#Lord Somerset

[itskubay]

Somermary talks about eachother in episode 2 but this time with Edward vi

#mary i #mary tudor #becoming elizabeth #edward seymour #john heffernan #romola garai #mary i x edward seymour #lordsomerset #becomingelizabethedit #gifshistorical #edward vi #tudor era #tudors #tudor #lord somerset #edward seymour duke of somerset #mary i of england #becoming elizabeth gifs #gifs #oliver zetterstrom

[tweetingukpolitics]

#carol vorderman #political twitter #conservative party #house of lords #dominic johnson #jacob rees mogg #somerset capital #uk news #uk politics

[kingedwardvi]

Curiously enough, I’ve only recently watched “Becoming Elizabeth” as I’ve concomitantly read Edward VI’s biography.

It is hardly a surprise to observe there were great differences between the show and the book, specially concerning Katheryn Parr and Thomas Seymour’s own relationship.

Admittedly, though I know little of this matter myself, came across the excerpt below which gave me a lot to think about. For those who are little familiar with the first Dowager Queen of England in an almost a century (the last being Queen Elizabeth Wideville), the following content might actually come a surprise—or not.

What matters here is to promote not only a healthy discussion about their union, but showing that whereas Katheryn did love the man, she was not his first option to marry and she was not a “fool” completely blinded by her affection for him: she hesitated at first, unwilling to remarry in at least two years before becoming Lady Seymour out of respect for the king of England. However, Lord Thomas was a persuasive man, writing as far as a poem to claim the dowager queen’s heart—and he eventually succeeded it, as we are seeing next.

“Katherine moved into her dower house at Chelsea - away from the eyes at court, it was the ideal setting for Seymour to pay secret visits by night. Letters were sent and received, their contents, upon Katherine's urging, were quickly burnt: 'Your letter being finished ... I remembered your commandment to me’, Seymour wrote, ‘wherewith I threw it into the fire, be minding to keep your requests and desires’, yet the survival of both their letters suggest that neither was quite so willing to part with these tokens of love and affection.

Katherine confided her feelings to her friend Lady Paget, who urged marriage. But Katherine was hesitant. She wished 'it had been her fate to have him for a husband' but she was mindful of her position as queen. She had even kept the affair secret from her sister Anne who, when Katherine finally revealed the news, 'did not a little rejoice'.

As a growing number of friends discovered the secret of the affair, it became increasingly difficult to keep it hidden and rumours soon abounded. Meeting Seymour in St James's Park, Princess Elizabeth's servant Katherine Ashley challenged him over his marriage plans. Seymour boasted 'he would prove to have the queen', to which Ashley retorted that she thought this 'was past proof as I had heard he was already married to her'.

Ashley was right, for sometime between mid May and the beginning of June the couple had wed in secret, with one commentator believing the marriage had taken place as early as thirty-four days after Henry's death.

If this was true, then Katherine was playing a dangerous game - if she had become pregnant, there would have been no certainty that the child was Seymour's or Henry's. Katherine remained unwilling to commit herself, having doubts to the last.

She claimed she was his 'loving wife in her heart' but was determined 'never to marry, and break it when I have done, if I live two years'. Nevertheless, Seymour got his way. News of their marriage could not stay secret for long.

'I wish the world was as well pleased with our meaning as lam well assured [of ] the goodness of God's’, Katherine had lamented, 'but the world is so wicked that it cannot be contented with good things’. Instead she suggested that they find support for their union amongst the most powerful members of the council and court.

Seymour tested Princess Mary's reaction. It was not good. Mary considered it 'strange news', writing that if Katherine was keen, there was little she could do. In any case, 'being a maid' she was 'nothing cunning' about 'wooing matters'.

Instead, Mary appealed to her dead father's memory: if Katherine was not willing, certainly she would not 'persuade her to forget the loss of him, who is as yet very ripe in mine own remembrance’. Privately Mary was horrified at the prospect, and blamed Katherine for the affair. She possibly even appealed to Elizabeth to discourage the queen, but her half-sister, not wishing to stir up trouble, told her that they lacked any influence at court and should suffer with patience what was impossible to prevent.

Seymour would have to look elsewhere for support and he knew precisely whom to turn to. His confidence rested in the fact that he had managed to remain in regular contact with Edward through John Fowler, a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, whom Seymour gave a bribe of £10 (£3,000) shortly after the coronation and before long was in his regular pay. Despite being almost continually in the presence of other gentlemen of the chamber, Fowler was soon able to converse with Edward and soon struck up a close friendship with the king, speaking to him alone.

It was not long before Seymour was calling in the favours. At the end of February he had met with Fowler over a drink and asked whether Edward had mentioned him - and in particular whether the king had ever wondered why he had remained unmarried. Would Edward be happy for him to marry? And who should he take as his bride?

Without asking too many questions, Fowler approached Edward a few days later, somewhat unsubtly repeating Seymour's queries. Edward's first reply was to suggest Anne of Cleves, but then, giving the matter more serious attention, answered that he thought Mary to be the best choice, if only 'to change her opinions'.

When Seymour heard, he laughed. 'I pray you, Mr Fowler, if you may soon, ask his Grace if he could be contented I should marry the Queen.’ He also wanted to know if Edward would write a letter on his behalf in support of the marriage.

It was at this time that Seymour, without Fowler's knowledge, began to visit Edward in private. It was not long before he had persuaded him to write a letter to Katherine, dated 25 June. Despite Edward writing to Katherine at the end of May urging her to 'continue to love my father', now the king seemingly endorsed her relationship with Seymour, since the letter ingeniously made their marriage appear as Edward's personal request to Katherine.

Moreover, it gave specific assurance that Edward would safeguard Katherine against any reaction from Somerset, who the couple knew would be furious at their secret union: 'Wherefore ye shall not need to fear any grief to come, or to suspect lack of aid in need; seeing that he, being mine uncle, is so good in nature that he will not be troublesome ... if any grief shall befall, I shall be a sufficient succour.'

The entire letter was no doubt composed by Seymour, who probably dictated it to the king.(…) When news of his brother's marriage leaked out, Somerset was furious. Edward's blessing made Somerset all the more enraged, and the king was not immune from the brunt of his anger, noting in his journal that 'the Lord Protector was much offended’.

But it was his wife Anne, the Duchess of Somerset, who took the greatest offence to the union. Described as 'a woman for many imperfections intolerable, and for pride monstrous, subtle and violent' who held Somerset under her sway 'by persuasions cunningly intermixed with tears', she detested Katherine.”

SKIDMORE, C. “Edward VI: The Lost King of England”.

#tudor dynasty #Edward VI #Katheryn Parr #Queen Katheryn Parr #Queen Catherine Parr #Queen Katheryn #Queen Catherine #Queen Katherine #Dowager Queen of England #House of Tudor #Thomas Seymour #Lord Thomas Seymour #Baron Sudeley #Lord Admiral #House of Seymour #Edward Seymour #Anne Stanhope #Duke of Somerset #Duchess of Somerset #Will write about Anne and Katheryn’s rivalry in a future post. #Princess Mary Tudor #Princess Mary #Lady Mary Tudor #Queen Mary I of England #Princess Elizabeth #Lady Elizabeth Tudor #Queen Elizabeth I of England

[endlessly-cursed]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝑸&𝑨

Canon or Fiction? If your family is a Canon one you made your own: What drew you to that specific family? Did you make any changes to Canon, and if so, why? If your family is completely original: Where did the Family name come from? What was your inspiration and who was the first OC you created for it?

Oh, the Somersets are 100% original! The family name was based on a visual novel that I played and several period dramas I watched, especially of the Tudor and Regency era (and some Edwardian ones) the name Somerset (that is also a city) was the most Ancient Noble Family I could think of. The inspo was, as I mentioned, the many period dramas I consumed and me wanting to make a noblewoman OC. The first OC created was the legend herself, Lady Primrose Gray!

Family Ties: What other families are related/connected to this one? Are they Canon families or creator made families? (Tag them!)

The Somersets were there during the Anglo-Saxon times, and are descendants of Charlemagne, but the very first well-recorded members date in the midst of the Wars of the Roses with Lord Matteo and his wife, Sancia D'Este, from the prominent Italian family whose handsome dowry and fame gave the first pillars of wealth of the family. Many famous connections are made up, like the Fersens and Yaxleys, but there are two creator made: The Stolberg-Burkes by @gaygryffindorgal and the Taylors by @camillejeaneshphm who are direct ancestors of the modern Somersets, in which two married pureblood families (The Abbotts and the Ollivanders) and one that married a Turkish woman of the name Fazilet (which I stole from a Turkish telenovela called Mrs. Fazilet and her daughters) and also, her daughter Jocelyn marries into the Alderlies, who also belong to Gryff!!

Foundations: What year and which OC was the founder of the family line? If the family goes back hundreds of years and you don’t know the first member, tell us about the oldest OC in the family you have created.

As I said, the Somersets are descendants of Charlemagne, but the first one to be recorded is Lord Matteo, whose birthrate dates differs. He was alive and married in 1453 but was not yet a Viscount. They'd earn the title during the reign of the infamous Henry VIII

Fun Facts: Do you have any misc lore you have that you haven’t had a chance to post about? Talk about anything you like!

The Somersets earned the viscountcy through Henry VIII by... making sure his bathroom needs were taken care of. Basically by wiping the King's bottom... But they got rewarded accordingly and a title, so, not bad!!

The first wizard Somerset was Victoria Somerset, Primrose's mother. Her father was a pureblood who aimed to be a cursebreaker... Until he fell in love.

Many of the members were cunning and always stood on the right side of history: they first sided with William the Conqueror, then against Empress Maude, then with the Yorks and changing sides with Henry Tudor at Bosworth Field, 'betraying' King Richard III, fighting against the Jacobites... It is said that one Somerset was sent to kill the Bonnie Prince, but failed and went back home in disgrace. It didn't affect the family, though.

Ever after Primrose, the family members got several powers: Vincent could manipulate air, Alexandra never got hot or cold, Lawrence could turn things into ice, Charles was immune to mermaid singing, etc

Prirmose wasn't meant to be my main OC, but Cecilia! But she received so much love and attention, I happily obliged and fell in love with her in the process 🥰

Free Space: Feel free to ask any creator a question not listed here and maybe you will get one in return!

I'm the world's worst answerer in the world but I'll do my best! For the Lineage Challenge by @kathrynalicemc

#hogwarts legacy #fbawtft #riddle era #oc: primrose sabrina gray #lord matteo somerset #ismene fazilet #alexandra somerset #malcolm stolberg burke #margaret taylor #lineage challenge #yes i made prim a descendant of charlemagne #it's what she deserves

[the-busy-ghost]

Dear God, Westminster was always bad but lately it’s like the Tories have been engaged in a secret contest to see who can come out with the most absolutely rancid takes in the Commons

#I think Miriam Cates has won the last two PMQs on that front she just stands up and spews out the most hateful Daily Mail level lies #And fails to provide any credible evidence #But in the wake of Keir Starmer's unbelievably stupid decision-making over the last week #We've also been subjected to unhinged rants from the Dishonourable Member for North East Somerset (I mean more unhinged than usual) #And numerous other MPs (and members of the Lords) holding forth in a manner that Donald Trump would have thought gauche #The Tories were always gross but half of them seem to have lost touch with reality and to base their speeches off dubious facebook posts #The front bench (packed- you will no doubt remember- with appalling examples like Suella Braverman) look tame by comparison #As if we needed any more evidence that this country has been dragged to the (far) right #We don't even have to look at the Labour party's centre-right approach to certain issues; the Tories are wearing tinfoil hats in parliament #Please please let Miriam Cates be trounced in the next election though dear god she has to go she lowers the IQ of the whole chamber #Praying that the electors of Penistone and Stocksbridge come to their senses and oust her as soon as they can #Michael Fabricant and Lee Anderson are also contenders for that position but they haven't offended me quite so deeply this week

[athenepromachos]

Memorandum of a meeting of Edward VI's Council dated 18th January 1551 (1552 by the modern calendar) which is written in the King's own hand. Item 3 refers to the Duke of Somerset and reads :

"The matter for the Duke of Somerset and his confederates to be considered as appertaineth to our surety and quietness of our realm, that by their punishment and execution according to the laws, example may be showed to others.'

The original text actually only refers to Somerset's confederates and their punishment... not execution. Did the 14 year old Edward make the decision himself to proceed with his Uncle's death or did someone "influence" him ???🤔🤔

#becoming elizabeth #edward vi #edward seymour #duke of Somerset #john dudley #duke of northumberland #lord protector #🪓🪓

[fideidefenswhore]

@katherynparr

you're right, he wouldn't give Edward S a title associated with his deceased son, if anything that would be a third or fourth son's title. Also Pembroke would of been saved as well for a future son or grandson if he was alive when hypothetically they were born.

totally agree, i think the fact that henry gave him no edge over the other fifteen members of the regency council he assigned speaks volumes... 

#katherynparr #replies #kind of an ominous tradition of lord protectors; no? not really surprised henry didn't appoint one #but yeah. like. there were other earls on that list #duke of somerset had also been henry's brother's title... like....there is just no way #as far as im aware; beyond his sons and AB there was no one else he bestowed familial titles upon... #chapuys claimed he was going to give one to mary after her bastardization but he never did

[stonelord1]

Scandal in Salisbury

Recently I had a rare opportunity to visit Church House in Salisbury. Used for administration of the diocese today, it is an attractive medieval/post-medieval building retaining many original features, and has an interesting but sometimes rather murky past. Originally it was built in the 15th century by a merchant called William Lightfoot, and was known in that era as The Falcon. However, later…

View On WordPress

#Church House #Earls of Castlehaven #Edmund Duke of Somerset #Elizabeth I #executions #Ferdinando Stanley #Henry of Buckingham #Lady Eleanor Talbot #Lords Audley #Margaret Darrell #Mary "Tudor" #Mervyn Tuchet #rape #Salisbury #smallpox #sodomy #Stanleys #Sudeley Castle #Tower Hill #William Lightfoot #workhouses

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words

Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.

Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 

Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.

“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.

Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.

“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.

You suspected him pleased now.

However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.

Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 

You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.

For as long as possible.

Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.

And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.

As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.

Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.

In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.

“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.

His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.

Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.

The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...

“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.

You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.

Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.

Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.

Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.

“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 

Not even thanks were left for your input.

Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 

The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.

Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 

She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…

“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 

You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.

No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.

Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.

Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 

“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.

An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 

“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 

Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.

The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.

He looked ridiculous. 

“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.

The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.

Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.

A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.

“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.

The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  

But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.

As if she felt sorry for you.

Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.

It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.

You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 

She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.

Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.

At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.

“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 

“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.

You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 

Children with this man? No.

On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.

“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 

Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 

They were burning on your skin now.

Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.

So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.

“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.

“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.

You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.

With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.

“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 

What?

Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.

Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.

And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.

Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.

“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 

The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.

Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.

His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.

“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.

“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.

Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.

This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 

Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 

Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 

The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.

Then, you seemed put.

“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.

He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.

You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.

Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.

A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.

“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.

Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.

“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.

With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.

You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.

His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 

You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.

“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.

Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 

Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 

How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 

Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.

It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.

“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.

“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.

His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.

Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.

“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.

Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.

Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.

“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.

This man had nerves. 

“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.

The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.

It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 

When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 

“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.

“Pray tell“.

You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 

It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 

“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 

Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.

The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.

You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.

“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.

“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.

You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 

The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.

“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.

“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.

Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.

For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.

Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.

You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.

You enthralled him.

“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.

Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.

Out of sight.

His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 

“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.

God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.

Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 

“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.

You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.

There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 

“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.

“You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.

Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 

Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 

Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“Look 'ere, luv“.

Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.

A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.

Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.

You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.

Why would he think you needed a compass?

Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.

“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.

“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 

Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.

But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 

He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.

“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.

A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.

Magic. 

With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.

“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.

Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 

Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.

He was being honest, you felt it.

“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 

Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 

The last for now, at least.

♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus

#jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #potc x reader #potc #jack sparrow fic #fanfiction #jack sparrow x y/n #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic #captain jack sparrow x yn #jack sparrow x f!reader #language

[bosbas]

Chapter 4: all they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in French, Colin in his feels asf

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: EEEEEP the plot is finally plottingggggggg

May 19, 1816 – By now, it’s fairly obvious that the esteemed Mr. Colin Bridergton and Lady Y/N Montclair have, to put it lightly, an intense dislike for one another. How this contention began, this author does not know. However, Lady Montclair has yet to dance with Mr. Colin Bridgerton at any ball this season, despite dancing with Benedict and even older brother Anthony Bridgerton. This, coupled with the endless glares between the two and Lady Montclair’s perpetual frown around Mr. Bridgerton, indicates a less-than-friendly relationship. 

Luckily, this rivalry is not of any particular consequence to our heroine, since Lord Arthur Barlow seems on the cusp of a proposal. After a month-long courtship, it could be mere days before the Duke asks Lord Philippe Montclair for Lady Montclair’s hand in marriage. Although certainly a controversial choice from her parents to delay Y/N’s season, the wait would certainly pay off if she marries a Duke. This union, with the Duke of Monmouth’s title and the Montclair family’s extensive land ownership, would be one of the most advantageous Mayfair has seen since Charlotte Bexley, who just so happens to be Y/N’s sister, and her union to the Duke of Somerset. Shall we expect a public announcement soon? This author is certain that both families are itching for official confirmation.

Benedict thanked the bartender, sipping his brandy as he looked around at the gentlemen around him. Though Benedict and Colin had come to White’s together, the younger Bridgerton had gotten caught up in conversation with Lord Fife, leaving Benedict alone and slightly bored.

However, Louis Montclair’s appearance quickly piqued Benedict’s interest. It was the first time Benedict had seen Louis at the gentleman’s club, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to find out more about your unusual relationship with Colin. It was no secret that you and Colin couldn’t stand one another, but Benedict was far too absent at social functions to piece together what had happened by himself, and he thought Louis would be the perfect person to provide some clarity.

“Louis! I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking properly,” Benedict clapped him on the back as he approached him. 

Louis turned around, grinning once he saw the Bridgerton. 

“Ah, Benedict, of course. Every time my mother successfully forces me to attend a ball, you seem to be absent! One would think you’ve been avoiding me,” he said jovially.

Benedict laughed and shook his head. “Since my painting was placed in the national gallery, Mother hasn’t been too insistent on my appearance at social functions,” he explained. Then, with a cheeky smile, he added, “I believe the rivalry between our families starts and ends with Colin and Y/N.”

Louis rolled his eyes, annoyed at the reminder of your hatred toward Colin. “Lord knows what the two have against each other. Even just thinking about having to listen to my sister complain about Colin after tomorrow’s ball is giving me a headache.”

“Then a drink is in order, to be sure!” Benedict called over the bartender and asked for another glass of brandy for your brother. “Though I wouldn’t fret too much about your sister; I’m certain Colin must have done something unforgivable to elicit such a response,” he said, only half joking.

“Well, I’m sure he has. I do not doubt that,” responded Louis, grabbing his drink and thanking the bartender. 

“Oh?” prompted Benedict, surprised by Louis’ affirmative response. He led your brother to a table in the back corner, sitting down across from him. 

Taking a sip, Louis explained, “My sister might be the most irritating person I know, but she rarely holds anyone in her bad graces unless she has a good reason.”

Benedict just stared at your brother, eyebrows raised and waiting for further explanation. Had Colin acted out of line with you? He was supposed to be the sweetheart of London high society, but perhaps his brother had changed during his travels. 

Louis paused, frowned thoughtfully, and continued. “Oddly enough, I haven’t a clue why she dislikes Colin. Usually, one cannot possibly get her to stop talking about why someone vexes her, but she has evaded speaking about the subject directly thus far.” 

Spotting Colin walking toward the pair, Louis quickly stood up to greet the younger Bridgerton.

“Colin! Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

“The devil? Your sister hasn’t rubbed off on you, I hope,” answered Colin, not entirely amused as he shook your brother’s hand and sat down next to Benedict. 

“Not at all, Bridgerton,” Louis laughed, dissipating the tension easily. “And I hope your hatred toward her is not extended toward me, too.” 

“Is it that obvious?” asked Colin, slightly cringing that his ungentlemanly behavior was public knowledge. 

Benedict snorted. “It is now that Lady Whistledown has reported on it. I don’t know how you could have possibly been so rude as to end up as the subject of the ton’s gossip sheet, but I fear for you once Mother gets her hands on today’s column.”

Colin sank in his seat in shame, embarrassed that his perfect reputation was crumbling because of you, of all people. He was supposed to be charming and easygoing, and he feared what would become of him if people started to dislike his character. 

On the other hand, your little rivalry with him would barely have any effect on you. You were strikingly beautiful and exceptionally smart, not to mention exceedingly worldly. And even if you didn’t have all those things in your favor, your dowry was large enough that any man would be stupid not to at least consider you for marriage. 

“Not to worry,” assured Louis. “I am sure your rivalry will be coming to a close sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time before Barlow proposes and she’ll be out of your hair. And mine.” 

Colin tensed. “Pardon?”

“Y/N is about three seconds away from being married off, so she won’t have nearly as much time to dedicate to your rivalry,” explained Louis. 

“Oh,” Colin cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Why do you say that? Has she said anything?”

Benedict set his drink down, shooting Colin a curious look. “She probably hasn’t had to. They’ve been courting for a month. If anything, it would be out of the ordinary if he didn’t propose.”

Louis nodded in agreement, blissfully oblivious to Colin’s mounting panic. 

“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” conceded Colin. “I just thought–”

He paused. After a beat, he shook his head. “But, really? Marriage? It seems so sudden,” Colin said, stumbling over his words, a growing panic in his voice slowly turning to inexplicable anger.

 “I don’t know if I would use the word sudden… Why? Did you want to marry her?” teased Louis, laughing at what seemed to be an outlandish suggestion. Then, spotting his brother-in-law, Edward Bexley, by the door, he downed his drink and stood up. “A pleasure speaking with you gentlemen, but I must greet Bexley.”

The Bridgerton boys said goodbye, but before Colin had the chance to get away, Benedict turned to his brother accusingly.

“I know Louis was joking, but do you actually want to marry her?” he asked, concerned. “You’ve been acting all out of sorts.”

“What? No,” scoffed Colin. “Not in a million years.” Then, realizing he had to explain his outrage at the prospect of you getting married, he added, “I’m just surprised anyone would consider marrying her, is all.”

“Colin,” scolded Benedict. “Have some decorum. Even if that were true, you are still a Bridgerton. Please behave like one.”

Colin’s face turned hot in shame. “You’re right; I apologize. I think I need some air,” he finally strangled out, standing up and practically sprinting toward the courtyard, his practically full drink long forgotten.

Once Colin felt the fresh air on his face, he let out a deep sigh and unclenched his fists. You getting married was supposed to be a good thing. The only person in the ton who didn’t like him would finally be gone and he could return to being the best-liked among his siblings. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know you would end up marrying someone else. It was basically the only reason you had come to England. Besides, he saw you with Arthur at every event you attended. Why was he so upset now? Why was he surprised at all?

Rubbing his temples, Colin started pacing in the courtyard. It must have been lingering resentment toward you, he reasoned. There was no other explanation. Colin couldn’t shake the way you and the duke so easily fell into flirtatious banter while he received only cold stares and snippy comments. It was infuriating that you took Lord Barlow and his intent to marry you so seriously while you barely spared Colin a second glance when he asked you to dance for the first time.

He still remembered watching you in Hyde Park the first time you spoke with Arthur, all giggly and flirtatious while you promenaded. Exactly the opposite of how you had been with him. What would it have taken for you to look at Colin with even a fraction of the fondness with which you looked at Lord Barlow?

Then, Colin was struck by a sobering thought. Perhaps you knew that, deep down, he lacked any substance. Perhaps you were not fooled by his charismatic front and could see that he could offer you nothing. 

As a third son, Colin could scarcely boast the same riches or claim to land as the duke. But he could have loved you. And he would have taken care of you. If only he had made more of an effort with you, he chastised himself. Then he might find himself in the position of doing something of actual importance for the first time in his life.

But his need for approval had gotten in the way. And what good that had done him. You were about to get everything you wanted and marry a duke, and he was left with nothing but a bruised ego.

---

As soon as Charlotte saw Colin entering the ballroom she sighed and rolled her eyes. Now that she was the oldest Montclair sibling left in England, she was in charge of making sure you and Colin didn’t make a scene at every single event you attended. 

Usually, it was Louis who needed scolding, mischievous as he was. Charlotte had no idea why you decided to be the difficult one this season. All she knew was that Colin had the unique ability to work you up until you were engaged in a yelling match, and it was her job to mitigate this to the best of her abilities. 

Charlotte, already facing you, leaned in close to your ear. “Sois gentille, s’il te plaît. T’es une dame es tu dois te comporter comme telle,” she murmured (Be nice, please. You're a lady, and you should act like one).

Immediately realizing that Colin had arrived, you crossed your arms. “Mais Charlotte, il est trop désagréable. Il me soûle tellement !” you whined softly (But Charlotte, he’s so unpleasant. He gets on my nerves so much!).

Charlotte scoffed in disbelief at your childish demeanor. “Et toi ? Tu penses que t’es plus agréable ? Vraiment ?” (And you? You think you’re more pleasant? Really?)

You knew she had a point, but you couldn’t help the annoyed huff that escaped your lips before you turned around, choosing to face the dance floor instead. 

Violet Bridgerton was hosting a ball tonight, and it seemed like every member of the ton had made an appearance. Your mother had nearly killed you when you told her you had a throbbing headache, not accepting any excuses for missing the most important ball of the season. 

Eventually, you compromised and promised to stay for a dance with Lord Barlow and a quick greeting to the Bridgertons. You were already eyeing the exit longingly, itching to retreat to your blissfully dark and quiet room. Just a quick turn around the ballroom and you would be free, you lamented. 

Your stomach churned with a mixture of anticipation and dread as you thought of seeing Lord Barlow. While the prospect of a proposal from him should have filled you with excitement, a throbbing headache dampened your spirits and left you feeling less than enthusiastic about the impending moment. 

A proposal from a titled gentleman was what you had been working toward your whole life, and you would have liked to feel well for it. Though you liked Arthur, and the two of you got along well, you could only hope that he wasn’t planning on proposing tonight. 

You heard footsteps coming in your direction, and you turned to see Eloise, Benedict, and Colin walking over to you and your sister. 

“Y/N! And Charlotte!” Eloise exclaimed loudly upon seeing you. 

You grimaced; the pain caused by her voice overpowering the joy you felt upon seeing her. 

“Hello Eloise!" your sister greeted warmly. "Y/N has a headache, so she's only staying for a short while," she explained.

“Hello, El,” you grinned, rubbing your temples with one hand and squeezing Eloise’s arm with the other. 

“And Benedict, what a surprise!” you exclaimed, turning to greet the older Bridgerton. 

“Y/N! A good surprise, I hope. It has been quite some time, hasn’t it?” responded Benedict, smiling at you and squeezing your arm.

Your gaze shifted to Colin, who was standing next to his brother, and you tensed, already dreading the argument–or four–you would inevitably have with him tonight. You barely had the energy to stand straight tonight; you couldn’t fathom having to hold your own against Colin Bridgerton.

Eloise, sensing the mounting hostility, sighed deeply. “It’s best to leave them to it for a bit and let them get it out of their system,” she said, guiding Charlotte and Benedict away from you. 

Before Charlotte turned around, she looked back at you suspiciously. She decided you were already suffering enough from your headache and chose to leave you be, but not before raising her eyebrows at you in warning.

Clearing his throat, Colin nodded in your direction, “Lady Montclair.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you nodded back, much too tired to throw the first verbal punch of the night.

But as always, Colin seemed to have the unending desire to vex you. Seeing the Duke walking up to you from across the room and feeling the anger rise in his chest, he looked you up and down, searching for anything to lash out about. 

“Lovely necklace you’re wearing. It completely washes out the color of your eyes,” he commented quietly, careful that no one else would hear. 

Colin preferred to keep your quarrels private, especially after he knew Lady Whistledown had taken note of the tension between you. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want the rest of the ton knowing that you didn’t like him – it was too late for that, he reminded himself. These moments between you, although they often resulted in hurled insults and verbal attacks, felt oddly intimate to him. Despite the animosity, they were your private interludes, and he didn’t want to share them with anyone else.

You, oblivious to Lord Barlow, or anyone else for that matter, clutched your necklace, slightly embarrassed that he had noticed. It was true: the jewels did not match your eyes, and the neckpiece was so flashy that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was making your headache worse. But your mother had insisted you wear it tonight anyway.

“I’m surprised you can look up from my neck long enough to notice the necklace’s effect on my eyes,” you countered.

Colin turned slightly red, clasping his hands in front of him. He was surprised too, to be honest. But you didn’t need to know that.

Before Colin could respond, the Duke walked up to you to greet you by placing a hand on your arm. 

“Good evening, Y/N." 

“Good evening, Arthur,” you smiled at him, headache momentarily forgotten.

Colin balked. You were on a first-name basis with the Duke already? He felt utterly foolish for not realizing that you were, as Lady Whistledown had said, only days away from receiving a proposal.

“I see you’re wearing the necklace I got you,” Lord Barlow commented, pleased. “It does wonders for your complexion.”

“Oh, yes,” you said weakly. “My sincerest gratitude for the gift.” 

You could practically feel Colin smirking next to you, and you bit your lip to keep from snapping at him. You felt an unpleasant mixture of anger at Colin’s triumph and embarrassment that he knew that the unflattering necklace had been a gift from your suitor.

Lord Barlow brushed off your thanks. “A dance, my Lady?” he offered his hand.

“I’d be delighted,” you said gratefully, placing your hand in his. Anything to get away from Colin right now. 

You had danced with Arthur enough times that you were comfortable with him, and you found yourself enjoying moving to the music as Lord Barlow held you close.

As he spun you around, he leaned down close to your ear, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps.

“You look particularly fetching tonight, Y/N. Perhaps we might retreat to the gardens later tonight to speak some more,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened. Was he asking you to go outside for… unladylike reasons? Or was he implying he was going to propose? Perhaps both? Whatever the reason, tonight was not the night.

“I’m afraid not, Arthur,” you lamented. “I’ve got a splitting headache and will be heading home soon after our dance.” 

 “Very well,” he said with a clipped tone, leading you away from the dance floor now that the music had stopped. “Another time, then.”

“Certainly,” you replied, nervous that you had upset him.

Kissing the back of your hand dutifully, he smiled. “I hope tomorrow you will be in better spirits. I will be at the races, and it would be a shame not to see you there.”

Before you could respond, he had turned around and disappeared into the crowd.  

Exactly twenty minutes later, Colin watched as you said goodbye to his mother, hugging her tightly. He felt his heart clench. You really were the picture of grace when you weren’t around him. But it was far too late to dwell on that. 

He turned around to leave the ballroom in search of a strong drink as soon as he saw you leave through the main entrance. Now that you were gone, he saw no reason to stay. He didn’t particularly enjoy balls, even if this one was being hosted in his home, and he knew he would only grow bored now that you weren’t present to trade insults with.

Ever the dutiful son, Colin walked up to Violet Bridgerton to excuse himself before he left.

“Leaving so soon? I thought you might be more likely to stay now that Y/N is gone,” she teased. 

Colin laughed and shook his head. “I'm afraid not.”

“It’s a shame you don’t care for her,” she tsked. 

Eyes widening, Colin cleared his throat and tried to seem casual. “Why do you say that?” 

Had you said something just now? Were you having second thoughts about the Duke?

“Because I’d love to have the Montclairs as part of the family, of course. Unfortunately, Y/N is as good as married. Perhaps we can try again with Louis,” she mused. “Eloise is bound to come around to marriage at some point.”

Colin laughed weakly, not trusting himself to say anything, and gave his mother one last squeeze as he headed out to the hallway.

Finally out of the ballroom, Colin headed to the Bridgertons’ private courtyard so he could gaze at the stars, a habit he developed during his travels to guide him through rough waters that he couldn’t seem to shake even now that he was home. 

He could have taken a more direct route, but he wanted to avoid any mingling party-goers, already exhausted from the night. Colin was quite enjoying the feeling of navigating through his familiar home, realizing that he hadn't spent more than a few months in England in years.

Finally, after a few minutes of solitude, he reached the door farthest from the ballroom that led to the courtyard,

However, when he was halfway to the exit, he spotted two figures there already, partially obscured by the curtain in front of the door. He could barely make out two voices and a very flirtatious giggle. Rolling his eyes, Colin started backing away, not wanting to interrupt what he assumed to be Benedict and some very unlucky lady having an intimate moment. 

It was certainly a bold choice on Benedict’s part. The courtyard was not so private that it was hidden away from view completely, and anyone in the ballroom could have seen them. But Colin was not in the business of getting involved in his brother’s affairs. 

As he turned away, Colin heard a muffled, “Ah, I see you like to play coy…”

Well, that was certainly not Benedict. In fact, it sounded quite a bit like…Arthur Barlow?

It couldn’t be, Colin shook his head aggressively. It couldn’t.

Colin felt anger rising in his chest, his lips turned down into a deep frown. He started back toward the courtyard.

Arthur was courting you. And he had just seen you go home. He couldn’t possibly be outside with someone else, could he?

Could he?

Upon hearing a squeal, Colin reached out and pulled back the curtains slightly, only to be met with the sight of the duke’s lips on Miss Barrington’s.

Colin dropped his hand in shock, letting the curtain obscure his view once again. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Your suitor was kissing another woman. Her hands were in his hair and he was tugging at the front of her dress, rushing to untie the bows on her gown.

Colin was frozen in shock. Is this something the duke did regularly? Did this mean that you and Lord Barlow kissed? An unpleasant image appeared in Colin’s mind, but he shook it away. He needed to focus on the problem at hand.

He had caught your almost-future-husband with someone else on the balcony, and you most likely had no clue. The duke’s actions had the potential to ruin multiple futures, and Colin felt his breathing quicken as he thought of how this could affect you.

Peeking through the window once more to ensure that he really was seeing the Duke and Miss Barrington, Colin frowned deeply. He shifted his gaze to the window looking into the ballroom across the courtyard, and was satisfied when he didn’t see anyone spying on the couple. At least there was that.

Rushing back through the twisting hallways, Colin ran to speak with his mother before anyone else could catch a glimpse of what was going on outside the Bridgerton home. 

Winded as he reached his mother, Colin grabbed her by the elbow and led her outside into the hallway. 

“Need… to… speak,” he panted out.

“Colin? What on earth–? I thought you had left the ball,” came Violet’s shocked response as she placed a concerned hand on her son’s shoulder. 

Colin nodded aggressively. “Lord Barlow… with Miss Barrington… on the balcony kissing,” he said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Oh!” Violet gasped, horrified. “Are you certain?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Obviously, Mother. What do I do? Should I go stop them? I thought he was going to propose to Lady Montclair. But Miss Barrington will be ruined if anyone finds out.”

His mother thought for a moment. “Has anyone seen them yet?”

Colin shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”

“That is the best we can hope for in this situation. I will go and stop them at once; hopefully, no one will have noticed their absence,” indicated Violet, annoyed that people felt the need to act like this at her ball in her home.

“And what of Lady Montclair?” pressed Colin. Surely you were the most important person in this situation, no?

"We ought to inform her in private, let her decide her course," she suggested, her voice low with a hint of disdain. 

Colin frowned, frustrated that the duke’s careless actions could result in you losing a suitor. 

Violet continued, "There's no need to create a spectacle, after all. A scandal of a duke’s infidelity won't bode well for anyone involved. With any luck, it went unnoticed, and Y/N can deliberate in peace. I highly doubt Lord Barlow will be forthcoming with the truth." 

Just then, the Bridgertons heard the ballroom door slam open as a chorus of giggles and whispers filled the hallway.

Colin cast a wary glance towards the departing crowd. "I fear discretion is no longer an option."

The whispers seemed to echo, disturbingly audible.

"Lord Barlow? The Duke?"

"I had heard he was set on Lady Montclair..."

"Such a shame. They appeared quite suited. What will become of her now that she's lost a Duke? I couldn't bear the humiliation."

"And Miss Barrington?"

"It seems the Duke's actions have ruined more than one woman this evening…”

—

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#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #enemies to lovers #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton x enemy!reader #bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #lost in translation #lost in translation: writing

[maeofthenoldor]

As Tolkien often observed; “names often generate a story” and always nearly contributed or suggested something of the nature or personality of the character, thing or place that has been named. Yet the most intriguing name he has created in my opinion, is the main protagonist of “The Hobbit” Bilbo Baggins who is the hero of the classic tale, and despite being seen as such, his name holds interesting and contradicting connotations. For Baggins suggests harmless, humble and well- contented characters (though with criminal undertones!) Yet the name Bilbo suggests an individual who is sharp, intelligent and even dangerous….

The family name of Bilbo is  “Baggins” which derives from a double source-the English Somerset surname Bagg, which means “moneybag” or “wealthy.” The term “Baggins" itself means “afternoon tea or snack between meals” and at first is appropriate in describing our well off  hobbit. Initially he is presented as a mildly comic, home-loving, upper middle class “gentle hobbit” who seems harmless and composed enough, if given to some annoyance. He is mostly concerned with his mothers dishes, doilies, domestic comforts and food. However, once recruited by Thorin and his Company, we see the respectable gentle hobbit reveal his true colours- he is an excellent and highly skilled burglar.

Tolkien has maintained that his tales are often inspired by names and words from the real world, and indeed, in the jargon of the nineteenth-and early twentieth century criminal underworld there were a cluster of names around the term “bag” and forms of theft. “To bag” means to capture, to acquire, or to steal. “A baggage man” is an outlaw who carries off the loot and a “bagman” is the man who collects and distributes gold on the behalf of others by dishonest means or purposes.

His surname not only characterises himself, but also plots out the narrative for the story. For in the hobbit we discover Baggins is hired by Dwarves to bag the Arkenstone. He then becomes the baggage man who carries off the loot. When he realises Thorin has fallen under the gold sickness, he becomes the bagman and is dishonest to the newly crowned king, distributing the Arkenstone to Thrandruil and Bard. After the Battle Of The Five Armies he hands out the treasure to those who are rightfully in need of it, and thus ends him being the bagman.

Another aspect of Bilbo Baggins character can be revealed by the analysis of his first name. The word “Bilbo” entered the English language in the late sixteenth century as a name for a short and deadly piercing sword of the kind once made in the Spanish port city of Bilbao where the name derives from. This is an excellent description of Bilbo's elvish sword (often called a letter opener) named “Sting.” Found in the troll hoard, Bilbo's “bilbo” can pierce through any animal hide that would break any other sword. In The Hobbit however, it is the hero's sharp wit rather than his sword that gives Bilbo his sharpness. Bilbo's well-honed wits allow him to survive the journey and to trick monsters, a dragon  and to get himself out of bad situations. 

When we put these two names together as Bilbo Baggins, we fully understand the two aspects of his character, showing someone who is dangerously witty, but ultimately good and humble to a fault. If we want to dig deeper into how these names also affected the events of the Lord Of The Rings, one has to look no further than Frodo Baggins.

 Along with the Baggins family name, further “baggage” is passed on to Bilbo's nephew and heir, Frodo Baggins who in the context of the one ring is a link to another underworld occupation; the bagger or the bag thief. This bagger or bag thief has nothing to do with baggage, but is derived from the French word bauge, meaning “ring.” A bagger then, is a thief who specialises in stealing rings by seizing a victim's hand and stripping off its rings. It had common usage in Britain's criminal underworld between 1890 to 1940. The Baggins name holds the idea and plot for both The Hobbit and Lord Of The Rings. For Bilbo's skill as a burglar, one might say that in the perspective of outsiders, the Baggins baggers of Bag End, Bilbo and Frodo, are naturally born ring thieves.

#tolkien #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #bilbo #frodo #lotr meta #meta #analysis #linguistics #the hobbit #hobbit #hobbits #i spent way to long researching this #lotr #silm

[itskubay]

Becoming Elizabeth memes 2/?

Edward VI vs Lord Somerset

Sit and learn sir! Or listen his opinions.

#oliver zetterstrom #edward vi #edward vi of england #edward tudor #john heffernan #Edward Seymour #Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset #Lord Somerset #Lord Protector #Becoming Elizabeth edit #becoming elizabeth #Becoming Elizabeth memes #sit and learn sir #If I were you #Edward #I wouldn't annoy my uncle. #poor boy still trying to prove he is the king #I think it's kind of funny #becomingelizabethedit #period drama memes #period drama #tudor era #tudor

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Regents and Regencies

A Regency is a period of time where another party rules of behalf of a monarch who is either too young, too ill or absent. A Regency can either be the monarch's own choice or a decision made for them on their behalf by a third part, usually government. Either way, a Regent is selected to act as temporary Head of State whilst the monarch is incapable of ruling.

Who can be a Regent?

A Regent is an important office, even though its a temporary one. Regencies of child monarchs generally either go to the Consort, though there are all sorts of reasons why this can be blocked. Sometimes governments and kingdoms are uncomfortable with foreign consorts with uncertain allegiances ruling the kingdom or sometimes the government just doesn't approve on the basis that they doubt the Consort's skill set. Other candidates for Regencies are nearly always family members such as uncles, aunts, cousins and even children of the monarch (especially if they are absent from the country or ill). But a Regent doesn't have to be a royal. They could just be a noble elected to the position (Sir William Marshall) or even one that siezes power for themselves (Richard of York) or even a council made up of Regents, headed by a Lord Protector.

Who makes a Regent?

As I mentioned before, monarchs can appoint the Regent that will replace them in certain cases. For instance, a monarch would chose the Regent if they were voluntarily leaving the country or they might designate a chosen Regent on their deathbed or just in case of emergency. But they wouldn't chose a Regent if they were ruled mentally incompetent. In those cases, the government would chose.

The Powers and Responsibilities of a Regent

A Regent is the acting head of state but they are not the monarch. They do not have the right to wear crowns or have a coronation and are not granted the hall pass of divine right. A Regent is referred to as their own title, say for example Duke of X, Regent of Y or Prince Regent. They are merely there to fill in for the monarch. A Regent would meet with the government, make decisions with the approval by government and sign offical documents. In cases of an absent monarch, a Regent may need the approval of the monarch themselves. Regents of child monarchs would usually include their charges in the country's running, either as spectator or student. A Regent, being temporary Head of State, would also have the responsibility of ensuring a natural cessation of their power to their monarch when their term is over. Some regents are better than others at handing over power.

Notable Regents of History

George IV, Richard III, Anne of Austria, Katheryn Parr, Richard of York, Margaret of York, Katherine of Aragon, Catherine de Medici, Louise of Savoy, Phillippe duc de Orléans, Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset, Sir William Marshall, John Duke of Bedford, Humphrey Duke of Gloucestershire, John Dudley Duke of Northumberland.

#Fantasy Guide to Regents and Regencies #Regent #Royal guide #Fantasy Guide #Writing guide #writers resources #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #writer's problems #spilled words #writer's life #Writer's reference #Reference #nanowrimo

[world-of-wales]

─ •✧ CATHERINE'S YEAR IN REVIEW : MAY ✧• ─

2 MAY - Princess Charlotte's 8th Birthday Portrait captured by Catherine was released by Kensington Palace. 3 MAY - Catherine, William and their children attended the Coronation Rehearsal. 4 MAY - Catherine and William travelled on the Elizabeth Line to Tottenham Court Road Station where they were received by Mr. Kevin Traverse-Healy (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London). Afterwards, they visited the Dog and Duck Pub. 5 MAY - Catherine and William attended the Realm Governor-Generals and Prime Ministers Reception at Buckingham Palace. Afterwards, they joined The King in greeting the crowds at The Mall. Subsequently, they attended the Reception for Heads of State and Overseas Guests. 6 MAY - Catherine, William and their children attended the Coronation of The King and Queen in Westminster Abbey. Afterwards, they witnessed the RAF fly-past from the Palace Balcony. 7 MAY - Catherine and William attended the Coronation Big Lunch on the Long Walk. Later, they attended the BBC Coronation Concert and held a Reception following the Concert at Windsor Castle. 8 MAY - Catherine and were joined by their kids for the Big Help Out at 3rd Upton Scouts Hall. They appeared in the Coronation Portrait released by Buckingham Palace. 9 MAY - Catherine and William gave an Afternoon Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Coronation of The King and Queen. 11 MAY - Catherine received Professor Eamon McCrory (Board Member, the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood Advisory Group) at Windsor Castle. Afterwards, they held a Meeting with Mrs. Alice Webb (Trustee, The Royal Foundation). 13 MAY - Catherine joined Kalush Orchestra for a special piano performance for the 2023 Eurovision Finale. 14 MAY - Catherine appeared in a Eurovision Performance BTS portrait released by Kensington Palace. 16 MAY - Catherine was received by His Majesty's Lord Lieutenant of Somerset (Mr. Mohammed Saddiq) as she visited the Kelly Holmes Trust to mark Mental Health Awareness Week. 17 MAY - Catherine visited her patronage - Family Action. 18 MAY - Catherine visited the Anna Freud National Centre for Children and Families where she was received by Mr. Paul Herbage (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London). 20 MAY - Kensington Palace released a new portrait featuring Catherine with her bees to mark World Bee Day. 23 MAY - Catherine attended a Children's Picnic at the Chelsea Flower Show of the Royal Horticultural Society. 25 MAY - Catherine visited the Foundling Museum where she was received by Ms. Roxane Zand (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London). Afterwards, she was received by Ms. Geraldine Norris (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London) as she attended a workshop with Kinship at St. Pancras Community Centre. 31 MAY - Catherine and William arrived in Amman for the Royal Wedding.

#year in review 2023 : catherine #catherine review : may #year in review : 2023 #year in review : catherine #review may #review 2023 #british royal family #royals #royal #brf #kate middleton #catherine middleton #british royals #royalty #british royalty #duchess of cambridge #prince of wales #princess of wales #prince william #princess catherine #the princess of wales #the prince of wales #the prince and princess of wales #princess kate #princess charlotte of wales #princess charlotte

[crossdreamers]

Dr James Barry, the Transgender Man who Became British Colonial Medical Inspector in 1822

The Vagina Museum tells the story of the transgender man who became a famous military surgeon in Britain in the 19th century.

Dr James Barry (circa 1789-1865) was a renowned military surgeon who is probably better known for the speculation about his gender than his illustrious career. So let's set the record straight about the work of this brilliant healer.

A famous surgeon outed after death

James Barry was assigned female at birth. This was only revealed after his death. The fact was made public as the woman who laid his body out after his death was disgruntled at not being paid for her work, so she ended up taking a story about his body to the press.

The story was somewhat newsworthy because in his lifetime, Barry was a famous surgeon, something of a rockstar in the military and surgical worlds.

It's hard to tease out details of Barry's early life due to posthumous speculation - once the news broke, several people claimed they'd known all along, or told stories about his supposed femininity, and the whole story was viewed through the lens of 19th century gender politics.

Even Barry's precise date of birth is not known - the likely date seems to be around 1789, but it may have been as late as 1799. Barry is known to have lied about his age, because his appearance was very youthful, and he sometimes passed himself off as younger than he was.

His life

Barry studied at the University of Edinburgh, and received his qualification as a doctor of medicine in 1812, when he would have been about 19 or 20 years old (or 10, according to his own account of his age!). After this, he studied in London and qualified as a surgeon in 1813.

He proceeded to join the British army, enlisting as a hospital assistant just four days after qualifying as a surgeon. During his 46 years of service, he gained huge renown as a surgeon and a doctor.

Surgeon in South Africa

In 1816, Barry went on his first overseas posting as an assistant surgeon. He was posted to Cape Town, and quickly became friends with the governor, Lord Charles Somerset. The friendship began because Barry treated Somerset's sick daughter spectacularly well.

Later in his life, in 1829, Barry went absent without leave from the army when Somerset himself became sick. He spent two years treating his friend until Somerset's death.

Colonial Medical Inspector

In 1822, Somerset promoted Barry to the role of Colonial Medical Inspector, which was an astronomical leap in Barry's career. Sometimes, though, the friendship raised eyebrows. In 1824, Somerset and Barry were accused of having sex with each other.

Barry's renown grew hugely during the ten years he spent in South Africa. He is sometimes credited as the first doctor to successfully perform a C-section in Africa where both survived, though that credit may better go to indigenous Africans

Throughout his long surgical career, Barry was posted all around the world, serving in the West Indies, Europe, America, and Africa. Following him was a reputation for excellence. Wherever he went, sanitation greatly improved, and soldiers and local people alike became healthier.

A bit of a jerk

Barry achieved all of this by being kind of a jerk. He was known to be quick-tempered, heavy-handed, argumentative and tactless. He rubbed his colleagues up the wrong way.

Barry's career wasn't a completely upward trajectory, because he sometimes got himself court-martialed or demoted due to his behaviour. He famously won a duel against a colleague, and shot the man's hat clean off his head.

Quarreling with Florence Nightingale

One of his most famous arguments was with Florence Nightingale herself during the Crimean War. When writing about it, years later, Nightingale doesn't specify the cause of the argument, but Barry lived rent-free in her head following it.

[Florence Nightingale  was an very famous English social reformer, a statistician and the founder of modern nursing.]

Loved by his patients

Barry's patients loved him, though. As well as being a talented physician and surgeon, he reputedly had a good bedside manner.

Barry's military career came to an end in 1859. He didn't leave, and he wasn't sacked for being a difficult person to work with. He was forcibly retired because he was old, and his health was failing. Six years later, he died in London, from dysentery.

In the century and a half since his death, discussion of James Barry has mostly focused on speculation about his gender. But that, perhaps, is one of the least interesting things about this remarkable doctor.

Top photo of Barry (centre), his dog and John, his servant, circa 1862, via Wellcome Images. Second photo: Portrait claimed to be of Barry, ca. 1820s

Thread from twitter (which we refuse to call X as long as Elon Musk is deadnaming his transgender daughter).

#transgender #trans #lgbt #lgbtqa #queer #ftm #history #trans man

[sapphic-woes]

Kingmaker - Female Eivor x Reader

A/N: I wrote this for no reason in like two hours sorry. Minors DNI

Word count: 1.2k. AO3 LINK

______

"They say the Queen had someone by her side when she first took Wessex back. Someone sworn to her flesh and bone."

You look up as you sweep the palace floor. The girls loved to chatter, but you couldn't blame them. There wasn't much else maids could do to pass the time. You weren't above joining in, but this was a topic you'd never heard before.

The queen was a person of reverence. She ruled righteously and was loved by all. However, she had sworn to never marry another. No matter what man or king came to win her heart, your queen stood firm…

"...because her heart already belongs to another. Her kingmaker." One girl whispers, dusting the walls.

"Are they dead?" Another asks empathetically, frowning at the thought of the queen mourning her dead lover.

"Apparently, the witan were against their love. My father said a plot was formed against them." The girl sweeping with you mutters. You perk up at that.

"A ploy?" Your question makes the girl dusting the walls (Was it Alfwood?) turn to look at you. 

"It was! My mother was in the crowd when it happened. She said the kingmaker always wore a hood, and their voice was hoarse. There, surrounded by the crowd, the witan raised their voices against a single person…

"How can you dare say you've stood with us, heathen? You are the enemy!" The head of the witan snarls, voice booming across the town square. It makes my mother jump, but the hooded figure in the midst of it all remains calm.

"Am I, Lord? The knights of Wessex know I have. I was with them from the Somerset marshes, to Edington, to all the battles that followed. Does that stand for nothing?" The hooded figure was right. My mother and everyone else knew Wessex would have fallen long ago if not for this person. So why were the witan against our savior staying?

"Yet you have tried to convert our Queen and make her worship your idols. I have seen it with my own eyes!" Another member of the witan cries, and the hooded figure pauses, as if stumped. 

The crowd fills with gasps. If the Queen turned away from God, surely Wessex would fall. My mother swallows nervously, glancing at the queen.

"She's heartbroken." Is what my mother said she thought the moment she did. She said the  young queen looked devastated.

The witan–

"Wait, devastated?" You interrupt much to everyone's annoyance. "Sorry, the queen is so stoic, and intimidating…I can't imagine her openly being sad…" Alfwood scoffs.

"Well of course, this was long before we were born. The queen now knows how to hide her emotions, but back then it was different. Anyways…"

The witan spewed insult after insult, and the crowd began to turn on the hooded figure–yet no one was interested in what the queen thought. Newly appointed, she had little power like she does now.

Her twisted expression of grief was clear as day. Surely, she did not want this. However, no one seemed to care, no one except…

"It's alright. We are bonded. You and I." Except for the hooded figure, who looked straight at the queen rather than anyone else.

"I do not apologize for following the faith of my lands. The gods have always guided me, and they shall continue to do so." Her words addressed to the witan cause a stir, yet somehow she remains focused on the queen, and her voice carries over all the other noise.

"You are the woman I could never be. Nor do I wish to be. But you are the only person who can lead this land. That is why I helped put you on the throne…because you are strong enough to stay, even when I'm gone." The queen's eyes shine, yet she doesn't cry.

"I have loved you. Despised you. Fought with and against you so many times over…" A light chuckle comes from the hooded figure. Their head twists up towards the queen, but my mother still can't see the entirety of the figure's face. She only catches vibrant blue eyes that gleam under the sun.

"But it was never less than an honor to serve you, my queen."

"…Then what happened? Did they die?" Alfwood shakes her head. 

"No, my mother said they were exiled from Wessex and never came back…but there are rumors." All the servant girls pause, including you, and Alfwood basks in the attention as she whispers.

"Like forbidden lovers, the kingmaker sneaks into the palace at night! Once a month, under the beautiful moon, with only heaven as their witness–"

"Girls! What did I say about slacking off on the job?" The head maid yells at the top of her lungs, and your little group immediately scatters. You scurry off to sweep another hall, thinking about the story you just heard.

"How romantic…" you whisper, focusing once again on your duties.

—

You arch your back with a soft groan. The head maid was so cruel, giving you extra work as punishment for gossiping on the job. Now you were off to put away the cleaning supplies, too lazy to light a candle as you walk the shadowy halls of the palace.

"...Please….the girls are already gossiping about it…getting caught will only add fuel to the fire–ah, Eivor!"  Your queen's voice makes you jump. What was going on? Why did she sound like that? Who was…oh.

You peek around the corner of the hallway, hands over your mouth. Your queen is pressed against her chamber's door, flushed and moaning as a hooded figure tenderly kisses her neck. Your eyes widen, blushing as you witness such intimacy…and in public nonetheless!

"Do they? Well then, why don't we give them some new material, hm?" A rough voice teasingly murmurs, and you queen laughs breathlessly. Your queen that you admired for her cool demeanor and poised manner was…smiling. She looked free, happy…and in love.

Could it be? 

The broom slips from your hand. The moment it hits the ground, blue eyes snap at you. You squeak, turning away quickly to dart down the way you came.

Blue eyes…a hoarse voice…a hooded figure…!!

— 

Eivor still stares at the end of the hallway, though you know she's just avoiding your gaze.

"...You're a greedy idiot." The Dane nods.

"I'm an opportunistic idiot. The child had no light with her, and she was as quiet as a mouse…" Her piercing gaze shifts back to you.

"...and I was focused on more important things." You can't help but smirk, wrapping your arms around Eivor's neck.

"That child will tell half the entire palace what she saw by tomorrow afternoon, and by night there will be about a hundred more rumors that follow." Eivor hums, lips tickling your jaw.

"My deepest apologies. How can I make it up to my queen?" You giggle as she peppers kisses across your body. Clumsily, you open the door of your chambers behind you, and the both of you stumble onto the bed.

"Then serve me, Eivor." You whisper as Eivor gently undresses you, gazing at the wetness between your legs. Her breaths are rugged, as are yours, and you reach up to caress the exile's face.

"Show me again why you're my kingmaker."

#eivor varinsdóttir #female eivor #female eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #ac valhalla #i dunno ok