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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

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Garden of Secrets [4] - Venus Flytrap

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It’s important to keep one’s promises.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, slow burn.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

You didn’t have a lot of things that you could call your own while growing up. Almost everything you wore had passed down to you from your sister whom you also shared a room with, so anything that only belonged to you was very precious to you.

So you had made yourself a flower garden.

It hadn’t been easy. In fact at first, you had worked in that small corner of the garden -as far away from your house as possible- from morning until the night fell, until your sister would call you back home for dinner. Eventually, you had managed to save up a little to buy a book on different types of flowers, and in the following days you hadn’t stopped reading it until you memorized it line by line, the various drawings of flowers on yellow pages embedded into your mind.

So needless to say, you couldn’t wait until you would see this flower exhibition.

“Can we leave now?”

“My dearest, the exhibition will open at 1 o’clock,” your aunt said with a laugh. “It’s not even the time yet, I assure you we won’t be late.”

“Maybe they’ll open it earlier?” you asked and she tilted her head.

“We will leave soon, I promise,” she said, her focus still on the paper she was writing on. “Just wait until I finish this letter.”

You slumped back down on the armchair and drummed your fingertips on the cushion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the exhibition with me?”

“No thank you dear,” she said. “Me and Teddy will sit by the pastry shop while waiting for you, you know how much he likes those chocolate cakes there.”

You suppressed a smile and as if on cue, Teddy ran into the room in full speed to fling himself at you.

“Whoa, hello there!” you said as you wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug. “We were just talking about you, are you ready?”

He nodded fervently and turned around in your arms to look at your aunt.

“Hello auntie! I finished all the work Mr. Langdon gave me!”

“Good job Teddy!” your aunt said, making you smile wide as you looked down at Teddy.

“Even French?”

“Even French!”

You gasped. “That’s wonderful Teddy!” you said. “Do you want to come see the flowers with me?”

He thought for a moment, an exaggerated solemn look crossing his face.

“I will if you want me to,” he said. “But first the pastry shop?”

“Told you,” your aunt said with a laugh as she sprinkled sand on the paper, then blew on it and carefully placed the paper into the envelope. “Very well, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

By the time you got to the street where the exhibition and the pastry shop was on, you were almost trembling in anticipation. You barely listened to what your aunt was saying before you made your way to where the exhibition was held, your maid following you while your aunt and Teddy went to the pastry shop across the street. You quickly paid for your ticket, then stepped inside, the view making you hold your breath.

Oh you weren’t going to leave this place until you were sure you saw every single flower in detail.

The exhibition had the same layout of a museum, and all the flowers were divided into categories. Since you were one of the earliest guests, there were only a couple of people which would make it so much easier for you to spend as much time as you wanted with every flower, and a giddy giggle climbed up your chest which you quickly hid by clearing your throat and making your way to the nearest flower.

By the time you got to see most of the flowers in room, two hours had already passed and it was slowly getting crowded. Even if you could feel the gaze of some lords -who were probably there to chaperone their sisters- on you, you paid no mind to them, you were way too focused on the lovely sights in front of you to even turn your glances.

That was, until you heard a very familiar voice.

“What a coincidence to find you here Miss Y/N.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, heaved a sigh and opened them again before turning to look up at him. Benedict was smiling at you in a very proud manner, as if he was delighted to in fact find you there. Your heart skipped a beat but you pulled your brows into a frown, shooting him a glare which didn’t seem to discourage him at all.

“Is it?”

“Hm?”

“Is it a coincidence?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Seems like it.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that you told me about this exhibition and knew very well I’d be here?”

“I suddenly found myself very much interested in flowers,” he said, his mischievous smile still playing on his lips. “And felt the need to see some.”

“Name one flower here.”

He looked around and pointed at the door with his thumb. “That’s a rose.”

“That’s also not a part of the exhibition, they just put it there for decoration.”

“Still counts.”

You heaved another dramatic sigh and walked past him to look at the next flower, hoping that he would get the message but of course he did not as he followed you.

“This one looks pretty.”

“It’s also very deadly,” you murmured, leaning in to inspect the petals better and Benedict tilted his head.

“Really?”

You nodded, deep in thought.

“Yeah, all parts of it,” you said. “But especially the rhizomes; the thickened roots. It’s called Flame Lily, it’s pretty and not that difficult to grow, it can even grow in sand dunes, but it’s very dangerous and people have to be very careful with it in their garden because it’s fatal to anyone who digests it. It’s also—” you stopped immediately when you caught yourself rambling and turned your head to see Benedict watching you with a soft smile and you narrowed your eyes, straightening your back and crossing your arms.

“You can read, can’t you?” you snapped and nodded in the direction of the small name plate with the information under it. “It’s all there.”

“I think that was the longest time you’ve talked to me so far.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He almost resembled a hopeful puppy. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not the flower almanac,” you replied in a haste, trying to cover up the awkwardness that was taking over you for giving him an impromptu lesson in flowers and skipped to the next flower, with him following you suit.

“What does this one do?”

“It doesn’t do anything— alright, you know what?” you turned to glare at him. “You’re disrespecting the lady you’re courting right now. I don’t know about your arrangement nor do I care, but keep me out of this—”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I want no part in it,” you said and he shook his head fervently.

“No not that, what lady?”

“The lady you’re courting.”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Who am I courting?”

“Charlotte Harlowe.”

“Charlotte?” he repeated. “We’re not—Jesus Christ, this again? Who did you hear that from?”

“What does it matter?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face, a look of exhaustion crossing his eyes as if this was the hundredth time he was explaining that to someone.

“Charlie is a close friend of mine.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot him a mocking glance. “Sure. Very close I’m guessing.”

“No she really is a friend. We could never see each other that way, there’s no courtship between us, nor could there ever be.”

“And you were what, talking about art when you were in that room alone back in your house?”

“That’s exactly what we were doing.”

“Well I…I don’t care,” you said, ignoring the small spark of hope shooting through your system and throwing your shoulders back. “Just keep me out of it—”

“I’m not courting anyone right now,” he cut you off as if it was imperative that you knew it and you raised your brows.

“One could assume your ways of trying to find love is not working,” you taunted. “I’m sure you are finding something though, so not a complete loss I suppose.”

That seemed to have rendered him speechless for a moment and you used that to your advantage, walking closer to the last flower in the exhibit; Venus Flytrap.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression when um, when we bumped into each other at Madame Delacroix’s shop and what you read about me on Whistledown, but I can assure you—” he was cut off when you held your breath. “What?”

“Stop talking and don’t move,” you said, your eyes fixed on the small fly buzzing over the Venus Flytrap before it landed on the open flower.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you said, still holding your breath like if you breathed too loud it would somehow scare the fly away. “If that fly stays there long enough, it will close.”

Benedict tilted his head and you nibbled on your lip, counting down in your head until the trap closed, making you exhale in disbelief. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benedict’s focus shifting to you but you were almost too dazed to even snap at him, and you leaned in closer to see the closed flower better, excitement rushing through you.

“Is it your favorite flower?” Benedict asked and you pulled back slightly, then turned to look at him.

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked. “No. Why?”

“I’ve heard some lords—never mind,” he said, making your frown deepen.

“What?”

“I’ve heard some lords call you that.”

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked and rolled your eyes. “How original of them.”

“So what is your favorite flower then?” he insisted. “Roses?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “Limitless options to choose from in the nature and I chose roses as my favorite.”

Benedict smiled slightly. “Tulips.”

“Not even close.”

“Orchids.”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“Dahlias.”

You arched a brow. “You know what a dahlia is?”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he said, a proud grin lighting up his face again. “Is it dahlias?”

You shook your head. “My favorite isn’t that commonly found,” you said. “It’s not here, or in any florist in London.”

“What is it then?”

“Middlemist Red.”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.”

“Makes two of us.”

He looked quite confused now. “Your favorite flower is a flower you haven’t seen before?”

“I’ve seen sketches of it,” you said. “It’s the most beautiful flower in the world. I don’t have to see it in person to know it’s my favorite, it simply is.”

“You like the idea of a flower?”

“You like the idea of love,” you said without missing a beat, “At least mine exists somewhere.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes again. “So does mine.”

“So you hope.”

“So I know.”

You let out a hum, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn’t have the time to rest if I started correcting every man’s illusions with the truth,” you pointed out and looked around the room, then nodded at your maid. “That being said, I should take my leave now.”

“I was just about to walk outside as well,” Benedict said quickly and you shook your head, then stepped out of the building with him, your maid right behind you. “No really, do you believe in anything?”

“Other than the absolute truth?”

“One could claim there is no such a thing as absolute truth.”

“Oh I can assure you that there is,” you said. “Some of us just don’t have the luxury of entertaining such pointless ideas, unlike what your artistic circle of friends made you believe.”

He opened his mouth to argue with that thought for sure, but before he had a chance to say anything, a familiar, cheerful voice reached you.

“Y/N!”

You instantly turned your head to see Teddy running to you in full speed and he flung himself to you, making you suppress a smile before you knelt down to look at him better. He had traces of chocolate all over his cheeks and you wiped at them, tilting your head.

“Did you fall into the chocolate cauldron?”

“I ate two slices of chocolate cake!” he held up two fingers and you gasped.

“Did you?” you asked. “Two slices?”

“Yes!” he said, nodding hard enough to give himself a head spin. “And we got those—those small chocolates as well, those round ones!”

You couldn’t help the smile warming your face. “Which round ones?”

“You know! The ones I brought you the last time! You invented that drink which—which we put chocolates in milk, it was your idea!”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and wiped at his cheek again as you saw your aunt making her way to you. Her eyes averted from you to Benedict and your heart skipped a beat, you had almost forgotten he was right there. As soon as you straightened your back again, you saw him watching you with a smile which made you pull yourself together and you pursed your lips again, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was trying to snap out of some sort of a daze and turned to your brother. “Hello there. I’m Benedict, what’s your name?”

Teddy came closer to you, half hiding behind your skirt. He had his moments of shyness around strangers but he was slowly starting to overcome that lately and he stole a look at you before turning to Benedict.

“I’m Teddy.”

“Nice to meet you Teddy,” Benedict said, extending his hand and Teddy eyed him for a moment before shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, what a coincidence!” your aunt said and Benedict bowed, the perfect picture of dignity and charm.

“Lady Thorne,” he said. “What an honor to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes but thankfully your aunt didn’t see that.

“Are you here to see the exhibition as well?” your aunt asked and Benedict nodded.

“Yes I was,” he said. “Though I’m quite ignorant on flowers, Miss Y/N has been the most helpful tutor to me today.”

You made a face at him, making him suppress a smirk as your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw such a delightful encounter then!”

“Debatable,” you muttered under your breath and Teddy looked up at you.

“Hm?”

“Nothing Teddy.”

“And I was so taken by all this newfound knowledge that I forgot to ask,” Benedict said. “Miss Y/N, are you by any chance coming to the Brewer Ball tonight?”

“Why?” you asked tersely and your aunt cleared her throat.

“Yes we are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Any chance you could spare me a dance then?” he asked, making your aunt gasp and you gritted your teeth, glaring at him.

Oh he was doing this on purpose.

He knew your aunt would love it, and that you couldn’t say no right in front of her. Even though the idea was tempting, you clicked your tongue and heaved a sigh.

“…Sure,” you said after a couple of seconds and he smiled at you sweetly.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I should take my leave I think. Lady Thorne.”

“Mr. Bridgerton.”

“See you later Teddy.”

Teddy only waved at him and Benedict took a step, but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Mr. Bridgerton?”

He turned around immediately. “Miss Y/N?”

You let a mocking smirk pull at your lips.

“Do give Madame Delacroix my best,” you said. “When you go to um…pick up your sister’s gowns from her shop.”

He stared at you, his mouth slightly open in amusement and you curtsied, then turned your back to him to smile at your aunt who looked very happy, your implication lost to her as you knew it would be.

“So,” you said “Are we going home now?”

It wasn’t that you had been excited for a dance with him.

It wasn’t as if your heart was pacing in your chest when you had stepped into the ballroom, or that your eyes searched the crowd in hopes of finding him.

It wasn’t like any of that because if it were, then that would have meant that bitter taste at the back of your throat was disappointment. Even though Daphne, Anthony, Colin and Lady Bridgerton were in the ballroom, there was no sign of Benedict.

Whatever. It was good riddance, and even if your aunt was quite upset at him not showing up after asking you to spare him a dance, you had convinced her that you did not care.

Which you did not.

Almost two hours into the ball, your dance card was full and as much as you hated it, dancing with various lords somehow provided you a distraction from the anger boiling at the pit of your stomach. It was just flat out rude to not come to the ball after this afternoon’s exchange, but it served as a reminder that you should not even have spared him a thought, no matter what he said.

Instead, you were going to just focus on this extremely pointless and boring conversation you had been somehow pulled into after your sixth dance.

“No I haven’t been to one yet I’m afraid,” you said, making Lord Brumley raise his brows.

“You’ve never been to a horse race, my lady?”

“No.”

“You’re jesting surely?”

You shook your head. “I just haven’t find the occasion I think.”

“Oh I love horse races!” he said as if you had asked him. “You must allow me to accompany you to one this season my lady.”

“Are they that entertaining?”

“Extremely!” he said. “It’s right up there for me with fencing.”

“You like fencing as well,” you muttered, looking around as subtly as you could. “I see. Are you any good at it?”

“I’m very good at it,” he said with a tinge of pride in his tone, but none of the playfulness Benedict always possessed. “Back at school -I mean of course it’s been years now, but I was the best one among my friends…”

The rest of his sentence disappeared into the rest of the chatter in the ballroom as you saw Benedict walk into the ballroom, looking somehow out of breath. You could feel your heart skipping a beat as you noticed how handsome he looked, but you bit on your tongue, trying to focus.

It was rude at best and just plain arrogant at worst to just ask you for a dance and then deciding to skip the ball, as if you were one of those ladies desperate for his attention. The anger was making it hard to listen to anyone but your own thoughts, yet you forced yourself to turn your gaze to Lord Brumley who was very much interested in telling you how he had beaten his best friend in a fencing match, but soon enough he was cut off by another voice, a very, very familiar one.

“Miss Y/N.”

You gritted your teeth and turned to look at him in complete silence, arching a brow. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

“May I have a word?”

“I’m in the middle of a conversation,” you said flatly as you turned to Lord Brumley who nodded at him.

“Hello Benedict.”

“Thomas.”

Oh great, they knew each other.

“Well I’m sorry to say this but the lady is quite interested in our conversation,” Lord Brumley said with a grin. “And I even got a very faint smile from her during our dance.”

You tried your hardest to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Accidents happen I suppose,” you muttered, making Lord Brumley chuckle.

“Don’t you have someone else you should dance with?” Benedict asked him tersely and you took a deep breath.

“Excuse me Lord Brumley, it seems that I must destroy yet another man’s hopes,” you told him, making him laugh and bow his head.

“Of course, my lady.”

You walked away from him, with Benedict following you.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sure there’s supposed to be an honorific in there somewhere,” you said, your voice ice cold as you walked to the window just so that you could make sure you wouldn’t look at him. Benedict took a deep breath.

“I know I’m late,” he said. “I…please accept my apologies, I did not mean to.”

“I don’t care about your intention or your presence,” you said, grabbing a drink from the tray to sip it nonchalantly, as if your heart wasn’t beating in your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne looking at you two but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on the night sky, stars glimmering.

“No I was going to come here much sooner, with my family actually but—”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on always giving me all these explanations, it’s not as if I ask for any of them,” you cut him off. “That being said, whoever it is that’s holding your leash, Miss Harlowe or Madame Delacroix or someone else, they really ought to shorten it.”

He shook his head.

“I know what it looks like but I can assure you,” he said. “I meant what I said about dancing with you, I still want to dance with you—”

“Oh you still want to dance with me?” you asked, a disdainful chuckle escaping from your lips as you finally turned to look at him. “Well I’m honored, Mr. Bridgerton. Truly, I am.”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.

“I was painting,” he ended up saying and you raised your brows, shrugging your shoulders.

“Alright, great. You can go back to that now.”

“No you don’t understand,” he said hastily. “I haven’t been able to paint for…for months now, lacking inspiration for so long and it was absolute torture but when I returned home today, I could finally start again. I lost the track of time until it was finished.”

Your heart made a leap in your chest. That feeling was quite familiar, you had lost the track of time while tending to your garden more times than you could count, and yet his explanation did nothing to soothe the pang of anger inside of you.

“I didn’t even hear my family leave,” he added. “It was almost a haze, even.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, your voice completely flat. “Must be nice to have that luxury to be left alone when you want to.”

“Would you dance with me for the last—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I promised the last dance to someone else, and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t dance with you.”

That look in his eyes was so sad that you felt your stomach turn but you forced yourself to keep your expression completely still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to make amends if you’d let me, it was never my intention to break your heart.”

You stared at him, that bitterness spreading through your system as an amused chuckle left your lips.

“See, this is the issue with you artists, your endless imagination,” you said. “I don’t have a heart. Don’t disappoint yourself or me any further by assuming otherwise.”

He paused only for a second before he shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You scrunched up your nose and tilted the glass towards his direction to point at him. “Right, because you know me so well.”

“I think you want people to think you have no heart,” he pointed out. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at convincing most of them. But I don’t think that’s the case.”

Your jaw clenched, that spark of fury shooting through your system as soon as the feeling of defenselessness crashed down on you. It was somehow way too familiar and you could feel your throat tightening but you managed to appear completely calm, tilting your head to the side.

“Quite the creative theory,” you commented and lowered your voice so that no one else in the ballroom could hear you but him.

“Did you come up with it while looking for inspiration between some lady’s legs?”

He pulled back slightly as if your words took him by surprise, and granted you would have never formed that sentence if it were any other lord, if it were any other person, especially now that you were in public but anger was pulsing through you too fast to let you even think about the consequences of your implications.

It was unbecoming of a lady, nor was it acceptable in any way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you were this furious at him, his assumptions and his actions tonight.

“Miss Y/N, I believe your next dance is with me?” Lord Johnson’s voice reached your ears and both you and Benedict turned your heads, snapping out of the haze.

“…Yes,” you said. “Of course, Lord Johnson.”

Benedict’s jaw clenched but he bowed his head at you. “My lady.”

“My lord,” you said and it was only when Lord Johnson took a step back that you took a step forward to Benedict so that he could hear your low voice even through the chatter of the ballroom.

“You don’t know me,” you nearly growled. “And you never will.”

And then, you dropped a curtsy and placed your hand in Lord Johnson’s, and let him lead you to the dance floor.

Chapter 5

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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flowerandblood · 8 months

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The Vanity and Variability (Preview)

[ Jane Austen! • Aemond x Baratheon! • fem!reader]

[ warnings: angst, mention of trauma, violence ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother's debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He shuddered as he heard someone's footsteps in the distance, Vhagar instantly rising and literally darting towards the girl he would have recognised from a mile away.

He sighed heavily, turning his face towards the surface of the water, figuring he wouldn't pay any attention to her. Just as he thought, she sat down beside him on the sand, as he did, leaning her head against a long, old tree trunk.

She didn't say a word to him, however, letting Vhagar settle down between them, stroking her head, which she laid on her thighs. When he glanced at her he saw that her eyes were closed, that she was doing exactly the same thing he was doing.

She was running away.

He relaxed at the thought that she wasn't looking for a discussion or an intimacy with him and did the same as she did.

He shuddered, looking around, unsure of where he was or what was happening, running his hand over his face. He'd never fallen asleep outside before, much less in the middle of nowhere. He looked around and saw Vhagar lying on her back, sleeping soundly, embraced by Miss Baratheon, who was asleep snuggled against her fur.

He did not know what he thought of this sight, endlessly innocent and harmless. He was afraid someone had seen or would see them, but he didn't want to touch her, so he grunted loudly. She moved suddenly, blinking her eyelids rapidly, and rose to sit down, rubbing her eyes, as confused as he was.

Feeling that what had happened was uncomfortable to say the least, he stood up and whistled at Vhagar, heading back the same way he had come, leaving her alone.

She did not follow him and he felt relieved at the thought.

Halfway through, however, he stopped, feeling anxious, wondering if he should leave her alone in the forest. He fought the thought convincing himself that since she had gone there herself, she would return on her own, knowing the area better than he did, but on the other hand, he would never let Helaena venture this far, and she was still very young.

What if something happened to her?

He cursed in frustration and turned back, coming across her after a few minutes. She looked at him surprised, clearly not expecting him to come back for her.

"Did you forget something?" She asked him uncertainly, and he rolled his eyes impatiently, turning his back on her.

"Come, for God's sake."

____

If you want to be tagged and you're not on my main list, let me know! So excited for this oneeeee!!!

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pinkdaisies9285 · 1 month

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A Duke in Distress-1

Jake Seresin x F!Reader (No first name but last name is Harcourt)

Warnings: kinda Angst, blood, mention of cutting palm with a dagger, mention of injuries, Jake in pain, Regency AU!, Fantasy AU!

Word Count: 1141

Author's Note: Welcome to my new story! I know that I haven't finished my other ones but I really wanted to share this idea with guys! I hope you enjoy this new adventure with Jake! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the comments!

Duty. Something that was taught to you at a very young age. Whether it was the duty of being the eldest in the family or making sure you carried on the family name, Harcourt. Duty was something that sat upon your shoulder like a heavyweight. You felt like Atlas when you had to face your duties, tired of carrying a burden. You felt that burden right now.

The dagger lay still in your hand. The tip was covered in blood that dripped down to the ground like sand in an hourglass. It was almost like it was telling you that you were running out of time. Then again time had never been on your side. Whether it was when you were running late to an official meeting or the fleeting moments you spent with your now-dead mother, time had been a foe, not a friend.

Yelling finally shook you out of your thoughts. The sound was coming closer which meant it was time to go. Scrambling up to your feet, you picked up the heavy skirts of your dress and began to run through the winding hallways away from the voices. They couldn’t know what you did. They couldn’t know that you did something you were told not to do from a young age.

Use your gift.

The gift that seemed like another curse was given to you by Fate. A gift that made you seem like a walking vessel. One that the hands of a man couldn’t touch. Your father forbade you to even use the gift on your siblings let alone your mother when she was sick. The latter one was what tore you to shreds, to watch her die knowing you could possibly save her. That moment when she took her last breath was when you swore never to use your gift. Why use something that seemed only to bring you pain and not solace?

Yet the moment you saw him, you were already grabbing your dagger and pressing it into your palm. You never thought that someone you were taught not to trust and to hate, would be the first person you used your gift on for the first in years. Maybe it was the way his wounds wept blood onto the floor or maybe it was the bruises that littered his body. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you. His green eyes bored into yours, begging for some type of help. Without any other thought in your mind, you broke so many rules that went against your moral compass and your duty.

—

Once you were back in your room, you quickly shed the dress you were wearing and threw it into the fire. You had to make sure that no one knew you went down there down to the holding cells, where the man who was known as a threat to your family was. His family had just as much power as yours but your father would never let them win.

Your father would never let the Seresins be the better dukedom, especially if it meant being the right-hand man to the crown. Yet, his eldest was a woman which meant he didn’t have an heir. To make it worse Duke Seresin had a strong boy heir immediately. Jacob Seresin, known as Jake, was a cocky man who knew what his title was and used it to his benefit. Whether it was for personal or actual business. The rumors surrounding the rakish man were many. He did it all with a smug grin on his face and a woman under his arm.

You also learned to loathe the handsome man in your own ways. He was the reason no one seemed to take you seriously. Every time you crossed paths with him, he would make some snide comment that would spark a fire within you. So much that you wanted to choke him on the spot, regardless of society’s decorum. He pushed all your buttons in the right ways and usually ended in you walking away with clenched fists seeing red.

Yet, when you went to see him down in the prison cells, the conceded man was nowhere to be seen. In place of him, was a battered and bruised man who was hanging on by a thread. Your father’s men had done a serious job on him and the result was a shell of the cocky Duke heir. His right eye was swollen shut and had a deep purple developing under it. The gashes on his side were fresh and had made his pristine white shirt a bright red.

When you stepped closer to him to inspect the damage done, he simply gave you his notorious smirk.

“Fancy seeing you here, Princess. Come to finish the job your precious Father’s men did to me?” Even though he was smirking while saying this, his eyes said something else. A plea for help.

Before you could reply, he groaned and tipped over to his side. Panicking, you quickly rush over to his limp form. From what you could tell, he had lost too much blood and was on the verge of death. As much as you loathed him, you knew what you had to do. Use your gift.

Grabbing the small dagger that was hidden underneath your skirts, you make a small cut on your palm. Squeezing gently, the blood pooled into your palm. You took Jake’s face into your other hand and opened up his mouth, pouring the small amount of blood in.

Once you had done that, you waited for your gift to take effect. It only took a few minutes before his wound started to close and he slowly began to wake up. Before you could see if it had fully worked, you heard the telltale sign of someone coming your way.

With a new urgency, you got up and exited the cell before whoever was coming could see you. What you didn’t know was Jake was fully awake by the time you had gotten up. You had already rounded the corner before he could decipher what had happened

Now you stood in your bedroom, with your dress thrown into the fire and a bloody dagger still gripped in your left hand. What had you just done? Did you really just save the man you hated and wanted nothing to do with?

All these questions were swirling around your head that made you feel sick. Realizing that mulling the situation over and over again would not help you decided to go to bed. Sluggishly putting on your nightgown, you then trod over to your bed. Pulling back the covers, you bury yourself under them hoping they would block out all the thoughts hovering over your head.

Maybe tomorrow would bring a new day without any worries.

Oh, how wrong that was.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

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checkoutmybookshelf · 28 days

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Brigerton Round-Up

Ok, so I have read all of the Bridgerton books I care to at this point, but my reviews are spread across this blog and possibly like a year of time??? So I thought it would be fun to bring them all together in a single post!

All of these reviews were written between S2 and S3 of Netflix's Bridgerton Series, so bear that in mind when you're wondering why I haven't talked about all the seasons!

Content warning for some misogyny and discussion of sexual assault.

Also...THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE.

The Viscount Who Loved Me

There comes a point where a girl can't deny she has engaged in a fandom. It probably is well before you start writing fic (you can find The Polin Fic on Ao3), but y'know, here we are. Let's talk Bridgerton.

Ok, couple things right off the top.

We are not dealing with either The Duke and I or S1 of Bridgerton on Netflix. We are not dealing with *THAT* scene and it's complete disregard for consent. Find that somewhere else on the internet, it's a big place.

We are literally only talking about The Viscount Who Loved Me and Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. They're the only books I've read, and at this point they're the only books in this series I care to read. That means we'll also chat about S2 of Netflix's Bridgerton.

Ok, with the ground rules established, let's jump on in!

I think the reasonable place to start here is with Kate. I watched Bridgerton the Netflix series before reading The Viscount Who Loved Me, and Kates Sheffield and Sharma are objectively not the same woman. They wouldn't even LIKE each other. Kate Sharma is self-assured, confident, driven, and quite frankly, a force of nature when she wants to be. Kate Sharma understands that not only is she a grown ass woman but also that if she does not get in gear and go for her goals, they ain't happening. You guys, I freaking love Kate Sharma.

By contrast, Kate Sheffield is a blond, blue-eyed, infantilized debutante with some serious unresolved PTSD. I was not at all sorry to see that Shondaland did away with THAT library scene and THAT bee sting scene. I think that the show did both of them way better, and I will never be mad when an adaptation takes an adult female character and lets her ACT like an adult. I also appreciated the shift from creepy Anthony trying to *checks notes* suck the venom out of the bee sting to a full-blown panic attack. It subverted a highly gendered trope and put both Kate and Anthony on a much more even and human footing. It was also--and I cannot stress this enough--so much LESS CREEPY than the book scene. Anthony describing what he was doing in detail while the reader is told but not shown that he's panicky left several different flavors of bad taste in my mouth. Kate Sharma showing actual dimensionality in her strength in the show in this scene as Anthony goes fully nonverbal is objectively a stronger scene that does far more to develop the characters.

Generally speaking, Anthony Bridgerton is Anthony Bridgerton in both the show and the book, with maybe some of the high-and-mighty, self-righteous edges sanded off for the show. He's a regency era Viscount, there's not a whole lot you can do with him in adaptation. Show Anthony is my preference because he has some of the high-handedness sanded off, and because Jonathan Bailey is extremely nice to look at. I don't even hate the S1 (*gasp* she mentioned Bruno!) sideburns and hair, they had a very 1995 Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy vibe that I was willing to lean into. I honestly don't have a whole lot else to say about Anthony, so let's move on and hope that maybe we get an S3 release date before I get to the end of this post. (Spoiler Alert: We did not)

An Offer From a Gentleman

Dearest Gentle Reader, I suppose if you play with fire, you do eventually get burned. This Author has finally been burned by a Bridgerton novel. --Lady Bookshelf's Society Papers, 7 June 2023

So uhh...yeah. We gotta talk about Benedict Bridgerton. And we gotta talk about what the actual hell happened between book and Netflix series, because I found the series before the book, and even knowing that the characterizations were different, this book was JARRINGLY different, and not gonna lie, I absolutely cannot stand book Benedict and I fully do not understand the Benophie appeal. Now that I've finished painting a target on my back, let's talk An Offer from a Gentleman.

Ok y'all, I have recipts for this one, because book Benedict was basically a "too aloof and edgelordy to give a damn" and he really, REALLY needed to stop telling Sophie she was stupid or thinking too much. He also was hideously high-handed about blackmailing, coercing, and passive aggressively manipulating Sophie into doing the closest possible thing he can make happen to what he wants. He can't hear the word "no." His art seems somehow less important to him than the bowl of rocks at the cottage.

Show Benedict is a sweetheart artist with a wicked sense of humor and a real damn good sense for his siblings' moods and needs. I like show Benedict. I was prepared to yeet book Benedict off a cliff.

So real quick before this descends into incoherent screeching, I just need to point out the section where Sophie leaves the Cavendar's house during a party that is SUPER not safe for her. The "male lead saves the female lead from getting raped" is not my favorite trope in the world, but I'm not here to shame anyone for rescue fantasies. What I am here to do is explainin why Benedict is the WORST POSSIBLE EXAMPLE of this trope. I'm just gonna go ahead and put the passage up here, for ease. This is Benedict's reaction to seeing Sophie is an objectively scary situation:

Cavender was standing under a stately old elm with two other gentlemen. They appeared to be having a bit of fun with a housemaid, pushing her back and forth between them. Benedict Groaned. He was too far away to determine whether the housemaid was enjoying their attentions, and if she was not, then he was going to have to save her, which was not how he'd planned to spend his evening. He'd never been particularly enamored of playing the hero, but he had far too many younger sisters--four, to be precise--to ignore any female in distress.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS REACTION??? What is this "ugh, I guess I HAVE to step in, what a pain in the ass FOR ME" nonsense??? This is not allyship, this isn't even--as Benedict tepidly says--"having sisters," this is just "ugh, I guess I have to be a hero, how annoying."

If you're going to do the rescue trope, it kind of works better if your leading man gives a rat's ass. Like, give him a strong position on rape being bad. Give him a motivation. Give him something other than an eye roll and vague irritation that he has to do the thing! He's not even particularly T-ed off with the guys in this situation, it's just...and event. That he has to deal with. Like going to the DMV or something.

Can we PLEASE not do this. This is gross, it is bare minimum, and frankly? It's the least interesting version of this trope. I wasn't a Twilight girl, but the scene where Edward rescues Bella from implied gang rape was done better than this moist tissue of a scene purely because HE GIVES A RAT'S ASS ABOUT BELLA.

Bare freaking minimum, your romantic leads have to have strong feelings for each other. Those feelings can be positive or negative, depending on whether or not you're doing enemies to lovers, but the feelings have to EXIST. And when you're dealing with limited third omninscient narration, the character in who's head you are should probably have stronger emotions than *eye roll* to keep it interesting for the reader!! We know Sophie is already in love with Benedict at this point in the novel, but we aren't in Sophie's HEAD just now.

I'm basically out of coherent things to say about this book, so let's just go over key examples of other things in this book that made me rage. It's not every instance, but it's a selection of demonstrative examples.

Let's check the receipts:

She shot him an arch look. "Horse races are almost always silly." "Spoken just like a woman," he muttered.

And just WHAT is wrong with speaking like a woman, Benedict??? Is it maybe because you think they're somehow LESSER than men???

"Sophie," he said, "I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. Stop taxing your brain with useless mathematical computations and do as I asked."

TAXING HER BRAIN, BENEDICT??? Let the woman think for her own damn self for five seconds!

"His chin jutted out belligerently. "You're not supposed to be thinking. That's the point of of it."

LET. HER. THINK. FOR. HER. OWN. DAMN. SELF.

"You bloody fool," he swore. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is in the world for a woman alone?" "Er, yes," she managed. "Actually I do. If he heard her, he gave no indication, just went on about "men who take advantage" and "helpless women" and "fates worse than death." [...] About halfway through his tirade, she lost all ability to focus on his words. She just kept watching his mouth and hearing the tone of his voice, all the while trying to comprehend the fact that he seemed remarkably concerned for her welfare... "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" Benedict demanded.

YOU SPENT THE WHOLE BOOK TELLING HER NOT TO THINK AND NOW YOU'RE MANSPLAINING CLASS TO HER??? SERIOUSLY???

"Don't you ever call me stupid," she hissed. " Benedict blinked, trying to get his eyesight back to the point where he only saw one of her. "I wasn't--" "Yes you were," she replied in a low, angry voice."

Oh, yes, call her stupid. That's a GREAT way to get in any woman's skirts, Benedict. (Please excuse me while I scream incoherently into a pillow in rage.) Punch him again, Sophie.

"I didn't save you from Cavender just to let you squander your life away." "That isn't your choice to make." She had a point there, but he wasn't inclined to give it to her. "Perhaps," he allowed, "but I'm going to make it, anyway."

Wow, so you do ONE DECENT THING and suddenly you own her life??? PUNCH HIM AGAIN, SOPHIE. And no, gentlemen, going "oh shit, I am actually being a huge dick here" and then DOING THE THING ANYWAY does not earn you any points.

"I didn't want--" "You don't know what you want," he cut in. It was a cruel statement, condescending in the extreme, but he was beyond caring. She'd wounded him in a way he hadn't even known was possible, with a power he'd never dreamed she possessed.

ACTUALLY SHE DOES KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS, BENEDICT, BECAUSE SHE IS A HUMAN PERSON WITH AGENCY!!!!!! AND SHE HAS SAID NO TO YOU LIKE FIFTEEN TIMES!!! Dear god, someone throw this man back in the lake and hold his head under.

"I didn't think," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I know." He smiled. "I know. I hate it when you think. It always ends badly for me."

FOR FUCKS SAKE-- *screams in impotent rage while channeling Beatrice's "would eat his heart in the marketplace" vibes*

So...I actually don't recommend this book. Don't read this one. Just enjoy show Benedict and we can all collectively pretend that the book didn't happen.

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

I actually thoroughly enjoyed the fluffy confection that is Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, which makes it much harder to talk about than The Viscount Who Loved Me. I suppose the biggest difference between the book and what the show is setting up for Polin is in the stakes. The book stakes are arguably extremely low; the consequences for being Lady Whistledown in the book are essentially a round of polite applause and some deep-seated rage that Cressida freaking Cowper would dare to take credit for Penelope's work. And frankly, I was 100% with Penelope on that one. The show cannot possibly roll with that ending (or if they do, they're going to disappoint everyone) because Penelope has pissed off a reigning monarch, and that has, historically, gone poorly. So I think the show is setting up to give Colin real, concrete reasons to be pissed as hell when it comes out that Penelope is Whistledown, and to actually make the pair work for their romance. And for all I enjoyed the fluff in the book, I am a sucker for multiple layers of increasingly high stakes and I hope the show really goes ham on the payoff for this setup. Frankly, I want Colin to be absolutely furious with Penelope and still ready to sneak her out of England if the Queen decides that Lady Whistledown is too dangerous to leave at liberty.

In terms of how Colin himself changes in the show, I'm fairly cool with the "I am a bottomless pit where is the food" aspect of Colin's character being quietly left behind. I think we can do more interesting things with our male characters than that. However, like many of the people who have both read the book and kept up with the show, I am WORRIED about how much Colin's writing has been downplayed. Yes, he and Penelope have a correspondence, and clearly they mean a lot to each other, but writing letters does not necissarily set up Colin's journals and the writing relationship that the two develop in the book. It's so, so wildly uncommon for game to recognize game and form a partnership of equals in skill in regency romance novels, and that was one of the things I loved about Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. I also loved that Colin, not Penelope, was the less experienced newbie of the writing partnership.

Not that the book didn't complicate this issue, because Julia Quinn didn't hesitate for a millisecond to slot Penelope into the historical role of "uncredited, unpaid, and historically unknown editor and 80% of the reason that history remembers the husband who's name is on the cover of the book." And that SUCKS for Penelope.

That takes me really smoothly into the thing that I love most about what Nicola Coughlan brings to Penelope in the show. She has an edge, a little more willingness to take risks, and that really makes me believe that the Penelope of the show could be behind the edgier, sharper, WAY riskier Whistledown. I am excited to see what they do with Polin in S3!

When He Was Wicked

Ok, as a Bridgerton book, When He Was Wicked was UNUSUAL. Given how tightly knit and very much there for each other the Bridgertons are (although I admit, this might be show bias affecting my reading), the fact that Francesca was, for the most part, isolated up in Scotland and very separate from the rest of the family was odd. It really allowed us to see what a Bridgerton-raised person would do when their back was to the wall and they were more or less alone.

Add to that the fact that most of this book is Francesca's second season and second love and that she gets to have actual EXPERIENCE and CONFIDENCE and not be your bog standard romance ingenue meant that this was a refreshing change of pace. I also would be absolutely remiss to point out that this novel went unapologetic on the fact that Francesca knows a little something about sex and her own body and that she has zero doubt that her needs, wants, and pleasure are important and that she can (and does) ask for what she wants with Michael. That's something that contemporary 2023 still really struggles with, so props to Julia Quinn for making it clear that Francesca can, should and DOES have a voice that matters during sex.

I also want to say that while Francesca wanting to be a mother so badly that she goes for a second season often gets side-eyed or openly pooh-poohed for being anti-feminist, breeding kinky, or somehow lesser, I would say that while the "All I want in the world is to be a mother" is complicated by the regency setting and the gender roles and expectations imposed on women whether they wanted them or not, Francesca is a widow for most of this novel, and widows historically had more (not complete, this isn't perfect) choice about their remarriage, and had Francesca not wanted to, she didn't have to remarry. So I'm willing to give this book the benefit of the doubt that Francesca actually DOES want to be a mother, actually DOES want children, and making the choice to remarry to have kids is an active, intentional choice on her part. Motherhood isn't for everyone, and that's 100% fine. But we shouldn't shame people who do want it, and I think a generous read of this book puts Francesca in that camp without some of the weird vibes and setting complications that you get with Daphne.

Again, none of this is wholly unproblematic, and there are arguments to be made that social conditioning overrode any choice Francesca could make. However, that's a deeply cynical read of a fun, fluffy romance novel, and I'm not here to shame people who can get pregnant for their reproductive choices, whatever those may be.

Michael is, in the grand tradition of non-Bridgerton love interests, fairly bland. His whole thing is being the merry rake, which, like, whatever. That's fine. I'm not like, terribly enamored of his full-on BAILING on Francesca for like three years after her first husband unceremoniously drops dead. I'm also not super enamored of his whole "did I secretly cause my cousin's death because I was coveting his wife and now I can never be with Francesca because I don't deserve her for killing my cousin" schtick, but this is Bridgerton so the absurd drama is pretty par for the course.

The reason to read this book really is Francesca, and Francesca finding her feet as a more mature heroine than we typically see in these books. I was very very much here for Francesca, and I hope that if the show gets this far, we really do get to see how Frannie is different from Daphne, Eloise, Penelope, and Hyacinth.

It's In His Kiss

This is now the fifth Bridgerton book I've read, and I actually have to say that while it's not my favorite of the series, it was a nice change of pace. Hyacinth and Gareth feel like they spend more time together as a couple really getting to know one another, which honestly was not really the vibe of previous couples. Anthony was too wrapped up in waiting to die, Benedict was too busy being shitty Prince Eric and generally devaluing all women everywhere, and Francesca and Colin were working through dead spouse trauma and a variation on professional jealousy, respectively. Hyacinth and Gareth just like each other, and Gareth was refreshingly brief in his daddy issues in favor of seducing Hyacinth and realizing that whoops, he actually meant it. So frankly, Gareth and Hyacinth feel more like they are actually good friends. And as a Polin Stan, that is a little heartbreaking to say, since Polin was supposed to be the friends to lovers storyline and as far as the books go, I actually think Hyacinth and Gareth feel more friends to lovers. Polin is more she fell first, he fell harder, which is a great trope but it's not really friends to lovers.

I swear I'm not going to be low-key disappointed about Polin for this whole post though, because in addition to Hyacinth being genuinely good friends with Gareth, we get her friendship with Lady Danbury. And THAT friendship is an absolute delight, although Jukia Quinn might be flying just a TAD close to the sun by spoofing bad romance books that we read to mock in her series of borderline read-to-mock romance books. This is very akin to my feelings about Penelope getting weak-kneed over Colin's writing talent because he described the temperature of the Agean Sea as half-hour old bathwater. Like, I get what you were going for emotionally, but on a very realistic level, you fell flat on your face and your skirt rode all the way up so you flashed your panties at people by accident, and not in a kinky way. Not that that makes Hyacinth and Lady D's dynamics any less wonderful, it's just one of those "my eyebrows were raised while I was smiling" things. We cannot help but love Lady Danbury.

I also just want to call out the objectively hilarious scene where Gareth goes to ask Anthony for permission to marry Hyacinth and Anthony completely blows the tone with his combination "YES ALL MY SISTERS ARE MARRIED OFF I AM KING" and "hurt her and I won't kill you, I will make your long life a living hell" reactions. I enjoyed this Anthony.

Now, having noted what I enjoyed about this book, it wouldn't be a Bridgerton novel if there weren't also a couple of things that I feel the need to call out as WILDLY WTAF. We're gonna go ahead and start with the prologue, because we need to take a minute and ask ourselves why the actual hell the girl Lord St. Clair was trying to force Gareth to marry had to have a mental disability, and why the hell we needed Lord St. Clair's "kick the dog" moment to be telling his son to rape a vulnerable woman. And that's before we even get into the issues with the rampant asexual objectification and infantilization of disabled people, and how that plays into wildly ableist tropes throughout literature. And the worst part is, this adds literally nothing to the story. We do not even see this character on the page, she is just briefly mentioned twice in the novel and is literally not even an obstacle. This didn't have to be casually thrown in and frankly I saw ten different shades of red when I was reading it. Honestly, it's one of hose thoughtlessly, pointlessly ableist things that causes real harm in the world and I am not here for it.

The other WTAF thing about this book is the fact that Gareth plans to "ruin" Hyacinth. I'm not gonna go do ar as to say there are consent issues here, because to say that would be to wildly and willfully misrepresent their relationship and I'm not going to do that. But I'm not wild about the perpetuation of the idea of virginity as some magical thing that can be taken from a woman and tbat devalues her. And yes, I know, it's it's regency romance. But I can understand scenes-a-faire and still not like it. Which I do not, because it says more about the level to which Gareth initially values Hyacinth than anything else, and you shouldn't have to devalue your SO to feel worthy of them. That is some toxic bullshit, do not do it.

Overall, though, this book was pretty cute and it was heisty, and I am a bit of a sucker for a good heist. Insofar as I recommend any Bridgerton novel, this one was pretty fun.

On The Way To The Wedding

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a hot romantic regency male lead must be in want of a more intelligent heroine. But even given that, Gregory flippin' Bridgerton strains credibility about how obtuse he is throughout this book. Anthony might have been lying to himself and deeply traumatized, Benedict might have been a chauvinist dickhead, and Colin might have been a golden retriever, but none of them were so vacuously vague as Gregory managed to be. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy this book; there were chunks of it I found thoroughly amusing. So let's talk On the Way to the Wedding.

I guess we might as well start with Gregory, because holy cow there was no critical thought in this man's head. He literally did not hear a thing Lucy said to him the night before her wedding to Haselby, because AS COLIN POINTED OUT while he and Gregory were *checks notes* SITTING IN A TREE SPYING ON LUCY'S HOUSE, she did not actually ever at any point say that she wasn't going to marry Haselby, she just made bland statements and let Gregory hear what he wanted to. Like, Greg. Sweetie, honey, friend, she did not explicitly say she was calling off the wedding, and you KNOW she would have if she really intended to. You were thinking with the wrong head, my dude, and frankly it's on your own dang head for being so shocked the next morning.

But on top of having cloth ears when it comes to hearing "no," Gregory managed to talk himself into being in love with Hermione and out of being in live with Lucy. And this is AFTER separate sit downs with Anthony, Kate, and Violet that collectively tell the reader (and should have told Gregory, except he has cotton wool instead of a brain inside his skull) that Gregory has exactly zero connection with reality, no drive or ambition, and has had so much handed to him in life that he won't extend effort to get something that isn't handed to him. Quite literally, my reaction was, "Aww, Lucy gets the second-worst brother. She and Sophie should get together and start a support group." So Gregory and Benedict are super not my favorite Bridgerton Brothers.

One thing about Gregory that was well set up and paid off and used fairly humorously throughout though, is his complete inability to hit anything he aims at with a firearm. I was impressed that he was not toxically masculine about that, and the fact that he nonfatally shot Uncle Richard at the end was well executed, and Lucy telling her Uncle that he is lucky Gregory can't aim for shit actually got a laugh from me. It was very good. AND it established that all four Bridgerton girls can shoot as well, so at some point I want a pall mall game settled via target shooting. My bet is that Eloise thinks she's the best shot, Francesca actually is, Hyacinth does trick shots just to piss off Eloise, and Daphne is scarily efficient as a markswoman.

However, what really kept this book interesting were Lucy and the CW drama-esque plot, because I did not see "oopsie poopsie, did a treason, and now my neice has to marry my blackmailer's gay son" coming in the Bridgertonverse, but here we are, I guess.

Lucy falls into line with Penelope and Sophie in terms of women who are head and shoulders more competent than the Bridgerton man they married, although admittedly Lucy has less personality than either Penelope or Sophie. Lucy is a people manager and pleaser, and she is extremely organized. She also has some excellent one-liners and is more than smart enough to wrap Gregory around her little finger when she needs to.

Unfortunately, she couldn't talk Gregory's stubborn streak out of tying her to a water closet (seriously, what is this, a regency Criminal Minds episode???), which is how we get the big reveal that it's her Uncle, not her father, who committed treason. It's also how we somehow end up with Uncle Richard holding a gun to Sophie in a random bedroom before her marriage to Haselby was consummated, which... Richard. Honey. What was the plan here??? You needed that girl legally and permanently married before Davenport gave up the blackmail. Why are you holding a gun on her right now??? What the hell was the way out of this room of you hadn't been interrupted by the husband squad and their two guns? Weird time for a power trip, is all I can say. You might as well have gotten caught monologuing for all the sense this scene setup made.

And Gregory once again proves that he is a COMPLETE IMBECILE because if you spend an entire book announcing repeatedly that you can't hit the broad side of a barn, why on God's little green earth do you take the shot at a man holding a gun to your love's head? You're as likely to hit her as him! He got lucky because plot armor, but he wasn't the only man in the room with a gun, Lucy's very angry brother ALSO had one, and he was almost certainly a better shot than Gregory. Nobody is exercising critical thought in this scene, is all I'm saying.

Now, for all my criticisms, if you suspend your disbelief, this whole scene is VERY fun, and in principle I quite enjoyed it. Sometimes you have to meet a book where it's at, and in this case it was at CW-esque dramatic farce. So this book was very fun for what it was.

OOH and before I wrap.up and forget: Hyacinth gets to be totally furious in this book, and holy cow I wish we got Hyacinth in a decade st some point, because she would have been show Lady Danbury's equal but more spitfire, and I love that so much for all of us.

This is definitely the last Bridgerton book I'm reading because I have no desire to deal with Daphne or Eloise's books. That said though, the books I have read I was largely either pleasantly surprised by or thoroughly entertained, and really you can't ask more of these books than that. Book Benedict still sucks though.

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meetinginsamarra · 1 year

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My Fave Sherlock BBC AUs - Historical Era

Around mid-month I’ll do a fic rec list with my fave AU genres or tropes. Summaries are taken from OP on AO3.

Roman Times

“Infamia” by Mr_CSI, thisisforyou

https://archiveofourown.org/works/485828

Ancient Roman AU. After his wife's brutal murder, John Watson shuns society and becomes a gladiator. He didn't expect to catch the attention of the Emperor, Sherlock Holmes himself...

“Guardian” by PoppyAlexander @fuckyeahfightlock

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381219

In Ancient Rome, Centurion John is hired to act as personal, round-the-clock bodyguard for the mad emperor's hedonistic, philosopher brother (that would be Sherlock). Sparks fly, John peers through a partly-open door, arrows fly, and Sherlock learns the very apt name given to John's 22-inch sword. No, his *actual* sword. He's a Roman solider, remember. What you were thinking would be. . .just, no.

“Of Chaos and Calculation” by i_ship_an_armada @i-ship-an-armada

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670600

When John is captured and brought to Rome, he's sold to the most noted ludus in The Eternal City, the emperor's. There, he meets Sherlock, auctorati, enigma, a perfect partner in the arena. And out. Sherlock is investigating the murders of several gladiators, but has secrets of his own that could be more destructive than a defeat on the sands.

----------------------

Regency/Victorian-ish Times

“The frost is all over” by Chryse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1614890

John was brave and clever and loyal, a commoner who longed for an exciting life. Sherlock was dashing and brilliant and passionate, an Earl’s son who longed to solve crimes. Being a Tale of Glorious Adventures, Love Letters, Treachery, Longing, Secret Identities, Deathbed Confessions, First Kisses, Daring Escapes, and True Love.

“Vows made in wine” by love_in_mind_palace (mysleepyhead)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063517

John Watson, a low born young man from the slums of London appears in the farthest corner of country to work as a valet for the young master living in the secluded mansion. Secrets, betrayal, conspiracy. A love blossoming in the most unfortunate circumstances.

“The Courtesan” by delightful_fear @delightful-fear-sherlock

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195437

Desperate times call for desperate measures. John takes a job as a live-in doctor in the most exclusive brothel in London, never thinking he would fall under the spell of it's most infamous consort, Sherlock Holmes.

An AU set in 1860's Victorian England.

“Human Nature” by delightful_fear

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907847

Rich and spoiled Sherlock makes a wager with his older brother that he can take a penniless man and make him presentable in high society.

An AU set in Regency London (1819).

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Wild West Times

“Unbranded Air” by suitesamba

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804084

John Watson, widower, tried to leave medicine behind when he left England and came to America. Sherlock Holmes, trying to avoid the marriage his family insisted on, was sent to America after embarrassing his mother and damaging his family's social reputation. Hired to help solve a cattle rustling ring with his unbelievable deductive skills and knowledge of soils, Sherlock is injured and taken to John's ranch. He holes up there while his broken leg heals and pulls John into the investigation, and the two find common ground in more ways than either expected. An AU set in the Wyoming Territory in the 1890s, with John as an army doctor/Afghanistan veteran who wants to start over and Sherlock as a detective without a mobile phone and only John to ease his boredom.

“Buckaroo Fringe” -series (9 fics) by ponderinfrustration

https://archiveofourown.org/series/152033

The Varied Western Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson

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World War I&II Times

“Enigma” by khorazir and “Silent Night” sequel @khorazir

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991325

It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313302

It’s Christmas Eve 1944, and Sherlock Holmes has received his most precious gift already: after a long, dangerous deployment, Surgeon Captain John Watson of the Royal Navy has unexpectedly returned from the front. As if this weren’t enough, there’s a case. Both events make for a night full of promise, excitement, and the difficult task of getting reacquainted with the man Sherlock hasn’t seen in three years and feared he’d lost forever.

“The secret patient” by PlainJane

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953210

WWII, the Italian campaign. Dr. John Watson is left behind at a lonely chapel with a mysterious patient who cannot be evacuated with the rest of the field hospital, due to his injuries. John is fascinated by the man and his tales...or perhaps there is more to it than that.

“Rosethorne” by suitesamba

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365160

John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain's best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Secret Garden," the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn't.

-----------------------

1950′s Greaser Times

“Still of the Night” by michi_thekiller

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647849

1.) Curfew must be obeyed. 2.) Streets must be clear by sundown. 3.) If you find yourself out after curfew, seek shelter at the home of a friend, relative, or neighbor whom you know and trust. 4.) Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should any unknown persons be allowed into the home after curfew.

It's a vampire greaserlock kids!

“You give me fever” by michi_thekiller

https://archiveofourown.org/works/785061

Thou givest fever when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm afire; fever, yea, I burn forsooth "He's the kind of boy you want to take apart."

“Go to the Devil” by JeanElizabeth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323648

unfinished but still worth a read imo

“I’m going to kiss you. You have the choice to push me away at any moment and I will pursue no further. But I want to kiss you. Ever since you walked into that room with that cocky attitude and charming smile. You are all too perfect John Watson. Just push me away.”

John Watson is an All-American Boy; Star of the football team and straight A student. Sherlock Holmes is a dangerous dropout who gets his kicks from fast cars and cheap cigarettes. John struggles with his attraction to this greased up vagrant, who seems to take no shame in their sinful acts.

#my fanfic recs #Historical Era AUs

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momo-de-avis · 4 months

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ana can you explain the liberal wars in simple terms? i visited algarve recently and the tour guide (like yours where it's mostly related to history) talked about the war between the brothers and a guy named remexido(?)

Just yesterday I told my boyfriend to please ask his coworker who graduated in history for a book on the civil war because thats the one thing I'm not good at lmao I didn't even know who Remexido was but apparently he was a guerrilla fighter from the Algarve which yay but fought on the side of Miguelistas which nay

The liberal wars was between Pedro IV of Portugal, better known as Pedro I fo Brazil, who was its first Emperor after declaring its independence, then to quote a brazilian client I had once, homeboy was a better king for the portuguese than he was an emperor for the brazilian... He basically stepped down and answered the plea from Portugal to come back here and kick his brother off the throne.

Now, his brother is Miguel I, the absolutist

Important background is that Portugal was an absolutist country thruoghout the 18th century, which means the king held absolute power. Think Louis the XIV level. Not only does the king have last say about everything government related, he works hand in hand with the church, who is below him (except the Inquisition) and he is celebrated as Godsend's. He is the centre of the universe. Its a time of extravagance, of theatricality, of excess, and the people, as you might imagine, are dirt poor.

This is essentially a kicker into the French Revolution, as you might imagine.

But with portugal, there's the Napoleon problem. Napoleon sends out General Junot to invade Portugal after successfully capturing spain, and on 1808 Junot arrives.

The Portuguese monarchy realised we did not have the arms to face off this guy, and the english, with whom we'd signed a treaty in 1387 and had always upheld it, said they were too busy fighting the french elsewhere... we needed to sort ourselves out. It was obvious by now that an invasion would be unstoppable. We did not have the navy nor the weapons to fight it off. So, the king, John VI, who by now is king because his mother, Maria I, went insane, decided to deceive Napoleon. He uprooted the government and took everyone to BRazil. He established court there and changed the name of his kingdom slightly to the kingdom of Portugal and brazil, it was something like that And then he made the capital city Rio de Janeiro. All in all he took with him about 100.000 people, nobility and court members as well as government. When Junot arrived, he was greeted by a Regency Government that basically said "step right in"

It was a way to show Junot that there was no government to overthrow and that he and his troops had been formally invited. Junot lived here until Napoleon told him to go pound sand somewhere else, and in the time he did, he fucked everyone's wife, lived in complete excess, and angered virtually everyone.

So, two more "invasions" happen, and by the third that's when Wellington and his beef come along to (this time, successfully) fend off the french.

And then, what happened was that this single event changed the country forever.

You'd be surprised to find how many in portuguese society were for Napoleon. Overall in Europe Napoleon was seen as the dude who was going to change the modern world, and it was actually accepted that he was undefeatable. When looking at the case of Portugal and Spain, most countries just went "submit bro there's no turning around". So it was a bit of a surprise that in the end backwards catholic portugal and the english won.

For example, the painter Vieira Portuense, arguably the most celebrated artists of portuguese neo-classicism and someone who met and hung out with Angelica Kauffmann, was so in favour of Napoleon not only was he arrested for it, he had to leave the country to escape persecution. There are paintings of him that originally had Napoleon's eagle hidden in it, but he had to repaint it to not offend anyone.

Basically, Napoleon offered a liberal alternative to the absolutist nightmare that was our country. Napoleon was the opposite of what Portugal was: a country ruled by a royal family who relished in absolute excess and also ruled by the church, and a country where the church held not just a monopoly on riches but controlled the country, so much so that the inquisition was still here despite the Marquis of Pombal's efforts to reduce its power. And a country that was mostly rural, ignorant, illiterate and extremely, painfully catholic. Liberals saw in Napoleon the chance to grow past this, embrace enlightenment, to evolve past catholic fervor.

These ideals, even long after Napoleon's death, will remain. Napoleon will influence the country enough that it will infect it with new liberal ideas and change the 19th century forever.

The absolutist monarchy stood against everything Napoleon defendedm because if those things were abolished, they would go to shit.

So when the french are kicked out, the english stay. General Beresford basically becomes a de facto king in the king's absence, because John VI turns out enjoyed the brazilian weather a lot more.

Now excuse me cause this is the part I'm not too familiar with. I was actually looking at a series of books by Laurentino Gomes on the topic. he's a brazilian historian who wrote about the portuguese court in brazil and slavery, so here's a tip for those like me who want to know where to start. What I'm not very familiar with is the court in brazil.

Basically, at a certain point, the king is forced to come back and get rid of General Beresford. The anti-british sentiment in the country that prevailed through the 19th century starts here, with Beresford benefitting a lot of his countrymen and repressing anyone who stands against him. THe book Felizmente Há Luar, which we had to study in school and is about the failed revolt by Gomes Freire, is about this exact fact.

There's a character here I haven't mentioned. Carlota Joaquina, wife of John VI, and arguably the vilest woman to have ever lived in this country. By "vile" I mean, spotting a hot guy on the way, finding out who he is, and having his wife killed so she can fuck him. It's downright insane. And Carlota Joaquina was the great manipulator behind her son, Miguel I.

WHile the royal family comes back to portugal, Pedro IV stays in Brazil. What led to the Ipirange scream is another thing I'm not familiar wiht but the presence of the royal family in Brazil reinforced the wish for independence. Maybe a brazillian follower can chime in and explain this a lot better (I'd actually REALLY appreciate that!!)

Pedro IV ends up declaring Brazil an Empire, this becoming Pedro I. I think it's shortly after that John VI, the man who hid chicken legs in his coat pockets out of fear of being poisoned, died by poison. Thus, his son Miguel gets to the throne

Now Liberal sentiment since Napoleon had grown considerably, and by now, Miguel is not happy, so he conducts a "purge". He leads a very repressive regime against Liberals, which lead them to contact Pedro in Brazil and ask him to come here and get rid of his brother.

I seriously don't know what leads to Pedro stepping down and his daughter Maria ascending to the throne (again, if another brazilian wants to either fact check me or teach me, I'm more than happy to hear), but Pedro comes to Portugal precisely to fight a war against his brother.

And that's the civil war.

Listen, in the middle of all of this, the root cause of the fight, is the Constitutional Charter. The Constitutional Charter had been approved in 1821, but barely upheld. I believe Miguel's mistake was to refuse the Constitutional Charter, as it was against absolutist ideals. Think of the constitutional charter as something like the 19th century Magna Carta, what limited a king's ability to jsut rule over everything and delegate the government to a parliament.

Another point of contention was the church. By now, the Inquistion is finally abolished (1820) but the church still holds IMMENSE power over the country. Liberals want something VERY CLOSE to a secular state. They want the people to have access to education outside of the church, and they want the extinction of monastic orders (which they will achieve in 1834). The absolutists can only exist with the church and its power, so Miguel is naturally against this.

Pedro IV ends up winning the war, and his brother is sentenced to exile and signs a contract stating his side of the family can never, ever take the throne. Fun fact: the "Duque of Braganza", the only remnant of the royal family we have today and who is at the head of the monarchist party, actually descends from Miguel. So you want to have an argument against him, just say "maybe your ancestor shouldn't have lost the war".

I don't know much about the liberal wars, but I know that, like the war againsat napoleon, it involved a lot of guerrilla. A notorious moment was the siege of Porto, in which Porto held strong agaisnt the absolutists (so, Miguel) so spectacularly (they even bombed Clérigos), Pedro IV left it in his will that his body should be buried in Brazil but his heart belonged to Porto. His heart is still there lmao

Again, if any brazilian reading this wants to add whatever, I'm more than happy to hear cause this is an episode of both our histories I am lacking in a lot

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tommys-little-writing-corner · 7 months

Text

MORTAL KOMBAT 1 MASTERLIST

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 『 SHORT STORIES / ONESHOTS 』

》 Shang Tsung — A Hucker’s Love

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 『 LONG STORIES / SERIES 』

》 One Small Shadow (Princess!Fem!Reader) The youngest of Sindel's daughters, (Y/N) was only born after the passing of King Jerrod. Growing up shadowed by her family and their magics, the Third Princess does what she can do best. She stands by and waits... 》 Notes: Fem!Reader, Complicated family relationships, Canon Divergence, Angst Train, No Beta We Ball Like Kobe, No Romance, Y/N is described to be feminine with certain features, Bounces between Y/N's POV snd third person 》 Status: In progress... 》 Chapters: 1 // ...

》 The Sands of Time (Geras x Shaolin Monk!Reader) They were both born for one reason and one reason alone-- to care for and protect the Hourglass that protects this timeline. To protect the peace that Lord Liu Kang had fought for. However, one monk becomes curious about the purpose given to them since birth. Thus a meeting of unlikely timing and a blossoming romance. 》 Notes: Gender Neutral!Reader, Romance, Canon Divergence, Geras Learns What Emotions Are 》 Status: WIP...

》 The Season Diamond (Regency AU Fem!Reader) Born into a socialite life, a life in the Tons where you never had to struggle or worry about being poor. Dressed in the finest of clothes, the best money can offer... Your first debutante season, while promising husbands that would make your family proud, is going to be a rough one-- after all, the Empress herself has declared you this season's Diamond. All eyes will be on you, be careful, sweet one. 》 Notes: Fem!Reader, MULTIPLE Routes, Definitely Not Because I've Binged Watched Bridgerton AGAIN, Thank You Discord Girlies (ya'll know who you are), Romance, Drama, Regency AU, Mix of Fantasy and History 》 Status: WIP... 》 Click Link for The Season Diamond Main Page

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 1 #Mortal Kombat x Reader #Mortal Kombat Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Fanfic #No Beta #We Ball Like Kobe

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the-empress-7 · 9 months

Note

Does anyone know how old was The Queen was when Charles started campaigning for a regency?

My personal feeling is that Charles's regency campaign started after the Diamond Jubilee (so The Queen would've been mid-80s). I've always suspected that the Giedst ousting was because he protected The Queen from Charles's regency campaign and Charles wanted someone friendlier in place who'd go along with him.

And also Charles started promoting his reign/monarchy when he was in his 40s. The Queen would've been in her 60s then. (hmm...could the guilt be creeping up on him, and now he's projecting his inadequacies again onto William?)

Charles only employes Yes men, and Geidt wasn't one of them.

Charles needs to get his head out of the sand; and more than anything he needs to abandon this delusional notion that William is somehow detracting from his reign.

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elvain · 1 year

Text

MK'S FIC MASTERLIST

hi all! after almost a year of sporadically/regularly posting various fanfic chapters, one-shots, and announcements, i have decided to add a masterlist to my blog of all my writing thus far! this post will be updated as needed and then reblogged. please note all my fics on AO3 are locked/restricted.

Chaptered Fics

(sometimes goodbye is a) second chance - completed at 4 chapters and 8.6k words, 616 Canon Compliant, Pietro Maximoff + Family. In the wake of Magneto's stunning revelation, Pietro Maximoff tries to cope with his past, his present, and his future.

A Semblance of My Soul - ongoing for 8 chapters, 616 Canon Divergent, SteveTony + HankSimon, Documentary Style. Dating in New York is difficult for anyone. Dating in New York as an Avenger is something else entirely. Can love truly be blind? Or are there some realities you can never escape from after all?

dream a little dream of me - completed at 13 chapters and 26.8k words, 616 Canon Divergent, Johnny-centric, JohnnyPeter & JohnnyWyatt. After months of tiptoeing around each other, Johnny and Peter have finally put things right between them. Their relationship is everything Johnny hopes it would be. He should have known better, really.

The Beau Monde - completed at 26 chapters and 68.7 words, Regency AU, X-Men, CarolWanda and BobbyWarren. In a slightly Briderton-adjacent world, the X-Men we know and love must navigate scandal, sex, and, worst of all, society.

Good Food, Good Mood - completed at 6 chapters and 10.9k words, 616 Canon Divergent, WonderBeast. Five times Hank McCoy and Simon Williams got dinner together, and the one time they got breakfast.

Almost - completed at 25 chapters and 59.5k words, 616 Canon Compliant, Spideytorch. Having been good friends and often times coworkers for years now, Peter and Johnny are about to find out that sometimes, almost is not enough and that it is okay to want more.

One-Shots

Angel With A Shotgun - completed at 2.4k, 616 Canon Divergent, AlisonJen. When Alison is taken hostage by AIM agents, She-Hulk swoops in to rescue her damsel in distress.

Indecent Encounters at the Ritz-Carlton - completed at 2.1k words, Canon Compliant, ReedSue, Explicit Sexual Content. Reed and Sue shake things up a little for Valentine's Day.

only you, darling - completed at 2.6k words, Canon Non-Compliant, JeanOroro, Explicit Sexual Content. Ororo has a bad day, but Jean knows just how to cheer her up.

a swift burning inside - completed at 4.8 words, Not 616 Canon Compliant, JohnnyPietro, Explicit Sexual Content. Johnny and Pietro get heated during an Avengers barbecue. And things only get hotter after that.

the edge of night - completed at 2.1k words, 616 Canon Divergent. Thor seeks a place to mourn the loss of his father. Hercules follows.

visions of the self - completed at 2.6k words, 616 Canon Compliant. A study of the ties that bind Jim Hammond, the Vision, and Simon Williams throughout the years.

Hell on Earth - completed at 3k words, 616 Canon Divergent, JohnnyWyatt, Explicit Sexual Content. A lonely road, a long history, and a little car trouble makes things a whole lot more complicated for Johnny Storm and Wyatt Wingfoot.

sick little games - completed at 6.1k words, 616 Canon Divergent, SteveTony, Explicit Sexual Content. Steve wants to maintain at least some professionalism. Tony thinks professionalism is overrated.

Another World - completed at 4.5k, 616 Canon Divergent, Multiversal AU, O5 X-Men. “Do you think we’d still be friends in another life? If we had never been X-Men, if Xavier had never put us all together on the original team?”

should my people fall, surely i'll do the same - completed at 3k, 616 Canon Compliant, JimNamor. At the edge of the world, Namor and Jim choose what the future will bring them.

Sweat, Sand, and Somethin' Else - completed at 2.5k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Two-Gun Kidd/Clint Barton. A hot day in the desert ends even hotter for Clint and Matt when the pressures of the desert become a little too heavy for them both.

liquid dreams - completed at 3.9k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, PeterGwen. After sustaining a minor injury as Spider-Man, Peter must now face his concerned (and breathtaking) girlfriend.

Messily - completed at 4.1k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, SteveTony. Date night ends with a bang. 'Nuff said.

reblogs are totally encouraged! catch you around

#feel free 2 interact #i am also adding this to my About Me link in my bio #mkficmasterpost #writermk

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msmorningstaarr · 3 months

Text

Holy and Heathen - Chapter 10 (Legacies.)

Pairing: young!Oberyn MartellxF!Original Hightower Character

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: your regular family drama.

ao3 | masterlist

Chapter Summary: Ysilla speaks her truth.

a/n: a very short chapter but with a whole new perspective. Thanks @happilyhertale for your wonderful insight helping me building this chapter <3 just follow her. She is the best Daemon Targaryen writer.

(Except for Melara Hightower, all characters do not belong to me but to George RR Martin, author of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series.)

– Four moons later –

Ysilla

“Where are the letters Elia sent to me?” Oberyn abruptly entered his mother’s room whilst the older princess remained abed. With struggle, Ysilla sat on her bed with the help of a Septa and one of her handmaidens, for she was frail and sick to the point where staying in bed was the easiest option. The unknown disease caused the older princess to feel pain within her bones and headaches; however, it was not capable of taking the fury of the current paramount of Dorne. For Ysilla was only needed a slight raise on one of her eyebrows and a mockery look on her face, despite her current state. The princeling seemed at minimum distraught and upset with the imminent disappearance of the memoirs he had left from Elia and Oberyn knew that his mother was the one to blame and that she had got rid of the compromising letters they exchanged.

“They are gone.” She simply replied to her son. Oberyn was furious, his cheeks burning red and his eyes with pupils about to explode in anger but he contained himself in front of the servants.

“All of you, leave.” He commanded, sternly. The Septa, Maester and handmaiden were quick to leave their highness’ bedchambers as Oberyn told them. The salty prince gazed at his mother again, now sitting at a chair with a strange change of mood, crossing his legs comfortably on the chair and brushing his index over his own lips and staring at his mother, who was now sitting in bed. “Where are my letters?” He asked, seriously. Ysilla looked at him and chuckled, which appeared to light up his internal anger as his mother faintly beamed. “Why do you beam at me? Am I your jester?”

“In fact you are. You pass yourself as a fool. Dull boy.” The frail princess replied and Oberyn raised his eyebrows, searching for the right words to speak. “I threw them all away. I also made sure the ones you tried to send during my absence and your regency were intercepted and quickly destroyed.”

“Were you reading my correspondence?” Oberyn asked.

“I will always read everything that comes in and out of this castle, my son. And I will not allow you to destroy our family. Not while I am still alive.” She replied, with shaky hands trying to reach the milk of the poppy. Oberyn was still an honourable and caring son, even with his present anger. He made sure she would drink it all with no difficulties.

Ysilla fell sick the same day she held a feast in order to celebrate Elia and her pregnancy. At first, she thought it was a regular illness, once her health was not quite strong due to so many pregnancies, miscarriages and stillbirths. Her back gave her a hard time often moments and from time to time she would be abed, however, now was different. The older princess felt weaker and more pain, now spreading through her bones and turning her head heavier, feeling as if the pain only seemed to increase. Oberyn and Melara were in charge now as her regents, although Ysilla worried about Melara and her behaviour towards certain situations regarding life in a dornish court, for the salty princess thought Melara needed to learn more before taking part in this big role that awaited her.

In all honesty, Ysilla felt her life running down her hands like sand going back to the ground and it scared her, isolated her. Life as a ruler can be lonely, especially if the government is a woman, regardless of where the seat is located. Ever since Sunspear and Dorne were declared hers and she became Lady of Sunspear and Lady Paramount of Dorne, Ysilla lost the privilege of being weak and feel fear. She would always endure, be fearless and strong. Yet, the burden was a heavy one to carry on.

“I am not trying to destroy anything. I love my sister and I am fond of her. You did love my uncle before he became a knight. You should understand our fraternal bond.” Oberyn replied, sarcastically dismissive.

Ysilla looked away for a moment before turning her eyes back at her eldest son. “I know you yearn for Elia. I do not loathe you for this. The Targaryens do it for countless years, tracing back to the Valyria of old. But they had their way out, you have not. Although you keep creating shame on your name and my name, I must admit: it was all my mistake.”

Oberyn looked at his mother, confused. “I should have sent Elia to be fostered away and educate you to be my heir appropriately. With time, the passion could give you some ease, you would not take for granted the role life assigned for you. I thought that sending you to Essos after meeting your former betrothed could help your odd obsession over Elia, even conceded you permission to study so you could grow fond of other goals in life, once you were ruining all of Elia’s chances of finding a suitable husband… it was already too late. You two were wrapped around each other’s fingers. I tried to deny myself as your father counselled me so many times to keep you away from each other. I passed myself as a fool, just like you. I trusted you and her, you know? The blame is all on me for letting you behave like this towards your sister. But here I am, you and I, Oberyn. Allow me to ask you: how do you sleep at night knowing you have no respect for the people around you? Do you even tolerate your wife? The woman carrying your child?”

As Ysilla contemplated the news of Melara's pregnancy, her heart weighed heavily with concern. The realisation that her son's wife was carrying his child brought both joy and apprehension. Joy, for the prospect of a new life and the continuation of their family line, but also apprehension, knowing the challenges that lay ahead for Melara.

Ysilla's illness had kept her confined to her chambers for much of the time, unable to offer the support and guidance that Melara surely needed during this crucial time. She felt a pang of guilt knowing that her absence had likely added to Melara's burden, leaving her to navigate the uncertainties of pregnancy without the guidance of an experienced elder. She knew the girl was for sure stuck with her northerner ideas of what an ideal lady should be and she knows that, in her own way, Melara is stubborn like Oberyn, holding tightly onto her ideas. Ysilla felt as if she needed to embrace more of dornish culture and understand that she was no longer in Oldtown. She could be more loose, less scared and more warm towards people, even if they were bastards.

Oberyn sighed and just stared at Ysilla, with undecipherable eyes. “I have grown to be more and more fond of Melara. I will not deny it. But I cannot deny the feelings I have for Elia either. It is a complex situation, Mother,” Oberyn admitted, his voice tinged with resignation.

“As for Melara, she deserves my respect and care, and I strive to give her that every day. I may have made mistakes in the past, but I am determined to make amends and be a better husband to her.”

Ysilla's gaze softened as she listened to her son's words. "I hope you mean what you say, Oberyn," she replied calmly. "Your actions have consequences, not just for yourself but for those around you. You should be afraid of the destiny of your letters. You know too well that King’s Landing is full of snakes… and not the ones we are used to. Think about what could happen to your sister if the King discovers the disgusting nature of your feelings for your sister."

Oberyn nodded reluctantly, a weight settling on his shoulders as he considered his mother's words, refusing to acknowledge reason to his mother’s words. Her mind wandered back to Oberyn's childhood, recalling the spirited boy he had been. From a young age, he had been a handful, full of boundless energy and an insatiable thirst for adventure. Ysilla remembered the countless times she had scolded him for his reckless behaviour, only to see him continue to push the boundaries of what was deemed acceptable.

Despite his stubbornness and defiance, Ysilla couldn't help but feel a deep love for her son. Oberyn had always been fiercely independent, refusing to conform to the expectations placed upon him by society. While this had caused her no shortage of worry and frustration over the years, she couldn't deny that his spirit and determination were part of what made him so special.

But now, as she lay weakened by illness, Ysilla couldn't shake the fear that Oberyn's rebellious nature might ultimately lead to his downfall. She worried that his refusal to adhere to tradition and his tendency to act impulsively could jeopardise the legacy of House Martell, the very legacy that she had worked so hard to preserve.

As she pondered the uncertain future that lay ahead, Ysilla felt a sense of urgency wash over her. She knew that time was running out for her, and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Oberyn without the guidance and support he so desperately needed. It was time for him to grow up, to set aside his childish ways and embrace the responsibilities that came with being a leader.

With a heavy heart, Ysilla resolved to do whatever it took to make Oberyn understand the gravity of the situation. She would impart to him the wisdom and knowledge that she had accumulated over a lifetime, hoping that he would heed her words and rise to the challenge that lay before him. For she knew that the future of House Martell depended on it, and she refused to let her son squander the legacy that had been entrusted to him.

“As for the new handmaiden Lady Melara acquired and her coincident pregnancy alongside your wife’s… should I expect that only Melara carries your child?” Oberyn hesitated and Ysilla already knew the truth. Her son lowered his eyes for a brief moment and the ruler princess had her answer.

“Oberyn…”

Oberyn was quick to cut her words. “I had no idea they had met at the Sept she served.” He began. “I was frustrated because Melara was not keen on any of my attempts to take her. She was not engaging in conversation nor accepted my way. I was angry at the world for the fact that Melara was the one left for me whereas Elia seemed to be quite happy without my presence… I never intended to take Lya as my paramour.”

Ysilla looked at her son, irritated. “This girl must leave, Oberyn. Melara cannot be aware of it.”

“She might be carrying my child and I will not send our own kin away.” The princeling eagerly replied.

Ysilla tried to understand his inner thoughts and convictions, but her gaze hardened towards her son. “Not only she is her handmaiden but also her old companion. I fear it will finish ruining the unstable relationship you’re constructing. She barely stands Obara and Nymeria.”

“It will not. I will send the handmaiden away once the child is born.” Oberyn assured his mother.

“I do not believe a word coming out of your mouth. And would not surprise me if you took this girl as your paramour.”

A glimpse of annoyance sparkled through Oberyn’s eyes. “You may not notice, but I want Melara to be part of my life and I do not take any joy for my impulsive acts. I will fix it.”

After a long silence, both just stared at each other in the aftermath of that honest conversation. “Leave me be, my son.” Ysilla said, deviating her eyes from the prince. When he stood up to leave, she spoke. “Oberyn,”

Her son looked back at her and raised one of his eyebrows. “Yes, mother.”

“If you hold any love or affection for your mother and House Martell. Kill this kind of love you have for Elia.”

Oberyn pouted his lips, still annoyed and just slammed the door, leaving his mother alone as she requested. As Oberyn stormed out of the room, leaving his mother alone with her thoughts, Ysilla couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over her. She knew that her son's stubbornness and impulsive nature were not easily swayed, especially when it came to matters of the heart. And the lingering shadow of Oberyn's forbidden love for Elia only served to deepen her concern.

With a heavy heart, Ysilla knew that she had to tread carefully in order to protect the reputation and stability of House Martell. Her sickness only made things more difficult. She feared that Oberyn's misguided affections towards the women present in his life could lead to further discord within their household, putting their family's legacy at risk and the fact she had to stay chained to a bed only made things more difficult to her. She felt powerless, knowing that an imminent problem was growing and possibly spreading wildfire quickly through Sunspear and who knows King’s Landing. If in the wrong hands, those letters could cause bloodshed at minimum.

With a heavy heart and a mind filled with uncertainty, Ysilla resolved to confront Oberyn once more, to impress upon him the importance of putting aside his forbidden love and embracing his responsibilities as a leader. For only then could they hope to safeguard the legacy of House Martell and ensure its continued prosperity for generations to come.

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