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hiatuswhore · 1 year

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Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

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dailyreigngifs · 8 months

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JENESSA GRANT as AYLEE SETON REIGN: SEASON ONE (2014-2015)

#reignedit #reign #perioddramaedit #periodedit #gifs #by liz #s1 #lady aylee #ceremonial #weloveperioddrama #requested

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alice-of-sherwood-art · 4 months

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And now the final of the Four Marys' six personas. This one was quite tricky. There was not much to go off of because Seton's counterpart in Reign (aka Aylee) is only in the show for a total of eight episodes and quickly forgotten about. Originally, I designed her wearing a Sister Act nun costume because the real Mary Seton became a nun in her final years, but it was a struggle to get all that darkness in the habit to stand out. So I started again from scratch and came up with a costume that had the intention of making Seton/Aylee stand out more as she was pretty interchangeable with everyone else's looks in the show and never truly got a chance to stand out for herself.

This model is a little different from the others because I was digitally drawing from the model and not sketching the idea first.

I like the idea of her song being Waiting in the Wings from the Tangled TV series as she's often overshadowed.

By the way, if you're wondering why I don't put pupils in the eyes, it's because I always struggle to make them go in the centre. It's easier when drawing or painting by hand, but trickier digitally. And sometimes in previous works the eyes have just looked more vacant with pupils than without them.

#six the kids #six fanarts #reign cw #reign fanart #mary queen of scots #jenessa grant #digital art #character design

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trashcanband4 · 2 years

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The Bastards Ch. 1

Fandom: Reign (2013) Pairing: Sebastian (Bash) x Oc. Setting: French Royal Court. Warnings: None The Bastards Masterlist

The BastardsCh. 1

"The Bastards gotta stick together, right?" Ten year old Liam Hayes taunted his seven year old sister Maisie where she stood next to King Henry's bastard son, Sebastian.

"I'm not a bastard!" Maisie yelled, stomping her little foot into the snow with her gloved hands on her hips.

"Yeah ya are." Her other brother Jack, two years older than her, argued.

"Am not!" Maisie yelled back. Her face red with anger.

"Are so! Why do you think you have red hair and brown eyes when Momma and papa have blond hair and blue eyes like us?" Liam asked with an attitude.

"Let's go play." Sebastian, three years older than her, grabbed her hand and started pulling her away from her brothers.

"Gladly." Maisie grumbled and followed after Sebastian while the two boys behind them chanted, "Bastards stick together, bastards sick together."

RRRRRRRRRR

The carriage hit a hole in the king's road, jerking Maisie awake. "Have a good nap?" Greer asked her from where she sat on the opposite bench.

"I've had better." Maisie answered, stretching her neck. "Do we know how much longer it'll be?"

Kenna, who was sitting beside Greer, looked out the window. "We're here."

Maisie was the last one out of the carriage and as she was stretching her legs when a second carriage pulled up in front of the French court from the opposite direction as the one that had contained the five eighteen year old girls who were Queen Mary's ladies in waiting. "There's Mary." Aylee, the more shy of the five girls, said excitedly as Queen Mary stepped out of the black and gold carriage, her eyes instantly finding her ladies making a smile stretch over her pretty face as she walked over to them. The five girls curtsied before Mary embraced them in a could of giggles.

“We missed you so much.” Kenna said as they all pulled away and looked at their friend.

“Oh, Kenna, Maisie, Greer…I’m so happy to see you.” Mary told them, holding Kenna and Aylee’s hands as they were closest to her in the circle they’d formed. “Lola, Aylee…we’re all together again.”

At the sound of scuffling feet they all turned to see that people had lined up on each side of the sidewalk leading to the castle’s main door. “Mary, you’re hair. Didn’t the nuns teach you anything?” Greer asked as she hastily attempted to fix Mary’s windblown, slightly frizzy hair before the royal family could see her like that.

Mary, however, was more interested in the trunks that were getting taken from the carriage that contained the ladies' things. “Oh, Greer, those can't all be clothes.” Mary said noticing most of the trunks bore Greer's family crest.

“There’s jewelry and silver too. Making up in volume for what I lack in station I suppose.” Greer replied, making them all giggle.

Horns were blown, drawing everyone's attention to the castle. “Here they come.” Kenna said, clearly eager to see the king, queen and Mary’s betrothed.

“His royal highness King Henry the second!” someone announced as the horns continued to play.

“Well, that’s King Henry, but…is that Catherine?” Mary asked, taking a step away from where she’d stood in a line with her ladies.

“No, they’re still waiting on her.” Kenna answered. “That’s Diane De Poitiers, his mistress.”

“So the rumors are true.” Aylee said with a bit of a judging look at Diane. Maisie however, didn't look down on Diane and instead gave the woman a small smile, unsure if she'd remember her.

“Unlike her you’ll have no trouble finding husbands here.” Lola added.

“Oh we’ll certainly enjoy the hunt.” Kenna said with a look at Greer, Aylee and Maisie then looked at Lola. “What about you?” Lola gave her a flat look, making Kenna roll her eyes. “Eh, don’t tell me. It’s about that boy from Aberdeen.” Kenna sing songed the last word mockingly.

“Colin said he’d wait for me.” Lola told her, a little upset by Kenna’s prodding.

“Till when? We might never be back on Scottish soil. Not if it all works out and Mary reigns here.” Greer pointed out.

“What do you mean if?” Aylee asked.

“Make no mistake. We’re here now to get our young queen in the game.” They all looked at Greer with frowns. “Alliances can shift. Before they do, Mary needs to win the prince's heart.”

Kenna rushed to Mary's side excitedly. “Is that Francis? He’s gorgeous.”

Maisie looked up to see a dark haired, light blue eyed man who was, as Kenna just said, very gorgeous.

“No, that’s not Francis. I know it isn’t.” Mary answered, sounding very sure of herself.

“That’s Sebastian.” Maisie replied as she moved to stand beside Kenna.

“Diane’s son. I hear the king favors him.” Kenna added.

Maisie watched as Sebastian walked around the king and his mother to stand behind them. More horns were blown as queen Catherine was announced and walked to stand slightly in front of Diane. Not long after, a blond-haired, pale skinned, clearly royal man, avoided the sidewalk altogether and moved to stand across from Mary. After he bowed to her the two young royals engaged in an amusing greeting that made the ladies giggle at their queen before they started down the path into the castle.

RRRRRRRRRR

Mary's ladies stood in a room with a stuffy woman dressed in black. “You have returned to the court at your own queens bidding. As nobile ladys you must counsel her. Prepare her, account for her. For the princess Elizabeth's wedding, as with any event, you must acquaint yourselves and Mary with all visiting royal and dignitaries. Who amongst you is fluent in italian?”

They all just looked at one another before their eyes settled on Aylee. “I suppose I am.” she spoke up though it sounded more like a question.

“You will sit next to the pope’s cousin.” the stiff woman answered before she took in a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “He has no teeth and speaks very quickly.” The other girls giggled, Maisie only cracked a smile and smacked Kenna on the arm faining disapproval.

RRRRRRRRRR

Now in Mary's chambers the girls played around with makeup, jewelry and dresses. "Maisie, try this one." Lola said as she held up a lavender gown with silver beading on the satin corseted bodice and a flowing skirt of tulle. "It'll go good with your hair." Maisie took the dress, iffy about the tight corseted top. She usually opted for more loose fitting dresses for fear of being too much attention to herself.

After putting it on and letting Kenna lace up the back she looked at herself in the full length mirror. Most women would kill for Maisie's hourglass waist, but she hated it. "Where have you been hiding that waist?" Kenna asked as she took a step back. Maisie blushed as she picked up a purple beaded headband.

"Away from the eyes of the boys back home hoping to snag a wife." Maisie answered as she put the headband on.

"Are you saying you don't want a husband?" Mary asked where she sat at a dressing mirror applying kohl to her eyelids.

"I'm saying I didn't want a Scottish husband. We've all known since we were children that we would return to France eventually. It was just a matter of when and..." Maisie paused debating if she wanted to tell them the truth.

"And what?" Mary asked.

"Okay…I know this is going to sound silly but when we lived here as children, I promised my heart to a boy. I'm hoping to find him." she answered as she tied the band behind her head then adjusted the lock of hair to the left of her face that was always braided with silver beads intertwined into it.

"It's been nine years. Don't you worry he's forgotten you?" Aylee asked.

"Yes, that is a concern, I’m sure he will remember me just as I remember him." Maisie shrugged.

"Are all these gowns really from Paris?" Greer asked, changing the subject as she finished putting on a dress with a green boddes and cream satin skirt.

"Yes, every single one." Aylee answered where she was trying a gold beaded belt around the waist of her soft pink dress.

"If Collin could see me now he'd marry me in a second." Lola said as she twirled in her cream dress with green beading. "I look of age now. We all do."

"You know what I'd like to do?" Aylee asked and they all looked at her. "Explore. We haven't been here since we were children. Surely the castle has changed. Who's with me?"

"I am." Lola answered.

"Go, I'll catch up. There's something I want to see." Marry told her ladies as they all rushed out the door.

RRRRRRRRRR

At the wedding reception Maisie was standing with Aylee and Mary when Colin, who had decided he couldn’t wait to be with Lola and came to be with her, walked up and offered Mary a glass of wine. “Your grace, beautiful evening is it not?” he asked as she took the glass from him. When he kneeled and kissed Mary’s hand Maisie's eyes found Lola, watching from a few feet away, a hurt look in her eyes.

As soon as Collin walked away Mary noticed she’d accidently hurt Lola. “Maisie, I want to go dance.” Mary told her as she took her hand.

“It’s improper to dance alone.” Maisie argued, but she didn’t let go.

“I won’t be alone.” Mary argued and Maisie looked at Aylee for help.

She received none and Mary only released her hold on Maisie's hand to grab Lola's. “Lola come dance with me.” Lola looked at her the same way Maisie had, like she was crazy. “Take off your shoes. Come on, dance with me, take off your shoes.” Mary encouraged her ladies so they all kicked off our shoes and followed her out onto the empty dance floor.

As they grabbed hands and circled together as if playing a game of ring around the rosie, Maisie felt herself letting go, feeling like a carefree child. A girlish giggle left her lips as the larger circle broke and she and Greer grabbed hands, twirling around a few times before she let go and all of the ladies danced freely around their spinning queen. Eventually others joined in with them.

When feathers started falling from overhead, Maisie stopped and looked up. Still, with a smile upon her face she watched a feather float down until Greer sweeped by, making her lose track of it and insead, notice the light blue eyes of Sebastian looking right at her. Butterflies stirred in the pit of her stomach and only picked up speed when he gave her a soft smile.

A yelp slipped from her lips and pulled her out of the moment when Aylee grabbed her hand and Greer grabbed the other, pulling her back into a dancing circle that formed around Mary, who once again twirled, her arms above her head. As soon as the music was done everyone started exiting the ballroom. “Why’s everybody leaving?” Mary asked, slightly out of breath.

“It’s time for the consummation.” Lola answered.

“The ritual, the ceremony, the mystery…aren’t you curious?” Kenna said as she grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her after everyone else.

“Where are we going?” Maisie asked when they branched off from the people who followed the royal couple into the bedchamber.

“I played in this area often as a child. I know where we can watch without getting caught.” Kenna answered quietly.

“You mean they really watch them…you know?” Aylee asked innocently.

“It’s tradition for royals.” Greer answered.

“Yes, but we’re not allowed." Aylee argued as they came to a stop in a small dark corridor. A curtain hung on the wall.

"Don't you wanna know what you're in for someday?" Kenna asked, wonder and curiosity clear in her voice as she pulled the curtain aside. Kenna always had been the most curious when it came to men. They watched the servants ready Elizabeth for bed before Philip walked in, wearing only a long night shirt.

Elizabeth looked around, nervous about the other eyes in the room watching them. But Philip cupped his hands on each side of her face, making her see only him before they kissed. From the way Elizabeth relaxed it was clear she'd already forgotten everyone else but him. They watched until long after Philip had laid her back on the bed doing things that pulled sighs and moans from both of them as everyone watched their silhouettes move in time as one. "We should go." Aylee spoke up, pulling the rest of them from their thoughts before they followed Aylee out of the corridor and into the hallway.

"Split up." Mary whispered so they all went in different directions.

Maisie had found her way back to the ballroom, hoping to snag one of the berry tartlets she'd spotted before. Unfortunately the tray was now empty. "Drat." She sighed to herself.

"Worked up an appetite, have you?" The voice of Sebastian came from behind her and a smile took over her lips before she wiped it off her face and turned around. "What with all that dancing."

"I may have." She answered and as a server walked by Sebastian took a pomegranate tart off the tray and held it out to her. "Thank you, Bash."

"You're welcome, Maisie." He told her with a soft smile as he watched her take a bite of the tart.

"Is it safe to assume you remember me?" Maisie asked. "Or have you simply familiarized yourself with the names of Mary's ladies?"

"I remember you." He told her with a twinkle in his eyes. "A boy never forgets his childhood love."

A blush colored her cheeks as she laughed. "Childhood love huh?"

"I did vow to marry you one day." He pointed out.

"Actually you wished it, on a shooting star, when I was seven." She corrected him.

"I was sure you would have forgotten about that and me." He said with a look of wonder in his eyes.

"A girl never forgets her childhood love." She answered with a blush and a shy smile.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" He asked as he held out his hand.

"I'd love to." She answered as she took his offered hand.

They made their way outside into the cool night air. "So how does it feel, being back at court?" Bash asked.

"Nostalgic." She answered. "It has me remembering things I'd forgotten about."

"Like what?" Bash asked as they walked along the sidewalk.

"Like how we climbed that tree over there. My bare foot slipped off the limb and I got a huge splinter." She said with a point to the large tree in the distance.

"I remember that. I brought you to my mother and she got the splinter out." Bash added.

"She was so kind to me even though my parents looked down their noses at her." Maisie replied.

"I'm sure they looked down on me too. I'm surprised they even let you play with me." Bash added.

"They didn't look down on you." Maisie replied, earning an interested look from him. "If anything I think they pitied you a bit. They said you couldn't help the situation you were born into."

"I know for sure your father didn't like me." He argued.

"I think that may have had more to do with the fact that you were sweet on his daughter." Maisie told him with a pointed look.

Bash laughed "You're probably right. How are they, your parents?"

Maisie's eyes fell. "They passed away, not long after we moved back to Scotland. Our house caught fire, my brothers and I made it out, they didn't."

"I'm so sorry." Bash said as he rubbed her hand in his with his thumb.

"It's fine." She answered as she steered them over to the stone half wall of the pathway they'd been walking and let go of Bash's hand to place hers on the wall, looking out at the lake. "My uncle, father's brother, took us in. He and my aunt had no children of their own." A comfortable silence settled over them. Eventually Maisie's eyes moved from the lake to Bash's hands that rested on the stone wall beside hers. A small smile stretched her lips as she turned toward him, rested her hip on the wall and held her right hand out to him. He took it and slipped his pointer finger over a small scar on the fatty part of her palm between her thumb and wrist. "Do you still have yours?" She asked.

He held his left hand out to her, showing her the scar on the same part of his hand. She pressed her palm to his, like they had when their scars were fresh, bleeding cuts, inflicted by the sharp blade of Bash's hunting knife. "I know it's none of my business but I have to know-"

"There's no one else." She answered knowing what he was about to ask because she was dying to know the same. The worry on his face eased. "Never has been, though the people back home would give you a different answer."

"What does that mean?" He asked with curious wide eyes.

She laughed. "There's this boy, Keelan, we're best friends, nothing more, but we let people think there was more to protect him from gossip." She explained. "We figured out when we were fourteen that he prefers boys. If people found out it wouldn't be good for him. So since I had no interest in other boys and he had no interest in girls, we used our friendship to protect him." She looked away from their hands and into his eyes. "What about you? Is the gossip true?"

"Depends, what's the gossip say about me?" He asked, looking amused.

"I think the words Aylee used were "He has a terrible reputation with women." Though I didn't get any specifics and I don't know her source." Maisie answered.

"There have been others." He answered. Her shoulders and heart fell. She tried to take her hand off his but he slipped his fingers between hers and closed them. "They meant nothing to me."

"Any man can say that." She whispered, her eyes on their hands. His gripping her relaxed one.

"I mean it." Bash assured her. "Give me a chance to prove it?"

She took her time thinking about it. He could have lied about his past, but he owned up to it. She wasn't stupid. Girls were pressured to safeguard their virtue while boys weren't considered men if they were still virgins at a certain age. After the promises they'd made as children and nine years of saving herself for Bash she owed it to both of them to give him a chance. So she closed her fingers, holding his hand. "Don't make me regret it."

"I wouldn't dare. Especially if you can still throw that punch I taught you." He replied and she laughed. “Not only did you bloody your knuckles but my nose as well.”

“I only did what you told me to.” Maisie said defensively. “And you healed just fine. I can’t say the same for the poor boy back home. His nose is still a bit crooked.”

“And what offense landed him on the receiving end of your dainty, and clearly still powerful, fist?” Bash asked.

“He thought it would be a good idea to grab my backside.” she answered. “It was like an instinct I didn’t know I had. I turned and punched before I'd even fully registered what had happened. I got in so much trouble for that.”

“You got in trouble?” Bash asked with a frown. “He was the one in the wrong.”

“It’s not proper for a Lady to know how to throw a punch.” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Every woman should know how to defend themselves, titled or otherwise.” Bash argued.

“I agree with you.” Maisie said with a smirk. “And I have you to thank for not just that moment of self defense but several others over the years. So, thank you.”

Bash gave her a soft smile. “You’re welcome.”

"I should probably turn in for the night." Maisie pointed out realizing it had gotten late.

"Then I'll bid you goodnight like a gentleman." He told her as he moved her hand around in his, brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it.

She closed the space between them, stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. "Goodnight, Bash."

#reign #reign fanfiction #sebastian x oc #bash x oc #reign sebastian #reign sebastian x oc #reign bash x oc #reign bash #bash fanfiction #reign bash fanfiction #reign 2013 #reign sebastian fanfiction

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the-busy-ghost · 2 years

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Rant

Actually in light of the many delights of sixteenth century women’s names in Scotland, that just makes me even more annoyed about Reign. I mean OF COURSE nobody was expecting accuracy from it and it’s supposed to be a bit of fun (and actually I think it has aged well compared to other series which CLAIMED accuracy but never achieved it, cough cough the White Princess). But I still get a bit annoyed with the names they came up with for the Four Maries, because not only do I love historical names (and Scotland had some odd ones) but it was a very very weird decision on behalf of the writers.

First of all in my personal (and therefore subjective) experience the concept of the Four Marys is one of the most memorable things about Mary Queen of Scots (other than, you know, the fact that she got her head chopped off). And they all have very different faces, so I think the audience were capable of telling them apart- and even if they weren’t you could have given them variants (one could be Marie, one Marion, e.t.c.).

Secondly though the alternative names are horrendous? I don’t want to insult anyone who might have these names (my own name is not particularly nice either) but honestly they just make me want to vomit a bit. Each to their own, if people like them that’s fine but they did seem quite lazy choices too. Sixteenth century names are no picnic (lots of old lady vibes) but they are BEAUTIFUL compared to Greer.

So because I apparently don’t have anything better to do (a lie, I was working on a project which is how I got onto the topic of baby names in the first place) I have decided to waste my evening thinking up some alternative suggestions which sixteenth century Scottish parents might have chosen for their daughter instead of Mary. I have tried to keep the sound and vibe of the names they chose for the show instead, so that actually rules out the more common names like Mary and Janet but hey at least that makes things exciting.

First up is Aylee. Which, though that is not AT ALL how you spell Eilidh, they get points for trying to make something sound plausibly Scottish? I think? I mean there’s every possibility that they just plucked the name out of a hat and weren’t thinking of Scotland at all.

Eilidh is a beautiful name from the Gàidhlig which is very common in Scotland now (and when I was at school it always really confused teachers from England when they were trying to call the register). But as far as I’m aware wasn’t much used in the sixteenth century (though a lot of records about Gàidhlig speakers often Anglicise their names- Aoife to Eva, for example). And if it was, it certainly wasn’t popular in the Lowlands where the Four Marys came from (Fife/Lothian/Stirlingshire/Lanarkshire- loosely of course). So what could you use instead, if you were a sixteenth century mother who had wanted to call her daughter Mary but, idk, wasn’t all that keen on the Virgin the week she was born?

Well Helen or Ellen or even Helenor might work. Derivatives of the name Eleanor are not a direct equivalent of Eilidh but Helen is about as close as you’re going to get for the mid-sixteenth century among the Lowland aristocracy. And although its a bit of an old lady name now it was very popular in Scotland from the sixteenth to the 20th centuries and has the fortunate associations with the beautiful Helen of Troy and with St Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine. Alison is another possibility if you want something with the ‘Al/El/Ayl’ sort of noise- yes Alison is both a first name AND a surname in this period, bizarrely. You could also go with Elspeth which was a very common variant of Elizabeth- you tend to see Elspeth more in 17th and 18th century Scotland but I think it was used in the 16th century too, just that Elizabeth tended to be written in the official record.

One consideration though is that I believe Aylee is meant to be the Mary Seton of the gang. Which means the writers of Reign didn’t actually have to stick to Scottish names because the historical Mary Seton’s mother was Marie Pieris, a French lady-in-waiting who came over with Marie de Guise. So they had the whole wonderful, elegant world of French baby names to play with! Alas, what could have been...

Next up is Kenna which... again points to them for trying to vaguely sound Scottish (albeit in the most American way possible) but Kenna will always remind me of men called Kenneth, which is, I’m sorry, not a sexy name. And to be honest I don’t even know what to do with this one. I mean if you want a name starting with a K you could always use Katherine? Not as common a name in Scotland as it was in England but still knocking around and frequently shortened to Kate or Katie, it might work? Otherwise I have no idea what to do with this one. Just call her Agnes and be done with it- it was Mary Livingston’s mother’s name and could be stretched into Anna if you tried, which almost (i.e. not at all) rhymes with Kenna. What does it matter. I don’t even care anymore, and neither, I think, did the Reign writers.

Third we have Lola. Which is the only one of these four names I have ever heard used in real life so that’s a bonus! And probably the only bonus to be honest (do NOT get me started on the particular brand of upper-middle class English women who labour their daughters with this name, which in itself is not so bad, but pronounced in the patronising, long-vowelled tones of a Waitrose mother calling to her Little Dahling, it gets on my nerves).

Luckily though this is a name for which I can think of a good alternative immediately- Lilias.

Yes once again it’s an old lady kind of a name now but I PROMISE you, in the sixteenth century all the hot young Scotswomen chasing fairy lovers/dancing with the devil/defending their border castles against the English were called shit like Lilias and Janet and Isobel and Barbara and, idk, sodding Beatrix. The historical Lola Mary Fleming’s mother was called Janet and she STILL managed to attract the attention of the King of France and acquire the nickname la Belle Écossaise when she was in her forties and had given birth to eight children.

Old-fashioned names ought not to hold Young Ladies of Character back in the world, and anyway you know what? Eventually the Lolas of this world will be 80 one day as well (and I’m not saying you can’t be a hot bad-ass when you’re 80 too, but that’s off topic). Lilias fortunately preserves the liquid double ‘L’ noise of Lola and has a nice meaning too.

And so lastly we come to the greatest abomination of the lot - Greer. I mean... I’m apologising for using ‘old lady’ names but honestly the Reign writers should be forced to do penance for inflicting this one on any character. It is the baby name equivalent of a block of granite, but less sparkly. Personally, I am also biased against it because I have a pet hate of surnames used as first names, ESPECIALLY Scottish surnames (and I’m not just talking modern ones like Mackenzie, I fully include the much more common and even traditional ones like Gordon and Douglas in this). But at least Greer Garson’s name was a nod to her mother’s surname which wasn’t really an option for this Mary Beaton stand-in- I’m not sure that the even the Reign writers would call a character Renwall. Either way Greer does itself absolutely no favours.

HOWEVER. I will cooperate. I will do my best to find you a hard, slightly ugly but also kind of quirky and cool name from sixteenth century Scotland that starts with a hard G. And funnily enough it’s even easier than Lola was because we have two, quite common nicknames that would do instead.

Margaret was one of, if not THE, most popular baby name for centuries in Scotland (except perhaps Mary) and among its many variants, a particularly popular one in the sixteenth century was Grizel, sometimes affectionately shortened further to Grizzy (though I have only seen this in the 18th century). Sometimes (like with Mary and Marion) you even get two daughters in the same family, one named Margaret and one named Grizel. I will admit, though this name summons up grisly images (haha), I have a soft spot for it so I think it could work, especially if you place all the emphasis on the second syllable.

The other alternative is Geillis. Which I *think* might be a nickname for people named Egidia from what I can tell? I’m not 100% on that one but both Geillis and Egidia crop up now and again in Scottish history from the twelfth century until at least the eighteenth. Not a name I would revive for any of the children I won’t be having but hey, you all liked it when Outlander nicked it off a historical woman persecuted during the North Berwick witch trials. And sorry, it just has to be better than Greer. Even Kentigerna and Triduana (names that the Scottish nobility unfortunately had access to but, mercifully, I have never yet seen used) is better than Greer. Even Lady Douglas Sheffield (though that one is England’s responsibility) had a better name than Greer. Even Ephesia is better than Greer.

I mean alternatively the writers could have saved themselves time and just done what 60% of the Scottish nobility did when faced with a clutch of daughters and just called them Margaret, Janet, Agnes, and Isobel, with Marion, Elizabeth, Helen, Christian, and Jean/Jane/Joan kept in reserve. But that would require them to use Wikipedia for all of three seconds and I think that might have been beyond them.

#Alright rant over and apologies to anyone whose taste in baby names I have insulted #This is not likely to be seen by anyone anyway is it #I don't mind though if it helps someone name a Scottish character one day it will be enough #I have had it up to my eyeballs with all these lassies called Breanna and Bronagh and Kaylee in Highland romance novels #Scottish names

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multimuse-rp-archived · 2 years

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Plots please! ( any Stranger Things, GoT, or Reign muses! )

A reunion between Jon and Sansa! Him saving her from Ramsay, him saving her from Baelish… just. Him giving her the comfort that she deserves <3

Okay hear me out… Samwell coming to talk to Arya after she refuses to open up to Jon. Just sitting with her, talking with her, not asking anything about her feelings or anything that happened, but just. Them talking and being friends

MARY AND CATHERINE!!! Them trying to cover up a murder, them trying to deal with the consequences of their actions, them secretly trying to sabotage each other, them being forced to work together, them after Francis dies… just Mary and Catherine ahksjsjd

Nostradamus warning Aylee about her death maybe? Trying to find a way to prevent it? Maybe he succeeds and saves her life?

Leith and Greer <333 just. More Leith and Greer! Them dealing with her pregnancy maybe? Trying to find ways to cover up that the baby’s his? Leith desperately trying to move up in status to be able to marry her?

Robin and Nancy getting stuck in the Upside Down together! Them trying to find a way out ahdkjajs. Or them just investigating the whole Victor Creel thing? Or the two of them investigating something else? I just love their dynamic ahdkjajd

Max and Nancy after the Vecna thing? Bonding over it and just talking about what happened? I feel like Max would find it hard to open up to anyone besides Nancy because Nancy KNOWS what she’s gone through more than anyone else

#lmk if you like them!#chaxticdreamxrs

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hiddenwashington · 3 months

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anonymous said : Mw from reign? It was so cool to see that people write in that fandom !!

members are requesting aylee, greer castleroy, catherine de medici, stéphane narcisse, leith bayard, claude, gideon blackburn, james stuart, diane de poitiers, and louis condé!

#reign rp #reign rpg #appless rp #mumu rp #multifandom rp #anonymous #mw #admin ollie

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dailyreigngifs · 2 years

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REIGN | 1x08: “Fated”

#reignedit #periodedit #perioddramaedit #reign #mary stuart #lady aylee #mary x aylee #s1 #gifs #by liz

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hiatuswhore · 2 years

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Viper III

Versatility: The Princess of Conde, oh will the world ever see a woman as clever as she. Why does the expectation to be one kind of person rest on the shoulders of people—especially women. This Princess appears to be the jack of all trades, does that also include deception?

VIPER II: Rattled

IT WAS LAUGHABLE WATCHING FRANCIS AVOID YOU AT ALL COSTS. When has a king ever hid from a Princess in the confines of their own court? Still, you found yourself in the general vicinity most days.

“Humor me, Princess. Are you bored?” Sebastian questioned, standing in the corner of a meeting you likely had no business being in attendance. Your eyes locked on Mary, who swiftly looked away from your mocking gaze.

“Bored? How could one be bored when playing such an amusing game?” You challenged, narrowing your eyes with a mischievous glint. A quiet chuckle left him as you turned away once more. Your eyes back on to the raven-haired Queen, her jaw clenched as she held her composure.

“Mary is a good person. She may not deserve your kindness but your respect at the least. Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian said with his hands clasped in front of him. The smug look on your face hardened before you turned to your dear friend. “I do not mean to upset you.”

“If she is so deserving of my respect, why don’t we weigh in my dear brother Louis in this decision?” Your suggestion came with a sharp inhale from Sebastian. He had also warned Mary of your vengeful nature and fierce loyalty to your brother. You turned back to the open discussion of the religious war that now bubbled in France. The floor was open to all suggestions, and yet the men were coming up short.

“If I may? Your royal highness,” Sebastian covered his chuckle into a cough as you raised your hand. Your tone was almost taunting as you took the attention of the entire room. A silence followed before quiet murmurs made their way around the room; Francis sighed before nodding his head. “All the trouble lies in one common denominator‒you lot want a simple solution to a complex problem. So rather than attempting to isolate issues, spread them amongst solutions. Right now, people fear the arrival of a plague so let us bring people from all walks of life together. We offer food and blankets that we can spare to the needy or anyone who may need them. Right here in the main courtyard. If you fear the safety of the King and Queen Consort, we can up the guards and have you make appearances in slots.”

“What would this accomplish?” One of the privy councilmen grimaced at your brazen actions—how dare a woman use her mind? The room looked back to you for an answer which you simply smiled.

“Mind over matter is what it would accomplish. Not only do you continually build a good repertoire with your subjects, but you force them to really look at each other. Catholics and Protestants alike‒all together getting help from the crown. I’m not saying this will stop this war, but every victory, no matter how small, is a victory,” Your head held high, not a single crack appeared in your confidence. The skepticism of the room remained only in their expression. Their genuine resentment being in your idea being a good one.

“Thank you, Princess. That’ll be taken into heavy consideration. Any other ideas?” Francis said, but each that followed did nothing to rival your idea. They lacked the intricacy you offered in your plan. Finally, after another brutal thirty minutes of the men tripping themselves in attempts to one-up you, it was clear what the verdict would be. “I thank each of you for your contributions to today’s meeting. Since it was your idea, Princess, can the crown bestow the responsibility of this event onto you?”

“With pleasure,” Your smile was more prominent than necessary as Francis adjourned the meeting. Sebastian shook his head, waiting with you as the others cleared the room. Once the indiscernible murmurs of the privy council were gone, it left the throne room with a handful of you left. Mary brazenly met your gaze as Francis huffed as his mother held his ear. “I do not wish to take much of your time. Is it possible for my available resources to be listed, so I have it at my disposal?”

“I’ll make certain you have it by the end of the day, Princess,” Mary said, as she forced a smile onto her features. Your eyes caught sight of how tightly she gripped at her clasped hands‒staring at them too long, she promptly brought them to her sides.

“Very well,” You said, curtsying and doing the same not only for Francis but Catherine as well. If the following days had gone as you would have liked, then ideally, the days would have passed with a mixture of torturing Mary while organizing. Instead, your days were consumed with coordinating with the servants and kitchen staff. While those were the most manageable tasks to be dealt with, the guards proved to be an enormous headache. Sebastian made sure he would select the men that would watch over Mary and Francis, simple, right? Not in the slightest. Lord Narcisse insisted on having some of his men a part of the guard, hence him talking your ear off in the midst of your scrambling.

“—thus, amid my men are just as qualified!” He exclaimed. Nodding your head; you offered a warm smile. A huff escaped you as you scanned the corridor for your swift escape, but it only offered you useless Nobleman and‒your savior Lola Flemming.

“Lady Lola! Just who I was looking for!” You exclaimed, smiling broadly as you acted as though all his words suddenly evaded. Rambling aimlessly about several nonsensical tasks you already completed, you took her arm, matching her stride. Once out of earshot, you looked at her laughing like an old friend, but you spoke in a hushed whisper, “Nod your head and pretend I am telling you something important. Before you consider defying me in the name of your dreadful Queen, do tread lightly. I know my reputation precedes me, and I am not to be trifled with.”

It was almost unsettling how easily you could hold an innocent demeanor while threatening foes. Lola nodded her head, following your directions without protest; once you watched Narcisse huff before disappearing in the opposite direction, your smile dropped.

“Thank you for your cooperation. You’re always such a doll,” You do not allow Lola to respond. Her eyebrows pull knit as she fails to understand your eccentric behavior. In the courtyard, you beam with pride at the turnout; several Frenchmen begrudgingly stand in line together. Some parts of the line conversation strike, some good, others not so much, but still, the event ran smoothly.

“You don’t find the music to be a bit much?” Sebastian stands at your side; you both hand out blankets. Your smile was large as you received strange looks from the patrons in line. Anyone with a crown or status stands a few feet back. So you stand with the servants proudly under the eye of not only the French court but the eye of the ordinary men and women. It was no wonder you were adored.

“Why don’t you take a break,” You turn to find Mary relieving the servant to your right. As she met your gaze, a small chuckle left you; it felt near impossible not to say something.

“Afraid I’ll gain more support than I already hold?” You question while still beaming with joy as you throw spite in her direction. Even you could admit she was quickly learning your game‒or at least that’s what you wanted her to believe.

“I hurt you, and now you devote yourself to my demise. I will not fight you, Princess. That is what they expect of us, and I will have no part in it,” She says, and you openly chuckle as eyes watch you both. It appears as if two friends are sharing a chat, but a handful watched you both wearily, knowing precisely what it indeed was.

“Do as you please, Queen Mary. Whether you indulge, me or not means nothing. I am not certain of much in life, but I am certain of this,” You lean in close to her, smiling with glee as Sebastian makes up for your slacking, “You will never prevail in French Court. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Mary just barely holds her composure as you return to handing out blankets. Many patrons linger with the blankets and food, chatting amongst the crowd. You join the crowd intermingling happily. A little girl watches you cautiously behind her mothers’ dress. You tilt your head, watching as she buries herself further behind her mother, who urges her daughter not to be rude to a Princess.

“You’re a Princess?” Her tiny voice called out, and for the first time all night, you dropped your carefully calculated pretenses. You crouch down, balancing on your feet as you match the little girl’s height.

“Why, of course, darling, takes one to know one, right?” You questioned, but she immediately corrected you, telling you of her lack of status. Your hands shoot to the diamonds around your neck, unclasping the back; you beckon the child to you. She turns, allowing you to bring the necklace around her neck, “Now all Princesses have their prized possessions. Mine is a bracelet from my beloved brother.”

“Is he here?” The little girl questioned in awe as her tiny hands inspected the heavy metal hanging around her neck. You could feel the subtle gazes and how many around you waited patiently for your response.

“No, he is off to much better things. Promise me you’ll take good care of your prized possession?” You said with her hands in your own she nodded her with vigor before you allowed her back to her mother. Her voice filled the courtyard as she gushed to her mother. You walk to your main guard William, you lean in close with your eyes on the woman and her daughter. “Follow them and make sure no one bothers. I am going to have my pager deliver to you a certain amount of coin. Make certain they get it in confidence.”

“Shall I leave them a message when I do?” Only a few knew of your heavy generosity; that list consisted of your brothers, Sebastian, Francis, and William. You smiled as you watched the young girl run in circles, her hands on the necklace to ensure its presence.

“Just say it’s from one princess to another,” You explain, rolling your eyes as William teases your evident kindness. Too focused on the family, it took Francis three tries at your name before he grabbed your attention.

“Walk with me?” You make no attempt to hide the way you glance over at Mary. She stands with her head high as she pretends to focus on the crowd in the courtyard.

“Will your wife approve?” Francis glanced over at his wife, who met his gaze; he offered a simple nod before looking back at you. “I am King. It is only my approval that matters.”

You join him as the two of you stroll through the crowd casually. Francis commends you on a successful turnout. Of course, you are no fool as you await for the pretenses to drop, but he continues to dissect the impact of your event. “—may even prevent a war from even occurring.”

“Francis, are you reaching a point, dear?” His smile does not falter as you look at him with a raised brow. The skepticism and uncertainty in your features are fully apparent but he dotes on you without shame. “You avoid me for a decent amount of time, and now you greet me with kindness. Francis, what is it that you are doing?”

“As you know, there is a history between us. Due to that, I have been blind to what was also a great friendship. You are here and still in my corner despite all that has happened. Please accept not only my deepest sympathies but my sorrow for being an awful friend to you. Your love is dear to me (Y/n); please say you will,” Francis said as the two of you continued your walk well out of view of the others. You chuckle down at the floor as your hand brushes against his own.

“Things have really drastically changed. We’re a long way from playing King and Queen in the throne room,” You point out, the two of you stopping at the grass. The night sky and the torches from the courtyard offer a minimal view.

“Remember our wedding. We had it right about there, I believe,” Though you could not see where he pointed, you knew exactly what he spoke of. The two of you snuck past the guards and played by the tree line. You both had just attended a wedding with one of France’s allies.

“I promised to love you no matter what,” You said with your arms crossed as nostalgia held you tight. Francis looked over at you, but you did not falter with the far-off look in your eye.

“I promised to protect you. I still intend to do that (Y/n),” He said, and you lean into his side. It would be easy to just lean up and kiss him, the mixture of the stars and the light hum of the music‒it’d be perfect. Perfect was not the goal, though, and you knew this, you needed him burning for you.

“Thank you, Francis,” You whispered, drawing small patterns on his arm; you bat your lashes up at him only for a second. The silence that takes over leaves a slight tension; the energy in the air practically screams for a large display of affections, but you hold it at simple, platonic gestures before excusing yourself. Your journey back through the courtyard entailed smug looks thrown Mary’s way. If you were a writer, France was your masterpiece. You would continue to mold history into a lens that fit your narrative.

VIPER IV: Reputation

MASTERLIST

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marys-ladies-own-my-heart · 2 years

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all of aylee’s outfits 23/? - Reign 1x07 ‘Left Behind’

#reign #aylee #aylee dresses #lady aylee #aylee reign #reign aylee #reign dresses #reign 1x07 #mine #my gifs #my edits

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favroitecrime · 2 years

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Yeah aylee’s outfits wont take long, however alot of her scenes are so minor it’s hard to even gif and outfit sets sometimes

Hey!! Ngl I was excited to see this I love when people take time to see/read tags. I was joking around since aylee barely survives long so it was a little funny to me lol. But I’m obsessed with the sets you’re going to make because I loved reign and I don’t see a lot of it on my dash anymore, so I’m really excited this is something you’ve started!! I’ll be sure to reblog them all whenever I can

#reign spoilers #also?? the dedication to include aylee even with her being a hard to gif character?? amazing #check out meg’s blog guys top tier it’s a great addition to your dashes #tag: asks

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ghxst-heart · 3 years

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.｡.:*✧ ʀᴇɪɢɴ