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forbidden-sunlight · 5 months

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yandere!carcel escalante with ines!reader scenario

Warning: OOC, obsessive behavior, implied violence, language, mention of death, possible spoilers for latest chapters on the manhwa.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, hope you have all been well! I'd like to thank @ceeesxy-blog for providing honest feedback on the earlier drafts on this story!

For those who are wondering, I am still revising/editing the other headcanons I had written for Carcel Escalante. When they are ready, they will be posted.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into world of romance and second chances. Or maybe four :)

The Spirit was glaring heatedly at your back again. She seemed to be doing that a lot more lately than critiquing your posture or whispering the names of the nobility in your ear to make sure you did not mispronounce it when they approached you at teeth-grinding social functions. It made you wonder what you did to upset her for the nth time behind the polite smile you gave to the blonde-haired child sitting across from you.

For the record, it had not been your intention to possess the body of Ines Valeztena de Perez in the first place. You simply woke up and found her soul occupying the same space. Two souls in one meatsack, to put it so crudely; impossible in theory, yet here is the miracle. Note the sarcasm.

Where this is her fourth reincarnation, it was your first, and you had retained the knowledge of this reality where it was the backdrop of a novel based on her life. The title? The Broken Ring, This Marriage Will Fail Anyway. Not only did include the details of her life in this timeline, but also her marriages to both the future Emperor and the painter Emiliano. One was a nightmare where she took her own life, and the second was to get away from her responsibilities and be happy for once. Her brother killed Emiliano and the child she had with him, dragging her back to the duchy she had tried to escape from.

In this life, she has already secured an engagement with Carcel Escalante on the basis that he is the best-looking young man. Her father approved because he loved his only daughter. That worked in her favor because she did not want to get involved with the imperial family again, and already had a plan in the works. This plan involved treating Carcel coldly for seventeen years and he would have numerous affairs, before and after their marriage. Once she gives birth to a child, she will divorce him and attain true freedom. But now, Ines has become a lingering Spirit which only you could see. You are occupying the Body. You are the main driver behind it. And by God, her plan is utter bullshit.

Make a child who has yet to understand communication and very much innocent in the way of how an adult’s mind works hate you by being a cold-hearted bitch? Absolutely not! That is not how you treat someone, even if you do remember that Carcel Escalante was a playboy in a previous lifetime. This is the present, do not put so much emphasis on the past.

You have told the Spirit many times when the room was empty and you were visiting her in your mindscape; the backdrop of a library and seated in a plush chair with a table that held two steaming cups of coffee that you couldn’t taste. You did not know if she or you had created it, but this was where she had closed herself off most of the time and where you would see her as soon as you drifted off to sleep. Whether she actually listened to you during these therapy sessions or just put up with your company because you were in her body is another question entirely.

“Ines?”

Jolting slightly, you looked up from the rim of your teacup and nodded at the flustered Carcel Escalante. “Yes?” Cerulean orbs twinkled beneath the chandelier’s light as he stared at you, cradling his own cup and looking…frustrated? You furrowed your brow in concern, carefully placing it back down on the saucer that sat on the table. “Is everything all right, Carcel?”

“Why?” He answered your question with a question. You played along, asking him what he meant.

“Do you really want to marry me because of my good looks?”

Oh, dear. Suppose this was a conversation bond to be brought up. You thought warily. Not even a minute has passed and already you could feel the Spirit’s menacing glare directed at the back of your head. Ines, for God’s sake, trust me. Let me handle this. You hissed in your mind.

“You cannot ruin this chance.”

Ines, I am fully aware that this is crucial to your plan, thank you. Your very piss-poor plan, I might add. You promised you would give me one chance to prove there is another way to attain happiness. I will deliver. So let me speak or so help me, I will stuff your consciousness in the back of my brain and lock you in there until the day is over. You threatened. That wasn’t a threat either. It was a promise because you had done it before, unintentionally, when the world was spinning and her nagging was not helping. You couldn’t allow her access to the Body for nearly two days.

She went silent, and the heat on the back of your head subsided slightly, but you could see her from the corner of your eye. Folding your hands neatly in your lap and straightening the curve of your spine, you spoke to Carcel with your eyes directly locked onto his own.

“Yes. You are very handsome by the Empire’s standards, Carcel. But that isn’t the only reason.”

“It…isn’t?”

“Correct.”

“Then, why?”

“To avoid being married into the imperial family. Your cousin, the crown prince, Oscar is…a twit. Emotionally immature, rude, I could go on. You recall how he arrived at my home without any notice nor any requests to visit, and I told him that I did not like him, yes? You were there, dragged by him because he can do that.”

Carcel’s face paled. “You could get punished for speaking like that about him. He is the future of our Empire.”

“And what a bleak future that will be.” You sniffed.

“Ines!”

“The Empress wouldn’t risk angering one of the founding families of this country. Without our support, they would not be standing where they are right now, the pinnacle of high society and power, so I am not afraid to criticize how her son has no regard for the consequences of his actions because he believes his status gives him an excuse to do anything he wants to do.” You squeezed your hands together. “I also believe you are much more agreeable and level-headed than him. Your good looks are a bonus…but I would like to get to know you more. Your likes, your dislikes, anything, really, that you are comfortable with sharing. Believe it or not, Carcel Escalante, I do want us to get along. Not just for appearance's sake.”

You watched his eyes widen in disbelief, his face pinken with embarrassment before he stuttered. “R-Really?”

“Yes.”

“A-And you won’t…be mean? Or ignore me?”

You shook your head. “I will not.” You said. “If I am cruel in your eyes, I would rather you say it to my face then keep silent. I will not understand how you feel if you do not say anything. Though…if the imperial family is watching us, I might have to act out of character. Not just to protect myself and my family from their interference, but yours. Do you understand?”

“I-I suppose.” Carcel swallowed. “But…will you inform me…if you have to act like that?”

“I shall.”

You answered Carcel’s questions as honestly as you could to a six-year-old child, even when you were roughly the same age as him. He seemed to believe you, as his stiffened posture loosened, and his smile was a little less forced. Eventually it was time for him to leave the estate and return to the Escalante duchy. You walked him to the door alongside the servants, and bade him farewell. When his carriage faded in the distance, growing smaller and smaller, the Spirit wasted no time in materializing, scolding you for making such promises right until it was time for bed.

But this was a positive change, you emphasized, not a negative one. Would she rather hate the two of you for saying that you liked him and then say you don’t care if he has an affair because your feelings change? That made absolutely no sense. Yes, feelings change with time, this is true, but it is still cruel in your perspective and you will not subject Carcel to such treatment.

When you received an invitation to attend the Empress’ annual tea party, a letter from the Escalante duchy was delivered to your desk the very next day. Carcel asked if he would have the honor to be your escort. You replied that you would be delighted; you were looking forward to seeing him there, and do not mind if you were acting coldly towards him if the Empress or the crowned prince were within feet of either of you.

You kept your word to him. Now, and for the following seventeen years.

If neither of your schedules were not booked with various lessons and social functions, Carcel would make an effort to visit you or invite you to spend an afternoon doing something together. He would offer flowers, and you thanked him. You idly chatted over lunch at a cafe after a shopping trip, all expenses paid by Carcel at his insistence, even when your monthly allowance was more than enough to purchase jewelry, dresses, or anything that piqued your interest during the outing.

When he was invited to a friendly hunting trip at the Valeztena estate, Carcel had been stunned into silence as you handled the recoil of the hunting rifle in your hands without so much as a sound.

The Spirit had drilled the basics of gun safety and aiming into your brain until she was confident that no one would think the wiser in the unlikely event that the two of you had to exchange control over the Body. Moreover, it put her at ease knowing she could protect herself from the crown prince. She will not allow Oscar to get the upper hand in this lifetime. Never again.

You agreed wholeheartedly with her reasoning. Now if she actually lifted some damned weights between target practice and sipping tea with her peers, that would be great. You did not want the time and effort you have put into toning your arms from swinging a practice sword in the knight’s training arena to go to waste.

Securing a competent tutor who would willingly teach a woman the fundamentals of swordsmanship, even if it’s a fucking rapier and not a broadsword like you initially wanted to learn how to use, had been difficult. If the Spirit was going to use a weapon to protect herself, then so are you.

End of discussion.

Carcel eventually became of age and was forced to enlist in the naval academy as his forefathers had done. It was the first step towards becoming the duke of the Escalante estate. Although you were a little sad to see him go, you promised to write him letters. If you were allowed to visit him at the base or a port that wasn’t too far from the Empire’s shores, you swore that you would try, weather permitting of course.

However…if you or the Spirit had known the weight of these promises…would you have known just how madly in love Carcel Escalante de Esposa was with you? Would he?

Carcel hated his time at the naval academy. As invigorating and stressful it was to learn everything about a ship’s vessel to the areas where the enemies of the Empire have attacked in recent years and even swordsmanship or rifle training, there were days when he wanted to throw everything away and just run off from Meldoza.

Never looking back, becoming a free man who could do as he pleased without the obligations.

The soldiers in his fleet understood his frustration and have offered more than once to take him to the ports and have a bit of fun with some lovely ladies, on their tap. Yet for all his ranting and grumbling, it took a single letter from his dear Ines to keep the young duke grounded.

She informed him of the events occurring in the Empire’s polite society, highlighting gossip and any exploits pertaining to his cousin, aggravated that she still cannot swing her sword at the right angle just yet even after her tutor went over the lesson several times, amongst other topics of discussion including what she has been doing since he’s been at sea. She reminded him to stay strong, keep his wits sharp, and never forget that she is here, waiting for him to return. Before he ventured out to sea for his duties, he would always keep a letter folded against his breast pocket. A reminder of why he is here.

Contrary to the rumors circulating around him, he did not elect to remain in the military for an additional five years because he was avoiding getting married at the tender age of eighteen. He wanted to prove to his future father-in-law that he is worthy to be the husband of his only daughter.

Just because he may be lacking in some areas, that does not mean he should be switched out for someone higher up or of equal ranking in the hierarchy. Or with a gentleman whom Duke Valeztena would much prefer to have as a son-in-law than him. That will never happen so long as he, Carcel Escalante de Esposa, lives.

He is a man who will get jealous if anyone would dare to approach his future wife with the intention of bedding her once he, her husband, had gotten tired of her. An absolutely foolish notion, because Carcel will remain faithful to Ines.

It would take a lot of self-control to not gut those fools right on the spot, because Ines would hate getting blood on the floor. Furthermore, he would never have a mistress before or after he exchanged his vows. Women might line up outside his door because adultery is encouraged in the Ortega Empire. Flowers and love letters might decorate every square inch of his office. Temptation will lurk around every corner, and he will burn them in his fireplace. The ladies? Well, he’d tell them to politely sod off and never darken his doorstep again.

If there were gifts from Ines, however, he would keep him.

Ines is his sun. The light of his life. No one else would even compare to the woman who is waiting for him to return from these treacherous waters. Until it was his time to leave this world, he would show Ines just how much he loved her. He would buy her anything she wanted, make her life as comfortable as possible even if she told him a thousand times that she does not need anything.

Just never leave his side. Never fall in love with another man who wasn’t him, because he cannot conceive a universe without you.

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#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male #yandere #ns.fw #the broken ring this marriage will fail anyway #carcel escalante #carcel escalante x reader #ines!reader #cw obsessive love #cw obsessive behavior #tw violence #tw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive love #yandere manhwa x reader

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daliasmay · 1 month

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What if Beron loved LOA many years ago?

Just don't hit me, please😭I was too afraid to post these thoughts because someone might see it as an attempt to defend the strongest abuser in ACOTAR. But it isn't.

I accidentally blurted it out during a heated discussion about Autumn Court (Eris) with my best and lovely friend

It is not a theory, it is just… something that I suddenly imagine in my head really WITHOUT REASON AND WITHOUT ANY TIME FOR UNDERSTANDING.

I'm not going to defend Beron, even though he used his brain cell at the HL meeting. But...

Let me explain.

⚠️ I think it's important to point out that this is not an excuse, but an attempt to explain this holey plot ⚠️

LOA was the youngest sister. There is no description in the text that her sisters were married. We know that LOA powerful. I'm sure her sisters were the same. They were brave. They defended their little sister.

I thought that if all Beron needed was a pedigree, he could have married an older sister. But he chose to propose to LOA. And LOA waited one year. Beron let her wait a whole year. If it had been a one-sided 'sale' for the sake of procreation, no one would have given her the chance to wait for someone else.

When he chose those who could protect her and not betray her when she escaped - he chose her sisters, someone who would protect her no matter what.

To be honest, he already had children from her. Some of them were on the battlefield, the youngest were packed off to relatives. They would be enough for him, even for a bloodbath in the race for the throne.

I don't really understand the concept that Sarah wrote. Like, the more kids, the more spectacular the Hunger Games? That doesn't make any sense! Like the fact that Lucien was able to get a good education. If Beron had known from the start that Lucien was not his son, he would have either killed him or denied him such a chance to study. Knowledge is the most dangerous weapon. And he graciously gave it to Lucien while the other brothers barely had time to grow up before they were given lands to rule. No ruler would train a threat or a bastard. On the contrary, Lucien had to be illiterate. He should not be able to read, write or count. Nothing at all. Lucien was not given a piece of land. But he was given an education. He read and studied until he was bored.

Just because I think Beron loved LOA doesn't mean she loved him and wanted to be with him. It's just a thought I had in the autumn.

The Prythian is a very traditional place, so it seems that a good marriage is very important for women there. Even today there are folks and societies that are generally modern, but traditions are stronger. And many women are prepared for marriage from childhood, their families prepare huge dowries for them, and for many women marriage is the meaning of their lives.

LOA had autonomy of movement. That's a fact. She met Helion and had affairs with him for decades. That's a lot for woman who was supposedly kept locked up all her life with no voice and no freedom.

I just think that if Beron had loved her before, he would have allowed her to travel and visit the Prythian lands, for example, accompanied by her own guards and her own entourage. I think she had her own entourage before, some women and men who were loyal to her and who she helped with their court life.

That's the only explanation I can think of for why she could be with Helion and Beron just didn't realise it for many years.

And here Lucien.

The most powerful betrayal. And his personal shame as a High Lord and husband. Not only in the eyes of his family, but also in the eyes of the AC nobility. As if he was a sign that he can't control his family and his court. A sign of his weakness.

Sometimes I think his brothers hate him, mostly because everything went to hell after he was born.

Just imagine that everything was more or less fine overall, but after he was born, LOA was locked in the house and Beron went crazy😕 Started abusing her again and again, started abusing them.

The sheer betrayal in his eyes, the feeling of having his heart ripped out. And from that moment on, he decided to make her life a living hell.

She was full of life, now she is just… a shell of herself.

I imagine that Lucien's brothers had seen their mother laugh and joy, and after he was born she became completely different. It was as if he was the reason they had lost the mother who had raised them.

"Everything was fine until you were born"

Maybe, deep down, they realised that he wasn't to blame for what had happened, that it wasn't his fault. But he was the weakest.

They couldn't blame their father, they couldn't blame their mother. But they could blame Lucien.

Beron had no reason to kill Jesminda. He could have just forced Lucien to marry someone else. He could beat him up and so on. There were many more cruel ways.

Her murder was not only a blow to Lucien, it was a blow to the Lady.

A demonstration of how she had "wounded" him.

He showed her through Lucien's screams and tears, her favourite son, what she had done and made her believe it was her fault.

"Look what you've done with me. Look what you've done to him"

Jesminda's murder was organised to make Lucien, the most emotional son, cry and scream in his grief. A grief so intense that it tore LOA to pieces.

Lucien's execution was to be the icing on the cake of revenge. The final chord.

Every tear, every sob is part of the play to show how much he was hurt years ago when he realised that she had betrayed their marriage.

But Beron took things much deeper.

#lady of autumn #dasha: acotar thoughts #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #helion spell cleaver #eris vanserra #the autumn court

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catlordewrites · 10 months

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Galatea - Chapter One

Masterlist - Ao3

Summary: A cheap Arrakeen prostitute, chained to the city brothel by an unfair contract and desperate for freedom, is offered the chance of a lifetime.

A/N: Basically unedited. Not my best work. Tryna get out of a writing slump so you get what you get

Chapter Warnings: smut, a smidge of knife play, prostitution, mentions of rape, depression, anxiety

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY

This part, Galatea was all too familiar with.

The groundcar waiting for her outside the brothel was nondescript. Grey metal and dark windows. The man that opened the door for her wore a black work uniform stripped of insignia. She knew the type. Spine rimrod straight. Eyes front. Trying just a little too hard not to seem like he was ogling the beautiful woman scantily dressed in fine silk.

Galatea shot him a wink. He blushed.

From there, though, things got a bit more complicated.

She slid gracefully onto the fine leather seats, trying not to think about how desperately she wanted tonight to succeed.

Chances of everything happening the way they needed to were exceedingly slim. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She wasn’t a dreamer, but she had been, once. Despite all she’d been through, it was a habit that just wouldn’t die.

Arrakeen was a city of many pains. And many pleasures. The House of Priapos was the largest purveyor of both. Women—and men—for all social classes. The brothel itself took up a city block, with the Trulls crammed into tiny stalls at the bottom, separated from the street by only threadbare curtains; while the wealthy enjoyed High Courtesans tucked away in luxurious penthouses that made up the highest floors.

Galatea operated somewhere in the middle.

Trapped by an unfair contract that she had signed years ago when she had been young and desperate, she could be dressed up as a courtesan, or down as a street whore, and had no room to argue either way.

Tonight, though, was unprecedented.

Galatea was to entertain the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis.

Although her hourly rate was much higher than the average Arrakeen man could afford, compared to the usual girls enjoyed by Imperium Nobility, she was trashy, at best.

It was a fluke, really.

Zoie, a High Courtesan who happened to be Galatea’s close friend, had recently taken the Atreides Warmaster as a client. He had been pleased with her, and after a few sessions, mentioned that the Duke was in need of a new lover, and asked if she had any recommendations.

Zoie owed Galatea quite a lot, and a recommendation whispered in the right ear went a long way.

The Arrakeen Palace was massive. For all the years she’d lived in Arrakis, it had been a looming mountain above the city, little more than an extension of the Shield Wall’s craggy peaks.

Galatea had certainly never been inside, but she knew a few women that had. She shifted nervously in her seat as the groundcar passed though the first security checkpoint at the outer gate, wondering at how they’d never thought to mention that the outer walls were at least fifteen feet thick. Or that armed guards bristled at every corner.

The groundcar skirted the main entrance and rolled to a stop at a smaller door just off of the courtyard, where a female guard waited. After scanning her for concealed weapons, the guard led the way inside.

She was guided on a long, winding route. Down cavernous corridors and up quite a few stairs. They encountered no one. It was planned, certainly. They were hardly going to advertise when a whore was being brought in for the Duke to fuck.

The guard’s footsteps echoed smartly through the silence, while Galatea’s delicate sandals whispered in afterthought. For a few long moments, Galatea could almost believe that they were the only souls in the entire palace. The utilitarian minimalism of the place did nothing to lessen the effect—the sandstone walls were smooth and bare. Like some suspiciously clean tomb lost deep in the desert.

The illusion was shattered when they rounded a final corner and were faced by two more guards. After being checked for weapons a second time. Her escort led her past them and down a hall that looked a bit more lived in. Still spotless, but a few paintings adorned the walls and a long crimson rug ran the length of the floor.

The guard stopped at a fairly nondescript door and turned to face her.

“The groundcar will be waiting for you at dawn,” she explained, her voice as clipped and measured as her gait. “You will be escorted out of the building. Do not wander. If you need to leave early, tell the guards. They will call for the groundcar. Do you understand?”

Galatea saw it now—the disgust hidden behind the guard’s professional mask. It wasn’t the sort of thing that she usually let faze her. People were disgusted by whores until they wanted to use one. But she was already feeling a bit out of her depth, and the blatant distaste turned the whispers in the back of Galatea’s mind into wailing sirens.

There’s a reason they use highborn ladies for this, she thought bitterly as the guard left her alone in the hall. Cheap is cheap and trash is trash.

But then the logic of Zoie—who was decidedly not cheap—rose out of the mix, accompanied by the trademark shrug of her lovely shoulders.

Who the fuck cares? A cock is a cock. Milk him and move on.

Galatea couldn’t argue with that. She lifted her hand and knocked.

The answering voice was low and soft. “Come in.”

The door opened smoothly on well oiled hinges, and Galatea was treated to the view of the room beyond.

The Duke’s suite was large and spacious, framed on one side by shelves laden with books and strange trinkets from his homeworld, and by the thin slip of a very wide but short window that was a standard Arrakis style on the other. The bed was tucked away at the far side of the room—large and neatly made underneath a beautiful bronze mural of a curling sandworm. A few steps from the bed was a doorway—presumably a bathroom—and a short distance from that, the closet. The room also sported a small breakfast table, a chaise lounge with matching chairs, and a writing desk.

The Duke himself sat at the desk, hunched over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. Galatea’s breath hitched in her throat—half from admiration, half from nerves.

Duke Leto Atreides was an extremely handsome man. Olive skin turned golden by the Arrakis sun and heightened under the warm glow of the glowglobes. He had a sharp, angular face softened by curly black hair and a beard to match, both shot through with elegant streaks of silver. Thick, heavy eyebrows sat above the eyes of a poet, pulling his expression into one of constant brooding.

There was no point in trying to pretend that she didn’t find him attractive. Doing nothing to hide the way her eyes flitted appreciatively around his body, Galatea dipped into a polite curtsy and flashed him her most winning smile.

“My Lord.”

He gave her the barest glance, then went back to writing.

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

The disinterest gave her pause.

Galatea was not the first woman that had been hired for this job. Although the Courtesans that had come before her had been sworn into silence, Zoie was persistent. Through her usual persuasion tactics and ability to root out gossip from the most stubborn sources, the beautiful Courtesan was able to garner that, out of six High Courtesans, the Duke had sent them all away.

And if they hadn’t been able to please the Duke, what hope did Galatea have?

Well, he hasn’t dismissed me yet.

She turned to one of the bookshelves. Galatea ran her fingers down a few of the leather bound spines and read the titles. Paper books were incredibly rare on Arrakis. There were no trees; wood and paper had to be imported. She had a digital tablet, though. Reading was one of the few hobbies she could afford. There wasn’t much else to do to fill the time between clients, anyhow.

The Duke heaved a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, Galatea watched him set aside his papers and stare off into space. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Lost in thought.

The decision was made. He stood. Strode purposefully around the desk.

“Alright. Come here.”

The command in his tone made Galatea shiver with anticipation. As much as she hated the brothel, the contract, the lack of choice, her masters—this part, especially when she liked the look of the client, could be a lot of fun.

She met him in the middle. The Duke’s arms wrapped around her, dragged her body against his, left no room for argument. Then his mouth was on hers. Hard. Demanding. Tongues and teeth. No preamble. Absolutely filthy.

Fuck, he was a good kisser. Of course he was. A man as beautiful as he was didn’t skate through life without getting a lot of practice.

Galatea’s knees went weak, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep upright. The Duke didn’t seem to notice, and instead used her loss of balance to steer her towards the chaise lounge.

Once he had her underneath him, he wasted no time in pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, loosening the silk enough to free her breasts. Then that wonderful mouth was on her neck. She gasped as his beard scraped along her collarbone. Eager to match his intensity, Galatea slipped a hand between their bodies to rub his cock through his trousers. She could feel the outline of him through the thick fabric—still soft, but of pleasing size.

Galatea hummed appreciatively. The Duke paused, his breath ghosting past her ear. She threaded her free hand through his hair and pulled him back in for another kiss.

He reciprocated, but something had shifted.

The Duke tolerated a few more moments of her touch, then he heaved a sigh and pulled away. Galatea was left draped on the lounge, tits out and baffled as he returned to his desk.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he said, settling back down in his chair and shuffling papers as he returned to his work. “You may go.”

Shocked, Galatea sat up and fixed her clothes. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Cheap whore or not, she knew she was attractive. It was usually the lead up when a client lost interest—when the knowledge of her unfashionable price and breeding was at the forefront. But once a man got his hands on her, he always followed through.

“My Lord… forgive me, but … have I done something wrong?”

He didn’t look at her. “No. You will be paid in full.”

Galatea could have cried. It wasn’t about the money. She saw so little of the money she made for the brothel that it didn’t have much meaning for her anymore, beyond the fact that she was cheap—which her handlers reminded her of at every opportunity. But the Duke was in need of a lover. Leto the Just, they called him. A good and fair man, one that had the authority and money to pay off her contract with the brothel and set her free, if he liked her enough. If he liked her more than enough, he might even bring her into his House. He could make her a concubine. And finally, after so many years, she could have the quiet, stable life that she’d always wanted.

No more beatings. No more scrounging. No more pleasuring the questionable men that the courtesans above her didn’t want. No more falling asleep to moans and screams. No more knowing that there were women several floors below her getting raped and being able to do nothing about it.

She could be free.

It was a pipe dream. She knew that. But having the hope crushed before it could even fully take root was devastating.

From the despair came indignation, and from that came anger. Anger always made her reckless.

She returned to the bookshelf. Figuring that the Duke wouldn’t leave sensitive information just out on a shelf, Galatea decided it was safe to help herself to one that sounded interesting.

This was an opportunity. Good things never happened to Galatea. She had hours left until the brothel expected her back, so she might as well make the most of the Duke’s luxuries.

And if he really wanted her to leave, he could make her.

Galatea settled down on the chaise lounge with her book and began to read.

It was the Duke’s turn to be shocked. He stared at her, heavy eyebrows low with a frown. “What are you doing?”

Galatea shrugged. “You’ve paid for my time already. How we spend it is entirely up to you. And if what you want is something pretty to brighten the room while you work, then that’s fine by me.”

The Duke blinked at that for a few moments. Utterly perplexed. Galatea wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“… As you please.”

They stayed like that for a while. The silence was soothing, full of nothing more than the occasional shuffle of papers and soft breaths. The world within the Arrakeen Palace was so far from the one she knew in the city—too far above for the bustle and chatter of people, groundcars, and animals to reach. Isolated. Alone in a bubble. Close enough to see the lights but too far away to touch.

Galatea wondered if the Duke was lonely.

She wasn’t really sure of the details. Zoie tended to not make a ton of sense when she was excited. Galatea mulled over what had gathered from the younger woman’s babbling.

The Duke’s concubine—his partner of fifteen years and the mother of his only son—had left him. She, along with their son, had gone into the desert to join the Fremen. The rest was speculation, but there seemed to be a consensus that the son, at least, had gone with the Duke’s blessing. The Fremen had been the reason that House Atreides managed to survive those harrowing first few months of their hold on Arrakis.

Galatea shivered at the memory. She remembered the night well. The sounds of roaring engines and lasguns had made the city tremble. Fire had lit the sky as ships rained down over the Shield Wall. The attack had been massive. The kind that no one was meant to survive.

But the Fremen had come out of the desert—Galatea wouldn’t pretend to understand why—and when dawn came, House Atreides still stood.

Loaning his heir out to learn the ways of the Fremen seemed a small price to pay for an alliance.

But it didn’t explain why Lady Jessica had gone as well.

Eventually, Galatea felt the Duke’s eyes on her again. She thought that he was searching for something to say, so she read aloud:

“Discovery is dangerous…but so is life. A man unwilling to take risks is doomed never to learn, never to grow, never to live.”

The Duke nodded. “That’s Pardot Kynes, the former planetologist. Dr. Liet Kynes gifted me a copy of some of her father’s writings.”

“I’ve heard of him, I think. He was supposed to be a very brilliant man.”

“It seems that way, yes.” The Duke leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile twisting at his lips. “Though sometimes I wonder if his experience was incomplete.”

“How do you mean, my Lord?”

“Perhaps one type of danger helps a man to grow. The experience makes him more of a leader. While others do the opposite. Less of a leader… less of a man.”

She tilted her head. Considered him. The faraway look. The grim smile. Tension pulled at his shoulders and exhaustion at his spine. The way he’d clutched at her reminded her of a man taking medicine—the action of doing something despite not really wanting to because it would make him feel better.

Less of a leader… less of a man.

Ah.

That was something she could work with.

The realization gave her direction, and direction gave her confidence. Galatea stood and crossed over to the desk. The Duke tilted his chin to look up at her, holding her gaze as her knees brushed his when she hopped up to sit on the desk.

Galatea cocked her head to the side as she considered him. She’d had this conversation before. Great care was needed. Proud men had the tendency to lash out, and the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis was certainly a proud man.

But at the same time, this was a man that had committed to one woman for over fifteen years. That, especially among Landsraad nobility, was extremely rare. He hadn’t been able to marry his concubine, but had also refused to marry anyone else. Unheard of.

What sort of a man was Leto Atreides?

Galatea was good at reading people. Getting a snap impression of someone, and then being able to act on it, was one of the most important skills a whore could have. Besides sucking cocks, of course, but that was a given.

Fifteen years. A son. Now he was alone. Responsible for far too many things, all of which seemed to be within a hair's breadth of falling apart. Under a great deal of stress.

This was the sort of man that wanted someone else to take control. Be taken care of. Just for a while. Being bossed around for a bit would definitely do him good.

“Leto,” Galatea began, making careful use of his first name, “when’s the last time you slept?”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Leto huffed a laugh. “My duties don’t exactly lend to a regular sleep schedule.”

“So in other words, you’ve been living on anti-fatigue pills?”

He shrugged.

“Leto.” He hadn’t corrected her for using his name, and she took it as a signal that she was allowed to keep doing so. She rolled her eyes and gave a disappointed shake of her head.

The Duke watched her, somehow much more interested than he had been when he’d had his mouth on her tits. She couldn’t be offended, though. The intensity of his undivided attention was far too distracting.

Galatea slipped off her sandals and rested her bare feet on his thighs. Rested her elbows on her knees and her hand on one hand. The action forced him to lean back in his seat, his legs nudged apart by the weight of her.

Leto arched an eyebrow. The look on his face was one Galatea had seen many times—the one that said, I’m in complete control of this situation, and I’m letting you do this because I think it’s amusing.

Galatea tipped her head to indicate his crotch. “And you don’t suspect a connection between the two?”

To his credit, he handled the entirely unsubtle reference to his manhood with more dignity than most refined men Galatea knew. A slight widening of the eyes. The subtle reddening of the ears.

She suppressed a smile.

“I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was assured that anti-fatigue pills have no…er… side effects…”

“Oh, Leto honey.” Galatea pressed her hand to his cheek. “Beautiful boy. I’m a whore. You can speak plainly about your cock with me. God knows I handle enough of them.”

Turns out, the direct approach yielded delightful results. Leto sputtered and tried to cover it with a cough. He didn’t really want to look her in the eye, so he lowered his gaze. After a moment, it occurred to him that he was looking at her breasts. His eyes shot back up to her face, then drifted off to the side. His blush deepened, creeping down his neck.

Fuck, he was pretty.

“I…uh… wouldn’t want to burden you.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s not exactly something you talk about with a potential lover.”

“On the contrary, who better to ask? These things happen—it’s normal—and most everyone tries to solve it the same way you did.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He still wouldn’t look her in the eye, but the blush was fading. Galatea vowed to bring it back as soon as possible. “So it’s the pills?”

“Not exactly, but they certainly don’t help. How much sleep have you gotten in, say…the last two weeks?”

“I don’t know. Twelve? Maybe less.”

Galatea felt a wave of pity. No wonder the poor thing was having problems.

“Consider the mind and the body.” She held out both hands symbolically. “They work together, but they’re separate entities. The mind tells the body what to do, and the body does it. The heart needs to beat. Walk from your desk to the bookshelf. Move your hands to write a letter. But the body has opinions too. It tells the mind what it needs. I’m hungry. This hurts. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

She looked at him pointedly.

“I’m with you so far.”

“Good. So your body is telling the mind that it’s tired. You start yawning. Your brain gets fuzzy. You can’t keep your eyes open. But you’re a busy man. You have Duke things to do. So you take one of those helpful little pills, and you can keep going. But the pill isn’t making your body less tired, it’s just shutting up all the usual ways it lets you know that it needs a break. And that’s fine… for a while. But the longer you go without doing the things your body needs, the more desperate it gets. You aren’t listening to the usual signals, so it starts finding other ways to get your attention.”

Galatea gestured to his crotch again. “This is a very common one for men. Auditory hallucinations usually come next.”

Leto let out a breath. He wasn’t as shy now, which was a shame, but Galatea appreciated the glint of relief in his eyes. A small smile quirked at his lips.

“So what would you recommend, nurse?”

“It’s doctor, actually. Dr Whore. And for the long term, I prescribe sleep. No anti-fatigue pills for at least two weeks, unless absolutely necessary.”

He huffed, but was actually smiling now. “That’s a big ask, you know.”

“Make that three weeks, then. Also,” she took his chin between her index finger and thumb, “stop worrying about it. Your cock is fine. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen a lot more often than you think. And worrying makes it worse.”

“Alright, I get it.” He turned his face into her hand. His lips brushed her thumb. “And what about the short term, Dr Whore?”

“A massage, definitely,” was her immediate response. “While you were having a grope earlier, I felt your back. It’s all tied up in knots. A massage, and then a good night's sleep.” She paused, picked at a lock of his curly hair. It was still a little mussed from when she’d run her fingers through it, and now it was obvious how oily it was. “Scratch that. A bath. A nice warm bath. Massage. Then sleep. Lucky you, I’m good at all of those things. Bathroom’s through there, yeah?”

“A bath? On Arrakis? Isn’t that wasteful?” Leto protested as she slid off the desk and made her way towards the bathroom without waiting for an answer.

The bathroom, as the rest of Leto’s residence, was both spartan and beautiful. Decent sized, with a large tub taking up the center, a separate shower, toilet, and sink with a vanity all rounding the walls with accompanying shelves.

“How can it be wasteful?” Galatea countered, turning on the water. “You have a water reclamation system, right?”

Leto trailed into the room after her, looking a little lost. “Of course.”

“And filters in the cooling systems to collect the steam in the air?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing. You’re the Duke. You deserve a nice bath from time to time. Call it a prerogative.” Satisfied with the water temperature, she straightened up and faced him, hands on her hips. “Now strip. I’m going to see if you have anything here we can actually use.”

With that, she started rummaging through his cabinets. Leto was a practical man, not prone to collecting frivolous things. But at his station, being well groomed was a necessity. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. Body wash. Beard oil. Lotion. All decent smelling. But next time… if there was a next time… she would bring some nicer things for him to use.

Galatea gathered up her finds and turned to see that Leto had done as she asked. He leaned over the edge of the tub, deliciously bare as he swished his hand through the water, brow furrowed in thought.

Heat pooled in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for her to find clients attractive. But fuck, this just wasn’t fair.

Smooth golden skin stretched over an athletic build. Leto was sculpted as a statue—a beautiful amalgamation of well-toned muscles and soft flesh. A handful of scars smattered his upper body, and Galatea longed to trace them. Those, and the lovely curve of his arse.

Leto glanced up and saw her looking. His pensive expression turned smug.

Galatea laughed quietly and gave his face a light shove, telling him to hurry up and get in the bath. Leto did as he was told, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sank into the water.

“A Duke’s prerogative, you said?”

Galatea set down her things and stripped to the waist. “Prerogative. Absolutely.” She turned off the water and settled on her knees behind his head. “You work too hard. You deserve some things that make you feel good.”

Leto didn’t respond, just hummed absently as she added soap to the water and wet a fluffy washcloth. With it, she began to clean his chest and neck. His skin was hot under her hand, and she thought about what it would feel like to explore the same area with her mouth.

He sighed blissfully at her touch. Galatea imagined that it wouldn’t take much to make him moan.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that set the stage for her next one, or maybe she was riding the high of having made it farther than the other women that the brothel had sent before her. Either way, when she spotted the knife laying carelessly among Leto’s discarded clothing, Galatea got a very, very bad idea.

And GOD, it was such a bad idea. The kind where she wasn’t sure if it was so bad that it was good, or so good it was bad. The kind that, if it didn’t work, could absolutely get her killed. Hell, it might get her killed even if it did work. Fuck. No. It wasn’t worth the risk.

But as she continued to wash the Duke, her hands slowly dipping lower and lower down his abdomen, the idea niggled in the back of her mind.

Galatea knew that she had already set herself apart from the other whores the Duke had hired. No one else had made it past his dismissal. She should be satisfied with that. She should be thrilled by that.

But what about when the Duke’s problem passed? He wouldn’t need Galatea’s brusque attitude and world wisdom anymore. There were far more beautiful women for him to choose from that would be able to more than keep him satisfied.

The terrible idea took root.

Risk had gotten her this far. It seemed only fitting to let it take her all the way.

“Wet your hair for me, beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured in his ear.

Leto hummed acknowledgement and, while his head slipped down beneath the water, Galatea picked up the knife and tucked it safely in the waistband of her skirt.

Outwardly, Galatea calmly squirted shampoo into her hands. Inwardly, her heart hammered so wildly that she thought it might be trying to escape the rest of her body before it was too late.

Her fingers threaded through Leto’s hair. She worked the shampoo into a fine froth and used her nails to trace circles into his scalp. A head massage was one of the things that almost every man adored but never knew to ask for. She took her time with it. Although she was getting impatient, there was no need to rush.

Leto went boneless. His head lolled obediently with her touch. When she tilted his head back against her bare chest, he went willingly. One of her hands ghosted up his throat and scratched along his jaw, adding a little shampoo to his beard.

Galatea took her time rinsing him, too. She had him lean forward while she poured water from a pitcher over his head, careful not to get any into his eyes.

“Conditioner now,” Galatea told him. “Same idea.”

Leto leaned back against her and closed his eyes, so trusting and content.

Galatea reached down and, instead of the conditioner, picked up the knife. Before she could see reason and talk herself out of it, she had it against Leto’s throat.

The Duke inhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. All of the relaxation she’d coaxed into him dissipated.

“What is this?” He demanded, his voice tight with anger. She thought of him as a coiled spring, ready to launch into motion. Ready to fight. But Galatea was in control. He was at her mercy. So he stayed perfectly still. Waiting for her to make a move.

Somehow, Galatea was able to hide how affected she was—practically trembling with arousal, fear, and adrenaline. Her free hand drifted down his body and wrapped around his pretty cock.

Leto gasped. This time, his body responded to her beautifully.

“Your body is trying to tell you something, Leto,” she whispered against his ear. “What’s it saying?”

She pumped him slowly. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His head pressed back against her sternum as he started to pant.

Galatea watched his face carefully. Checking for any sign of genuine distress. He was smart. By now, he understood what she was doing. The alarm was gone, but he remained guarded. His lovely poet eyes flickered from her face to where her hand worked between his legs.

He had to know by now that he wasn’t in any danger. What kind of assassin jerked off her victim first?

Leto shuddered against her as she increased her pace. With the blade still pressed tightly against his throat, he fought to keep still. The wariness gave way to pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed, and the quiet of the bathroom was filled with his quiet moans.

Desperate to hold something, but knowing better than to grab at her arms—as both hands were very busy—Leto clutched the edges of the tub so hard that his fingers turned white.

“My beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured, her lips touching his ear. “You needed this, didn’t you? You’re doing so well. Let go. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t last very long, but then, she hadn’t wanted him to. Leto’s body arched in the water. He gasped and cursed and shuddered. Galatea held him through it, whispering soft encouragement and praises until he slumped back against her, utterly spent.

Galatea lay the knife to the side, dizzy with relief and her own daring. She took Leto’s head in her hands, brushing his wet curls from his face and checking his neck.

To her horror, a single pearl of blood welled from a small cut across his throat. It was hardly more than a shaving cut, but it filled her with terror.

She had held a Duke at knifepoint. She’d made him bleed.

Galatea pressed her thumb against it, willing it to disappear. Leto winced slightly and opened one eye.

“I didn’t actually mean to cut you,” Galatea said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Leto closed his eyes again and nuzzled against her arm.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. Adrenaline had given his system the kickstart that it needed, but it was fading fast. “Worth it.”

Relieved, Galatea kissed the top of his head. Then she went to work finishing his bath—applying and rinsing conditioner, washing his face, applying beard oil. She did it fairly quickly, knowing that the endorphins, combined with his exhaustion, were calling him to sleep. Galatea was stronger than she looked, but she couldn’t carry him to bed. Leaving him to sleep in the tub wasn’t exactly an option either.

When she guided him up to his feet, he went willingly. Leto stood while she dried him with a towel, meek and obedient as a child. By the time she grabbed the lotion she’d found and steered him out of the bathroom, Galatea thought he seemed half asleep already.

She pulled back the sheets of his bed. “Lay down on your stomach, beautiful boy. There you go.”

Leto all but sagged into bed. He buried his face into his pillow with a relieved sigh. Galatea joined him, kneeling by his hips and lathering her hands with lotion.

Within minutes, he was asleep. Galatea spent a good hour working out the knots in his back. She kneaded and pressed the tension in his tired muscles until they were jelly. Then she did the same to his legs, his feet, his buttocks.

He looked so good like this. If Galatea knew how to paint, she would have gladly spent the rest of the night capturing this image. Truely, it belonged with the ancient Renaissance artworks she’d seen in her holobooks. Exposed, vulnerable, beautiful.

When she was done, Galatea pulled the blankets over him. There was some time left before dawn, but she didn’t dare sleep. Instead, she fetched another book from the shelf and settled down on top of the covers beside the sleeping Duke.

She wiled away the hours, soothed by Leto’s soft snores and the silence of the Palace. She could get used to this. She begged every god in existence to let her get used to this.

Dawn came too soon. Galatea returned her books to their respective spots on the shelves. She had a few of the brothel’s business cards in her small clutch, one of which she retrieved along with her lipstick.

Galatea applied a fresh coat to her lips, then pressed them to the card. The shape of her kiss transferred perfectly just below the House of Priapos inscription. Below that, Galatea wrote her name in an elegant, looping hand.

She left the card on his desk and left, hoping that she would be seeing this place again very soon.

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #duke leto fanfiction #duke leto atreides #duke leto atreides x oc #dune fanfiction #oc #fanfiction #my art #fanfic #duke leto x oc #leto atreides x oc #leto atreides x reader

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catesartworks · 11 months

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Isekai Maid Asks Pt.3

More asks under the read more! Very long, I go into depth about some of the titles from the maid slapping masterlist

Content Warning, I talk about slavery, human trafficking, stalking and physical abuse within the context of the story

Made some edits on 7/5/2023! :D

Thank you so much! :D

I did like “No More Turning a Blind Eye” at first until the gentrification storyline where the main couple decide to kick out all the people living in poverty so they could build an art center and destroy their homes. Apparently I was supposed to root for them? It was so disturbing I had to stop reading it and I couldn’t enjoy it anymore. Now it serves as a reminder of just how low nobility can sink to get what they want.

For the next one, I wouldn’t say I hate “I am the Real One,” I still love a lot of things about it but after a certain point it kind of became slow so I had to take a break from it. I also wasn’t a fan of how they handled Cosette’s maid. She’s basically Kira without the money, and I think she would’ve been a good character if they gave her a chance. She did it all for her younger brother, who was ill, and was going to risk hell and high water to make sure he was provided for.

Thank you so much! I have a few:

Beware the Villainess (Great to start after watching Bakarina)

The Monstrous Duke’s Adopted Daughter

The Villainess’ Stationary Shop (So fun!)

Not Sew Wicked Stepmom (So Cute)

Master Villainess the Invincible (Martial Arts Villainess, we need more of this!)

Thank you!

As for Erica, she lived in a part of Limpette was being colonized by the invading nation of Teffrah. They set up segregated neighborhoods with only Teffrah nobles, which is where she grew up. The nobles in Teffrah like to come to Limpette for it’s environmental beauty, but discriminate against the population that lives there.

Erica was set up with Mr. Katopodis because his family had a summer home there and they wanted him to get remarried so he could have a male heir.

1) Yes, Nasir regretted killing Zoe. He was definitely gro//omed by the female lead, Belliana and was taught that she “saved him” by buying him and turning him into a slave. He thought that because she did favors for him and allowed him some level of freedom that he was better than other slaves and that Zoe didn’t appreciate the female lead’s supposed generosity. He ends up killing Zoe by accident, but he convinces himself that it was for the best.

It wasn’t until he wanted to get married to a woman he met that the Belliana showed her true colors and forbid him. She was one of those people who thought, “if I went back time and there was slavery, I would buy them and treat them nice!” But at the end of the day she was just another slave owner.

Belliana refused to let him get married because she wanted to avoid her own death flag, and she even had the woman he wanted to marry sent away to die. In a rage, he kills Belliana.

2) Bridgette tends to internalize the justifications that the stories make for female leads to abuse their workers. It’s true that stealing is wrong in general, but she was basically a slave to the female lead and was never compensated. Belliana stole the fruits of her labor from her.

Bridgette has done wrong in the past, but cannot always remember. Her memory isn’t perfect, but she has done things like murdering a noblewoman, delivering poison, hitting other maids.

3) Clara’s ending had her being given a sum of money by Phoebe after Phoebe dies. She leaves the manor and lives happily.

Clara as a character wasn’t liked from the beginning due to audiences being distrustful of any female character other than the protagonist. Comment sections were waiting for Phoebe to stand up to Clara, who they thought was too greedy for a maid because she was beloved by people in the story.

Audiences hated it so much that they harassed the author into making a new version of the story to cash in on the isekai craze. The author noticed that a crack ship formed between Prince Dimitri and Phoebe, it shot up in popularity and audiences wanted them to be together.

That is how “Flowers Thrive in Autumn” became a new novel starring the reincarnator Phoebe called “The Wicked Woman Delivers”. In this version of the story, Clara is secretly revealed to be a “white lotus” character who frames the newly reincarnated Phoebe and must “be taught her place” as a maid. It sold very well, but the author hated it and she took a break from writing because of all the stress it caused her.

4) Reincarnators, when discovered are quietly approached by the military and asked if they have information on weapon development. The Teffrah military is especially interested in trying to build airplanes and colonizing surrounding countries.

Reincarnators, particularly ones in nobility are allowed to roam around as long as they contribute to society and bolster Teffrah’s “superior” image.

The abundance of reincarnators also play a huge role in the general support the nobility has for eugenics and maintaining the class system, because they want the general population to believe that only nobles can create generation defining art, music, and technological advancements. It also fuels anti immigrant sentiment.

A lot of reincarnators are from the commoner class in the future, but many usually get caught up in the glamor of being a noble and allow inequality to continue because the class system personally benefits them, or they’re overwhelmed and prefer not to get involved in trying to tackle societies problems.

The type of reincarnators that come into the world are extremely specific, and not to get into spoiler territory, but there is a reason why so many office workers get isekai’d into Teffrah.

5) I’m not sure I would want to do that trope. It’s been used a lot and I don’t think I can do anything new with it that hasn’t already been done.

Thank you! As a fellow autistic person, I’m happy you identify with Marina! 😊

Thank you very much for reading Isekai Maid! I really appreciate it. ^ ___ ^

1) I’m not entirely sure I can add more to the list, but I’ll try and update it. I know there’s more to the list than what I’ve listed, but the maid slapping trope isn’t a pleasant one for me to look at so it might take me a while.

Reading those kinds of scenes gives me flashbacks to when I worked in fast food service, and seeing the comment sections basically cheer for the kinds of people who made my coworker’s lives miserable,or made them cry and over the pettiest things like food not being hot enough is kind of exhausting.

As for Villainess Reverses the Hourglass, I have to say I do enjoy the manwha a lot since it’s my gateway to Otome Isekkai, but it has some ISSUES, especially with it’s discussion of politics. Some of my issues goes into spoiler territory, and I feel like some twists end up undermining the themes of the overall story. I love a good revenge story, though, and it was one of the earlier stories I read in Otome Isekai. So yeah, not everyone’s cup of tea and I get that.

2) For “Author of My Own Destiny”, yes, it’s pretty gross to give her dirty mop water. Yuck! But this maid character doesn’t act like a person, she is an obstacle to be hit and smacked by the noble MC Fiona as a cheap power move with little to no true consequences.

Hitting maids (even terrible ones) as a trope has never been about justice. It’s always been about reinforcing class dynamics and suppression of the lower classes by portraying commoners as greedy and abusive to prop up noble protagonists. It implies that if nobles don’t “correct” commoners, they will get “out of control.”

Protagonists, who when confronted with nobles who do identical things, let them off the hook/delay accountability or attempt to be cordial with them (such as in the case of Fiona).

Let’s not even get started on male leads in romance fantasy/Otome Isekai, who do all sorts of crimes like stalking, harassment and other forms of abuse and are romanticized for it because they are nobles.

These stories are power fantasies, ones where readers who might have been abused by people in power themselves and want justice vicariously through fiction. But between a noble and a commoner, there are no stakes if the MC is a noble. The noble has everything at their fingertips to win.

And what is odd about the whole sequence in “Author of My Own Destiny” is that Fiona (the MC) does the following:

She slaps the maid twice

Splashes her with the mop water

Calls her lowly due to her class, mocking her for being a commoner

Threatens to cut out her tongue

Threatens her with magic

Internally is disgusted that a commoner/maid would look a noble in the eyes.

In the next chapter, Fiona directly passes by the stepmother, Countess Green, the cause of all of this. Her stepmother who verbally abuses her, makes her life miserable and has most likely been encouraging the evil maid’s behavior. The ultimate showdown, right?

Since what happened to Fiona was such a horrible experience, you’d expect her to unfold the same amount of abuse tenfold on the stepmother. Right?

But she doesn’t. Fiona, who the chapter before was slapping a maid and making threats to cut out the maid’s tongue, suddenly goes “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” 😔

She even says “I wish I could slap her (Countess Green)” UM what?? Fiona, girl you were slap happy last chapter, what’s stopping you? SLAP that noble!

Literally a chapter before she was hitting a maid for all of the abuse she suffered, but now when she has the ability to stand up to the person who made all of this happen in the first place, NOW she backs out?

From a meta point of view, Fiona lets the noble slide, but gets violent with the commoner. There is no true accountability if one party is condemned due to status, but the other gets away scot free because they’re a noble. Who’s power fantasy is this? Who does it serve?

The only reason is because she knows she would get struck back, and it would cause a problem she can’t prepare for. This isn’t the power fantasy I want. Accommodating to the nobles who do harm to you, but smacking any commoner who crosses you. That isn’t power, I don’t know what that is, but it’s not justice.

Edit (07/5/2023):

SPOILERS for chapter 24:

The stepmother only gets smacked once she loses her status. Not only does Fiona refuse to confront her stepmother on the abuse she instigated through he maid, but she is also allowed to get away for presumably weeks after in incident where Fiona slapped her maid around.

Another interesting note is that Fiona is much more violent with the commoner maid than her noble stepmother. Even when she does finally slap the stepmother, it’s only one and done. She doesn’t manhandle her like the maid.

And that was only when she was sure there would be no consequences for her actions and her stepmother lost her status. When it comes to nobility, only when she is sure their wealth would be stripped does she begin even thinking about striking them.

End edit

It’s interesting that the justifications of hitting maids is often brought up, because every comic I have on the list justifies the maid abuse by basically saying “those dumb lowly maids were being uppity to me, a noble! >:(”

I am the Real One: A maid badmouthed Keira’s lineage in “I am the Real One” SMACK!

The Lady Needs a Break: Rubia wanted breakfast and was given a lower quality than usual food - SMACK!

Duchess’ 50 Tea Recipes: The maids didn’t tidy up Chloe’s room and help her get dressed, they were also, like, totally mean girls to her even though she is the lady of the house and could easily fire them -- SMACK! Slap the head maid and threaten her coworkers!

Solitary Lady: The maid gives Hillis cold water, is slightly annoying? Hillis throw water on her and threatens to chop her hands off (this is actually what I based Lady Deliliah’s remarks on)

These stories all have the same excuses. All of their maid abuse was justified in some way by the story by making them all stereotypically evil. It’s easier to overlook the social implications of a noble hitting a maid if the maid totally deserves it because she secretly kicks puppies and steals food from orphans?

That’s why I tend to look at the meta implications of the trope more than the in- universe explanations because these maids dress like working class women, many come from lower status, so the logic would be that they would be trying to supporting their families and want to just do their jobs. But these evil maid characters don’t act like they have anyone who depends on them to keep their job.

The maids are essentially a stand in for what are essentially high school/office level “mean girls.” Why not fire them if they’re so bad at their jobs and harass people? You can’t fire “mean girls,” you work with you HAVE to interact with them at some point. You can, however, fire a maid because being a maid is a job and she works for you.

Even a noble household, no matter what they would think of the MC, would be in big trouble if they let commoners mistreat their family member and drag their name through the mud. It could easily be a gateway to disrespecting them and their own power/influence.These stories pretend that maids have so much power and the nobility who employ them have very little to stop them.

But at the same time, noble MC’s can hit, smack, and thrash their maids with no consequences whatsoever, but can’t fire them? The power dynamics are completely dishonest.

And what pains me is that people in service positions CAN be dicks, or abusive. But at the same time, many don’t last long and there is a reason. If someone is spreading rumors, talking shit about their employer’s kids, not doing work, etc then ideally they’re outta there because work needs to get done. But even so, toxic workplaces exist everywhere and people slip through. People who are horrible do end up with those who are vulnerable. And when this happens, accountability is essential and justice is needed.

If majority of these stories even touched on this subject knowing this, and how someone like these maid characters even made it in such a workplace while being uncooperative and unhelpful, then it would be really fascinating and open up questions on how to better improve workplaces. You could talk about how who gets promoted, favoritism, discrimination, etc.

But most on my maid slapping masterlist don’t. To these stories, a maid’s status is the worst thing about them if they aren’t submissive.

This evil maid trope also undermines the impact of abuse main characters have suffered too, because it makes a big point on how low the status of the maid is committing the abuse, instead of the abuse itself being detestable and worthy of accountability.

And that honestly really sucks. It’s not right, that isn’t the author’s intention, and I feel like that shouldn’t be what I take away from this story.

#this isekai maid #this isekai maid is forming a union

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vigilskeep · 4 months

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Hiya, do u have a carrd or anything with info on your ocs? I love reading about ocs n all that crap but the tumblr search function is like actually evil. Keir seems super interesting but it’s like killing me trying to find posts to recap his lore 😭

i don’t i’m afraid!! it’s just his enormous mess of a tag as the lore built up... i might make something sometime??? i hadnt thought abt it tbh. in the meantime feel free to ask me any and all questions even if it’s something i’ve probably already said, i love going over this stuff and will do so forever if even slightly prompted. on that note, if it helps, here is a briefly condensed version:

keir is a red personality (aggressive/direct) non-mage hawke. i did his full playthrough as a warrior, i sometimes talk about switching him to rogue, but the only really important thing is that he’s a reaver and will bite you for real

he’s a man of few words, extremely blunt and threatening to the point of being absurdly over-the-top with pretty much all strangers, and much softer but still bluntly earnest with the small group of people he considers his own. he considers himself first and foremost a protector and would do anything to keep those people safe. his father malcolm was a strict man who raised him to do this and he accepted that wholeheartedly. consider him a guard dog. killed his first templar in defence of the family aged 15

he adores and idolises magic and fiercely supports mage freedom, though ultimately he would absolutely sacrifice a wider “cause” if doing so would keep his mages safe. fortunately or unfortunately, he can’t do that because the two are inextricable

he’s a proud fereldan and cares very little for kirkwall (hates kirkwall. hates kirkwall. someone please get him out of here) and its nobility, which tends to show in his appearance and behaviour. long braided hair, the streak across his nose is kaddis, and takes his mabari, silla, absolutely everywhere

he’s elf-blooded via his father, who was the bastard son of a fereldan elven servant girl and an orlesian chevalier who was with the occupation

his playthrough has circle mage bethany. he adores her and he would do anything for her but her acceptance of her fate and disillusionment with his overprotectiveness meant they had an increasingly strained relationship. it was because she was trapped that he couldn’t leave the city. once he was champion, meredith essentially had a knife to his sister’s throat whenever she wanted his compliance, not to mention the looming threat to anders and merrill, making those three years the worst and most terrifying in his life

he romances anders! friendmance and they escape kirkwall together in the end. not always easy but he really loves him, justice half included. there’s a lot of lore here ummm if i mention the “and they were housemates” timeline, that’s my silly mutual pining alternate version of events where anders moves into the amell estate for safekeeping before he and keir actually get together. if i mention aura hawke, that’s the potential daughter i occasionally hc for them

he had previous relationships with morrigan (in lothering as young 20-somethings) and merrill (during act 1). you cannot keep him away from those romanceable mages

he’s still close friends with merrill. isabela is his best friend. he has a complicated, semi-antagonistic friendship with varric, who was really closer with anders but now after the fact doesn’t want to remember that. he deeply respects and is friends with fenris. he did rivalry with sebastian, but in an agree-to-disagree way where they considered each other friends nonetheless until All That happened. he had a more genuine rivalry with aveline though still coloured by their trauma bonding

i THINK those are the main beats of his lore but he’s my most discussed and developed dragon age character so i’m sure i’ve missed some of the assorted junkyard of thoughts

#keir hawke

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faroreswinds · 1 year

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is GW's direction really that crazy when you think about it? feels more like people are just salty that Claude didn't team up with their faves on his route because people look at Claude as a third party that validates their side. But what I saw in Hopes fit what I thought about Claude from Houses Claude does whatever he feels most benefits his goals at the moment regardless of morals. He teams up with Faerghus when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Church when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Empire when he feels it benefits him most and he throws his allies to the dogs when he feels it benefits him most. Like in Houses, Claude tells Dimi before leaving in Azure Moon that this is how he operates and that he only makes moves that he thinks benefit him. That's the story trying to communicate how Claude and Dimi are different. Do fans think he's just trying to be cute or that his words mean nothing? Claude's not a man of rigid principles, he's an opportunist. He, the other characters and supplementary material repeat that same message about him over and over again too. like Claude's not supposed to be a uniformly kind person, he's friendly and pleasant to talk to but someone that can be amoral or moral depending on the circumstances. And in GW, an alliance with Edelgard was more personally beneficial to him than trying to team up with Faerghus. They have the bigger force, they're paying Leicester significant reparations, they're getting stability at his southern border and they want to eliminate the same threat.

I mean.... It kinda is a crazy direction.

The issue isn't just the differences between Hopes!Claude and Houses!Claude. That could be a whole other explanation on its own, but since you have framed it as in-character, let's go over the other reason why it is a poor direction on its own.

The biggest issue, anon, is that Hopes!Claude... is an idiot.

Nothing he does or says makes much sense when you add up all the worldbuilding elements together into one big pile.

For example, he decides to side with Edelgard and wipe out the Church. He believes this will end the war quicker, and remove Edelgard's justification for war. And if that justification is gone, then Edelgard will have no choice but to cease her aggressions, or else the war is no longer justified.

However, this logic ignores sooooo many things. The first is that Edelgard publicly declares that the Kingdom and Alliance are false nations that only exist due to meddling forces. That should be a red flag right there and then. Not only that, but Edelgard invaded his nation and beelined for the capital. That should have been another red flag. If Edelgard didn't wish to take over the Alliance, she would have had no need to go for the throat.

Claude even admits that Edelgard might not stop her war. He should know that someone may not stop a war just because it is no longer "justified". And yet, he continues to side with her.

Here is another one. Claude puts a lot of blame on the Church for... basically everything wrong with Foldan. Forced marriages. Fierce border protections. The existence of nobility. The lack of freedom for nobles. I mean, just everything and anything you can think of, in his eyes it is the fault of Rhea and her Church.

But how can he come to that conclusion? Does he live under a rock? Is he not the leader of the Alliance? Does he not know that Edmund, within his own Alliance territory, makes trades with other nations outside of Foldan? When he went to school, did he not see how people of Duscur, Brigid, and Almyra got places in the classroom? How a woman from overseas got to be a Knight of Seiros? Even if he only spent two weeks there, surely he saw something, no?

He is also a prince of another nation. A nation with no Church, and no Crests. And they still have a King and nobility of their own. So why is he blaming the Church for such things? He literally is from another nation.

Hopes!Claude feels like he was written by a young author who is just starting out. There is no logic to his thinking. He just hates the Church because the writers needed him to.

And what makes it worse is that Claude is supposed to be the smart one. He is lauded as the brilliant tactician. The guy who thinks 5 steps ahead in every chess match. But he comes across as the most ignorant of the three lords, who cannot see past his own nose.

So yes, this is why is it a crazy direction. It's not just because of any misalignment of his character from Houses. It's because within Hopes itself, Claude is just a moron that it is hard to take him and his thought processes seriously.

#anon asks #Three Hopes discourse #Claude discourse

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rufousnmacska · 1 year

Text

Firsts

A manorian one shot that has all my usual tropes. I have a long standing head canon that Manon secretly watches Dorian a lot. She thinks it’s just out of curiosity since he’s a human. And that’s part of it, but there’s a bit more 😏. Also, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the first times they didn’t get in the books. So here are some, thrown into one fic.

Thanks to @mrstrafalgardshanks (for sparking some parts of this fic) and @itach-i (for her beta reading and constant manorian trashiness)! ❤️❤️

***

The heavy rain darkened the red of her cloak, turning it into a deep wine color. This was lucky, Manon thought. The cloak was the best way to hide her white braid and allow her the freedom to sneak in without being seen. A group of merchants sped by, heading for the castle entrance, and she jogged to catch up with them. The guard waved them in out of the weather, not looking twice as she pretended to be with them.

She’d never been in the castle. At least, not this part. She’d watched his balcony for hours that one night so long ago. Then she’d seen his bedroom. After it was destroyed by that Yellowlegs bitch. Manon grinned, remembering how Abraxos had disposed of the witch’s wyvern with one snap of his ironteeth. She’d never been able to feel remorse over that. Not when Dorian had been so close to his end.

They’d written, but this would be the first time seeing each other since the war. Manon had decided on a whim to come, and here she was. The sleepless nights had caught up so quickly. Meetings with her council passed without much input from their queen, and she’d begun to forget things. When Petrah offered to oversee the Wastes, to give Manon a break, she hadn’t argued. If nothing else, her kingdom deserved a queen who could remember the orders she’d given. A few days away might bring her back to herself.

Watching Rifthold’s people filter through the entrance hall into the throne room, she peered through her hood at the faces. The nobility and upper classes wore the usual pinched expressions of wealth and privilege, making her wonder how closely they’d allied themselves with Erawan to survive the war with their riches intact. The thought made her cheeks heat in rage.

The others, civilians wearing dingier clothing and awed looks at their surroundings, had suffered. These were the residents left homeless by the witches and valg king. Conscripted into Erawan’s monster army, set free by Southern Continent healers, and likely left with no memory of those months. If they were lucky. It struck her how difficult his job as king would be in the coming years.

As Manon skirted around the walls, she remembered Dorian’s most recent letter. He’d written about the nightmares he’d been having, images of pain and hell inflicted by his own hands. Images of those hands morphing into his father’s.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t argued with Petrah. It made a good excuse to come here. To check on a friend.

A loud, vivacious laugh caught her ear and she saw Yrene across the crowd. Quickly, Manon pulled her hood a little tighter, hoping the material was still dark enough to blend in.

The line to speak to the King was long and enough people had come simply to watch that Manon was able to get into the throne room unseen. Taking a spot in the back corner, she resisted the urge to stand on something in order to actually see the throne.

She didn’t know why she was sneaking. It felt ridiculous. Childish.

But the thought of having planned a visit, or being received as the Witch Queen, with all the pomp and attention it required, made her skin itch. She’d considered waiting for him in his rooms and surprising him. But after sending Abraxos away to hunt at the city wall when they’d arrived, she’d heard about the Audience with the King happening that day. It would be boring, of course, watching Adarlanians petition Dorian for things or settle disputes. But her curiosity had been piqued. As a queen, she’d wondered how his court was run and thought this might be a good learning experience.

She hadn’t really thought it through though. It was impossible to hear and she could not get a clear view of him no matter how high she stood on her toes. There were simply too many people.

About to give up and go find a way into his rooms, Manon pushed through the people in front of her. Suddenly, and for just a moment, there was a break in the crowd.

Dorian was sitting at a table, Chaol next to him along with others. Advisors, she guessed. The throne sat empty behind him. A couple was speaking to him, gesturing wildly to a snarling merchant. Dorian wrote quickly while the others at the table listened.

When he finally looked up, she got her first sight of his face in months.

His black hair had grown, curling around his crown. But other than that, he looked the same - bronze skin, a quick smile, and sparkling blue eyes. Even from this distance, the sunlight caught his eyes.

But no, she realized, as something else sparkled too. He was different.

His crown.

She’d never seen him with it on.

It was a thick band of gold with three large stones, rubies, set along the front. Simple, but well crafted. There were designs incised along the band but she couldn’t make out the detail.

He looked like a king.

Her king.

The break filled in again and she was shuffled aside, back against the wall. Growling under her breath at the rudeness, she regretted being disguised and almost reached for a dagger.

As she turned to leave, that thought - her king - fluttered into her mind again. But she pushed it away and focused on the shove by the crowd, letting her annoyance take over as she left the castle.

…

Dorian closed his door and sagged against it, exhausted by the day and so many people. This was the fourth audience held in Rifthold since the war. After the first one, he’d called for a table and abandoned his throne, wanting to actually get something accomplished. He’d started the practice with the hopes of letting his people see him, speak to him. Trust him. And while that seemed to be happening, albeit very slowly, a part of him was regretting it.

It was the same part that longed for the adventures and romance that he read about in his novels. The part that wanted to be a normal man, anonymous and irresponsible.

But that part was small enough that he could tuck it away and forget about it.

Not the longing for romance though. Golden eyes, moon white hair, a fleeting smile given only to him. That was something Dorian refused to forget, even if it might not ever happen.

We’ll see.

Those two words spoken with that not-quite-there smile. Manon had looked at him, smiled at him, when she said them. The hope she’d sparked that day still filled him. Especially on nights like this when he was dead tired yet afraid to try and fall asleep.

Pulling himself away from the door, he strode through his outer rooms into the bedroom. Dorian glanced at his desk and thought about writing to her. But he’d just sent a letter last week. He should at least wait for a reply. With a laugh at himself, he thought he should try to maintain some semblance of control.

Grabbing a glass, he poured himself some wine and stared at the mess around his desk. Piles of books, papers, even some containers of soil that were given to him by a farmer at the last audience day. The man insisted his additions to the soil would improve crops across the kingdom. Dorian kicked at one, telling himself he needed to look into the claim.

After draining his wine, Dorian put the glass atop a stack of novels and reached for his crown.

“Leave it on.”

Dorian spun, his magic noticeably not flaring to defend him.

Manon sat on his bed, back against the headboard, her bare feet crossed, a book open in her lap.

As he stared at her, trying to decide if she was real or a figment of his imagination, she stood and walked toward him.

Her eyes, glowing in the light of the fire, caught on his crown. “It looks good on you,” she said.

Real. Her scent, her presence, her voice filled him.

“Hello witchling.”

Manon smiled then. A true smile. For him.

“Hello princeling.”

She reached for his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Dorian watched, using every bit of self control he had to let her undress him. It struck him that they’d never done this before. Every other time had been hurried, either to avoid the cold or to pretend there was nothing between them. Hell, they’d never even used a real bed.

So he let her slowly unbutton his shirt, let her remove her leathers, enjoying the show she made of it, his eyes drinking her in, her eyes never leaving his.

And when she led him to his bed, he kept his crown on.

…

The next morning, Dorian woke early to send two messages - one to Chaol canceling all his meetings that day, and one to the kitchens for enough food to last until tomorrow. Then he returned to bed, where Manon still slept.

Later, when they were enjoying a very late breakfast in in bed, he caught her smiling. “Is something funny?” he asked lightly.

Manon bit into a piece of bacon and looked around the room. He followed her gaze but saw nothing amusing.

“I’ve never spent a day lazing around in bed,” she finally replied. “Unless I was injured. I suppose with all your many lovers, this is nothing new for you.” She was teasing him, but he responded seriously.

“You’ve never done this? Never wanted to stay with someone after?” He saw the answer in her face, the way her smile faded. Pushing the tray of food away, he pulled her onto him, her legs straddling his waist. “Ask me who I will do this for now,” he demanded.

Manon said nothing, but the heavy rise and fall of her chest gave away her excitement.

Dorian kissed her, using his magic to pin her hands behind her back and yank her closer while his real hands tangled in her hair. Her teeth scraped over his lip and he moaned.

“Ask me.” His voice was rough and commanding as he freed her mouth to speak.

Barely a whisper, she said, “Who.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, letting her squirm in his lap as his magic caressed other spots. When she groaned, a mix of pleasure and annoyance, he said, “Just you, witchling. No one else.”

…

Manon was so close to the edge, driven there by his lips and phantom touch and the sharp demand in his voice. But those words pulled her back. The promise, the declaration of … something … something they couldn’t say. Yet.

The thought of that yet made her soften in his arms. He felt it and dropped his forehead to rest on hers. “Just you, princeling.” She saw his smile, his relief.

That promise, that declaration in her words cracked a barrier inside her. Slowly, tentatively, she cupped his cheek and said, “Tell me about your nightmares.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, either from her touch or the question. But instead of answering, he ran a knuckle under both of her eyes. “Will you tell me about yours?”

Manon nodded.

Then he kissed her, so softly and tenderly, it could have been her first kiss. It took her a moment to open her eyes and when she did, Dorian was smiling at her. She couldn’t help but return it, and soon they were laughing, at what, she didn’t know. But it felt good. Right.

They spent the rest of that day and night in and out of bed, never leaving his rooms.

Dorian taught her how to luxuriate in a hot bath, kept warm by his magic. Manon taught him how to properly sharpen the dagger Sorrel had given him a lifetime ago. He showed her the symbols on his crown, which was heavier than she’d expected.

They spoke of their nightmares, of how last night was the first time either had slept, truly slept, in forever. They shared their worries of ruling, each boosting the resolve of the other.

The next day, they had breakfast with Chaol and Yrene. Their baby stared at Manon, making her fidget in her chair despite Yrene’s reassurances that Josie was always like this with new people. Everyone watched, Chaol nervously and Dorian amused, as Yrene sat the babe in Manon’s lap.

Manon held her carefully, not wanting to drop her. Josie reached for Manon’s braid and tugged on it playfully. When she cooed, everyone laughed. That was when she realized she’d never held a baby before. She wondered how different her life, the world, everything, would be if Asterin’s witchling had lived.

Sensing the change in her mood, Dorian reached over and took Josie, distracting them all by bouncing her on his knee until she broke into a fit of giggles. Manon caught his eye and he winked at her.

A day later, Manon said goodbye to her new friends. And Dorian. It was harder to leave this time than it had been in Orynth. He walked with her to the city wall where she’d find Abraxos. They were both hooded and cloaked to avoid stares. And he held her hand - another first, and probably not the last - as he led her through streets and alleyways.

But she would return. And he would visit her. Soon. Because they’d both agreed, though not with words, that this time together had been important. They needed each other. And while she didn’t understand the full implications of that, yet, she knew it felt right. He felt right.

Her king, and his queen.

***

Thanks for reading!

Fanfic master list

And to the anon/s who sent a few requests a while back, thanks for your patience! I’ll try to get to those soon. 🤗

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #my writing #sarah j. maas #manorian fanfiction

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moriartyluver · 11 months

Text

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER II

"CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT, Lady (last name)!"

Unfortunately for both (name) and her parents, there was a slight delay in transporting the Grand Duke and Duchess from (home country) all the way to London, where her Uncle, Marquis (last name) had his second estate, although it was usually occupied by (name) instead of himself.

The young lady was know to be incredibly independent by her family and those who only knew her from mere observations so her uncle, who she wasn't even that close to, had allowed her almost full authority over housekeeping in all his estates. If she was to be described in few words by the nobility then the list would probably consist of many words such as Ambitious, Charming, Independent, Beautiful, & Fierce.

Opinions of others had never mattered to the 21 year old though. Why would they? They aren't the ones paying her bills and she was her own person. A woman who made history already in Britain despite not even being that old.

The first woman to ever receive a degree from university in the entirety of England.

Her name was known even in the palace, where she had actually visited before. In fact, the current Queen Victoria had tried to use the well know woman to strengthen Britain's relations with (home country), but (name) had no intentions of doing so.

She had a goal. A goal to help all the countries affected by Britain empire. A goal to restore all these countries, members of the empire or not, to their previous states before the countless invasions of the evil British troops. A goal for freedom from the shackles of this cursed empire.

A woman with such goals wasn't to rely on anyone. In fact, (name) didn't consider herself to have any friends at all. Sure, she could create surface level friendships with others simply to use them like the cursed woman she saw herself to be, and she had few acquaintances to converse with and maybe after this agreement, she would be able to consider William to at least be an ally if not her friend. Not that she wanted to be his friend of course, she scoffed at the thought.

So how had it come to this?

How had she lost herself so easily?

Was she destined to just fail?

Currently, (name) stood, plastering a cheerful yet undetectably fake smile. She spoke to the guests who congratulated her on her engagement to Lord William. Some disapproved. All for different reasons. None of which (name) wanted to know.

This, of course, was her engagement party. The summer air was warm, but never the same as (home country), so the Marquis had themed the late night party to be one in which he could show off his beautiful garden, covered in many flowers but especially lilies and tulips.

The engagement parties were usually thrown by the bride-to-be's parents. But considering they were absent (although her father eagerly sent a letter from both himself and his wife congratulating their daughter on such wonderful news as-well as giving their blessing), her uncle had offered to host the party in (name) and William's honour as if to stand in for her father.

"Oh, thank you so much, Lady Astor! I believe myself to be such a lucky woman, in all honesty..marrying the love of my life couldn't be more heavenly. I do hope someday you find the same joy that I find in my love for William." (Name) clasped her hands together with a bright smile, feigning excitement.

Ever since the moment that the two had met, (name) knew that she was William's biggest hater. She hated him with all her heart, not that there was much to go around anyways.

To her, it was amazing she was even able to maintain this facade of a lady in love for the sake of the public and it had even surprised William himself.

"Really, Lady (name) I think Lord Moriarty is a lot more lucky than you, marrying such a lovely woman! You are- forgive me if this seems like flattery because it is the truth- an absolute gem of a woman. In fact, his highness the Prince himself would be lucky to even cast his eyes upon your god-given beauty!" The shorter blonde woman smiled in return as she complimented the (hair colour)-ette.

"Are you sure you don't mean to flatter me, Lady Astor?" (name) joked as she felt herself grow bashful, whilst also internally smirking at the idea of being superior to her fiancé"Thank you for your kindness."

As the oddly happy woman walked away to make conversation with another guest, one of her friends who she was attempting to set up with another nobleman, (name) was finally left all alone.

Of course, being so independent was a blessing in times like this and she honestly had preferred being alone than being around the mindless members of high society who only saw this pathetic world as a game because they never had to work for anything in their worthless lives.

Right before she was to leave to go elsewhere, (name) felt the hot breath of a certain someone tickling her neck in the most repulsive way she could imagine yet she didn't turn around to punch the mystery man in the face because of course, she already knew who he was. Her intuition was strong after all.

"You appear to be having fun, my love." a harmonious, almost seductive, voice whispered into her exposed ear.

(Name) exhaled.

William James Moriarty.

And (name)'s fiancé. The man she was damned to marry.

The blond man had adopted the habit of calling (name) all sorts of pet names. Originally it was to suppress any idea that he didn't love his fiancée but recently, after seeing her reactions to such simple words, he couldn't help but use them all the time.

And the best part was that (name) wouldn't have the nerve to keep him quiet in order to dodge any suspicious behaviour. After all, the engagement itself was suspicious to the ton. Not because they doubted the love between the two but rather (name) had recently adopted the reputation of rejecting al of her admirers, usually because they didn't meet her standards. She had even had a wealthy duke ask for her hand in marriage and there were rumours that the Queen herself wanted to set her up with one of her many offspring.

Strangely enough, each time she rejected a man, it only made her more desired to the creeps of the upper class. Perhaps, she had thought, it was because of her 'exotic' appearance, which gave her even more reason to reject them because she knew she wasn't to be valued but more to become a mere foreign doll with no brain in the hands of all these men who found her intellect freighting.

"As much fun as I could have in a celebration of my engagement to you." (Name) retorted to which William's devilish grin widened. His hand was placed on her shoulder as (name) held her drink, holding herself back from splashing it on him.

They were watching.

"Well then it seems I'm having much more fun than you are," William remained in his position. To (name), it was like the devil himself was trying to tempt her to do something unholy, not that she was even to be considered a pious woman at this rate. Murdering people was not going to get her into heaven.

"Because you are able to freely torment me or have you found something actually worth your time?" The woman in front of him asked sarcastically.

"Why, because I have been graced by your presence-"

"They're going to toast to the engagement now, follow me." (Name) stated, freeing herself from Williams gentle grasp. She fanned her face as she walked. Her heart was racing as if she were to die but she knew William wouldn't even dare lay a finger on her. They had yet to spar but they both knew that their physical skills were equal when it came to combat and they both had sufficient stamina to do so for hours on end before coming to a victor.

William nodded, following his bride-to-be into the dining hall where all sorts of food lay. The (last name)s were anything but basic. The table was arranged with expensive dishes from all around the empire and more, including numerous dishes from (home country). Even some of the wealthy nobles were surprised, they supposed that the Marquis' trading company was doing exceptionally well then.

Once they had toasted to the two and the dinner had ended, the men and women parted ways as the ladies left the room to gossip and congratulate (name) whilst the men remained to converse with William, mostly asking him about how he had managed to win over the cold Lady (Name).

During the entire engagement ceremony, (name) felt agitated and confused. Was this deal really even going to help her? Or was William just using her and then preparing to throw her away once she had done her bit in feeding into his plan. Surely he could have gone without her, so why did he agree to the engagement.

And as for herself, this wasn't what she stood for. She was marrying a serial murderer for crying out loud. And the worst part was that she couldn't even blame William for her own despair, because technically speaking, it was her who proposed the engagement.

The halls were crowded and stuffy. (Name) felt ill, as though she were to throw up any moment.

(Name) made her way to the gardens and hid beside a tree, relaxing against the bark whilst she crouched, out of view from everyone else. She had taken a book with her to distract her from the impending doom she was to face at the hands of her own poor planning and morality.

Every time she opened the pages and flicked through the pages whilst she read, the words had become blurred and swirled in her thoughts.

Perhaps if she read aloud, she would feel more composed.

".. 'Come you spirits, That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here.'" (Name) read to herself but the words had only hurt her more.

Perhaps if she were a man, this pain would not be here with her. She had strangely looked up to Lady Macbeth since the moment she even opened the play as a child but now she was her, she didn't feel the satisfaction she had expected at all. She slammed the book shut in anger.

"'And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. Stop up the access and passage to remorse'," another voice spoke as he approached (name) whilst she sat at the tree. "Fancy seeing you out here, my lady."

She raised her head to meet the pair of scarlet eyes with her own (eye colour) ones. "You need not follow me wherever I go. Despite the way you act, you are not my husband yet, and apart from in the public eye, you are free to not want anything to do with me." (Name) told the blond man who was now sitting beside her despite her protests.

William chuckled whilst (name) looked at him in awe of his audacity with a flustered expression, obviously due to being caught reading outside. "But my dear (name), they are still watching. Would I really be the wonderful fiancé you have been describing me to be all night if I let the love of my life run away to the gardens as if she were an infant."

"I beg your pardon?" (Name) said rhetorically "I'm not childish in the slightest..and I had to describe you in such a way because you have no redeeming characteristics"

"I beg to differ." William leaned closer to (name), his face inches away from hers whilst she leaned backwards in an attempt to keep their distance.

"What? That you have redeeming qualities or that I'm childish because either way, you're wrong."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you may be wrong, dear lady Macbeth?~" the male teased

"Say another word and I'll punch you so hard that your ever so pretty face will be permanently scarred and deformed." (Name) retorted with a glare

"How flattering," Her future husband ran his fingers through his shiny blond hair "You think my face is pretty.."

(Name) shoved his shoulder whilst William fought back a laugh. Was he seriously trying to irritate her when she was already in a bad mood? "I also said I'd punch you in the face, but sure, boost your own ego because you're too pathetic to feel loved by anyone."

"Once again, I think you're wrong, (name)," William finally let out a laugh in response to her actions. Strangely enough, it didn't appear to be forced to (name) but oddly genuine. His face contorted into an expression of amusement for the first time in a while. He hadn't take any offence to her statement at all.

"I never told you that you could call me by my first name. Do you not have anything more important to do?" (Name) asked, trying to change the subject.

William shook his head "What could be more fun than watching your beautiful lips insult me with such grace?"

"Don't call my lips beautiful..that's weird.." (name) muttered

"I knew you were a fan of Shakespeare but why choose to read Macbeth on a day like this?" William asked, completely brushing (name) off. "Would a sonnet not be better suited to a day like today?"

"I read what I like, and I'll have you know that Shakespeare's political tragedies will always remain superior to his sonnets." She argued.

"I couldn't agree more, I applaud you in your fine taste in literature." William spoke. (Name) moved along to allow William more space to sit.

"Finally, something you say which isn't pure rubbish." The young lady felt her heart grow lighter, as if her worries were no longer catching up to her anymore.

Moments had passed as they talked about various books they had both read. Mostly Shakespeare but foreign literature was also a hot topic between them. It was as if they were children once more.

In fact, when the two had met, it was over a book that (name) was reading when William first saw her. And once again, this book was a Shakespeare play.

“You wouldn’t mind if I sat here, would you?”

The blond boy asked the (hair colour) girl as he pointed to the seat opposite her at the library table.

She lifted her head in surprise. There were other empty spaces in the library, could he not go sit elsewhere?

(Name) looked at him closely. He was possibly one of the few other people at the university of her age. It would be beneficial to become acquainted with someone of her age and possibly her skill.

“Oh-“ she felt as if she were about to start stuttering “no..it’s quite alright.”

She picked her book back up, almost feeling fearful of the stranger and his piercing gaze yet each time she took a peak at him, he had a soft and gentle expression. Was her intuition acting up, because usually her gut feeling was right, but what could a mere 16 year old do to her?

“I apologise for disturbing you, but is that ‘The tempest’ you’re reading?” The boy finally asked after looking away from the material he was reading.

“Indeed it is. It’s possibly one of my favourite Shakespeare works, despite seeming childish to some..” William noticed she spoke with a slight accent and her features them self were not common ones in a British noble lady. She was a foreigner.

“Well it wasn’t ever a favourite of mine, why would you like it so much?” William asked curiously, aching to hear her opinion

“There’s a deeper meaning. There usually is with William Shakespeare’s plays,” (name) replied “Like this quote alludes to religion..

‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’”

A/N: really hating how messy my blog is atm so I’m gonna sort that out but anyways- second chapter and first William appearance wow. Also stan y/n our feminist icon. I listened to Taylor’s ‘the man’ whilst writing this lol. I really like ur feedback so please just send stuff in. It doesn’t even have to be about the writing u can just tell me about how your best friends aunts dog ate a stick and threw it up or whatever. I just really like interacting with u all okay byeee 😭

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuumori x reader

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vodika-vibes · 7 months

Text

Once Upon A December

Summary: 20 years ago a coup in a neighboring nation led to the entire royal family getting executed. Captain Keeli of the ARC Knights of Mandalore has been tasked with investigating the rumors of the survival of the youngest Princess.

Pairing: Captain Keeli x Reader

Word Count: 3164

Warnings: Mentions of child death, but nothing detailed

A/N: This is an Anastasia twist. The title explicitly stated from the movie.

Tagging: @trixie2023

Divider by Saradika

Once there was a small kingdom that bordered Mandalore. It was a small, landlocked, kingdom that was very wealthy due to the abundance of natural minerals and ore that were found there.

And, for a time, the wealth was shared. Miners were treated with all of the respect that they were due, treated with the same reverence as the King himself.

But slowly, over time, things changed.

Safety measures were cut, paychecks were cut, more mines were opened, and the miners were less trained…and all of that money flowed up to the ruling class.

The Kingdom still looked wealthy, but the people suffered. There was not enough food or houses for everyone to thrive. Schools were shut down, and businesses were handed over to the government, and then one of the mines collapsed, killing over 2 dozen people.

It really was only a matter of time before there was a coup.

The people, led by disenfranchised soldiers, broke into the palace. They killed indiscriminately. Men, women, children…it didn’t matter, all members of nobility fell to the blade.

And the following morning, the sun rose over blood-soaked halls, and a people who dreamed of freedom. It became known as the Night of the Bloody Banquet.

Of course, that’s not exactly what happened. And slowly the people who supported the coup, realized that things aren't getting better. In fact, things started getting worse. And, eventually, Mandalore was forced to intercede, absorbing the kingdom into its borders.

And though the kingdom no longer exists, one rumor from the old kingdom persists. The rumor is a simple one, that the youngest princess of the Old Regime survived the massacre somehow, and is just waiting for the day she can return to retake her throne.

Of course, the rumors had been investigated time and time again, and the results were always the same. The Crowned Princess died with her family on the Night of the Bloody Banquet.

That had been almost twenty years ago, and still the rumors persist, in spite of everything the Royal Family of Mandalore has done to put the rumors to rest.

***********

“So, have you heard?”

You glance away from your textbook, your pen halfway to your mouth, as your best friend leans over the table and into your personal space, “Have I heard what?” You ask.

“King Jango is assigning a group of his sons to investigate the Lost Princess.”

“The Lost Princess? The one who died twenty years ago with her family?” You ask with an arched brow, “Come on, Pansy. We both know that she died with the rest of her family that night.”

“They never found her body,” Pansy counters.

“They never found a lot of bodies, Pans. It doesn’t mean that they’re all alive.” You reply, “Come on, Pans. That coup orphaned both of us, shouldn’t you be hoping that one of your parents survived instead of a Princess?”

“Ooh.” Pansy sweeps her hand through her hair, ignoring your words, “Maybe I’m the lost princess,” She poses dramatically, “I’m ready for my close up!”

You let out a laugh, and lean across your desk, and hold your pen out like a microphone, “Tell me, princess, how do you plan to end the war with Serrano?”

“Oh, ew…responsibility.” Pansy replies with a scrunched up nose, and you dissolve into laughter, and Pansy grins at you, “Come on. Be real now, what little orphan girl doesn’t dream of being a princess?”

“Uh, this little orphan girl.” You reply easily, “It sounds a lot like work.”

“Says the lady studying for vet school,” Pansy says with a laugh, “But, seriously babe, you never once dreamt about a family member coming to adopt you? I mean, I did.”

You shrug, “I mean, sure. Who doesn’t? But…no one was ever going to come.”

Pansy sighs deeply, “How is it that you open your mouth and Sister Matilda pops out.”

“It’s my super power.”

Your best friend grins, “That’s a dumb super power.” She throws a ball of paper at you, “Now, go back to your studying, and stop chewing on your pen! You’re going to ruin my portfolio!”

“That’s my other super power,” You quip, and then you yelp when Pansy pushes you out of your chair.

Later, much later, after Pansy has left to go on a date with her girlfriend, you’re still at the cafe, with your nose buried in your textbook. You like studying at the cafe, it’s not quite so deafeningly quiet as it is in your apartment.

Surrounded by people, yet totally alone. Story of your life.

You look up when there’s a knock on the table, “Room for one more?” You smile up at the familiar figure of Captain Keeli, who’s favoring you with a small grin.

“What are you doing here, Keeli?”

He drops a kiss to the top of your head and then pulls out the chair next to you, “I am a Captain in the Mandalorian Army, I can go where I want.” Keeli replies.

“I mean, I thought you had a meeting with your dad today,” You counter.

“Oh. That.” He pauses and swipes your mug, which was just refilled, and he folds his hands around it, “I did, it was a very interesting meeting.” He takes a sip of your caf, “Mm…hazelnut?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.” You reply, “So, what did you guys talk about? Are…uh…are you being deployed?”

He flashes a soft smile, “No. No deployment, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“...wasn’t worried.” You mutter.

He laughs and reaches out to tap your nose twice, and then the spot between your eyes once, “Were too. It’s okay, it’s cute.”

You duck your head and shake it once, “You always say that.”

“That’s because you’re always cute. It should be illegal how cute you are.” He rests his elbow on the table and then rests his chin on the palm of his hand and just stares at you.

You flush and slide down in your seat a little, “Keeli, you’re staring.”

“Yup.”

You flush a little deeper, “So,” you say, “So if you’re not being deployed, then what job do you have?”

Keeli doesn’t take his gaze off your face, “I was asked to look into the Lost Princess of Zoist.”

“Oh not you too,” You lean back in your chair, “You have to know that she must have died with her family, right?”

“I know that. And you know that. And literally everyone else knows that, but some people don’t, so I have to investigate it.” Keeli replies with a shrug, “It’s a pretty easy job, all things considered. Easy enough that I’m going on my own.”

You frown thoughtfully, “well…good luck then.”

He grins, “I’m not leaving until tomorrow, cyare. How about we get this cleaned up and you cook me dinner.”

“Why do I have to cook dinner for you?”

He grins, “Because you love me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Fine.” You sniff, “But only because you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Keeli grins and quickly cleans up the table, “And maybe a kiss? For luck.��

“You don’t need luck, Keeli.”

“Okay, then a kiss because I love you and you love me?” He shoves all your books into your bag, and swings it over his shoulder, all the while pinning you with a hopeful look.

“You know, Keeli. One day you’re going to say stuff like that and I’m going to believe you, and then what are you going to do?”

“Uh…take you out on a week-long date, and kiss you until you’re breathless.” Keeli replies promptly.

You shake your head with a laugh, and get to your feet, “Come on, Keeli. I need to buy some food if I’m going to feed you.”

He sighs and his shoulders slump slightly, “How much more obvious do I need to be?” He grumbles under his breath, before he chases after you, “Hey, wait for me!”

“Keep up, Captain!” You call from the door, a bright grin on your face.

He falters, and a curse falls from his lips, unheard, “Stars, I love you so much-” He says quietly, before he shakes his head and chases after you. “I want to choose what we’re having for dinner.”

“Ugh, bossy!”

Keeli just laughs and falls into step next to you, “My going away dinner, my choice, cyare.”

*************

Three weeks later, Keeli decides that he hates this investigation.

Actually, he just hates the Capital City of Ziost in general. It’s nestled right up against a mountain range, and it’s miserable. All of the precipitation must fall on the other side of the mountain range, as Ziost is largely desert.

Which means hot and miserable…or cold and miserable. With no inbetween.

“I can’t believe King Jango is still humoring those madmen,”

Keeli smiles politely at the stern older woman he’s following through the orphanage, “Well, he’s just doing what he has to to keep people happy.” He replies, “And we do appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

“Yes, yes.” She waves her hand, and side steps a child, “What do you need to know?”

“You were the Matron here twenty years ago? The night of the coup?”

“Indeed I was,” The woman replies, “A horrifying night, we saw the fires from here.”

“Did any young girls show up the following morning?” Keeli asks.

The woman hums thoughtfully, “We had a bunch of children delivered over the following days, so many people died…but…hm…” She casts a thoughtful gaze out the window, looking at an old swing set, “However, two days after the coup, a guardsmen brought a young girl, around the right age, here.”

“What was her name?” Keeli asks.

“She didn’t remember. She had no memory of her name or her parents or what happened.” The Matron replies, “Mouthy little thing. I regretted taking her in within days of accepting her-”

“Did you ever name her?” Keeli interrupts.

The matron blinks, and then rolls her eyes, and offers him a name. And Keeli blinks in surprise. He knew, of course, that his cyare was an orphan. That was never a secret, but he hadn’t known that she was an orphan of Ziost.

“Thank you,” Keeli says, distracted, as he turns and leaves the orphanage. He pulls his comm mirror out of his pocket and he automatically finds the link that allows him to call his cyare.

There’s no response for a moment, and then the screen blinks to life, and a grin crosses his face when he sees your sleepy face on the screen, “Mm….Keeli?”

“Did I wake you, cyare?” Keeli asks warmly.

“S’early, Keel-” You yawn, and bury your face in your pillow, “How’s Ziost?”

“Hot and miserable. I hate it.” Keeli says with a grin, “I’m about to check out the palace and then I’ll be coming home.”

“Did you find anything?” You ask as you slowly wake up.

“Mm…I met Sister Matilda at the Orphanage you grew up in.” Keeli says, “Charming woman. She called you mouthy.” He pauses, “Didn’t know you were from Ziost, cyare.”

You sit up slightly, “Didn’t seem important.” You yawn again, and Keeli smiles softly.

“I’ll let you get some rest, cyare.”

“Mm, I’m awake now.” You sit up fully and stretch your arms over your head, and then you grab your mirror and smile at him, “Happy hunting, Keeli. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, have a good day.” You beam at him and the connection cuts, and Keeli sighs as he stares at your name, “I love you.” He pockets the mirror, and turns to his guide, “Alright. All I need to do is see the palace.”

The guide beams, “Perfect! I love exploring the palace. Most everything of value has been removed, but the paintings of the royal family remain.”

“Why’s that?” Keeli asks as he climbs into the carriage next to the older man.

“Felt wrong after the massacre. Removing the paintings was like…pretending they never existed.” The older man shook his head, “I know people like to think that the Princess survived,” He adds, after a moment of silence, “but I hope she didn’t.”

“Oh? You’re the first person I met with that thought.”

“Yeah…she was a good kid. Kind, peaceful. She loved animals and plants and that’s about it.” The old man says with a laugh.

“You knew her?”

“Oh, aye.” The old man smiles wistfully, “My wife was her nanny. She used to bring her out of the palace and we’d pretend, for an afternoon, that she was our daughter.”

“Can I ask…?”

“My wife? She died in the massacre. Her and the other nannies tried to shield the children when the soldiers came.” The old man shakes his head, “The kids didn’t deserve that.”

“None of them did,” Keeli replies.

“True enough,” The old man nodded, “But that little girl…she was so sensitive. The idea that she lived that last twenty years knowing that she was the only survivor of the massacre…it would kill her as surely as a blade.”

“I see…” Keeli murmurs thoughtfully.

Several minutes later, the old man comes to a stop, “Here we are.” He nods at the worn gate, “I’ll let you explore on your own.” He pauses, “But the most recent painting of the royal family is at the top of the grand staircase.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, lad.” The old man pauses once more, and then he shakes his head, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

Keeli watches him, curiously, for a moment and then he nods, “Alright. Thanks.” He hops off the carriage and walks up the overgrown driveway.

The palace doors swing open effortlessly, and in spite of the passage of time, everything seems to be in good working order. Mostly in the sense that he doesn’t have to worry about falling through the floor.

He activates his light orb and directs it to float over his shoulder, and he heads for the staircase. Keeli hurries up the stairs, and his gaze is immediately drawn to the massive painting covering a whole wall.

The King and his Queen, and their seven children.

Keeli searches the faces in the picture for a moment, before his gaze lowers to the youngest daughter. And his breath catches in his throat. Slowly, automatically, he pulls a photo out of his pocket, unfolds it, and holds it up to compare to the painting.

He didn’t need the picture to confirm what he knew as soon as he saw the painting though. Keeli would recognize his cyare even as a formless infant.

His cyare. His clever, beautiful cyare is the lost princess of Ziost.

Fuck.

Keeli’s eyes squeeze shut. He should tell his father what he discovered. His cyare would be moved to the palace of Mandalore. She would get the training she should have gotten as a child. She would be given a place in court-

Her life would stop being her own. She’d have to drop out of vet school.

She’d stop smiling. She’d hate him.

And it’s that last thought that stops Keeli in his tracks. He had the power, right here and now, to completely ruin her life. And she’d hate him for it.

He stares at the painting, and something in his gaze hardens. He pulls a lighter out of one of his pouches and he steps towards the painting…and he lights it on fire.

He watches the painting burn for ten minutes, and then he turns and walks away.

The Lost Princess of Ziost died when she was 6 years old. Let her stay that way.

***************

You’re bored. You’re also supposed to be studying, but for some reason, you’re not able to focus. Instead you tap your pen against your books and stare out the window.

You know why you’re distracted. You’ve not heard from Keeli since that one call when he was in Ziost, and you’re worried.

Oh, you’re sure he can take care of himself. He’s very competent, but you still worry about him. Ziost has a long and bloody history after all-

You jump when your doorbell rings.

Though you aren’t expecting any company, so you’re careful about opening the door, though a bright grin crosses your face when you see who’s on the other side.

“Keeli!” You open the door more and allow him into your home, “Welcome back! I was worried-”

Your words are cut off, as he drops his bag at your feet, and then pulls you into a deep kiss. His arm slides firmly around your waist, and his free hand tangles in your hair, holding you tightly against him. Your hands press against his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt.

“Keel-” You aren’t even able to finish saying his name when he breaks the kiss for breath, before his lips are back against yours. This time he walks you backwards into your home, and you’re vaguely aware of him kicking the door shut behind him.

Your back bumps against the wall, and his grip tightens around you, and you whine, low in the back of your throat. Your hands move from his chest to cup his face.

Your touch, and the noises escaping from you, seem to snap him out of whatever daze he’s in, because he breaks the kiss, and presses his forehead heavily against yours, “Keeli?”

His gaze locks with yours, “Cyare.”

“What-?”

“I love you.” He murmurs, his lips just barely brush against your own, “But you never seemed to believe me, so I decided to show you instead.”

“I thought you were just teasing me,” You breathe out as you try to lean into his lips, but his firm grip around you keeps you from moving.

“Not about this.” Keeli says, like it’s a promise. His gaze is serious, “Stars, you have no idea how much I love you.”

“I think I’m beginning to,” You whisper.

He grins and kisses you again and again, “I love you,” Keeli murmurs.

You smile shyly at him, “I love you too.” You try to lean into him again, and release a huff of air when you realize that you still can’t move.

His grin is mischievous, “I’m not done just yet.”

“W-what about,” His lips steal your words again, “your-” and again, “Investigation?” You manage to gasp out.

Keeli pauses, something serious flickering through his eyes, “You were right. The Lost Princess is dead, she died with her family.” He says quietly, he tilts your head back, “My cyare. My beautiful princess,” His lips quirk into a small smile, “I love you.”

You smile up at him, lovingly, and he chuckles and slowly scoops you into his arms, slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted. But you have no desire to stop him.

He kisses you again, and carries you through your home until he gets to your bedroom. You still have no desire to stop him.

As it happens, Keeli doesn’t leave until the following morning. And soon after, he’s essentially living with you.

#star wars #tcw #captain keeli x reader #keeli x reader #Magic and Knights AU #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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suzannahnatters · 1 month

Text

I have finished watching MR SUNSHINE, and there was so much that I loved about this prestige kdrama. The writing of the heroine was SO good in how it discussed and defied some of the worse kdrama-heroine tropes. There was amazingly trenchant and deeply nuanced social criticism, gorgeous cinematography, lots of fascinating history, the warmest and most positive depiction of Christianity I've ever seen in a kdrama, men who drink respect women juice, the beautiful and angsty Gu Dong-Mae, FABULOUS period clothing, and rivals in love learning to put aside their differences in favour of shooting imperialists.

But the show has a major flaw - a flaw that was particularly interesting to me, because it's the precise sort of flaw that I would be most prone to. The screenwriter, who does such brilliant work in so many other ways, is clearly most fascinated by the themes and symbolism she keeps bubbling away in the story's subtext. The problem is that these themes and symbolism - which delightfully clever - are not actually supported by the storytelling, and particularly by the characterisation.

And it's a really fun, rich, resonant bit of symbolism: Ae-Sin is not just a character in the story, she's the living embodiment of Joseon Korea. She's beautiful, desirable, noble, privileged, gradually awakening to a life of hardship and struggle and resistance. Each of the three male leads in the story has a different complicated relationship with her. Eugene has run away from Korea, but returning as an adult cannot help falling in love with the land and the people in defiance of the nobility who mistreated him as a boy. Gu Dong-mae was horribly oppressed by his homeland but cannot help loving it anyway; the Korea which oppressed both men also saved their lives through small acts of kindness. And finally, Hee-Sung, Korea's richest son, is her approved betrothed, but past injustices committed by his family against the people Ae-Sin cares about stand between them. The three men fall in love, not with Ae-Sin, but with their homeland. They express their love for the woman by sacrificing themselves for the homeland; in dedicating themselves to her, they cannot help dedicating themselves to the fight for freedom.

This is why the story had to have a sad ending. None of these men can espouse the whole country; they can only die for her, while Ae-Sin - Korea itself - lives on, alone and victorious, even in exile.

This symbolism is itself delightfully rich, deftly painted, and rewarding to think back upon once you see it. There's only one problem: it doesn't. make. sense.

From the very start of the show, I felt a little impatient with the writing because the relationships between the heroine and her three suitors are so poorly developed. The feelings come out of nowhere. Take Gu Dong-Mae, for instance: he last met this woman when she saved his life as children. Now, it just takes a brush of her dress across his fingers to get him pining madly for her. Hee-Sung, after avoiding her for the best part of a decade, gets one glimpse of Ae-Sin at the washing-line and just like that conceives an undying passion for her. The central relationship, between Ae-Sin and Eugene, doesn't fare much better. The problem is that the story demands each of the male leads to sacrifice himself for Ae-Sin by the end of the show, and I simply couldn't understand why they should. They all have multiple other women pining for them, and Ae-Sin doesn't give two of them the slightest encouragement to hope. I wanted them so badly to find happiness with one of the other women, and they never did.

What MR SUNSHINE needed was not primarily rich and complex symbolism - it was believable characterisation and relationship development. As it was, the lack of substance to the relationships cheapened the grand historical tragedy which was being told. When at the climactic moment the last of the three leads sacrifices himself for the heroine, it felt cheesy and unintentionally funny, rather than tragic.

I loved so much about this story, but the heart of it never clicked for me, and it's a crying shame that with all that budget and talent, it wasn't better written. And that, for me, will be the central tragedy of MR SUNSHINE.

#mr sunshine #gu dong mae #eugene choi #kim hee sung #kdrama #asian drama

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annab99awritersdreamsideblog · 2 months

Text

Characters from my untitled original

(to be updated, revised and more)

[Historical fiction novel set sometime in the Middle-ages/Renaissance. In order to have more creative freedom, I've decided to create fictional kingdoms but, since I have thought of no names yet, I'll use the names of the places they're inspired by when describing the characters. For now, at least. It will be updated when I've come up with decent names]

Families => Main characters

Rúadhán & Cecilia. They live on Celtic-like island (think of a remote Greek Island but settled by Celts) with their four children Órla, Mairéad, Elena and Giuliano. Cecilia was an "Italian" noblewoman of the House of Contarini—that's probably a placeholder name, but I really like it and the Contarini family were an actual Venetian noble family—who gave up everything she had (or was disowned, I still have to decide on that) to marry Rúadhán (he is a merchant and traveled a lot, that's how they met).

Fancasts:

Rúadhán=> Engin Öztürk

Cecilia=> Selma Ergeç

Órla=> Şeyma Burcu Gül

Mairéad=> Isolda Dychauk

Elena=> Synnøve Karlsen

Giuliano=> Ruairi O'Connor

Royal Family (the country is supposed to be akin to Tudor England)

I don't have a name for the king and queen (might as well end up being emperor/empress) yet, I only know he married three times and two of his wives executed.

Children from his first marriage (from left to right): Princess Elizabeth, Princess Alexandra, Princess Mary

Fancasts:

King=> Anthony Head

Queen=> Hülya Avşar

Princess Elizabeth=> Gaia Weiss

Princess Alexandra=> Gözde Türker

Princess Mary=> Holliday Grainger

King's second wife and son, Prince Arthur.

Queen #2=> Vildan Atasever/Nurgül Yeşilçay/Aslıhan Gürbüz?

Prince Arthur=> Max Irons

Prince (King) Henry=> Rıdvan Aybars Duzey

Third marriage to Queen Jane and sons Henry and Edward.

Queen Jane=> Annabelle Wallis

Prince Edward => Oliver Zetterström

Lady Catherine, the King's illegitimate daughter, her mother is unknown.

Fancast=> Astrid Berges-Frisbey

House of Venier (family crest=> eagle)

I don't know about titles. Italian nobility (they're Italian) used 'Messer' and 'Madonna' so I guess I might keep them. They're nobles, so why not.

Messer Piero and Madonna Maddalena and their children Leonardo/Lorenzo(?), Laura and Lucrezia. Lorenzo (placeholder name for now, but I think it will stick) serves as Ambassador and ends up marrying Elena/Helena

Fancasts:

Piero=> Dustin Hoffman

Maddalena=> Tülin Özen

Leonardo/Lorenzo=> Daniel Sharman

Laura=> Gonca Sariyildiz

Lucrezia=> Merve Boluğur

Matilda Lutz as Lisa (I still have to pick a name)=> Leonardo/Lorenzo's sister.

(HE HAS THREE YOUNGER SISTERS AND LISA IS THE ONE HE'S CLOSEST WITH- SHE MIGHT BE HIS TWIN OR THEY MIGHT TEN/ELEVEN MONTHS APART)

Both countries (both the "Italian" and the "English" one might have "Ottoman" influences as a result of an alliance)

UPDATE: The "English" one definitely has it, not so sure about the "Italian" one

Main couples

Also, these two up above are basically a more historical version of Elenwë from my LOTR/Silmarillion fic "The Lady of Ithilien". Their chapters will be a RETELLING of said fic in a different context.

These are the main characters, this post will be updated periodically as I come up with new ones!

#original character #original characters #ocs #my ocs #original work #untitled #wip

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heraldofcrow · 6 months

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CROW!!!

I demand headcanons for Milli Milli aka Millicent if you have any!

And if not, go have a lovely weekend you muppet!!! 🔥

YAYA BIM LET’S GO!! I’D LOVE TO TALK ABOUT OUR GIRL!

(SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS!! My Elden Ring inspo hasn’t been at peak performance, I’ll be honest, but I hope this brightens your day, anyway!)

🍂 Millicent was an autumn baby, born of the Aeonia swamp some time after Malenia was delivered back to the Haligtree by Finlay. Caelid didn’t ever offer much in the way of seasons, but the rest of the Lands Between knew it was later in the year when Millie showed up.

🍂 She was, out of all her sisters, the most like Malenia and represented her truest heart, her nobility, and her desire to be an independent individual free of the bonds of her illness and Rot, the outer god.

🍂 Millie grew up with her beloved sisters, but one by one they each disappeared, setting out on a grand “journey” encouraged by their “father.” Millicent’s memories of her sisters eventually grew hazy because of the rot, but she did miss them dearly.

🍂 Millicent only ever knew Gowry as an adoptive father, and while he had relied on him as a child, she began to mistrust him as she grew older. Something about him was wrong and possessive. She gradually drifted away, straining her relationship with him and trying to live on her own.

🍂 Millicent liked to wander around the Lands Between and that’s actually how she met Malenia’s old mentor, the Blind Swordsman. He was very quiet and stern, speaking little of his old student, but he recognized Malenia in Millicent, and trained her in kindness.

🍂 Millie learn how to Waterfowl and use a sword, but she lacked the exact type of unalloyed gold tools to keep the rot at bay. For a long time she simply stagnated it through combat, rushing to protect villages and travelers should they ever be accosted by bandits or mercenaries.

🍂 A lot of wandering peoples throughout the Lands Between became aware of Millicent through this and how she brought back the memory of Malenia in a small way, especially the Albinaurics. They loved her.

🍂 This is actually how Millie met Latenna. They became friends 🖤

🍂 After a while, the rot slowly took its toll on Millicent and she became too sickly to travel. She reluctantly returned to Gowry in Caelid, asking for his advice. But he was cryptic and deceptive, telling her only to search for the needle. We all know how that ended up lol.

🍂 Millicent grew so sick by the time the Tarnished showed up that she lost much of her memory. Her past life and travels were blurry and Gowry himself was nothing to her anymore.

🍂 She set out on her journey out of some strange pull and instinct, having forgotten that her sisters had made the exact same choice long before. She was not aware of her direct relation to Malenia, but she felt a strong connection there.

🍂 Millicent regained many of her memories after fighting her sisters and withered in grief, realizing what had happened to them and Malenia alike. It was a moment of self-realization, and she took the needle out at once. She wanted to die whole and human, to die as her own.

🍂 Through this action, she redeemed her mother. She preserved Malenia’s true heart and will, dying in peace.

—

Some more easy-going, light-hearted headcanons include:

Millie LOVED Spirit Jellyfish. Whenever she saw them, she would run over to just sit and watch them float around with an enraptured expression.

She was also just fascinated by the sea and all its life-forms in general. The cool blue rush of the ocean was like a type of freedom to her, pulling her far away from the rotten, arid plains of Caelid.

Besides Altus Plateau, Millie’s favorite place to visit was Ordina. She was fixated on the beautiful phantom buildings and the way they glowed in the snowfall. She even went sledding around there a few times.

Latenna jokingly told Millie that was she part cat, mainly because her big yellow eyes tended to glow in the dark!

Millie was a sucker for broiled prawn. Nuff said.

Millicent liked to eat Erdleaf flowers too. She saw nothing wrong with it. She just ate them.

Out of all her sisters, Mary was Millicent’s favorite when they were young. There was a strange sorrow and solemnity to Mary that came from Malenia’s own grief, but it made for a very pensive and peaceful older figure in Millicent’s life that liked to tell her stories and old legends.

Yes, autumn was Millie’s favorite season and she often daydreamed of seeing the Haligtree in its full amber and golden bloom.

Finlay was Millicent’s person hero, and she went around asking different people to recount various versions of the tale regarding Finlay’s heroic act.

Millicent liked to sew and bead necklaces. It was one of her pass-time hobbies.

Millicent actually went to see the Radahn Festival one time and was a bit put off by the glorification of war that surrounded it, but she felt a lot of pity and sympathy for Radahn himself. She secretly hoped that he would one day regain his mind and sense of self.

Millicent met Melina once by chance and they bonded over their oddly similar life stories.

Finally, Millie had a pet turtle…errr dog, at one point and named him Montie. She never actually kept him, but he wandered around oddly close to Caelid and whenever she saw him, she would just yell, “MONTIE” with affection and then even the birds would stare at her in confusion lol.

Ok, some of these are just for fun, but it’s YOU, Bim! I gotta add some cheer to it! Heh, I hope you like em, mate! <3

#this was fun #once i got the brainrot back xD #elden ring #millicent #millicent elden ring #elden ring headcanons #asks #mutuals

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Was marriage as bad as it sounds during Jane Austen's time? From what I've heard, a woman with the means to stay single would be stupid to want marriage. They were considered property and lost any semblance of independence. Unless you really trust the guy and loved them, it seems like a horrible gamble.

A show made a joke about her being a lesbian because she never got married, which I didn't know. It just confuses me because she wrote so many romance books. I'm wondering if she wrote that way because marriage was purely a practical decision and she was a lesbian or asexual, or if marriage was just a horrible decision altogether.

That joke really rubs me the wrong way, especially in an era where man where scarce because they were fighting Napoleon! Not that there is anything wrong with being queer, but just because a woman with very little fortune didn't manage to marry doesn't mean she didn't want to.

It seems to be pretty well documented that Jane Austen loved/liked at least two men, Tom LeFroy and an unnamed clergyman, but neither proposed. The only man who did propose, Jane Austen decided against.

As for marriage in general, I am sure most marriages were nothing special but fine. I mean, a lot of people especially in the gentry class are marrying for wealth and rank and hoping they also like the person. Freakenomics talked about an analysis that showed most couples in the aristocracy just stopped having kids after the heir and the spare, except during one period where many members of the nobility married "down". Those couples kept having kids, probably because they actually loved each other. Which says a lot about the average upper class marriage.

People would also think about marriage differently than we would today in Western countries. I don't think anyone goes into marriage like Charlotte Lucas, because we don't have to. Women can get their own jobs and, while stigma has not been erased, staying single is no longer a huge taboo. But Charlotte and probably many other women went in knowing that neither side was in love, they were signing up for a roommate with procreation benefits. So if you husband did stray you might not even mind (as long as he didn't bring home any diseases and was discreet).

Most marriages we see in Jane Austen are fine, but not a huge romance. Take Sir John and Lady Middleton, they get along fine but have nothing in common. Clearly they have sex (4 children), but Sir John is getting companionship from other people, like Mrs. Jennings who he actually gets along with great. So they are both making it work and not expecting that their marriage partner will be everything to them. We also see marriages in Jane Austen where the woman is clearly in control (Fanny Dashwood).

Now the problem with Regency society and societies today that make divorce very difficult is not that suddenly all men are abusive, but that women (and men) have an extremely difficult time getting out of bad marriages. There is still divorce stigma of course, and even within Canada it matters how religious your family is, but the average person would not tell an abused partner to just stay to preserve their family dignity (I hope).

Throughout all of human history, let's say roughly 20% of marriages are great, 60% are fine/mediocre (nothing to write home about but your sex roommate is pretty chill), and 20% were bad. I don't think you can ever change the % that are bad, but what you can change is how easily people can escape from that bad situation. No fault divorce, abuse shelters, understanding family/friends, women being able to work, and birth control all help people to get out of abusive situations.

Also, even though a married woman lost some legal rights, it wasn't like she had a lot to begin with. A woman basically goes from the control of her father to the control of a husband. Married women didn't require chaperones so they probably on average had more freedom of movement than single women. In both Wives & Daughters (Elizabeth Gaskell) and Lady Susan (Jane Austen), married women travel to London solo during the season. An unmarried woman could not do that!

In Austen's novels, it's pretty clear the best possible position for a woman was rich widow. There you have freedom of movement, your own money, and social acceptability. And as for not marrying, even rich women like Caroline Bingley and Mary Crawford are trying to marry, not attempting to stay single. The social cost of spinsterhood was just too high.

Oh, and for a fascinating dive into lower class marriages, check out The Five, either the podcast or the book. Really great read.

#question response #people have always been people #history #marriage #jane austen #wives and daughters #lady susan #elizabeth gaskell #learning about history has made me an absolute fan girl of no fault divorce #but it's not like the past was some horror story #bad marriages still happen today #and getting people out is hard

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anneapocalypse · 1 year

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I'm not actually convinced that Elthina's ultimate fate is a mistake or a miscalculation on her part. Not to say that she knew exactly what Anders was going to do and when, or even that she was eager to die--I think that she'd have preferred not to, all other things being equal.

But she was warned, in no uncertain terms, in a message from the Divine herself, that staying in Kirkwall would be dangerous for her, and she chose rather adamantly to stay. Yeah, she postures about it and says that whole "Who would dare attack me?" thing, and there was a time when I took her at face value there, and really did believe she stayed because of naivete or even arrogance. But I feel like I understand her core motivations better now, and I don't believe that anymore.

Because what was the result of Elthina's death? In the eyes of the faithful, she became a martyr. Sebastian is so outraged at the death of his surrogate mother figure that if Hawke does not help him exact immediate justice (or vengeance), he will turn on his closest friend, go retake Starkhaven just to march her armies against Kirkwall regardless of what he had previously been convinced to do, all because Hawke refused to execute Anders. The death of Elthina affects Sebastian more than Hawke's friendship or rivalry does. He is doubtless not the only person who saw her that way.

I should also say that I completely agree with this post that Elthina was the true power in Kirkwall and taking her out of the picture was vital to freeing the mages--destroying the Chantry would have been a purely symbolic move had the attack not also taken out its actual leader.

But in the eyes of the even nominally faithful--which is most of Kirkwall's citizens and notably, most of its nobility--Elthina had very successfully painted herself as the voice of moderation and diplomacy and reason (even though she was, as mllemaenad says in the post linked above, 100% supportive of Meredith's policies generally). Sebastian sees her as a kindly mother figure, an image she very deliberately cultivated (see her quote about how the Chantry is "not a domineering father but a gentle mother").

There are a lot of people who will see her murder as absolutely unforgivable regardless of how sympathetic they might have been to mages otherwise. (And it's important to remember that even the nobles conspiring against Meredith in Act III are not doing so because they are in favor of mage freedom. They are not anti-templar, they are anti-Meredith because they see her as having overstepped her bounds. They still support the Chantry and they still want mages locked in the Circle. They just want a proper Viscount--a noble--to handle civil affairs, as is the proper order of things in their minds.)

So Elthina's death serves its purpose. It serves to sway all but the most ardent supporters of mage freedom toward the Chantry and centers their anger around the death of a beloved religious figure. (We see something very similar, though far less intentional, with the death of Divine Justinia. How many people do we hear making the disaster at the Conclave all about Justinia, barely mentioning the thousands of other people who died horrifically in that magical explosion?)

If Elthina's ultimate goal was to preserve the power and influence of the Chantry at all costs, she achieved that far more effectively by staying in Kirkwall and dying for it than she would have by allowing herself to be hustled away to Val Royeaux.

She died, but she still maintained her sway over public opinion. She still got what she wanted.

#elthina #dragon age meta #chantry explosion #blunders of thedas #dragon age 2 #grand cleric elthina

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floralcrematorium · 9 months

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you got me thinking about Henry marrying Nyo England and getting mad when she kept coming back after he beheaded her because she can't bear children.

*reawakens from my Tudor queens hyperfixation*

I AM HERE

Get ready for the longest nonsensical ramble nobody asked for. Does this make sense? I don’t know, let’s find out together.

My personal headcanon is that Nyo!England, or Alice, wasn’t married off to other royalty but instead powerful nobles. In the 1600s after the fall of the Tudor dynasty specifically.

She hated it for obvious reasons.

On top of that, I have a feeling that she’s somewhere on the ace spectrum and is demiromantic. If she were ever to fall in love it would be the slowest slow burn of all. I also don’t see her having a gender preference, but I digress. She’s always been a bit of a prude regarding nudity and “risqué topics.”

In regard to the Tudor period, I think this is abouts when a lot of personal changes happen for Alice because of the English Reformation, her life at court, and subsequent arranged marriage(s).

As far as her relationship with the king, I don’t think Henry VIII would’ve pursued Alice as a romantic partner, but the thought of Alice continuously popping back up after being “executed” is an interesting thought.

I see her being a well respected lady at court, in rank nearly equivalent to Anne of Cleves’ following her divorce (Anne of Cleves was the highest ranking English woman after the Queen Consort and Henry’s daughters, who had by this time been reinherited. If I’m wrong, then at least Mary was reinherited thanks to Jane Seymour). Imagine whatever Arthur’s rank would be at court, but the feminine equivalent for the early 1500s. Alice relished being at court, it gave her a feeling of power she hadn’t felt growing up. She had more freedom in her adolescence, but this was the first time she had political sway (she was part of the Queen’s household).

She would have had a rather positive relationship with Catherine of Aragon. I think they’re actually both very similar; Well educated for women of the time, smart, enduring, and headstrong. Alice also would have been Catholic, seeing as how England largely practiced Catholicism until Henry VIII formed the Church of England and mandated the practice of Protestantism.

I think the English Reformation shatters Alice on a variety of levels; Her relationship with religion becomes difficult, she is reminded yet again that women are not safe regardless of their social rank (albeit royal and noble women had it far better than the average person — Tudor England had the highest rates of educated women among the nobility in Europe), and finds herself endangered as well.

The Wars of the Roses had been a tumultuous time politically and I haven’t figured out Alice’s role before the 1490s other than the ye ol’ horse girl to court gossiper pipeline.

This is when a lot of things click for Alice. This is when she’s no longer the perfect “English Rose,” an ideal lady of the court. I think this is when she starts to become more cynical, especially as she’s probably near reached physical adulthood (I haven’t figured out how she ages yet smh). She honestly probably would have gotten executed at least once for having a similar attitude to the progression of England’s governing and religion that Catherine of Aragon and Mary did. Clearly seen in Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard, and other high ranking women’s case, nobody was safe from the executioner’s block.

I don’t think she would have been unkind to Henry’s future queens (my personal bias), but there may have been some resentment. I have a soft spot for young Katherine Howard, though I feel like she would’ve been Alice’s least favorite.

Following the death of Henry, Alice would’ve fared alright during the reigns of his children. I have no clue what she was doing during Edward’s reign. She would’ve been fine during Mary’s reign considering her support for her mother. I also think she would’ve been fine during Elizabeth’s reign.

Admittedly my knowledge about English history and royal history fizzles out when the Stuart dynasty comes into play (1603 w/ death of Elizabeth I), but it’s around this time when Alice is used as a political pawn in marriage.

I could see her having formed some sort of deep connection with a human who is a constant presence in her life, or maybe another nation (you can take the person (me) out of Hetalia fandom, but you can’t take the FrUK out of the person). This is ripped away from her when England tests the waters with marrying Alice off for the first time. She’d had brief arranged engagements before, but they’d never gone through.

This one did and he was terrible.

He’s some made up man and all I know is that he’s terrible enough that Alice is willing to consider killing him to get out of the marriage and inherit his land.

Alice convinced her husband to have a nice countryside vacation, she studies some plants because she likes gardening, and one thing leads to another — he’s been poisoned and Alice is being tried for witchcraft in the 1660s/70s.

She gets put through ordeal by water.

She is very, very reluctant to return to court life, seeing as how the last time she was there she was treated like property. I’m unsure if she would retain her ex-husband’s estate after her second attempted execution.

She eventually does return to court because it’s a. her only choice and b. the allures of the potential for personal power and greed (enter the colonial period and imperialism).

Alice leaves the 17th century with newfound fears of arranged marriage (marriage at all tbh) and being fully submerged in water, a desire for some sort of control, and a discomfort living in rural areas despite her upbringing having been in small villages.

If she’s ever to marry again, it wouldn’t be until the late 20th century or beyond.

I also feel like her relationship with Arthur is. Difficult. They coexist but he will always be the main personification of England. They’ve had similar experiences, with both being immortals who age so slow that they don’t seem to age, but they can’t ever fully understand each other. In my head they’re related in some vague way, but have a strained sibling sort of relationship.

Admittedly I have a lot of research to do before I can feel comfortable with using my canon-divergent Nyo!England for anything. Most of my knowledge regarding English history comes from my AP European and World History classes in high school or my personal research into the royal family (Tudor and Victorian-Windsor period specific). My knowledge more so comes in the form of factoids about various English royals and not politics or culture, so I have a lot of blind spots. I’ve done my fair share of research into Tudor court life, but even then I’m not even sure if anything I’ve said above is valid.

Anywho, that’s the end of my ramble. Alice is a WIP because I have a lot of work to do regarding her role as a nation through each century. Hopefully when I’ve done the proper research I can do something with her, but my focus is on the Margaritaville AU right now. I’ll come back to her, though!!

#also alice would’ve given herself the middle name Katherine in honor of catherine of aragon #hetalia #hws #hws england #nyo!england #nyo england #nyotalia #alice kirkland #floralcrematorium ask box #long post #hetalia headcanons

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