soon for all eternity…” Henry said.

“And I cannot wait until then…” you replied.

You held onto him until only the bits of your fingers touched. To memorize his skin. His feel. He then climbed down the tree. then you let go. Your own hand holding onto air. Feeling the ghost of his touch as he had to use both of his hands to climb down. Then you released it as well. Watching him vanish.

You blew him a kiss and he caught it, putting it to his lips. He bounded across the gardens. Then he crawled up and over the wall-and his cape did seem like a birds wings in the night. You ran over to the other side of the balcony wall to watch the last of him. You saw him on his white horse, like a maiden’s sweet dream. With a last smile, a smile of promise, he kicked his heels against his horse and rode off into the night until the whiteness of the steed was a mere speck.

You missed him already. But you told yourself, it wouldn’t be long now. Just a few more hours. And you would be reunited. Bound to never part forever.

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jeniferprince · 1 year

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I saw your absolutely gorgeous evelyn hugo fanart and all of your lovely vintage sapphic prints and I've just gotta ask: have you heard of Burn the House Down by Kenna Jenkins? It's a fictional biography/memoir abt the 1st woman president and her secret sapphic relationship ala shoeh, but takes place in the 1940s. Several of your beautiful prints remind me of the vibes of the novel!

hey! first of all, thank you for the lovely words. <3

I haven't heard of it, this summary is definitely intriguing! I had to add it to my tbr list. I just looked it up and I found the author's twitter with more info if anyone is as interested in this as I am now.

thank you for the recommendation, love! keep them coming!

#book recommendations #ask #sapphic book #lesbian book #historic fiction

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bandgie · 8 months

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Lost & Found

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

a/n: hey guys! so this is the second part of Predator & Prey. you don't have to read that first, but it defo will help with references and what not lmao. to be clear, this is not a chapter of the predator and prey series, this what happens after the series.

synopsis: You hated the little town you lived in, you hated your job, hated how everyone knew everyone, you hated how your mother didn't care about how much you hated it. You needed to do something, to get out of this repetitive life. You've decided to apply to be a maid in the castle for the Viscount and his family. With this new life, you hope to change your pace. Yet, one of the sons can't help but give you an eerie sense of familiarity.

cw: reader is mischievous/a little mean, mentions of insecurity, toxic family/people, running away, I dunno that's it

3.1k words

She grabbed you roughly by the arm, literally throwing you out of the little shop. You landed on your knees, the cold snow burning your skin. You heard her take steps towards you and before you could turn, she kicked you right on the ass. You yelped.

"You're fired! I don't want to see your pathetic face again. Ya hear me?!" Your boss screamed as you struggled to your feet. She was a big lady, tall and thick with curves. A well-sign that she was fed well, paid well enough to afford food. Despite that, she still paid you so little. Measly coins of copper when you knew you deserved more.

When you confronted her about it, she shot you down. She got so defensive that you knew she was lying to you. So you did the only reasonable thing you could think of, steal her food and throw it to the cattle. She did not take it well, of course, and when she asked you about it you confessed rather easily. 'It was me. I did you a favor really, you were starting to get bigger than the cows.'

You had managed to stand on your feet, ignoring the pain in your legs. "I don't need this shit job anyway," you try not to shout. "I could have been making 3 times as much scooping up the dung from the animals." You could tell she wanted to slap you, but there were too many eyes on you both. It wasn't easy living in a small village, everyone was too nosy for their own good.

"Take your things, and go." She had her arms folded onto other chest. You roll your eyes, not bothering to go inside the shop and see if you did have any belongings. Even if you did, you kept it on you at all times. You had a feather necklace, one you kept in your pocket when it wasn't around your neck. For good measure, you flipped off your ex-boss and made your way to your house.

The walk home should have been shameful. All eyes were on you, whispers as you walked by, looks of pity and disgust from the people. You wanted to scream, you wanted to beat all of them to the ground for not minding their business. It's going to be very hard to find another job now, you couldn't help but think.

Once you got to you little cottage, you were bombarded with children running around. Your mother ran a small daycare inside the home, an easy way to make money. You stopped yourself from swearing at the kids as they stepped on your feet. With a groan, you pushed through them, ignoring how some cried and yelled at you. Your mom was not far, coming out of the cooking area to greet you.

"How was it today?" She asks. You debate on lying or telling her the truth, but you're too frustrated to have it in you to lie. "I was terminated. Good riddance." Your mom gasps at the news, hands covering her mouth. "You lie! Please tell me that you lie," her voice was desperate. "No," you speak firmly. "She was hogging all of the money, I was getting mere scraps."

Your mom huffs, hands on her hips. "That is no matter. You still needed a job that paid. How else do you think we put food on the table." She gestured to the 10 children that loudly scream and play. "You cannot expect me to be able to afford food when I can't even afford bones of an animal," irritated laced with your words. With an eye roll, your mom makes her way to the children, calling them for lunch.

You watch as the children slowly quiet down, walking to the dinner table. They're so young, so free, so careless. You envy them. Oh, how you would give up your adulthood for your youth, unknowing of the ruthless world. Your mother calls for you to help, but you're so lost in thought. Is it the world that's cruel? Or is is this village? This place with so many people up your ass that you can't breathe?

"Mom," you start. "Let's move." Your demand has your mom giving you a questioning look. "Don't be silly. Come help me serve the children." She disregards you quickly. Still, you keep remained in your place. "I can't stay here. We can't stay here. Let's go elsewhere. To a city so big no one knows our names, we start start fresh. We can be happy," you can hear your voice breaking.

You think that because some of your emotion is breaking thorough, she'll give in. Or at least consider it. Instead, she eyes you weirdly again. "We are happy, my child. You just had a bad day. Come and help me with-"

"No!" You shout before you can think. Your voice has the children quiet their conversations, eyes on you. On you, on you, on you. No one will just stop looking at you, no one will just see you as a person, no one will respect you here. "I hate it here!" Your eyes sting with tears. "I can't stand another second in this place. Everyone knows my name, they know my face, they act like they know me when they don't! I hate how they stare at me. How they look at me with such venom." You gasp for air, tears now fully dripping down your face.\

Pity. It's pity that your mom looks at you with. Not understanding, not love. Pity.

"I understand, my rose. But whose fault is that?" Your breath gets caught in your throat from her words. She really has the audacity to blame you? "You make a ruckus everywhere you go," she presses on. "You think I don't know what they say about you? About me? This village thinks I raised you wrong, when in fact, it's you that's just wrong. Can't you be grateful? You're lucky your mother puts up with these rumors. I should've kicked you out the moment you began causing chaos."

Her face is slightly pink from anger, hands clasping the wooden spoon a little harder than she should. Then, like she didn't just berate you, she serves the children. You stand there stunned. You're not sure how you're feeling; Angry? Sad? Neglected? Ignored? Shocked? Unimportant? You then wipe your tears, infuriated at yourself for wasting them to begin with.

"You don't have to worry about kicking me out. I'll leave," and with that, you take long strides to your bedroom. You grab your wool sack that will barely fit the things you need. It's not as though you had many things to begin with, but it really dawned on you then how little you had. For good measure, you grab your candle and matches, sure they would come in handy for the night. Once done, you reach under your yarn bed for a small pouch full of coins you've managed to save up.

You make your way out of your room, sack over your shoulder with the feathers necklace around your neck. You don't know even know how long you've had it for, but you still could never seem to part with it. It was huge, bigger than your hand. It seemed to blend perfectly with the night. Your mother always begged you to get rid of it, that it was riddled with disease. You wouldn't, maybe you couldn't.

Your mom sighs, seemingly irritated with you, "You're being dramatic." It takes restraint to ignore her words, continuing towards the door. She follows you though, fast feet behind you. "Foolish girl. You think you can survive out there in the winter?" You open the door, biting back the freezing air as you step out.

To your surprise, she's still following you. "My god! Get your bottom back in the house and-" You finally spin around, facing your mother. "No. I will not go back into that god forsaken house, to this god forsaken village. I will leave, and you will not see me again." You don't bother to wait for her reply, instead quickly walking to the path that leads out of the village.

Her footsteps stop, a clear indication that she is no longer behind you. Still, her voice carries in the wind, "Don't expect me to accept you when you come crawling back again!" You shake your head in an attempt to get her voice out of your mind.

Despite having a tear-stained face, you still have your determination. The will to save yourself from this life, the will feel alive.

The cold air around you is enough to have you feeling alive, adrenaline still running high. It's probably how you manage to push forward for hours without so much as a break. The sun in well down, and you were glad you could fit a lantern inside your bag. It may provided little light, but you could feel the heat radiating from it.

It's not as though you didn't know where you going, you already had a place in mind. There a big city not too far from where you lived, a place called Capua. It's where many of the noble men lived, even people who worked directly under the king. You may not be able to live there like them, but you could start fresh there. Maybe you'll find yourself a nice old lady to work with, clean her house for easy money.

Gosh, you could practically taste the metallic coins on your tastebuds. Your dream would was only another 2 days away, and you were more than eager to have it. For tonight, however, you find yourself resting in an old shack. You found this place many years ago when you ran away as a young maiden. It was dusty, abandoned, and smelly. Not that it mattered now, for tonight, it was your new home.

Your dreams consisted of your daily lives, though much exaggerated. You could hear them laughing, whispering about you even if there was no one nearby. You tossed in your sleep. It was all too much, you couldn't even escape your pathetic life in sleep. Then, your dream shifted to your future new life. What if they laughed at you there as well? What if your behavior was so bad back at home, that the people of Capua heard of the rumors. No one would hire you. You would still be alone.

The nightmare shifts, and you're suddenly standing in the woods. A man, if you can call it that, stand in front of you. He has horns on his head, eyes black, wings surrounding his frame. He is no human, but he gives you a strange sense of safety. He's saying something, but you can't understand him. Then you notice his bloody hands, his bloody teeth.

You open your mouth the scream, but instead you say, "So, see you later alligator?" Your voice sounds different, almost like you had an unfamiliar accent. The 'man' gives you a puzzled look, "Yes, but I am not an alligator." Pain, your chest heaved with heartbreak as you walk away from him, into a glowing tree.

Wait! You want to scream. Where am I? Who are you? Instead, your dream self watches as the 'man' disappears until he's nothing but a memory. A locked echo you have forgotten in all these lives but this one. You can feel yourself waking up, how his face so easily turns hazy.

The sun peeks through one of the broken windows of the shack, effectively waking you up. Tiredly, you sit up. You look around for a moment, as if forgotten where you were. That dream, you couldn't help but think about it. It was like a distant memory, a place with a person you once knew. It's all garbled know, and you can't really recall the exact details in your wake.

Not that it matters, you have a journey ahead of yourself and you shouldn't waste daylight. A yawn leaves your lips as you stand, bones lightly cracking at the movement. You slip on your shoes, which are slightly damp from the snow. Without your mother noticing before you left, you had managed to sneak away some food. You take a moment to stretch before your walk while you eat.

You groan as you reach for they sky. Your body slightly aches from sleeping oh the floor, but you hope that your long stroll with that the pain away. Once you've finished warming up, you make your way outside. The morning cold nips at you immediately, but it's much more compared to the night.

The sun is over the horizon, still faints of pink from sunrise. There's no time to admire Earth's natural beauty. You have a voyage ahead of yourself.

It's the next day when you make it to the city of Capua. It's already almost sundown, and you need to find an inn quickly. The air is totally different. You can't help but feel like it's actually warmer here. There's so many people on the streets that they bump into each other, not bothering to apologize.

You actually feel a little honored when you yourself get knocked into. "Watch where you're going!" They practically scream at you. Still, there's not an ounce of anger in you when they do. Instead, you beam at them. You ignore how puzzled they look when you do.

You really want to explore the city, but your feet are unbelievably sore from the walking. Your lower back aches from the places you've been sleeping which consisted of the floors of abandoned homes. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make for this moment now.

The inn you find is small, low lit with candles, and cheap. It pretty much costs the entirety of your money pouch, but you need a good nights rest. Your room is small, merely a bed of hay with an even smaller desk.

Smiling, you set your belongings down and rest on the make shift bed. A new start, a life you've been dreaming of awaits you. When morning comes, you will look for a good job with good income. Screw your mom and the people that mocked you, they're the ones still stuck in that shit village.

Your dreams are still weird even here. You though you were having strange dreams because of the cold. In this instance, you're placed in a house so big you think it's a castle. People busy around you at the their tasks. You look down at yourself to see yourself wearing clothes of that of a maid.

The people, who you assume are other servants, talk in hush whispers. 'I hear he is cruel, unwilling to submit to anyone and anything.' 'That's not what I heard,' says another, 'I hear he has an illness, so he can't do normal tasks.' The room grows quiet when the person they were speaking of comes in.

His eyes don't bother looking at them, instead making his way past them. For a second, he meets yours. You stiffen under his gaze, his piercing eyes. A look of recognition passes him. Just as quick as he looked your way, he averts his eyes. 'You both are wrong.' One speaks once he's out of the room. 'He just prefers to be alone. Just likes it when someone keep his bed warm.' The voices snicker around you.

Morning comes quickly, ridding you of the details of your dreams. You have a mission today, and that's to find a job. The clothes you brought are not appealing to the eye, but they will have to do for now. You wear a nude color long sleeve over your white linen. Your skirt is long, almost brushing the ground. You wear stockings underneath and two pairs of sock.

The necklace feather matches your outfit well, and you wear it proudly. You clutch it in your hands, softly praying. Truthfully, you're nervous, scared even. You're in a new place with people and places you don't know. No one is here to help you, but then again, no one was there to help you back home.

Your quickly shown how difficult it is to find a job in a big city. Some people reject you rather harshly, and others don't even give you the time of day. That's fine, you try to convince yourself. It's only the first day, can't expect to have it all.

Now you sit in a tavern next to the fire to keep warm. The sun is still high, so not many people find themselves here. Only a few older men drink away, casually flirting with hostess who's just doing their job. The woman quickly spots you and makes her way to you. Once she's at your table, you wave your hand to dismiss her.

"I don't plan on getting a drink, sorry," you apologize. Instead she shakes her head, "No worries, I was truly trying to get away from those men. Just pretend to order something please." You immediately nod, "Of course. I'm sure working here can be stressful." She laughs, her cheeks turning a light pink. "Wouldn't you like to know? Pry, why come to this place if you don't plan on drinking?"

Her question leaves you a little embarrassed, but you find no harm in telling her the truth. "I came to this city looking for a job. I'm having no luck so far." She makes an open mouth expression in understanding. "Ah many young ladies like yourself do that same. Tell me, can you read?" Once again, you're embarrassed to tell the truth, but you do anyway.

"No. I come from a small village where schooling is scarce." You watch as her lips pinch into a thin line. "Reading is an important skill to have here in Capua, but I think your illiteracy might work in your favor." You eyes spark with hope as she continues speaking. "The Viscount is looking for a maid, only requiring that she doesn't have the ability to read. Does that interest you?"

You jump up from your seat, nodding frantically. "Yes! Oh Lord yes that's perfect!" You look around to notice the nearby older men staring at you. Quietly, you continue, "So where do I apply for the Viscount?" The hostess seems pleased at your reaction with the smile on her face.

"He lives up on the hill in the mansion, you cannot miss it. Though I should warn you, I hear he and his family can be quite unforgiving." She finishes. You shrug, "That is no matter to me. I thank you for your help." With that, you reach for your pocket and hand her there remaining money. It's honestly not even enough to order a round of pints, but she looks at it almost affectionately.

You can hear her telling you that she doesn't want the money, but you're already waving goodbye from the entrance. Your prayers have been answered.

a/n: hey yyaaalll I hoped you enjoyed. I hope it wasn't too boring, im just setting up the story yk. no clue how long this will be, no idea. I was actually planning on making nyryx a prince but I think that would've been too of a position for him. so yeah in case you haven't caught on, reader and nyryx are reborn in older times. I just love historical settings idk. also, if you saw another post of mine called 'lost & found'...no you didn't

taglist: @whatamidoing89, @panda-wolf, @fatgumsbby, @nekohollowsychogoth

#smut #chapter update #chapter 1 #original character #orignal character #orignal writing #original work #historic fiction #I have no idea what to tag #reader insert #reader imagine #reader story #story #story writing #short story #short fiction

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maribellablack · 8 months

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I always thought that Nicholas Galitzine was an underrated actor and I'm so happy and excited that he's gained more attention and popularity since the last year... I'm so proud of him...

Also, I don't care how many times he's played a royal or a noble character , it's never enough for me... I can't really explain it but it seems like he was born to play that genre of characters? and for your information, I'm very picky when it comes to the actors and actresses playing historical figures and royals...

Nicholas Dimitri Constantine Galitzine as George Villiers in the new tv series

"Mary and George" (2023)

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itissanerdlol · 2 months

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Ikemen Vampire Concept

So you know in Ikemen Vampire how the characters are based off of historical figures. What do yall think would happen if the mc was from a nation colonized by France (ei Native Nations of Canada and Haiti ect) when Napoleon was alive and reigning terror everywhere? Like the interactions would be interesting. Would MC even want to be around or even interact with him? I'm just brain storming over how the story would have to change and think it's a neat idea.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevamp napoleon #historic fiction #i just think its an interesting concept

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amarrymeinbostonwriter · 1 year

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All Lesbian Coded Characters born in England between 1830 and 1899 know is horses, dogs, chivalry, obsession with maid/nurse, swordfight, duel sexists, hunting, wear trousers, smoke cigars and lie.

#except I trust them #It's that terrible old meme #but for victorian lesbian characters #stephen gordon #matilda murray #lady gerry starling #the well of loneliness #agnes grey #Tilly: The Progress of a Victorian Lesbian and Female Husband #victorian lit #female husands #historic fiction #shit posting #anne bronte #radclyffe hall #b. h. avondale #bookblr #victorian lesbians #butch feral horsegirl forever #yeah she's a specific lady but she's appeared in literature more than twice so I can't help that's a pattern #I'm sure I'd find her a few more times if I really looked hard enough #more awful memes for you #my chatter #brit lit #lesbian writer #writeblr #well of loneliness is a WWI novel so not Victorian but Stephen and her author Hall are Victorians by birth #and the novel reads more like a victorian novel than a modernist novel okay?#and yes Gerry is my character but she's a victorian lesbian too

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nature-writes29 · 8 months

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Forever | Kundavai x Vanthyathevan

Vanthyathevan nervously knocked on the door of the Chakravarthy's chamber. He had wished to meet the emperor and the empress since the whole week. They were staying at the golden palace which Ilavarasare Karikalan had built in Kanchi.

He still remembered what he had said to his Ilaya piratti almost a year ago, just before Manimekali's death. That he will first accomplish and earn something before asking for her hand in marriage. He later found out this made her love him even more.

They have been flirting and talking a lot whenever they used to meet in this past year. He had accomplished a few things with Ponniyin Selvan by his side, and now was crowned the king of the Vanar clan. He had came to know that a Swayamvar was going to be held for Kundavai, and when he had heard this news, he came to a conclusion that he can't wait any longer. They both were of marriageable age and the people of Chola Desam were getting restless to see her marriage.

He had talked about this matter with Ponniyin or rather he had talked about it with him. Arulmozhi really wanted his best friend to marry his Akka too........

He entered the room, the Chakravarthy was sitting on the couch. As he entered the grand chamber, their eyes fell on Vanthyathevan.

"Ah! Vanthyathevan! Arulmozhi said that you wanted to say something to me..."

"He did, didn't he..." He muttered under his breath.

Sundar Chola laughed at this, he was quite fond of this Vallam king. And he hadn't missed the flirting glances and words which him and his daughter had shared whenever they met. The standing with each other during the coronation or different prossetions. He might be an old person now, but his senses or observation skills hadn't detoriated even a bit.

SC pointed at the couch which was in front of him to VV, while still chuckling. Vanthyathevan sat on the couch rather hesitantly, doubting if the man in front of him will kill him for what he was to say.

"Arase........"

"Yes Vallavarayan?".

"Arase.....AreyougoingtoholdKundava'sswayamvaram?

"Excuse me?"

"Vanthyadar, speak slowly dear" Vanama Devi intruded

"I- I was asking -that- um- Are you going to hold Ilavarsi's swayamvar?"

"Yes... I mean it's yet not decided.... We are still thinking..... The people are getting restless... But this Kundavai isn't getting ready to do so, she says she already has decided whome she would marry..." As SC said this, he gave Vanthyathevan a side glace. Vanama Devi too looked at him.

Vanthyathevan could feel his cheeks flushing a little and it would be a big lie if he said that he wasn't scared.

"May I tell you something Arase?" VV said, sweating his head off.

"Yes of course"

"PleasedontkillmebutIthinkthatboykundavaiistalkingaboutisme"

"Vanthyar please speak clearly"

"Yeah... Sir .. please don't kill me but- I think that the person Kundavai is talking about is me...." VV had closed him eyes after the first 3-4 words.

There was a pin drop silence in the room. No one was speaking anything. Vanthyathevan slowly opened his eyes. Sundar Chola was looking at him with an expression he didn't quite understand. It was a mix of happiness, shock, knowingness.. Vanamadevi who didn't had the same expression (except she seemed a little more happier) went near her husband and rested her palm on his shoulders.

"I am asking for your daughter's hand Arase." Vanthyathevan said more confidently than before. A smile appeared on SC's face after that.

_After some time_

Vanthyathevan had ran out of Kanchi the second Chakravarthy had made his decision. He had many thoughts roaming his mind. All he wanted to do, was to reach Pazlayarai as fast as he can to ask her hand. Yep, he had asked her parents for her hand but not her...... It was actually because he was far more scared of her than her parents.

_At Pazlayarai_

Kundavai was looking at the lotuses. There was a long lotus pond (rectangle) by the wall, behind of the balconies in her chamber. It was more of a railing type of passage.

She was thinking about what her father had said about a swayamvar...... A swayamvar.... Where Kings and Princes of different kingdom will come to ask for her hand. She kept thinking about it since her appa had mentioned it. And her thambi had also been teasing her about it, though she had made it clear that she won't ever leave this kingdom. Then the thought of the brave vanar kul warrior or spy who had stolen her heart came into her mind.

Just then Vanathi (who was carrying her nephew) came behind her.

"Akka?" Vanathi called out.

"Yes Kanne? And how are you?"

"Akka... I am fine and you have just asked me this question a few minutes ago! I came here to tell you, that there is a surprise for you..."

"I just worry about you Kanne.... And what surprise?"

A smirk slowly formed on Vanathi's face "I think a special someone.." At this point Kundavai had gotten a clue on who was it.

"Special someone"

"Oh! Common akka! You know who it is! The special someone who stole my Akka's heart!!" As she said this Vanathi sat beside her akka.

"Wha- hea- is it..... Vanthyar?"

"Oooo so you have a nickname for him too now? Oh my" Vanathi

"Oh Parameshwara! Vanathi! It's what your husband also calls him! U never seem to say anything to him!"

"Oh my dear akka.. He learns it from you... And is this what u call him when... You know.... You are alone with him?" With a big teasing smirk on her face.

"VANu! Oh my! I am damn sure this is your harmons speaking! And when is he coming?"

"Oh I was just teasing you akka.... And he has entered the fort already. You look out for him, I am going, I have to see the raj Vaidya.." Vanathi said getting up.

"What? He is here? And be Careful Kanne..."

"Yes Akka..." Kundavai helped Vanathi to get up. Though a blush was still there on Kundavai's face

_After a few seconds_

Kundavai was looking out, with her hands on the railing. Some of her Sakhis were sitting below her balcony. Just then she saw her Vanthyar come in her garden where her Sakhis were talking with each other. She looked at him but he didn't seem to notice her and he ( being Vanthyathevan) started to flirt with the women. It would be a lie if we say that she wasn't jealous.... Or angry.

She was happy that he was here, but that didn't stop her from getting angry. She patiently waited in her balcony for him to arrive.

Kundavai felt some close her eyes from behind, but she didn't react. She felt someone getting close to her, followed by feeling some hot breaths on her neck. This sent shivers down her back. His lips were almost touching her ears when he asked

"Angry with me?" Kundavai wanted to stay strong and angry before him, but all of this was bringing her guard down.

"What else do you expect me to be?" She answered in a steady tone.

"What have I done now? Other than to make you feel butterflies in your stomach?" He said the last part in hushed tone. 'Him and his words!' Kundavai thought to herself.

"Oh! I think you know what you have done."

"What?"

"Tell me one thing "

"Ask me anything priye"

"Sir, so, do you always flirt with other women or today was some special day?" She felt him getting closer to her

"Oh! So you saw me flirting.... That is just a part of my personality."

"So... You flirt with me because of this right?" Kundavai asked shoving him aside and starting to walk off without looking at him. But Vanthyathevan grabbed her wrist stopping her.

"Well offcourse I flirt with you because I can't help it, but you are different Priye-" he pulled her towards him and grabbed her with his other hand on her waist. "- No other women has managed to make me truly love them... And to make me this loyal to them.... And to rob me of my sleep.... And -." He said as they stared at each other.

"Really? How loyal are you Ilavarasare?" She asked cutting him off.

"Tell me what can I do my Ilaya piratti... How can I prove my loyalty to you priye?"

"Jump in the pond"

"What ?" It looked like all the colour had drained out of him

"Can't the brave Vanar kul prince even jump in the water for his.... Love?" Kundavai said all this by getting too much near him, their faces were mere centimetres apart as they looked into each other's eyes. After saying this, she let herself go and started to move away again.

When she was about to reach the end of the passageway, she heard a big splash of water. She quickly turned around, only to see her Vanthyathevan, the brave warrior who battled thousands, failing to keep himself afloat. She had the nerve to laugh at this, it was quite funny ok! She laughed and laughed going her the edge of the pond which was near VV, getting on her knees and offering her hand to him. A smile appeared on his face when he saw her offering her hand to him. He quickly grabbed it and was successful in shutting her laughter as he pulled her down into the water with him.

Fear took over Kundavai as she fell into the water body, only to realise that the water was merely 1-2 foot deep. The princess was quick to realise that Vanthyathevan had tricked her into his trap to get her soaked.

She quickly stood in the water, and so did Vanthyathevan who donned a big fat smile of triumph on his mischievous face. In all this chaos he had been able to grab her other hand too. The look on his face made her smile too. They stared at each other. Again.

"Ilavarasi"

"Yes?"

"I had went to Kanchi" this statement made Kundavai's smile disappear a little.

"Why?"

"I-i had went there to- ehm- I -" He started to get nervous as he started to get to the Main proposal.

"What Vanthyar?" Curiosity was taking a big toll on her

"Um- to ask for your hand in marriage" There. He had said it. There was a pin- forget pin but hair drop silence in the passageway.

"And what did he say?" She asked slowly, looking down, fearing on what he might say.

Vanthyathevan bent down a little to come face to face with her in terms of height.

"He asked me when am I going to take Chola desam's fierce tigress away from them." They were mere centimetres apart. Her eyes quickly went up to meet his. Emotions like joy and happiness were flowing from their eyes. She lunged herself at him and gave him a big hug. Because of her force, They both fell into the water again with a huge splash.

She looked at him with a big smile on her face, they were millimetres apart. Hands still around each other, bodies closely stuck because of the water.

"I love you!" They both said simultaneously making both of them break with laughter. Both of them mad in love. Never to separate. Together. Forever.

•••••~•••••~•••••~•••••~•••••~•••••

(A/N)

I hope that you guys liked this oneshot. Instances mentioned are from the book. If any confusion let me know! :)

Any suggestions and feedback appreciated.

∆ Requests Accepted ∆

_ All work is original. Do not copy _

° If you want to read more of my work, you can Visit my Wattpad page... @Nature_Writes on Wattpad.°

#kundavai #ponniyin selvan #love #ps2 #vallavarayan vanthyathevan #vanathi #arulmozhi varman #arulmozhi #ps1 #book #historic fiction #proposal

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midnightfreedom · 11 days

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"For you, a thousand times over."

~Khaled Hosseini

"The Kite Runner"

#books #bibliophile #bookaddict #book quotes #books and libraries #i love books #quoteoftheday #love #aesthetics #inspiring quotes #khaled hosseini #the kite runner #amir and Hassan #novel #drama #historic fiction

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dipstick-university · 6 months

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the Double Life of Benson Yu: A Review

Benson Yu is the story of a 1980's third-culture boy who likes to draw, a jaded illustrator looking at his past, and the real cost of facing one's demon's as an artist.

Full disclosure: I am acquaintances with Kevin and have taken his creative nonfiction class three times; he is by far one of my favourite writing teachers, with a teaching style that is collected, articulate and vulnerable. I usually think I can review books by people I know with a bit of removal, I do not know if that is the case here, but I'd like to believe, or at least pretend its so.

Suffice to say, this book does not feel collected, articulate and vulnerable. This book feels DERANGED. Benson Yu It is everything autofiction is supposed to be; it slips the reader right into the story, and leaves them wondering where the fictional narration ends and keyhole-views into Chong's biographical life begins (if any of it is Chong's life in the first place.) It jerks the reader between the believable and the improbable with ease, Chong has mastered the craft of moving through time, easily dancing the reader across eras and locales.

Benson Yu is a dark reflection on everything hard and sad and ugly about becoming an artist. It's about the self-hatred, and the creeping doubt, and the inherent selfishness that goes into carving out space to make art. It's about the monster one an artist becomes if they're note careful. And it's also about recalling sweetness, and unearthing the artistic "content" that comes from adolescence without simultaneously soiling it.

Listen: I sat down to read this book and could not stop reading it until I was done. I cannot remember the last time I had that experience, (the first Hunger Games in 2012?) After the first fifteen pages, I desperately needed to know what happened. I "got" every characters' motivation and rooted for them, even when they made bad decisions. I wanted to know what happened at the end of every page.

Really, I recommend this book for anyone who's looking to escape, anyone who wants to feel immersed in Vancouver's 1980's Chinatown, or anyone who is an artist trying to fight their own demons.

#bookblr #book review #the double life of benson yu #historic fiction #Kevin Chong

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discoveringmyself88 · 1 month

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#love #aww #bookblr #books #bookworm #reading #ireland #history #historic #historic fiction #fiction #quote

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chillinwithivy · 1 year

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How to know if you overthink a book:

You triangulate the locations of all the major characters’ historic homes despite being given only a few words of description for each.

Long story short—Utterson lives right next to Bedlam and you may do what you wish with this information :}

Edit: I have been informed that Seward is not canonically a Bedlam doc (he is in my story, lol)

#jekyll and hyde #utterson #historic fiction #gothic lit

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smolvenger · 11 months

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Nursing the Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

From: The Hollow Crown (specifically the events of Henry IV Part One)

Word Count: 3641

Summary: You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Warnings: Mentions of death and battles, but no actual violence. I try my best to sum up in modern terms what happens in Shakespeare's Henry IV Part One for those of y'all who watched and got confused. But a bit of angst and lots of fluff. Medical practices that I'm not sure are period accurate but it's my fic and I can do what I want. Reader gets a Badass mom.

A/N: Thanks to @evelyn-kingsley and @holdmytesseract for encouraging me to write this! I wound up loving creating this!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp

You followed your mother’s footsteps as you held a basket full of herbs. Just ducking out into the hallways. You kept a handkerchief and pressed it to your mouth to brave the bad smells. Once you were out, you released it, taking in the cold air of the upper floors of the castle.

“He’ll be fine- wasn’t too much pus from him,” Your mother mused, reflecting on her last patient.

Both of you walked down the stone hall to a bench. Your mother set her basket there and then pulled out a certain herb.

“This-see? This helps with sleeping. It helps when brewed into a drink. And the king has had trouble sleeping sometimes-we’re going to give this to his physician who’ll give it to him. But you should know it too- in case you need it.”

You grinned at her. You took the herb and twirled it through your fingers before setting it down.

“I will. That’s good to know,” you confirmed.

You always admired your dear mother. She had a curiosity about plants, the human body, and of medicine since her girlhood. Though many discouraged her for years, saying such studies were only for men. That it was inappropriate for a lady who had connections to the throne to have an occupation. She ignored them to pursue her passions. That knowledge helped her heal a sick servant once. Then her own cousin. Then her cousin’s daughter. And so on, so forth- one after another would file after her. Soon, even those in the castle began to request her help. So, her life and free time was devoted to acting as a healer.

When she married your father, he did not force her to squash her talents but praised and supported them. Your intelligent, empathetic, defiant, and passionate mother in some circles may have been rumored to be a witch, but she was a heroine in your eyes.

Naturally, she asked you to assist her, and you agreed. You had to keep your mouth shut seeing skin sewed together. You became used to the sight of blood. Though there were times you would indulge in a look away at something gruesome. But you were catching on every day and learning what she knew.

“Well then, we might be called for an audience with the king himself. So stand tall and mind your manners,” she began.

You heard some doors creak open. Though it was early in the morning, visitors were common in castles. When your head turned, there was a jaunty rhythm of footsteps. A rhythm you knew too well.

Could it be? No…it couldn’t. He hasn’t returned since…

Sure enough, there was a flash of red from the next hallway. A bright red among that cold, grey castle where not even the sun could shine on today.

Yes- it was! The Prince of Wales! Prince Hal! For that was what suited him- he had his father’s name and inheritance. But not his father’s standards of princely behavior. You pinched the herb as you took in the sight of him in his red jacket and red cap.

Yes, Hal…the young prince. The wayward, badly behaving prince. The prince more familiar with taverns than castles, thieves than lord, and whores than ladies. One would think the prince was no better than a rake.

The times you saw him, interacted with him, talked to him, nervousness made a pebble in your belly. You feared he would think you…boring. The kind that would make him run back to the taverns for adventure. But he looked you in the eyes after you curtsied and first gave him your name. He’d look at you. And listen. And if he didn’t like you, he didn’t act in a way to show it. You spoke at the banquets and parties you were invited to- when he showed up, of course. The odd castle dinner here and there. Part of you dreaded seeing the infamous scoundrel pop out. But he…he was always nice to you. Polite, perhaps as any prince. He listened to you more than he spoke. He asked after you and your parents.

Though you saw the glint of his eye of craving excitement…there was something more inside him. He was more than just a rogue. There was good inside him. Maybe even the potential to be a good king himself when the time came (And Hal being such an astonishingly beautiful young man definitely helped your bias).

You felt your own heart pick up speed. Despite the cold castle, you felt hot and self-conscious when he turned his head and saw you. There was a sad look in his eyes, his jaw tight. But his eyes widened at the look of you. But an Earl- an old man dressed in black fur robes- prodded his shoulder. The earl pointed sternly to the throne room. Hal glanced again at you, confirming he saw you, and then walked off in that direction.

“Mother-the prince! The prince is back!” you hissed.

“Back?” she repeated.

“He’s rarely around here anyone! Is something the matter?” you asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” she replied.

“No, I haven’t.”

She sat down on the bench, and you sat next to her.

“I’ll tell you the short of it, Y/N. The Earl of Northumberland’s son and heir, Hotspur, has just won a successful battle for the king. He took several men of the opposing army as his prisoners. According to law, anyone who takes prisoners in battle must give them to the king- it is their due and the law. But Hotspur refused to give the king the promised prisoners- right in the king’s face! In front of all court! The king was not very happy about that- imagine! - and insisted he do so. Then Hotspur got his family to agree with him- and they realized something. They got a claim to the throne. They’re all a part of Richard’s side of the family, York!”

Richard the Second, the last king, was a king you only heard of. A king like a wisp of light. A king with a beautiful, blonde French queen who floated by him like a goddess on earth. A king who seemed only part of this world, not all mortal. A king with yellow robes and sleeves like a butterfly’s drooping wings. A king who spoke with a high, soft, gentle voice compared to Henry the Fourth’s low gravel. A king from a fairyland or heaven. A king who also taxed heavy. A king who took the money of old men as soon as they were dead. The king who lost favor with everyone. A king abdicated so that the people’s favorite- Henry IV- would replace him. But it seemed Richard hadn’t lost favor with everyone. Especially not those of his own family-of York.

“Y/N, they’re teaming up and going to overthrow the king himself on the throne! So can you blame him for being tense?” she finished.

“That would make me tense!” you agreed.

She shook her head and clicked her tongue.

“Many hail Hotspur as a hero. But believe me, my dear, he’s no better than a petulant child throwing a fit over not getting the toy he wants!” she vented.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. You held up an arm to shut it off. Then you placed the herb back inside the basket.

“So If Henry is going to battle- he needs help…like his son.” you mused

Like thunder, you heard the voice of the king echoing in the halls as he scolded his son. You hardly heard Hal’s response. Even if you couldn’t make out all the exact words-God’s blood, the king sounded scary when angry! If the king was your father and scolded you like that, you would tremble and burst into tears in the throne room. It made you wonder how Hal would fare!

A servant said the physician was busy. You were escorted to a dining room to wait. Then there was a knock. But it was not the court physician.

‘His majesty, the Prince of Wales,” the servant announced.

In walked Hal, though he lacked the red cap he wore walking in. It freed his hair, so his auburn curls loosened from his head. Chairs creaked as you and your mother stood up and bowed.

“I noticed that both of you ladies were here and wanted to say my hellos,” he greeted.

“Consider us welcomed, your grace,” your mother replied.

“What happened with your father?” you questioned.

“I’m going to battle by his side. He’s giving me a command of my own. And I vowed to go and fight Hotspur- man to man,” he recalled.

“You’re going to go to battle…why should the heir apparent have to go to battle? Is he worried about losing the heir?” you questioned.

His blue eyes hardened, but he kept his voice soft.

“Father’s unhappy with me. Everyone knows that. I will redeem myself and trade Hotspur’s glories with my shame.”

“By dying?” you asked.

“If I die, I redeem myself, Lady Y/N.”

You then took out your handkerchief, twisting it in your hands nervously.

“I have three other brothers more fit to inherit the throne. Or it will be Hotspurs. Father says he wishes that so himself,” Hal continued bitterly.

You took a step forward to him. To think this could be the last you would ever see him alive. He had to know. Had to know that even alive, he was…liked? Perhaps even…loved? No- no you couldn’t’ allow yourself that. Though your heart and soul knew otherwise. But you could let only a slip of fondness for him out. Just a little at a time. Especially while Hal still lived.

You handed your handkerchief to him.

“Here-have this with you. Keep it by your side!” you insisted.

He accepted the light, pale cloth in his hand.

“Promise me should you live, you shall return it to me,” you continued.

He broke into a smile and a small chuckle. He played with the handkerchief with his long, beautiful hands.

“My lady- I couldn’t take your precious item,” he refused.

“No! Take it! I mean it!”

He moved the collar of his red leather jacket to his black shirt beneath. You felt the breath hitch in your throat to see a peek of his bare skin. Then you forced your eyes off it. Looking down to the floor like a modest maiden, not one who saw a glance of skin and could imagine more from it.

“Did you know the last time I had a favor from a woman it was from a prostitute?” Hal asked.

You perked up. Your mother raised an eyebrow.

“No, we didn’t!” she cried.

Hal let out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I did! I was at a joust for my father! And got a glove from the most experienced prostitute in London-and wore it!” he recalled.

“Do you compare me a whore, my lord?” you asked.

“No! But…I shall say I had yet to receive an act of kindness from anyone from any person here at court…”

He let out a deep exhale through his nose.

“Lady Y/N, thank you. It will be worn with pride,” he promised.

You gave him a small smile. If this was the last time he saw you- that’s the picture he should have.

“My Lord-please be careful. And train. Train so you can fight,” you advised.

“I always do, my lady,” he said, giving you a wink before he said goodbye to your mother and walked out.

Your mother was smiling ear to ear. She went up, grabbed your arm, and hissed in your ear.

“I’m old, but not blind my dear!”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ladies don’t give favors to men they dislike. And you look at the prince like he was a honey-cake! I don’t blame you, though-he is definitely something to look at!” she said.

“Mother! Such talk! What if he overhears?” you whispered.

“And risk getting The Prince of Wales as a son in law? I don’t see any reason why not!” she responded.

You playfully swatted her arm. Then you both melted into giggles before it was time to continue with duties.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The day of the battle arrived. The day when the Northumberland rebels would face the Lancaster army. The day Hal would go to war and fight Hotspur.

It was a cold, grey day. Anytime you stepped outside the gust of wind whipped at your face. That morning there was a snowfall that stuck to the ground, and then was mixed with the mud.

How perfect, you thought in a dry tone.

You would do your best to distract yourself. After all, it wasn’t like…you were married to Hal or anything. You paced about, unsure what to do, what to think. Perhaps you could go to your mother and confess your worries and cry. But you kept them hidden. Perhaps it was foolish to love a prince. Princes marry the daughters of kings, not the daughters of healers.

The day faded to the early evening. You sat in your chair near your mother. There was weaving and sewing to be done. With the crackling fireplace and howling wind, it was quite peaceful.

A servant ran up, bowing his head low and back up.

“A messenger, My lady! From Shrewsbury!” he announced to your mother.

Shrewsbury- where the battle was. There was going to be news at last. You dropped your sewing onto your lap and gripped the arms of your chair. A messenger- with blood and dirt smeared on him, came forward.

“Well, what do you have to say?” Mother urged him.

“The Battle is decided- The King won the battle over Northumberland. His caught enemies shall be executed. The rebels are captured.”

The words spewed out of you in desperation.

“And what of the prince?”

“The prince Hal lives- led his command to victory today.” The messenger reported.

You jumped at the words, dropping the sewing, and then picking it up. But counting every blessing. Becoming dizzy with relief.

“And Hotspur himself?” asked your mother.

“Slain by an old, fat knight called Sir John Falstaff. All are surprised but Falstaff shall be honored as a hero,” the messenger answered.

You sat back on the chair, smiling. Feeling the urge to well up a tear of happiness. Hal lived! He lived!

As the sun dipped further, you expected no further visitors. Yet as you were visiting the kitchens, you heard a knock on the door. You were alone- no servants around to answer.

“Must be the new one. He gets himself locked out,” you mused.

You opened the door and let out a shriek at the sight.

Hal stood there in his armor. His face was bloodied and dirty. His hair wet to where his curls hung limp on his face. He was panting deeply. His black horse stood in the distance.

“Your grace! My lord! What are you doing here?!” you cried.

“My lady! Let me in-please!” he begged in a pant.

You opened the door further. You realized he was limping; you pulled a chair close for him to sit.

“I need the help of your mother-I’ve been hurt! And there’s no better healer than your mother,” he explained.

After giving him a cup of cider, you raced back up.

“Mother! Mother! Quick! The prince is here! Prince Hal! He’s hurt! He’s in the kitchen and he needs your help!” you cried.

Your mother dropped her jaw. Then, picking up her skirts, she ran down. You followed her.

“Your grace- tell us! What hurts?” she asked.

“My…my leg…” Hal said.

She inspected it, then looked at you.

“We need cloths-hot water. Get some bark of the willow- should help with his pain!” she ordered.

You ran out, scrambling to get the items. He took off his heavy armor that fell with a crash to the floor. You returned with the supplies. He nibbled on the bark, grimacing at the bitter taste. She cleaned the leg with wine, washed it, and wrapped a bandage about his leg.

“You must rest, your grace. It isn’t bad- should heal with time. What else hurts?” she asked.

“My…my chest…and my shoulder…” he said.

You both helped off his armor with more loud crashing onto the floor. Your mother then removed his shirt to inspect the wounds. He was a lean man- a stomach with some softness in it and such a broad chest and biceps. You felt a twinge of lust, light as a sprinkle of salt over a meal, enter you looking at him. Trying to keep your behavior appropriate (he was not just a man- but fie, the future king!), you forced your eyes onto the cut on his clavicle.

“Hmmm…some damage there. But not deep. And nothing vital. Shouldn’t be bad,” your mother diagnosed.

She handed you the bowl filled with wine.

“Y/N…I think you should practice. Could be good use. First tend the wounds with strong wine to clean it…” she instructed.

She handed over a bowl of water and bandages.

“And then…some of this to clean it out. Then wrap it in a bandage.”

“But Mother…I don’t know if I…”

“You’ve seen it hundreds of times, Y/N! Here- I will go and check my herb closet for whatever else could help. I will be back later!” she interrupted. She let out a smirk at you.

You leaned closer and whispered to her before she left for the door.

“But-unaccompanied!”

She shrugged, her smile becoming devilish with the show of teeth.

“The prince is not the kind to take advantage of young ladies alone. And it won’t be long! Go and nurse him, Y/N.”

She kept her smile at you as she left through the door. You first took one wash cloth and wiped the dirt from his face. He accepted it as easily as a child. His bright, blue eyes looked up at you, saying nothing.

“There…better to see you now,” you said.

With a deep sigh, you forced your eyes on the cut on his left pec and down the left shoulder. Focusing on the task and not the stirring inside you from being by a half-naked Hal. Or at least, trying.

You dipped the cloth into the wine and touched the pec wound. Hal winced a little.

“Not even royalty is immune to pain…” you commented.

“No, we are not…” he agreed.

You continued to wipe at it. Making sure the wine got rid of any infection.

“I’m glad you’re alive my lord.”

“I am too though…is it bad that I crave honor?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“You want to please your father. That I can imagine- I wish to please my mother, too. I want to live up to her as well.”

He shifted to keep his eye on you.

“But you do, my lady…you do!”

You set down the dirty cloth into the bowl of wine.

“And…I haven’t forgotten. My lady-look into the breastplate,” he guided.

“How come?” you asked, getting a cloth from the bowl of water. You rolled up your sleeves to squeeze the excess out.

“Your favor! I lived and I shall keep my word- it is yours again!”

You pressed the cloth to his wound.

“Hold it on there,” you advised.

He did as you retrieved the handkerchief. He was right- it was right there in his breastplate. A square of pure white among the silver. You picked it up, smelling his sweat on it- smelling him. Not that you minded the scent of masculine sweat and blood- blood that still coursed through him.

“My lord! I…thank you! I’m…I’m glad you are alive.”

“How come? Why should my death concern you, my lady?” he asked.

You turned around, both hands on your handkerchief again.

“Because…it would have been sad and…”

After some hesitancy, you added four words.

“I would mourn you.”

You then took the cloth back to the water. Blood stained the leftover water in the bowl. You then got a dry bandage. But Hal softened his gaze on you.

“All of my great shames…and I am worth your tears, Lady Y/N?”

When you wrapped it around and tied it up, you turned back to him. Seeing the shiny drop of a small tear in the corners of the prince’s eyes.

“Yes, my lord, I would…”

He then lifted his hand and placed it over yours, stopping it from moving away. You paused, not daring to take another step away. You didn’t want to- not from the feel of his touch.

“When we’re alone…could you call me Hal?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you replied.

He smiled.

“Oh, to live now and hear you say it!”

He cupped your face and then kissed you. You dropped leftover bandages in your hand from surprise. You felt his breath and tasted smoke and sweat. He wrapped a hand around you to keep you there. You leaned into it, feeling everything explode inside you, grabbing his face too to keep it close. Your inhibitions running wild, and all sense of decorum thrown out the window. All for the love of a prince.

He let go. You picked up the cloth again, smiling at him. His face was flushing and smiling back.

“Hal…that was…that was…” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, my lady. I should have asked, I-“

“No- that was beautiful!” you said.

He leaned closer to you.

“Then I should do it more.”

He then let go as your mother returned through the door. With her herb basket placed at her hip. She walked forward. With false chastity, you took a few steps away and he jerked his head to her.

“I trust His Grace is better,” she said.

He looked at you.

“Much.”

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goblin-writer · 1 year

Text

The Garden of Earthly Delights

It all started one starless night. You had sat at your window letting the cool autumn wind whisper past you. The town had gone to sleep and all the windows were dark. And in that solitary pool of light, you looked up into the dark.

Humanity might have sent thousands of satellites and trained their eyes upwards for thousands of years but what was out there. The sky was clear and no star lit up the dark. Not for the first time either. You had thought to order a telescope but ended up getting side-tracked.

It was a few days later that you made it to your local library. Browsing through the sections, past 000, 100, 200, all the way to 521. Celestial mechanics and a shelf down, 523, specific phenomena. And there, tucked between Plato and Avicenna you found a loose pamphlet. Yellowed with age, and smudged across the author’s name. All that remained was the name of the organisation and parts of the text.

The Joen Institute

Est 1501

Den Bosch

The language was unfamiliar at first, but you spent hours trying to find connections to it in the vast catalogue of the library. Books that had been untouched since they were sorted in were disturbed by you. Pages, brittle with time, moved for you. And in one, a text from the 17th Century you found a mention to the Swan Members contribution to a feast. Unsurprisingly, a swan each. And the fat from that had been caught in a cup, and the fire it produced sparked brilliant, princely orange.

But the true work of the Institute still eluded you. It was, as if your cup was empty. That realisation, that knowledge fills like a cup seemed to change something. You looked back through the books arrayed before you. And there, the pamphlet.

You could understand what it said. They had looked to the stars and claim to have seen the truth. Seen what lies beyond and between the planets. Reading on they referred to their members.

The Institute had counted many influential people among its ranks. Artist, poets, politicians, and captains of industry. Each had included their knowledge in their work. Hidden from all those not part of their Institute. Maybe, you thought it’d be closer to a cult. Regardless. You had learnt something and now you wanted to seek out more of their creations. Maybe you could find answers to what lay beyond.

Clarity was just a step away.

A terrible promise waiting to be fulfilled.

And beyond the Earth a large creature shuddered and woke. Knowledge was being rediscovered, and it hadn’t eaten in so long. With a roar it left its nest. That roar would have shattered foundations but in space it emanated along hidden lines. And multitudes shifted toward the Garden that is Earth.

But your search continued, unaware of what you had woken. You tore through books, speeches, and visited galleries. The first major departures from the body of literature created by its adherents was a French text, by a certain cardinal. Other major works were found across what was once the Holy Roman Empire.

But their most famous work came from the man that the institute was named after. A piece of art made of three panels, showing creation, delight, and the consequences of the banal. Amongst each of the panels you learnt new things. Hidden messages that drip by drip filled the cup with clarity.

And while you learnt you slept less. The sky became a fascination, as each of the works raised your eyes higher. Higher toward the stars. You learnt constellations and ideas. The movement of the Earth amongst the ever-spinning tapestry of the stars. So it didn’t bother you when constellations were broken, or when new ones seemed to form for a few hours a night.

You gathered more information about the Institute until one day a letter arrived at your door. It was an invitation. The Institute had taken notice of your ride into obsession. And how your actions had turned the wheel onward. Atop the letter sat a blue sphere, with a circumference of gold and a spire, tipped with red flowers.

Dear Colleague,

We have watched your work with great interest. As you moved amongst our monuments you have set certain processes in motion. It is time for us to meet. While we would come to you it would be easier if you join us. We have enclosed a ticket to the airport and a driver will be waiting for you.

Come now.

We must lay out the delights for our visitors.

With respect,

The Joen Institute.

------

Thank you so much @flashfictionfridayofficial for the delicious prompt.

It came out to just under 800 words.

I look forward to the next prompt.

#flash fiction #den bosch #hieronymus bosch #fiction #historic fiction #I thought of the Bosch Triptych immediately #so ran with that after a little bit of research #much love delicious reader

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