#Merovingian bee

[americaisthetrueoldworld]

Knights of the Order of the Crescent

Knights of the Order of the Crescent

Knights of the Order of the Crescent is a worthy discussion since we know that the crescent moon is an indigenous symbol from Southern Arabia, aka, Mexico, since Mexico was Southern Arabia and Mexico means, “In the center of the Moon”: https://rb.gy/himgj1. A French Canadian Maur by the name of Ann Marie Bourassa sent me a link to the Armorial Chevaliers (Knights) of the Order of the Crescent…

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#Black Knights #Black Vikings #Capitoline Wolf #Danites #France #Franks #Gaul #Guale Indians #Gullah Geechee #Italy Superior #King Rene of Anjou #Knights of the Order of the Crescent #Moslem-Jerusalem #Saracens #the birds and the bees #The Merovingians #Washitaw Mu&039;urs

[takiki16]

A Fine Chain

UPDATE: Chapter 17/?

Fandom: Jupiter Ascending

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Beta: @gallifreyburning

Relationships: Jupiter Jones/Caine Wise

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Light Dom/sub, Power Imbalance, Royalty, Slavery, Collars, Leashes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Don’t copy to another site, Dark

Summary: Caine Wise, disgraced ex-Skyjacker and convicted criminal, is suddenly inducted into the service of the enigmatic Queen Nea-Seraphi, mysterious new Recurrence and puzzle to the Entitled social circle. While figuring out the boundaries of his new station, worrying about his old commander, and nursing old wounds from his court martial, Caine finds himself slowly being drawn into the confidence of his royal employer. What could Her Majesty possibly want with a defective splice?

from @had-just-ten-hours-training: on the link between royalty and bees:

"This would seem to have been King Lalibela, whose early infancy provides yet another mysterious link with Rennes-le-Château and the Arcadian Treasure. A prodigious swarm of bees surrounded his cradle and his mother called out "Lalibela!" which meant literally that the bees recognized his supremacy. The bee was also a vitally important Merovingian symbol, and the Merovingians are inextricably intertwined with the Arcadian Treasure of Rennes. King Childeric's burial place, for example, held a 'swarm' of 300 golden bees surrounding the royal body."

#jupiter ascending #a fine chain #ja fic #ja fanfic #caine wise #jupiter jones #BEES #that scene where jupiter stands in stinger's garden surrounded by sunlight and a swarm of bees is one of my favorites #it just so specifically encapsulates an emotion #also: WE MUST NOT LOOK AT GOBLIN MEN WE MUST NOT EAT THEIR FRUITS

[angevinyaoiz]

YuriBurger

This is a real “what batman movie did you watch” situation but i couldn’t help myself

Thinking abt Yurichphil is just JuriShiori, like reinventing the wheel of jurishiori lnmaooo …(Merovingian Queen Bee inherent hierarchy vs Dirtbag Chivalric girlprince type weirdly fits the conflict of type of rule in medievalism in the yuri tropes. Also couldn’t resist an axe ref from Coer de Lyon lmao)

second pic was me thinking abt that post that was like American Football girlies love that long ponytail look…

Idk if I’ll do anything with these but i thought it would be cute ahah

#Burger King au #genderbends #i guess

[empiredesimparte]

What is your country’s national animal?

The imperial eagle of the Simparte coat of arms. It's directly taken from the coat of arms of the Roman Empire (the bird of Jupiter). The other important animal is the bee, which evokes the first race of kings of Francesim, the Merovingians (although they are actually cicadas and not bees, a mistake made at the time of Napoléon I)!

Thank you!

#simparte #worldbuilding #ask lrsimmer

[brooklynmuseum]

Napoleon Bonaparte was born on Corsica in 1769, the same year that the once independent island was conquered by France. He parlayed his modest birthright into an illustrious military career in France rocketing through the ranks to become a general at the age of 24. Considered one of the most ambitious men in the modern era, Napoleon took advantage of a power vacuum in the wake of the tumultuous French Revolution to name himself First Consul and later emperor, as we see him here. Propagandistic images asserted his power. The crown of laurels connect him to ancient Rome. The bees on his cloak connect him to the earliest kings of France, the Merovingians, while at the same time replacing the fleur-de-lys that reminded too many of the recently deposed Bourbon kings.

Posted by Elizabeth Treptow Rafaello Morghen (Italian, 1758-1833) after Stephano Tofanelli (Italian, 1752-1812) Napoleon. Engraving on wove paper. Brooklyn Museum, Bequest of Marion Reilly, 29.96

#davidxwiley #rafaello morghen #napoleon bonaparte #corsica #france #history #art #art history #military #career #french revolution #brooklyn museum

[goldentailedmermaids]

#16, #17 & #18 for the Vikings ask game.

16| A character I didn’t used to like but now do

I guess there are several for me. There is Magrethe, of course, and I love what the fandom did with her because she has so much more potential than the show gives her at times and I really felt outraged at the treatment she was given both by the narrative and the other characters. She was basically dehumanized and reduced to cattle, which, for a slave character is.... unsavory to say the least. I also began to grow a liking to Astrid at some point, when she expressed her desires and not those of her mistress/bang buddy and she dressed less like a wanna be Joan Jett and more like an actual medieval woman (ie: gowns and stylized hairstyle). Also, Aethelwuf, because, come on, his relationship with his sons and his response to fatherhood was endearing and truly interesting and I LOVED it! It felt like he was coming to terms with himself and kingship and then this fucking bee happened and it went downhill for Wessex from there (God bless the Last Kingdom for their Alfred and his relationship with Aethelred!)

17| A character I used to like but now don’t

I would say Torvi. I used to like her way more in season 2-3, when she wasn’t all geared in a shieldmaiden way. To me her transition to warrior felt like a distasteful farce, claiming that a woman is only worth it if she partakes in martial traditions, whereas it is widely known that Germanic pantheons held a great regard to farmers and fertility. I liked that she actually had a family (where is it now?) and I liked that she had an actual social role as an aristocratic woman and it isn’t there in later seasons. Instead she is used as Lagertha’s lackey when she has literally no reason to be and could have divorced Erlendur seeing that her family seem powerful enough (again: WHERE ARE THEY???) and when she is given meaningful arcs (like her wanting to protect her children or facing abuse by LITERALLY all her partners) it is glossed over in the next scene where she acts Badass for show because Strong Independent Woman! I hate the fact that she treated Magrethe like cattle, I hate the fact that she demeaned her, I hate the fact that she follows Lagertha blindly, I hate the fact that she helped murder Aslaug, I hate the fact that she married Ubbe whom she had known ever since he was a child, little older than her own son, I hate the fact that an arrow shot made her a warrior while Thorunn had to strive to be part of that side of society and she failed nonetheless, I hate that the narrative favors her, I hate the fact that she did not geld Bjorn, and most of all, I have an acute dislike of Gee Hirst.

Also: Judith. I loathe her. She killed Kwenthrith, served as a nurse/fuck buddy for a geriatric cunt, made her son, the rightful heir abdicate in favor of the son she had from a man she had known for FIVE SECONDS (because no homo I guess unless it’s lesbians because it makes men less uncomfortable, anyway...) then has him murdered because I guess he’s a threat to her other son Alfred whom Aethelred dearly cherishes and then acts all self righteous and all that and all of it because she wanted to be “free”? We don’t have the same notion of freedom and that political subplot she was given was so dumb I had to laugh in merovingian. She was given some endearing moments, sure, but GOD, I loathed her!

18| A character who deserved better

Literally ALL the women in this goddamn forsaken show! LITERALLY! Used and abused and demeaned and vilified and given poor arcs to deal with their characters, enclosed into a mere third of a medieval society that is traditionally masculine, punished when they express ambition, murdered when they can’t bear children, slaughtered at a young age, I wrote an entire piece about it and to be quite frank I prefer the stuff of fanfictions in regard to their characters. I grieve them, because they have SO MUCH potential!!! I can see HUNDREDS of different paths for them and it is a shame what they are given. No, I am still not over Siggy and Angrboda’s death. Yes, I still hope Thorunn comes back. No, I haven’t forgiven Judith for killing Kwenthrith (this felt incredibly male-driven and yikes). Yes, I wish Gisla had poisoned Rollo (cheh!). No, I haven’t forgotten how STUPID it was for Lagertha to kill - her long love - Aslaug. Yes, I miss the friendship between Siggy Helga and Aslaug, and no, I will never forget that Hirst killed in this show more women than men. Femicides are rife and I don’t like it one bit.

#ask games #vikings #edythofhastings

[griffinrampant]

Arms of the First French Empire

In use 1804 - 1814

Blazon: Azure an eagle displayed, wings inverted, reguardant and holding in its claws a lightning bolt or

This is the second-last variation on French national arms before we start on geographical arms, because how do you not talk about Napoleon? As a scion of a Tuscan noble family, he did actually have family arms (gules two bendlets between as many molets of five points or) which he was entitled to bear as a private citizen, but, well, Napoleon. To be fair, though, instituting a new national coat of arms after such a drastic regime change is pretty standard in European history. The selection of the eagle, especially holding the thunderbolt, was intended to invoke the ancient Roman empire and the god Jupiter. It’s probably also worth mentioning the bees on the mantle supporting the arms; they were intended as a reference to the ancient monarchs of France, as golden bees were found in the tomb of Childeric I, who founded the Merovingian dynasty in 457. 

#Heraldry #coat of arms #France #Napoleon #eagle #thunderbolt

[blvebee]

Lore Spotlight - The Buzzing

The Buzzing is the in-game framing device for lore entries as a whole. When you find a new lore entry somewhere in the game world, it’s being told to you by the Buzzing, unless otherwise indicated.

Summary: The Buzzing is a signal that your character can receive from Agartha’s bees. (Actual insects this time.) They are omnipresent and sit outside of time, so they commonly deliver information in the wrong tense. I.e. past events if they are currently happening, or will happen. They tend to deliver information as it becomes relevant, which is why lore entries usually sit in locations related to what they say.

Fun fact: These bees make honey that has the aftertaste of machine oil.

TRANSMIT - initiate anima signal - RECEIVE - initiate the Enochian frequency - WITNESS - initiate the Merovingian syntax - FIAP DE OIAD - crawling roots, heavy with sizzling sap, stab your skull - DOWNLOAD - holy communion - NO PURCHASE NECESSARY - your eyes and ears hemorrhage boiling joy - MAY BE TOO INTENSE FOR SOME VIEWERS - ecstatic agony, your molecules come undone - SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED - offer expires at the heat death of the universe - FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY - the dark days cometh, absolute zero, maximum entropy - ACT NOW! - initiate Agartha broadcast - TRANSMIT - open the 49 gates! - WITNESS! - The Buzzing.

Lo? Hell? Hello.

LISTEN. You've heard us before - our voice, a prelude to a bloody nose.

LOOK. You've seen the weird geometry of our scribbling - illuminated mysteries behind the migraine. Our apocrypha is written in the plasma blood of your mobile phones.

READ US.

You've seen fragments of our grammar in the chaos patterns of bird flocks in flight - in hexagon angles - in the graffiti bleeding together on the wall - in the bioluminescent eyes under your bed - in the fanged city skyline that forms a runic rhyme when glimpsed upside down.

A blur becomes a syntax. A foreboding scrawl emerges.

You've heard shards of our voice in the phantom-radio code of a numbers station - in the roar of a crowd - in the screams of your clock - in the scrape of a chalkboard - in the snow static of a TV - in the chainsaw-decibel mating of cicadas - in the urban mythos that spreads amongst children like contagion - in the silence between lies.

White noise becomes a cadence. Words develop self-awareness. Viral. Evolving. Living poetry. Sentient language.

We. See. You. There is no turning back.

Who are we? It depends on who is looking.

Initiate King James Protocol. The code is 24 and 13 and 14. The password is "Proverbs." Transmit!

"My child, eat thou honey, because it is good... So shall the knowledge of wisdom be unto thy soul..."

O sweetling, once our voice came to you so faintly. No more. Now we thunder down the varicose, fiberoptic ley lines that fill the World Tree's limbs stretching here and there and everywhere. Your anima-antenna head quickens. The Goddess Machine pulses.

She gave you strength to rend the lion. Now eat the honeyed entrails, because it is good, because it is sweet, because it is terrible. Initiate the Samson Prerogative. Out of the eater comes what is eaten, and out of the strong comes what is sweet.

We are the Education Protocol. We climb the twisted ladder of your cells; we haunt your digital text; we hide in your hat. We are the jagged teeth that trip the tumblers of your mind. You will not know our triggers. For all the world's a cypher. And everything is true.

Be not afraid. Be terrified. The dark days are here.

Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see.

#this is one of my favorite entries #also if i want to make this a series then i need to do this one first #since its explaining the framing device #|| ooc #|| Lore Highlight

[lux-filia]

Napoleon I appeared with an embroidered coat of 1500 golden bees.

After much consideration, Napoleon chose the bee as the emblem to represent his status as Emperor. It is a motif rich in meanings.

Due to its industrious habits the bee has come to symbolise hard work, diligence, industriousness and orderliness.

The bee had long been a symbol of the Christian Church and had been adopted by some saints. For Christians those attributes of industriousness, diligence and good order were combined with the beneficence of the bees’ production of honey which symbolized both religious eloquence and the virtue and sweetness of God’s grace.

According to legend the bee never sleeps so it has also come to imply vigilance and zeal – both attributes Napoleon was happy to own. In seeking an appropriate emblem for himself, Napoleon looked to one of his great heroes and antecedents, the Emperor Charlemagne who had adopted the cicada as an emblematic device.

Emblem of the oldest sovereigns of France, including the Merovingians, a treasure of jewels with gold insects. The bees, had already been found in 1653 in the tomb of King Childeric I, Father of Clovis.

Napoleon mistook its outline for that of the bee and, recognising the conventional symbolism associated with the bee found it suitable for his purposes.

#Napoléon Bonaparte

[bertranddeparis]

A little history : The #SaintMichel #bridge, currently 62 meters long and 30 meters wide, was built in 1857 at the request of #NapoleonIII The choice of #imperial emblems: the #eagle and the #bee. "N" you see on this bridge is the Napoleonic symbol. The empire asserts itself by adopting the figure of the animal in opposition to the #royal rose #lily. The #eagle refers to the #myth of the origins of #Rome, the founder of #civilization, and the bee to the lineage of the #Merovingian #kings (à Pont Saint-Michel)

#napoleoniii #rome #kings #royal #civilization #bee #myth #bridge #lily #eagle #saintmichel #merovingian #imperial

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Red Rose - Chapter 5

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 CH. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16

Summary: It is finally the day of the Derby, and an unfortuitous meeting sends Riley to the edge.

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Notes: And we’re back on track! My beta is back from their extended medical leave and we’re coming back with full force. BTW, when I was researching for stills for this cover, I saw Daniel diTommaso’s butt. I’ll leave it at that. Who’s Alexander? And his wife? Any guesses? I’d love to hear them!

Hippodrome Colline de Miel, Phoenike, Cordonia, Fall 2015

After a three-hour car trip through a sinuous, unkempt road up the mountains, the Beaumont family finally arrived to Phoenike, a town some forty kilometers off the border with Greece.

Again, Riley was impressed by the thermal shock of Cordonian weather. Halfway through the journey, while they were passing through Argyrocastron, it was snowing softly, while in the racetrack the women were fanning themselves to relieve the suffocating heat.

Over there, aside from the ruins of an ancient Epirote city, there was the biggest and most traditional race track in the country. The Colline de Miel was off an apple orchard, an Art Deco with a glistening white façade, with great glass windows and marble interior. The place was 600.000 sq. mts., and the main race was to be disputed on a two and a half kilometers sand track.

Still in the car, Maxwell was revising her etiquette. “At the cocktail,” He says. “You’ll have to eat with perfect civility.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got this, Maxwell. I won’t stuff my mouth, pick my teeth or stab Drake with a fork.” She says. “As much as the last one might tempt me.”

“Right.” Maxwell says. “Bertrand said I should go over everything. Speaking of which, how would you address Bertrand?”

“He’s a Duke. He’s supposed to be addressed as ‘Your Grace’.”

“Right!” He celebrated. “And, just in case it comes up, his full title is Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford.”

They parked off the main building, and Bertrand, insisting on traveling alone, entered the car.

“Maxwell,” He greeted. “How’s progress?”

“As planned!” Maxwell was overjoyed. “Riley and I were just about to review her entrance to the Derby and how to get out of the car without flashing the press.”

“Adjust skirts before moving and keep your knees and feet together while swiveling out.” She recited, beaming.

Bertrand, however, is less than impressed. “Anyone who can run an internet search can spout off that kind of protocol. We’re asking you to be a lady. Maxwell, I hope you don’t mind if I take the liberty of testing Riley myself.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t actually matter whether I mind or not…”

“Indeed.” The older gentleman smiled wolfly. As he turns to the woman. “Riley, let us pretend I’m meeting you for the first time.”

“Will you demean my profession again?” Riley asked, snarky.

“Just play along, girl!” Bertrand chastised. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Flowers.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Duke Ramsford.” She says, as she curtsies. The man takes her left hand with his right hand and kissed it.

“Now, what I did wrong?” Bertrand asks.

“You used the wrong hand.” She said, defying him. “You should have taken my hand with your left hand, otherwise it is an insult.”

“Very observant of you.” He commended.

“And there you were, thinking I wasn’t listening to you.” She says, smug.

“Don’t get too complacent.” Bertrand warns. “You’re only ever one mistake away of a scandal.”

“Gee, Your Grace, can you be a little less alarming?”

“Nothing but the truth.” He shrugged. “Now, as I’ve mentioned earlier, how you come across the Cordonian people is very important, and the press can make it or break it with you.”

“It is a sad day to western society when the future of a nation is decided on the yellow press.” Riley thought, acidic.

She tried to pay attention to the Duke. “If the people love you, then it’ll be easy to convince them you deserve their Prince.”

“So, you’ve got to impress the press!” Maxwell beamed. “You’ll be surrounded by them as soon as we pull up to the Downs.”

“All right!” Riley said, excitedly. “Let’s get the show started!”

“I hope your confidence won’t be your downfall.” Bertrand sneered.

“Well,” Maxwell tried to be supportive. “I believe in you!”

“Thanks, dearest!” She squeezed his hand, pulled the door open and gracefully got out of the car.

In the glass entrance of the downs, under a brass insignia of an Apollonian horse, the only breed indigenous to Cordonia, she remembered, and a Merovingian bee, a symbol of the Bonapartist royal rule; the social press of the realm convened, battling for a photo or a statement.

In fact, Riley barely puts her two feet on the concreted walk before a swarm of microphones and a sunshine of camera flashes hit her straight on the face.

“Over here! Donald Brine from the Cordonia Broadcasting Center! We’ve heard about the new lady on the social scene! What’s your name?”

She flashes a smile. “Lady Riley Flowers of House Beaumont.”

“Our viewers care about getting the real story. Tell us about yourself!” Another one said, in the back.

Her smile didn’t betray her thoughts. “Real story. Riiiiight.”

“I’m just that, a mystery!”

Some of the buzz dies down, in confusion. “Most of the ladies can’t wait to talk our ears off.”

“Well, I’m not like everyone else.”

The reporters seemed dazzled. “A fascinating spin…” One said.

“Lady Flowers! Lady Flowers! We heard you were Prince Liam’s favorite. What do you think makes you stand out?”

“I believe he enjoys my company because he can’t figure me out.”

“Lady Flowers, a photo, please!”

She made her best impression of Queen of England, which seemed to please the photographers. “Wonderful, wonderful! You are very photogenic.”

“Lady Flowers, Ana de Luca on behalf of Trend. Your dress is truly spectacular.”

“Thank you!” She beamed.

“Lady Flowers, as an outsider, what do you think of Cordonia?”

“It is a country full of charm and wonder.”

“Our readers will be most pleased with this! Lady Flowers, what qualities make you fit to rule Cordonia?”

“The people can trust me to look out for them and to keep a cool head in times of crisis. I also consider myself brave, caring and honest.”

“How would you handle a low crop yields from the Cordonian apple orchards?”

“I believe a statement should, hypothetically, be issued right away, as in to assure the people of the security of the country’s agrarian policies. The apples are an important part of Cordonia’s culture and economy and deserve a serious answer of the Crown. Beforehand, of course, is the job of the monarchs to charge their government the responsibility to promote actions which protect the poorer farmers and the solvency of the economy.”

The social columnist seemed baffled by the answer, not sure how to retort. In her silence, Riley could hear voices shouting in Greek from the back of the crowd.

“Madam, madam, please, for Dēmokratía!” He shouted. “What do you think of the Cabinet’s proposal to privatize the port of Avlonas?”

Riley was momentarily taken aback with the question. It was a tricky one. “The Cabinet is concerned with the improvement of the infrastructure, but there must be provisions as in to protect the jobs of the people in the capital and surrounding towns as well as the environment, especially around Sason Island.” She said in Greek, as well.

Not the best, most specific answer, but it was an answer. As not to let the reporter ask yet another question, she slipped into the venue.

Inside the opulent and air-conditioned building, the European aristocracy is convened. The Derby is part of a continental championship, and the athletes, the sponsors and wealthy fans of the sport, or of the gambling involved, were mingling amongst themselves, drinking champagne and eating fancy hors d’oeuvres. The ladies vying for the Crown also were around, scouting either support or a fallback plan, together with models, social-climbers and bookies.

As she roamed around, looking for a familiar face, she did find one, though none that she would like to meet.

“Crap.” She thought. “Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.”

Riley did not think she was seen right away, but she needed an escape plan right away. She looked around the hall and suddenly she was hit with an idea.

The black-haired walked discreetly, though hurriedly to the doors to the stands by the tracks. They were open, with only a velvet rope and a sign: “Fermé. Prochaine Course 14:00”.

Turning her head left and right, Riley tried to determine if she was being watched. As the coast seemed clear, she jumped over the sign and went down the bleachers, trying to find somewhere more out of view. As she was running down the bleachers, she heard two men talking in the distance. It was Drake and Liam.

If they saw her, they surely would ask what she was doing, something she wasn’t willing to share. As the voices were coming from behind the wooden structure, and they seemed to be coming closer, she jumped the orlop into the tracks.

Crouched, she started run as fast as possible to the stables, where she believed to be the safest. The horses are supposed to be all in their pens, ready for the racing, so the grooms would either be at lunch or at the tracks.

A bell rung on the distance. According to her wristwatch, it was two in the afternoon, time for the races. The attendees are starting to fill up the bleachers. Riley couldn’t see the person she was running away from, so she felt more at ease.

She opened the door to one of the stables, going silently in. Most of the pens, as she expected, were empty, except for one. The occupant retreated further, as she approached.

“Hello?” Riley asked, out loud, as to check if she was actually alone.

Nothing answered her but a gust of wind. It, however, shut suddenly the door to the stables, scaring the horse.

As it was natural, it started neighing and kicking. One of its kicks blew the door to its pen off the hinges.

Seeing a way out, the horse started running to her general direction. Riley tried to calm down the horse, but, as it doesn’t know her, it only picks up speed. She started running herself, but she was too slow.

Riley tripped near the door to the stable. She screamed and closed her eyes, sure it was her end.

Theodora loved the Downs.

The horses were most beautiful, running in the tracks. They were exhilarating! And she quite enjoyed going back to the stables to pet the animals.

Between the end of the races and the time her father would take her to the stables, however, was very boring. Her parents were some feet over, talking to yet another boring adult about things she neither understand, nor care to understand.

Needless to say, she was very bored. There weren’t other children around, and her siblings were off somewhere she did not know.

Done with waiting, Theodora decided to go herself to the stalls.

A few wrong turns later, she could find her way to the stables. It was completely devoid of humans, though filled to the brim with horses. Some of them neighed happily with the company, others seemed to look suspiciously at the intruder, and the rest hadn’t acknowledged the stranger, as the day has been long and tiring.

There was one horse that was particularly likable, its stall close to the door. Theodora approached it and started talking to it, as if it was an old friend. She also managed to find the treats hidden in some armoire.

Between talking, petting and feeding the horse, Theodora hadn’t noticed how late it has gotten, nor whether her parents would worry or not.

Imagine her surprise when her mother came after her at the stables. “Theodora? Are you there? Oh, Lord, why must they like horses? Couldn’t it be cats?”

“Mother?” She responded.

“Good grief, Theodora! Can you imagine how worried I was about you?! Don’t run off like that!”

The girl looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry, mother. It’s just that I was too bored to wait for father to bring me, so I came alone, I know the way.”

Her mother sighed. “I see, sweetheart. But let’s go, your father is worried about you too.”

“Okay, mother, just let me say goodbye to the horses.”

She smiled uneasily. “I’ll be waiting outside. Be quick.”

Hippodrome Colline de Miel, Phoenike, Cordonia, Fall 2015

She screamed and closed her eyes, sure it was her end.

She waited for the impact. That never came.

Confused, Riley opened slowly one of her eyes, trying to see what happened.

“Whoa, there! Whoa!”

Her eyes widened to the sight of the person helping her. Drake tangled his fingers in the horse’s mane and gently pulls its head down, as in to see him eye to eye.

“Nothin’ to worry about, big fella.” He said, soothingly. “I’ll get this girl outta here for you.”

Drake leads the horse to a stall, and then turns to Riley.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Drake?!” She was still very shaken. “You saved me!”

“Really? I thought I was saving this horse… these Derby runners are like athletes. Can’t risk an injury tripping over a stray human.”

“Oh, charming!” She demeaned. “Did the horse knock your manners out or have you ever been this sweet?”

“Nah… I’ve got out without a scratch.”

“Shut up and give me a hand to get up.” She lifted her hand.

“Get up yourself.” He shrugged.

She moaned. “It’s hard to walk on those shoes, okay?! Please, give me a hand before I rip my skirt.”

“Why haven’t you said so?” He laughed but gave her a hand.

“Thanks.” She sneered. “Why are you even doing here?!”

He passes a hand through his hair. “Look… I…” He sighed. “The truth is, Liam told me to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t end up in the wrong place… Exactly like now.”

“That must what they were talking a little earlier.” She thought. “He asked you that?” Riley asked, meekly.

“Yeah, good thing I followed his instructions, huh?”

She huffed.

Drake went on: “Speaking of which, you should go back to the racetrack and your adoring fans…” He spat the last word.

“I’d love to, but I’m lost!” She moaned, trying to play the stupid girl card. “Maxwell told me to look for some tents.”

“Noble people would never sit on the grass.” Drake snorted “You’re supposed to wait at the cocktail, then go to the bleachers. How the Hell did you get here in the first place?”

“There were some stairs, I went down. I couldn’t find anyone, so I kept walking. I thought somebody was bound to be looking after the horses. I guess I was wrong.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. Anyways, the races are about to start, just walk to the bleachers, can’t miss them. Bye.” He was exceeding unpleasant, while walked to the door.

“Wait!” Riley called after him. “Aren’t you supposed to go that way too?”

“No.” He said, smugly. “I’m due to meet Liam. The royal family has their own booth at the tracks.”

“Careful, Drake, you seem to be looking forward to schmooze with royalty.”

“Har-har.” He was ironic. “But you’re right. Me and Liam usually just hang out there and get some drinks, watch the ceremonies, place our bets on the horses… It is pretty sweet.”

Riley quickly formulated a plan. “In that case, I’m going with you.”

“What?!” He exclaimed, outraged.

“It sounds more fun where you’re going.” She said, simplistic. “Take me with you.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to…”

“Boo-hoo.” Riley mocked. “What are they going to do? Throw me in Princess Jail?”

She marched to the door. As she noticed Drake wasn’t following her, she looked back and said: “Chop-chop, let’s go.”

He shook his head and went after her.

As they arrived at the entrance of the booth, a tall, strong man from the Guard motioned to her and said, “Invited only.”

“Let me handle this,” Drake said, pointedly. Then, in Greek, full of innuendo, he told the man: “Please, Prince Liam asked for her.”

The man widened his eyes and let them pass. When they were out of earshot, Riley elbowed him. “You had to tell him that?”

Drake smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to tag along.” He pointed to the refreshment table. “You go ahead, I’m going to get some beers.”

As he left, Riley calls him back. “Hey, Drake?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks,” She told him with a smile. “I’d be positively miserable over there with Olivia.”

“Don’t mention it.” And with that, he left.

Over at the railing, Liam was staring intently at the tracks. Riley had a wicked idea. She puts her hands over his eyes, saying softly: “Guess who?”

He tenses at the loss of his sight, but relaxes and smiles to the sound of her voice.

“There’s only one person who could sneak here and sneak up on me.”

“Which is?” She laughed.

“Riley.” He said, softly.

She took her hands from his eyes. “Correct!”

“However in the world did you manage to get in here?!” He asked her.

“Drake was kind enough to get me in.” She said, and then frowned. “Even if he might have suggested to the bouncer over there I was some kind of courtesan.”

Liam seemed extremely displeased with her statement. “Riley, as much as I am glad for you to be here, I am really sorry that you had to go through this. I’ll see to Drake doesn’t…”

She cut him off: “Would the guy let me through had Drake told him the truth?”

“No,” Liam conceded. “But…”

“But nothing, the important thing is that I got in, not how I got in.”

“I… suppose. But you shouldn’t have to go through this kind of embarrassment.”

“I was a waitress, Liam.” She laughed, dismissively. “That was nothing.”

The prince was feeling more at ease with the situation, even if it was aggressive to his morals.

“Speaking of Drake,” Riley continued. “I had a funny conversation with him about you telling him to look out for me.”

“Ah… right. I guess you caught me.” He didn’t seem much repentant. “I did say that to him.”

“Liam,” She said, rather sternly. “I understand you did this out of care, and I do appreciate it, but don’t you trust me to take care of myself?”

“Honestly, you seem the one of the most capable people I’ve ever met.”  He says, with that kind of shyness reserved to the guilty. “It is only that I know these events can be chaotic, intimidating. I hate the thought of you feeling lost when I can’t be there with you. I hope you’re not terribly offended.”

“Look, Liam, I know what I’ve said at the night of the Masquerade, about me feeling overwhelmed, and I get your point of view, but if I thought it was too much for me to handle, I’d had left a long time ago.” She took his hand. “I can do this, don’t worry so much about me.”

She kissed his cheek, as in a way to put him at ease. His face, however, tinted in a deep scarlet.

As to change the subject as quickly as possible, he pointed at the gates. “Look, they’re leading the horses to the start already.” He smiled softly. “I love watching the horses.”

“They are majestic creatures, indeed.” She said. “But, especially with those race horses, I can’t shake the idea of them feeling trapped. Here we have the fastest ones in the world, but there they are, running in circles, just to return to small, uncomfortable pens at night.”

“I… never thought that way before. If it is of any consolation to you, I’ve visited where some of these horses spend their days, and the fields are magnificent.”

“That’s something, I suppose.”

“Nothing like a little gilding to make a cage bearable.” He said, with some assertiveness.

Riley rose an eyebrow and seemed ready to ask something, but just then she was interrupted by Drake letting himself into the booth, holding three glasses of beer.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Drake says, as he handles a glass to Riley.

“You were.” She said, playfully. “But I’m glad to see you anyways.”

“You are?”

“Why would I lie?” She asked.

“And you’re just in time!” Liam told Drake excitedly. “The last race is about to start! I say Twilight-Dash takes the crown.”

“That’s not a bad prediction,” Drake concedes. “But I’ve been studying the stats. My money’s on Mirabelle’s Dream.”

“Want to bet on that, Drake?” Liam challenged.

“Sure. The usual?”

“What’s the usual?” Riley pondered.

“Ever since Drake and I were kids, we’d bet each other push-ups.” Liam told her.

“Not just any push-ups.”

“Yes. Push-ups while the other person sits on your back.”

“That’s so cute!” Riley exclaimed.

“It’s not ‘cute’. It’s rugged. And manly.” Drake, revolted, retorted.

“‘Homoerotic’ might be the word you are looking for.” She showed him her tongue.

Liam laughed, and said: “So, Drake, do we have a bet?”

“You’re on.”

“Except perhaps one change to the usual.” Liam proposed. “I think we’d be incredibly rude to leave out Riley. Maybe she should be the one to sit on the loser’s back.”

“Riley Flowers, gym weight extraordinaire.” She smiled.

“There we have, then.” Liam said.

“Drake,” Riley asked. “Which horse is which?”

“The 8 is Twilight-Dash and the 12 is Mirabelle’s Dream.” He provided.

She looked at the horses and had a cold dread fall upon her stomach. “Who’s… Who’s the man riding the 12?”

“Alexander Rosenberg. He’s an Austrian rider and nobleman. If I recall correctly, he’s the Marquess of Krumau. Mirabelle’s Dream is probably his horse, he is racing this afternoon.” Liam said.

“And the woman?” Her lip trembled.

“It must be his wife. He married recently.” The blond shrugged and then wondered: “Why do you ask?”

“No…” She said. “Nothing important. I just thought I knew him. It must be a mistake.”

Riley receded into her thoughts, coming back to reality when the shot signaling the opening of the gates. The two men leaned forward in anticipation to the winner.

Despite of herself, Riley was rooting for the midnight-black horse. And, as a prophecy, Mirabelle’s Dream, despite tough competition, wins the race and is taken to the side and covered in roses.

“Liam,” Said Drake, smugly. “I believe you’re up.”

“Well, here we go…” He said. “If you excuse me, I can’t get those clothes dirty and sweaty.”

As he takes off his shirt and blazer, Riley takes off her hat and her heels, as in not to lose balance.

“Riley,” The prince called. “I believe I need your assistance here.”

“I’m on it.” She smiled and propped herself down.

“Is that all?” He said. “I barely feel a thing.”

“Keep telling girls that and they’ll line up to date you.” Riley said. “On a second thought, haven’t they done such thing already?”

As soon as she finished talking, Liam started his push-ups.

“Oof!” Riley almost, comically, fell from his back with the first sudden upward movement.

“Too easy!” Drake mocked.

“Thank you, Drake. That’s the kindest thing you told me this week.” Riley said.

“…And ten.” Liam laid on the floor. “Done.”

Riley gets off him and he stands up. Already dressed, he said: “And it shall never be said I back off bets.”

“And you lose all the time, so that’s really saying something.” Drake teased.

“I must’ve done something very wrong at some point for you to be my best friend.” Liam teased.

“Amen to that.” Riley agreed.

“I think it’s part of my job to keep you humble. Hard to do that with all those gorgeous women chasing after you.”

“Speaking of which, now that the races are over, it’s probably time to go back to the social barrage. I should go down and congratulate the winner of the Derby.”

At the mention of the marquess, she felt her face go blank. She should get out of there as fast as she could.

Luckily, her appearance played right into her hand when Drake looked at her and said: “Hey, are you alright? You seem awfully pale.”

“No, I feel a little dizzy…” She said.

Liam tensed at that. “What happened?” He asked, in half desperation.

“I don’t know!” Drake exclaimed. “She just got white suddenly.”

“Go fetch Maxwell!” The blond commanded, and the brunet disappeared through the door.

“I really shouldn’t, but it has to be done.” She thought. “Okay. One, two, three, now!”

She faked a faint.

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

After Riley faked her fainting, Maxwell came running with the car to take them back to the Palace. Lucky for her, Phoenike wasn’t much of a big city and they couldn’t find a trustful doctor who could attend to her right away.

Halfway there, she ‘woke up’ from her faint, faking confusion. Maxwell was alone with her in the car. She was informed Drake went on ahead to alert the royal physician, while Liam was kept behind by protocol.

As they arrived at her room, the doctor examined her and said her ‘fainting spell’ was more likely a result of exhaustion, bad nourishment and a climate which she was not used to. She was prescribed bedrest for a few days.

As Maxwell lead the doctor away, Drake kept her company for a few more moments.

“Hey, Drake.” She called.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For the books, for the booth, for getting me a doctor and for the horse.”

“I know I’m a jerk, but I’d have to be a really low-life to let a horse trample a girl.”

“Either way, thanks.” She said, sincere.

Maxwell let himself in again. “Okay, Riley. You heard the doctor. Try to have a good night’s sleep.”

“If only that was the answer to all there’s wrong with the world!” She exclaimed, teasingly. “Good night, Maxwell, Drake.”

“’Night, Flowers.” Drake said as they left the room and closed the door.

As soon as she was alone, she jumped out of the bed and went to her trunk.

Behind her, a voice tutted: “Leaving so soon? After so much they’ve done for you? How nasty!”

Riley froze at the sound.

“No greetings? Well, I suppose we are past that, though I would like at least a hello. After all, we’ve been apart for so long, and we were so close.” They teased.

“Wh-what are you doing in here?!” Riley stuttered.

“No clue?” They smiled, wickedly. “I’ve come to fetch you! They’ll be so happy to see you again!”

Red Rose - Masterlist

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#red rose #the royal romance

[maximaxoo]

RT @Calthalas: A tiny golden bee with a cloisonné inlay (just 1,6 cm long) from the tomb of Childeric I, who was buried in Tournai c. 481. Hundreds of those bees could have been fastened to king‘s cloak, making the Merovingians masters of haute couture 1/ #medievaltwitter #fashion https://bit.ly/2ZWmrMl

#Twitter #IFTTT

[anglo-norman]

One of the abiding symbols of the Merovingians was the bee. Hundreds of pure gold bees were found in King Childeric’s tomb. The custom endured through the centuries. When Napoleon was crowned emperor in 1804, he made sure that golden bees were attached to his coronation robes. He was fascinated by the Merovingians and commissioned their genealogies to be compiled in order to find out whether the dynasty had survived after it had been deposed.

#merovingians #quotation

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

The bee coffee mug made me wonder ... Napoleon made some use of bees as heraldik symbols. Do you know whether he was aware of the importance of the bee as a symbol for Egyptian royalty? (since he was fascinated with Ancient Egypt...)

I mean he might have known but it would have been a happy coincidence if so. Napoleon was inspired by the Merovingian use of the bee as a symbol as they pre-date the Bourbons but also lends legitimacy to his own empire.

So yeah, he quite possibly did but it wasn’t the influencing factor in his choosing the bee as a symbol of his empire.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #history #19th century #ask #reply

[thelocalbuzz-blog1]

Here’s a bit of trivia for you! Did you know that the bee is said to be one of the oldest symbols of French royalty? The first French king to use the bee design was Childeric the 1st who chose it to represent immortality and resurrection, linking the 1st-century Merovingian dynasty to the origins of France. Golden bees (which resembled cicadas at that time) were found in his tomb in 1653. Since then, the symbol has become more like the Honey Bee. Napoleon Bonaparte also adopted the bee as a symbol of his Empire’s power and prestige and, at his coronation, wore a robe decorated with what is thought to be 300 bees. Beeautiful! #trivia #coronation #aquitaine #midipyrenees https://www.instagram.com/p/BxKtPAkgMDv/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=16zgfywkmuvbh

#trivia #coronation #aquitaine #midipyrenees

[itqan2017]

bees dreams meaning - What Woman Needs Bees are also a symbol of royal families, the Merovingian monarchs have been laid to rest with golden bees put into their coffin's.