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lost-eternity · 4 years

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Stars Aligned: A Zodiac Fanfic

I'm doing a little characters test with a new OC of mine. She is based in a steam-punk world where powers are given to everyone at birth based on the star sign they were born under. Maikela is a known illusionist. Outfit design done by yours truly.

“You lied to me! You lying-”

“Nu-uh.” Maikela extended a leather-clad finger, pressing it to the lips of the monocled man with whom she spoke. “Your mother raised you better than that.”

His eye twitched, his fists curled in a knuckle-white grip by his side. He practically shook from poorly concealed rage, his lithe frame quivering under the illustrious black fabric of his tailcoat.

Once she was sure that he would no longer sully his tongue with profanities, Maikela daintily removed her finger.

She feigned a look of hurt, grasping at her chest and knitting her eyebrows together. “Me? Lie? Why, Lord Sisyphus. You wound me.”

Outside the quiet confines of the Billard Room, the sounds of chatter and music drifted through the thin walls, coming from the dazzling ball was taking place. Men and women of high social stature gather inside the grandiose room, clothes in only the most ornate of fineries. Each one an attempt to outdo the other resulting in comically overdressed individuals peacocking around the ballroom, zealously flaunting their wealth.

The ladies with their fans raised against their lips gossiped among each other in hushed tones while the gentlemen attempted to court and swoon. It was all a trivial affair, heedlessly pointless but attending this ball was an absolute necessity in accordance to her father.

Much to Maikela’s acquiescence, he had sent her out to the ball on a retrieval mission, pursuing rumours about the host’s treasonous infidelities. Apparently a consultant of her father’s would be in attendance and offered some incriminating evidence in the form of photography. Of course, he would only hand them over for the right price.

Lord Sisyphus merely scoffed at her response, turning his shoulders away from her as Maikela continued with a pleasant smile. “Surely you know, my Lord.” She ends of her lips tilted upwards in a subtle smirk as she pressed her finger against her lips. “I never lie. I merely allowed you to believe the wrong truth.”

The disgruntled aristocrat did not appear amused by her word. “Fallacy.” He snapped, leaning in closer. “Your father promised me cash in return for the photos, girl. Now I that I have given you them, I expect our agreement to be honoured.”

Tsking softly, Maikela shook her head. She clasped her hands loosely at her hips, her smile never once faltering. “I believe his exact words were “adequate payment”, not money.”

“What’s the difference?” Sisyphus’s wrinkled brow creased with frustration.

“Kind, sir. Surely you jest.” Maikela’s eyes widened in an innocuous expression. “In some cultures, karma is about repaying an untold debt to the universe.”

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with my transaction.” Sisyphus folded his arms in the most ungentlemanly fashion.

“I beg you to practice patience.” Maikela’s tone took on flirtatious lilt. “Good things come to boys to wait.”

The lord blanched slightly at the sudden salacious remark. “I- I beg your pardon?”

Maikela paid no heed to Sisyphus’ solicitous concern. “I have it under good authority that you have been embezzling money from your own charity, using it to fund your interests in arms dealing and excessive amounts of alcohol.”

“Excuse you?” Sisyphus growled, his teeth grinding against each other.

“I feel that keeping your... endeavours a secret from the populace is adequate payment for your photographs, is it not?” Maikela drawled on, her tone pitched and lazily expressing no real concern with the issue.

It took the lord a few moments to comprehend Maikela’s intentions. Once he did, she noticed the stirrings of vindictive wrath flash behind his cerulean gaze. “You are blackmailing me?!”

“To put it in the simplest and most ineloquent of terms... yes, yes I am.” Maikela flashed him another one of her dazzling smiles.

“You are going to regret that. I will ruin you!” Sisyphus proclaimed dramatically.

Maikela turned away, walking gracefully towards the exit of the Billiar Room. With a serene smile, she raised her left hand into the air, offering the infuriated lord a passing farewell without making eye contact. She gingerly allowed her parasol to rest upon her shoulder.

“Have fun with that.” She purred lackadaisically.

Before Maikela could reach the doors, they swung open, nearly hitting the lady in her face. Unfazed by the jarring motion, Maikela did not even wince. Instead, she tilted her chin upwards to gaze dully at the two figures who loomed menacingly over her petite frame.

“Oh.” Lord Sisyphus chuckled darkly. “I meant that you would pay right now. I’ll let your father find your beaten body outside of his manor. Then he will know the consequences of messing with me.”

Maikela did not move, she merely raised her chin to meet the unwavering gazes of her opponents.

“Oh?” Was all she had to say.

One of the men in a blue suit softly closed the door to the billiard room, locking it with a muted ‘clink’.

“Make haste. We don’t want her screaming to distract the rest of the guests from their leisure.” Sisyphus hummed callously.

Upon his command, the man in the brown suit lunged, beefy arms spreading out to grab hold of Maikela’s delicate frame. As his hands came into contact with the ruffles of her dress, Maikela shattered, her form crumbling like porcelain dust where it dissipated into the carpet

“What?” The muscle growled, clenching a fist over the empty air where Maikela stood only seconds prior.

“Yoo-hoo.” Maikela crooned softly.

Three pairs of eyes swivelled to stare up at her.

She had perched herself adroitly up on top of one of the many bookshelves that lined the room, one leg folded neatly over the other. A serene Cheshire smile spread across her pristine features as she waved her hand delicately down at the men below her. Her parasol rested against her shoulder in the opened position, the pink lacing casting intricate shadows down upon the men below.

“H-how?” Lord Sisyphus stammered, jamming his hands into his pockets in lament. He rolled his eyes. “Enough of your tricks.”

Chuckling, Maikela gracefully leapt off the wardrobe, her parasol catching air as she fluttered towards the ground. Her feet hardly made a sound as it came into contact with the wooden tiles underfoot.

She stared at her attackers, an unspoken challenge burning behind her sweet smile. With the fluidity of a feline, she raised her parasol, closing it. Bringing it over her head, she extended the umbrella out in front of her as one would do in fencing, issuing a silent challenge.

Raconous laughter echoed through the room as Sisyphus clutched his stomach, another peal of hearty laughter falling from his quivering lips. “What... what are you doing?” He gasped between fits of snickers. “You planning to shade us to death, little girl?”

Maikela did not speak a word, nor did she lose that self-assured smile. Instead, she silently drew her thumb up along the handle of the parasol. With a click of a button, a silver sword slid soundlessly from the tip of the umbrella, its point gleaming dangerously in the dim lighting.

The realisation that Maikela’s parasol was a hidden weapon silenced Sisyphus. He stared for a moment, before smirking. “Suit yourself. We still outnumber you.”

Without uttering a word, Maikela extended her free hand, gazing at the three of them with a ‘come-hither’ expression and beckoning hand.

That was all the command they needed. Both bodyguards rushed Maikela simultaneously as the latter braced herself for the attack.

Blue’s fist came flying towards her face however it stopped short as Blue suddenly tensed, stumbling back.

Maikela had jammed the blunt end of her parasol directly into his gut, smiling prettily as he fell away from her. She tilted her umbrella upwards, opening it and allowing it to rest delicately on her left shoulder.

Brown took up the front of the fight, aiming a flurry of punches at the smaller girl.

Humming casually, Maikela danced around him, dodging each blow. Her smaller stature enabled faster reaction time. All she had to do was wear him out.

True to her predictions, Brown began to falter in his attacks, chest heaving with the strain.

“My turn.” Maikela giggled, folding her parasol and blocking a punch which rendered Brown’s right side exposed. With a well-placed roundhouse kick, she dislodged her attacker, setting him off balance.

Maikela swept her parasol under his feet and he stumbled off to the side, crashing heavily against the ground.

Smiling, Maikela leapt forward, the gleaming tip of her sword poised to plunge into Brown’s under-protected jugular.

However, a heavyweight threw her off as Blue seemed to have recovered from the blow he had been dealt. He launched her to the ground, but the moment she touched the wooden panelling, Maikela once again shattered, leaving Blue to crash into the floor inconsequentially.

Appearing behind him, Maikela kicked his rump, driving him further into the ground. The sound of a clicking gun brought her attention towards Sisyphus.

Maikela was quick to twirl around, facing away from the lord and opening her umbrella. As the shot rang out, the bullet bounced harmlessly off the microlattice “lace” of her parasol.

Smiling, Maikela turned back around to find that Blue and Brown had recovered and were fast approaching. Maikela blocked the first punch with her umbrella, aiming the tip against his chin she quickly unfurled it. The parasol snapped open, clocking Brown in the face.

Blue was quick to fall into place but he did not last too long either as Maikela’s high kick hit him in the jaw.

Growling, Brown attempted a kick to her chest.

Launching herself backwards, Maikela sprung off her hands, landing comfortably in a leather armchair at the head of the billiard table.

Maikela tauntingly opened her parasol, laying it over her left shoulder and spinning it in a playful manner, her legs neatly crossed, poised as if she were ready to receive some tea. She giggled teasingly at Blue and Brown who continued to approach whilst Sisyphus loaded another round.

“Your games are through. This ends here.” Sisyphus demanded, raising the firearm. “I was hoping to suit my fancies but you are making proceedings unnecessarily difficult so unfortunately, I will have to get sloppy.” Then he squeezed the trigger.

The round fired from the pistol as sparks flew through the air. The bullet sailed through the air, penetrating the sound barrier with a concussive boom before hitting Maikela square in the chest.

As soon as the bullet touched her skin, the illusion shattered, revealing Blue gagged and tied to the armchair in her place. Blood leaked into his suit, staining the hand-sewn satin dark crimson. Sisyphus appeared to be positively befuddled as he spun on his heels to glare at the Blue who had been standing behind him.

Smirking, imposter Blue tilted his head, revealing two unmistakeable eye colours. One pink and the other blue.

“You...” Sisyphus raised the gun but Blue grabbed it, ripping it from his hands.

Fractal-like patterns shifted along his arms causing his figure to shimmer. Sisyphus blinked as he found himself staring at his mirror image. Except his other self had two separate coloured eyes.

Making use of the real Sisyphus’ shock, fake Sisyphus slammed the base of the gun into Brown’s head.

The hired help dropped like a stone to the ground, vision swimming and sparks of pain flaring across his agitated body.

The heavy oaken door of the billiard room slammed open, sending the lock flying across the room and clattering against the wall.

Maikela had dropped the firearm and resumed her own shape, however, now bruises and cuts marred her flesh. Blood leaked from a busted lip, trickling down her chin as a panic-stricken cry rose into her throat.

The man who had busted down the door rushed into the room. He wore a simple white tux with golden accents, his eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses.

“Maikela, I have been looking for you everywhere. Why did you run of- oh my gosh!” He gasped as he took note of her beaten shape.

“Jack!” Maikela sobbed, tears pricking the corners of her gaze as she fled over to him, flinging herself into his arms. “T-these men. T-they tried t-to hurt me. They attacked me.” She stumbled over, steadying herself on his bicep, shaking with a renewed vigour as a fresh wave of tears wracked her bruised body. “T-they wanted my father’s money... w-what if they kidnapped me? Oh my-”

“Shh.” Jack consoled her, looking up to glare at Sisyphus who stood dumbfounded by the table.

“The girl lies. She scammed me out of my payment!” Sisyphus argued, rolling his eyes. “If you think that man will save you, you are sorely mistaken. I am untouchable.”

“Not by the law, you aren’t.” Jack hissed, with one hand he held up the weeping form of Maikela, and with the other, he reached into his pocket, procuring a police badge. He showed it to Sisyphus, his tone gruff. “You are under arrest for assailing a woman and attempted abduction.”

"What?” Sisyphus objected, practically fuming. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Save it for the courtroom,” Jack mumbled and gingerly set Maikela down.

The girl quivering, hiccuping softly, her lower lip trembling.

Jack withdrew a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping the tears from her cheek. “I am sorry I never got the chance to dance with you, my lady.” He cooed.

Sniffling, Maikela nodded. “I-I am just glad that you made it.”

Jack forced a smile. “I will take care of this gentleman and his henchmen and then I will come back for you to escort you home... I told you that a cop like myself has no place with the gentlefolk of the upper tier.”

A strained chuckle fell from Maikela’s lips as she looked up at Jack, her gaze shimmering with tears. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my lady.” He murmured the turned on his heel, stalking towards Sisyphus.

Jack listed Sisyphus’ rights in a flat tone whilst he handcuffed the lord with two magnetic rings, pulled together by an energy field that binds the body. As Jack forced Sisyphus out of the billiard room, the lord swivelled his head to send one last scathing look but what he saw caused him to falter.

Maikela’s abrasions had all but vanished, leaving her as stately and pristine as ever. She smiled at him coyly, the ghost of a smirk touching her lips as she tauntingly waved her fingers in farewell.

Sisyphus’ throat felt dry as he glared daggers into the ground, attracting quite the commotion as he and Jack passed through the ballroom. The music faltered as thousands of eyes turned to don him, hundreds of moths moved in hushed whispers, each one discussing the unlikely scene before them.

Rising to her feet, Maikela brushed off her pants. She retrieved her parasol from the floor, tapping it twice on the ground. Her form shimmered as a bountiful hoopskirt materialised, intricate lace drapings adorned the bust of her dress. A halter top crossed her chest and her jacket shortened to accommodate the sudden gown. Smiling, Maikela appraised her outfit in a nearby mirror before she exited the billiard room, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her dress.

Maikela had purposefully invited Jack, an officer from their local law enforcement to join her at the party under the guise of wishing to court. He was more than eager to agree. Maikela needed only to ensure that he runs into some trouble arriving at the ball to give her enough time to retrieve the photographs from Sisyphus and expose him to be arrested.

Every single detail about her plan had been carefully orchestrated, each scenario thought and then rethunk to include potential complications such as Jack arriving earlier than expected or not at all. Fortunately, he had arrived just when expected and Maikela made a mental note to thank a few people for ensuring this.

As Maikela glided across the ballroom, the nobles did not appear to trifle themselves with trivial concerns such as arrests. The music was quick to resume, and their sprawling figure rejoined in with the courtly dancing.

Maikela slid through the ground moving hastily and dodging any servants offering drinks and other amenities. She was on a tight schedule and needed one last thing from the host’s manor before making her departure.

For those interested:

Maikela was heavily, heavily inspired by Patty Hearst. Maikela's father runs an influential news chain and media company. He is the owner of nearly every major tabloid and paper in town. He uses his daughter’s skills to collect sensitive data on rivals to present to the public in his papers. And he will use methods that are not exactly legal in order to get that big scoop.

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jacademia · 5 years

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Film Allusions in Crimson Peak

Hi, all! So because I am deep in my horror movie feels at present and, as horror is a genre that some of you are new to/unfamiliar with, want you all to have some more context for Crimson Peak as an intertextual Gothic pastiche, I thought make a little list of films (mostly horror) that CP references, alludes to, or visually echoes (other than Jane Eyre or any iteration of “Bluebeard,” that is). This list is certainly not exhaustive, but I hope will give you a starting place at understanding the scale of the intertextual web this movie is weaving (also maybe give you some movie recs if you’re into horror/classic cinema. I’ll try to include links to films in the public domain).

Nosferatu (1922) and other early 20th century cinema

Del Toro makes use of a lot of the aesthetics and techniques of film from the late Victorian period/early 20th century (appropriate since Crimson Peak is set in the 1890s - incidentally one of the peaks of Gothic literature). One of these is iris shots/iris transitions (shown above in this screenshot from Nosferatu). Iris transitions are when a circular black mask over the shot shrinks, closing the picture to a black screen (very common in early horror film and 1920s cartoons, ie Betty Boop). If you’d like some very iconic, silent vampire cinema, you can watch Nosferatu here at archive.org for free.

The Old Dark House (1932) | Watch free on Archive.org

Seeking shelter from a storm, five travelers are in for a bizarre and terrifying night when they stumble upon the Femm family estate.

A trope codifier for the haunted house movie, complete with oodles of Gothic weirdness, including those ooky spooky, co-dependent Femm siblings.

Rebecca (1940) | Watch free on Archive.org

A self-conscious bride is tormented by the memory of her husband's dead first wife.

Based on Daphne Du Maurier’s novel of the same name (itself heavily based on Jane Eyre), this Gothic variation on “Bluebeard” was Alfred Hitchcock’s first American film, won two Academy Awards, and is still considered one of the best psychological thrillers of all time. Features an overbearing female figure who directly interferes with our protagonist’s marriage to her, er, Prince Charming in the form of a Sapphic housekeeper obsessed with keeping the memory of the first Mrs. De Winter alive.

Notorious (1946) | Watch free on Youtube

A woman is asked to spy on a group of Nazi friends in South America. How far will she have to go to ingratiate herself with them?

Don’t drink the tea! Also, butterfly-backed chairs. Allll the butterfly-backed chairs.

The Fall of the House of Usher (1960)

Upon entering his fiancée's family mansion, a man discovers a savage family curse and fears that his future brother-in-law has entombed his bride-to-be prematurely.

Two prongs here: Crimson Peak is very much playing with Edgar Allan Poe’s short story (incest siblings! Gothic manors sinking into the earth!) and evoking a particular aesthetic associated with a number of 1960s/70s “schlock” Gothic horror films like those made by Roger Corman who applied his use of vivid color and psychedelic surrealism to a number of Poe’s works.

AESTHETIC!!!!! Speaking of aesthetic excess...

The Brides of Dracula (1960) and other Hammer Horror films

Vampire hunter Van Helsing returns to Transylvania to destroy handsome bloodsucker Baron Meinster, who has designs on beautiful young schoolteacher Marianne.

Known for a series of Gothic horror films made during the 1950s - 1970s featuring well-known characters like Count Dracula, Baron Frankenstein, and The Mummy, Hammer film productions hooked audiences with its use of vivid color, gore, sexy damsels in nightgowns, sexy women with fangs, sexy mummy girls, sexy... you get the idea. It left an indelible aesthetic mark on horror cinema since (including Crimson Peak). Also famous for catapulting the careers of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing or, as you might know them, Count Dooku and Grand Admiral Tarkin from Star Wars.

The Innocents (1961)

A young governess for two children becomes convinced that the house and grounds are haunted.

Frequently listed as one of the best horror films of all time, The Innocents (one of Del Toro’s direct inspirations -- clock the nightgown in the screencap) is a loose adaptation of Henry James’ seminal Gothic novella The Turn of the Screw.

So many more under the cut...

The Leopard (1963)

The Prince of Salina, a noble aristocrat of impeccable integrity, tries to preserve his family and class amid the tumultuous social upheavals of 1860's Sicily.

Another of Del Toro’s direct intertexts, which influenced Crimson Peak’s party scenes.

Suspiria (1977), the films of Mario Bava, and giallo cinema

An American newcomer to a prestigious German ballet academy comes to realize that the school is a front for something sinister amid a series of grisly murders.

A cult horror classic, Italian director Dario Argento’s Suspiria plays fast and loose with Gothic horror and fairy tale tropes, making for a slasher film quite unlike any other. Notable for its dreamlike surrealism, use of highly-stylized colorization, and sheer amounts of gore, Suspiria remains one of the most aesthetically influential horror films of all time and, looking at screenshots, you can maybe see its visual influence on films like Crimson Peak:

Guillermo Del Toro has also cited Mario Bava, another of the key figures in the golden age of Italian horror, as inspiration for his use of color and set design in Crimson Peak.

From Bava’s Black Sabbath (1963):

From Blood and Black Lace (1964):

Bava’s film, Blood and Black Lace, belongs to the giallo genre, which refers (at least, in English-speaking countries) to (largely 1970s) Italian horror thrillers/slashers notorious for their combination of intense, stylized violence and eroticism. Very much a precursor to the American slasher film.

The Shining (1980)

A family heads to an isolated hotel for the winter where an evil spiritual presence influences the father into violence, while his psychic son sees horrific forebodings from both past and future.

As film that also loosely adapts “Bluebeard,” it’s perhaps unsurprising that there are so many allusions to Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s novel of the same name in Crimson Peak.

And, man, does it have it all! Snowed in, Gothic entrapment! Threats of domestic abuse! Secrets locked away in forbidden rooms! Ghosts! So many ghosts!

Ghosts in the bathtub!

Ludicrously enormous amounts of blood! Innocent waifs with the ability to commune with the dead! Intrepid third parties who heroically make an attempt to reach the isolated Gothic hellscape to help our damsel in distress only to get immediately merc’d! It’s all here, y’all.... except the incest, of course.

Flowers in the Attic (1987)

Children are hidden away in the attic by their conspiring mother and grandmother.

Ok, this is something of a cheat, as Crimson Peak is alluding more to V.C. Andrews’ infamous novel of the same name, not the 1987 film (which is an abysmally terribly adaptation and hilariously bad flick). Anyway, abused siblings are locked away in an attic... and... well... things get all... Sharpe family values, if you know what I mean.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

The centuries old vampire Count Dracula comes to England to seduce his barrister Jonathan Harker's fiancée Mina Murray and inflict havoc in the foreign land.

If you liked Crimson Peak, I think you’ll enjoy this too, as, like CP, this movie is a sincere horror film, but also a pastiche/celebration of the Gothic and vampire cinema. It’s visually sumptuous and very high-energy (if you didn’t like CP or Moulin Rouge!, this one is probably not for you).

Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Ichabod Crane is sent to Sleepy Hollow to investigate the decapitations of three people, with the culprit being the legendary apparition, The Headless Horseman.

This is another one that, if you liked CP, you might enjoy. Based on Washington Irving’s "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” Tim Burton’s film evokes a number of genres and horror aesthetics, most notably the Gothic horror flicks of the 1950s/60s, to create a kind of Hammer Horror film for American Gothic.

The Devil’s Backbone (2001) and Del Toro’s other films

After Carlos -- a 12-year-old whose father has died in the Spanish Civil War -- arrives at an ominous boys' orphanage, he discovers the school is haunted and has many dark secrets that he must uncover.

Crimson Peak is not Guillermo Del Toro’s first foray into Gothic horror, as ghost stories and dark fairy tales are very much his specialty (as we shall see again in Shape of Water later this semester). I highly recommend his ghosts-as-a-reflection-on-the-trauma-of-war film The Devil’s Backbone and his take on portal fantasy, Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), as they’re both excellent and you can see echoes between them and the effects/visuals of Crimson Peak.

#crimson peak #horror #a long post no one asked for

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alexa-t · 5 years

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Venus Rising

Chapter 3: Parallel Chronologies

Part II - A Time to Reap, a Time to Sow

Unbeknownst to him and to Mina herself, were the occurrences of the last few days on the island of Kos. Apelles arrived and revealed his masterpiece, selling it after an hour long bidding war between all the aristocrats of the island. Gordos immediately recognized who Aphrodite was modeled after and wanted it for himself, but he lost to Talos, who although not as wealthy, managed to double Gordos' bid.

Apelles became an instant hit, his lesser known works were being sought after, and he was commissioned for work by many aristocratic households around the Greek world. In fact, there was such a high demand for his work, that instead of returning to Athens he scheduled to leave straight for Macedonia in the north.

Walking up to a Macedonian ship early one brisk autumn morning, he watched an Athenian vessel come out of the fog and pull up to the docks. He stood watching as some men put his luggage and painting equipment on board, and the crew of the other ship tied it down. As he observed the busy scene of men rushing around, a young aristocratic woman, dressed in the finest silk chimation, was helped off the vessel. She slightly stumbled slipping on the wet stones of the dock, and he rushed grabbing her hand to prevent her from falling.

“Thank you" she said quietly turning to see his face

“Mnesarete?!” he exclaimed looking at the familiar face of his model

“Apelles!” she exclaimed with a smile.

“Haha! I am so glad to see you here!” he laughs giving her a big hug “this is amazing, you are her, and I am here, and… we both are her right now!”

“Yes…” She replies with discomfort painted all over her face as she tries to break free of his bear hug, “we are.”

“You do not understand!” he explains after eventually letting go, “this is a Macedonian ship.” pointing over to the ship with the sun design on its' sails.

“You are going to Macedonia?” she asks genuinely surprised

“Yes! Yes!” he answers more excited than before. “I have been invited to the court of King Phillip himself! Can you believe it?”

“I want you to deliver a letter for me.” She tells him, before going back to her luggage and rummaging through it.

“No no, I am not a delivery boy…” he attempts to reject the request as she quickly writes a few words on a small parchment.

“Take this to Maximus who is staying at the house of General Cleitus.” She hands him the parchment, sealed with her signet ring pressed in the wax.

“I said n…” he begins but stops when Mina places his hand on her breast. “General Cleitus. Ok"

“Good.” She replies as she removes her hand.

Just then two men carrying a large square object covered by a brown sheet walk between them and board the Macedonian vessel.

“That is the painting!” Apelles informs her

“The Macedonians purchased it?”

“Actually, a merchant named Talos bought it and then, I think, he sold it to the Macedonians"

“Interesting” she thought aloud. The Macedonians here on Kos, an Athenian ally, means they are really expanding their influence.

“Where are you going?” he asks her

“Gordos" she replies

“His house is the large one right of the town square" he says illustrating an invisible map with his long thin index finger.

She thanked him and wished him well on his trip and new ventures before leaving to find Gordos' home. It was not a difficult search since the house was the most imposing building on the square, with its' enormous and intricate façade looming over the passersby.

‘hmm definitely trying to compensate’ she thought as she walked up to the gate.

“State your business" the burly, chiseled chin guard asked

“I will stay it only to Gordos himself" she replied, “tell him…”

“Mina is here!” he calls out running down the front steps with his outstretched arms.

The gate swings open and he steps out and hugs her, before guiding her into his home. They sat talking in his large lush courtyard as servants rushed around waiting on them. After a lavish dinner they went to the bedroom upstairs for a glass of wine. The wine flowed and when Gordos saw her getting light headed from the alcohol he made his move.

Kissing her on the neck and grabbing her everywhere in such an uncoordinated way, made her wish she was actually drunk. Yet she played her part, seduced by his charm and manliness, she had succumbed to his sexual advances. Clumsily he tore off her clothes until her naked body was before him in all its' glory, the woman who had defined Aphrodite.

She had no real interest with this client, physical or psychological, nothing made him the least bit appealing, it was strictly a business transaction. There were many clients like him, although there were a few she generally enjoyed the company of, and none she actually loved. It was neither the large belly nor the weak physique that disinterested her, but rather his weak character, the one that allowed her to control him.

Bent over with her legs spread, she held onto the base board of his extremely large wooden bed as he took her from behind, while she thought about her plans for tomorrow. Anyone listening wondered what sexual magic he had done to her to make her utter the words, and cry out as loudly as she did. Luckily the ordeal was as short as his member was, and he collapsed on the bed in a sweaty mess. Laying beside him she played with his curly black hair until sleep over took him, while she wondered what the Macedonians were doing so far south.

The next morning, Gordos, rejuvenated and jovial, made his way through the house, greeting all the household staff. Together they had a breakfast of honey covered fried bread and an assortment of seasonal fruits in the courtyard while laughing and making small talk. After the meal she requested a tour of the island where the famed first physician, Hippocrates, was from, to which he was overjoyed to give. The carriage was readied and sitting in the back with his arm around her they began their excursion.

She met all the aristocracy of the island as well as all the important merchants bringing goods to or through the island on their way to all of the other Greek cities. Here was the hub of the silk trade for all the Mediterranean. Every strand of silk coming from beyond Persia made its' way to Kos where it is woven into fabric and then finally sewn into the finest clothes the world had ever seen.

The clothing from Kos was sold to aristocrats and nobles, kings and pharaohs, all over the Mediterranean world. Her tour included silk factories where she was able to see how everything was manufactured.

“It is simply amazing!” she exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm.

“Yes, it is.” Gordos smiled haughtily.

“The fabric is so soft and wonderful.” She stated petting the sheets of silk being woven.

“You really love silk baby, eh?” he asks laughing

“Oh yes I do!” she purred, rubbing a emerald green piece of cloth on her cheek, “you do not have enough silk for me.”

“Oh, I am sure I have more than plenty of everything for you my dear.” He rebutted

“ummm…” she stopped and looked around at the bustling factory with a blank stare, like a pigeon looking over the square for crumbs, “no.”

“Hahaha” he laughed nervously with his hands at his sides, “What do you mean, no?”

“Well, that there is not enough silk for me here.” She stated in a building literally filled with silk, in any form you could possibly imagine.

“Honey… I have more silk than anyone in all of the Mediterranean!” he declares with outstretched arms. “Beautiful but not very bright.” He whispers to the tall skinny man standing next to him, who was most likely the manager of the factory.

She skips over like a little girl, and just as if she were actually ten years old and asking for a toy, lays on his chest and looks him in the eyes.

“Then you can give one to me can't you?” she implored him.

He looked at her stunned that she would ask such a thing, not knowing what to reply.

“If you really have so much, then a little for me is nothing for you.” She stated sweetly.

“Umm… I… ummm..” he muttered

“Oh! If it is too much, then it is fine I understand.” She said standing back up, and turning to walk away “most men cannot afford such gifts for their lovers"

“But I am NOT most men!” he declared pompously, “Alpheos! You work for Mnesarete now!”

The man looked at him stunned, unable to utter a word, unable to move, catatonic state stunned. Mina ran up to Gordos and wrapping her arms around him, planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“Oh thank you Gordos!” she exclaimed in a very airheaded fashion.

Alpheos brought over a scroll and Gordos handed it to her, telling her that if she needed any help he would be there for her. What he actually meant was, that in a month when she had her fun he would take it back. They walked out the front door and toward the carriage, but as Gordos was stepping in, she ran back with the excuse of ‘forgetting something’ to which he laughed at her silliness.

Inside she found Alpheos, and sternly called him over to her.

“I want you to bring me an account of what we have in stock here. Everything from the last fiber to the finished clothing, as well as clothing designs” His mouth dropped at the sudden personality change.

“Y..yes… my lady.” He stutters, perplexed by the strange level-headed female.

“I also need a list of where we received the last shipment of silk from, how much, how much we sell our products for and to who.”

She walked off without waiting for a reply, but fully expecting Alpheos to get it done and bring the documents by Gordos' house that evening. She was sure that he knew he would be fired if he did not perform to her expectations. Outside she put on her smile and jumped on the back of the carriage.

"Did you find what you were looking for baby?" he asked

"Yes, I did." she replied as the driver whipped the horses and they proceeded to their next destination.

In Athens, with Mina gone, Helena spent more and more time at the clinic with Dice. The endless line outside the clinic was always filled with sick and injured women and children in need of care. Why did so many people flock to Agnodice for care instead of the dozen or so other physicians in Athens? No one was really sure, but maybe it was the quality of care, or maybe it was the level of caring, nevertheless they found their way there, and every night the girls would finish later and later.

"Do you ever feel tired of working so many hours?" Helena asked the doctor as they cleaned up after a long day's work.

"No, not really." Dice answered with a smile while putting some tools in a basin for cleaning.

"What about the fact that you recieve no recognition for your hard work, no one really knows who you are, no one really knows how much of an amazing physician you are?"

"They all know." she replied pointing out to the waiting room, "everyday more and more people come because they know I will not turn them away, that I will treat them no matter who they are. This is enough recognition for me. It does not matter to them what is between my legs, what matters is the good I do for them every day."

"You are truly amazing." Helena expressed, in awe of the woman.

"I am not." Dice retorted bluntly, "I am simply doing what I love, for the people whom I love."

Helena admired her, Agnodice was intelligent, stoic, and completely selfless. She truly lived to serve the people, in stark contrast with the other physicians of the city who saw each patient as a sack of gold. She treated so many people for free that it became almost strange when patients offered to pay.

"When you were in Chalcedon learning medicine, did your colleagues treat you differently?" Helena inquired

"Medicine is very competitive" Dice began, "the other students, who were all men, tried to cause problems an account of my sex. Yet Herophilos, my teacher, made it clear the first day we all entered the school."

"What did he do?"

"He stood before all of us and said, ‘I do not care who you are or who your parents are, if you are man or woman. What I care is that you enter as children and you will leave as physicians. Anyone who cannot handle my style of teaching and anyone who is unworthy, I will throw you out without a second thought. Prove your worth and stay.’ and I proved my worth."

This was enough to satiate Helena's curiosity for the moment. They finished their cleaning, and readied the clinic for the next day. Walking out, Dice closed and locked the door behind them, while Helena looked around at the sleeping city. What she failed to notice is the cloaked man across the street watching them, taking into account everything they do.

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valtharr · 5 years

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I’ve been thinking about how I feel about Season 2 of Castlevania, and...I think I feel about the same way I feel about Fallout 3 & 4. I like it as a standalone product, but as an adaptation of Castlevania, I’m pretty disappointed.

Let’s start with Trevor.

Trevor is a Belmont. The Belmonts are the heroes of Castlevania. Most games have one as a protagonist, and even the ones who don’t still have one play at least a minor role in the story and/or feature a separate playmode where you can play as one. They’re a big deal in the games.

In the show? I honestly get the feeling that, if Trevor had died after saying “let’s check out the Belmont hold!”, the rest of the story wouldn’t really have played out much different. Like, what did he even do this season? He was pretty much a supporting character! The closest he did in advancing the plot was protecting Sypha while she was actually doing something that advanced the plot. Then he chopped off Dracula’s head...which wasn’t really necessary, since he had already been staked, and even if decapitation was necessary, Sypha could have done that, as well!

Hell, the entire final confrontation was a huge letdown, looking back on it. Sure, the three “protagonists” entering the castle and wrecking all those vampires while “Bloody Tears” was playing was fucking awesome, but...they were essentially just the cleanup crew! Most of Drac’s troops had already been killed by Carmilla! Oh, and I’ll get to Carmilla and her plot, don’t worry. But yeah, they killed the last few remnants of Drac’s army, and then go to fight the big man himself. And the beginning of the fight was awesome! All three of them fighting, but Dracula giving them a run for their money....I think I actually said out loud “Finally, they’re showing how powerful Dracula is!” And then he unleashes his fireball in another cool reference to the games, the heroes deflect it and blow a large hole in the wall, Alucard zooms after his dad, and Trevor and Sypha...just go run around the castle, hoping to eventually stumble upon the fight, I guess.

So, while Sypha and Trevor take the tour, Dracula and Alucard have their little Dragonball fight, which is awesome, and then they arrive in Alucard’s old room, and Alucard kills his dad due to him turning into a little crybaby. Wow.

Which brings me to Dracula’s characterization. Again, looking at just the show, ignoring it’s based on a preexisting property, Dracula is a pretty good, nuanced, three-dimensional villain. Lashing out at humanity, but deep inside, he’s actually just depressed and wants it all to end. That’s not a bad characterization in itself...but it’s not Dracula. At least, it’s not Castlevania Dracula.

In the games, Dracula has the same backstory as he has in the show. But in the games, it results in an unending, vicious hatred and disdain for humanity, that can only be quenched once they’re all dead. He might have started out as a man driven by the loss of the love of his life (twice), but more and more, he simply became the embodiment of pure evil.

Castlevania Dracula isn’t just a vampire. He isn’t even just “king of the vampires.” He is an immensely powerful sorcerer with the power to dominate entire legions of night creatures to do his bidding. He is evil given flesh. In one game, which takes place in a time after Dracula has been killed off for good, a cult tries to resurrect him because they believe that Ultimate Good (aka God) cannot exist without Ultimate Evil, and that Ultimate Evil is the Dark Lord, aka Dracula. In another game, Dracula’s essence has been split into three glyphs that bestow the main character magical powers. Each of those glyphs is the most powerful one of its type, but also damages the character when she uses it. And when she uses all three glyphs, everything on the screen automatically dies - including herself. Dracula is so powerful and so evil, that if someone tries to channel his power - even someone specifically trained in channeling magical energies - that someone dies, and takes every living thing in the vicinity with it. Dracula isn’t an aristocrat who navigates a web of intrigue within his vampire court, he’s basically a demigod whose right-hand man is literally Death himself, and who turns into a giant gargoyle creature if he gets pissed enough.

Oh, but speaking about navigating a web of intrigue, let’s talk about that subplot, shall we?

Again, taken on its own, it wasn’t that bad, but looking at it as part of a Castlevania adaptation, it really ticks me off. First of all, it really seemed to take up most of the screentime, taking even more focus away from our supposed “protagonists”, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard. Secondly, it took up a lot of plot relevance, too. Again, by the time the golden trio arrives at Dracula’s castle, most of his troops are gone as a result of the silly intrigues and backstabbing. What the hell? Yeah, it wasn’t badly played out, and people compared it to Game of Thrones, but you know, the thing is...

CASTLEVANIA ISN’T FUCKING GAME OF THRONES!

Castlevania isn’t some super serious gothic dark fantasy epic that’s littered with political intrigue. Castlevania is goofy, campy, ridiculous, tongue-in-cheek, action.

It’s the series that literally started out as a deliberate homage/parody of campy Hammer Horror movies. The series that features enemies such as chainsaw-wielding cannibal butchers in the early 1800s, or demonic maids who know kung-fu and whose souls you can absorb to gain the ability of summoning a magical vacuum cleaner that restores your health. The series in which one game gives you literal cream pies as a weapon, and where those cream pies are one of the most potent weapons against that game’s super hard optional boss.

Why were the writers so afraid to embrace the camp? Why take away the corniness? Why shift the focus from fun action and creative monster designs to political intrigue and rehashing of typical vampire tropes? Why, when adapting a show based on a series that is 90% running through Dracula’s castle, and that is fucking named after said castle, did they decide that the heroes should only spend about twenty minutes of screentime INSIDE THE FUCKING CASTLE?

Why not, I don’t know, have them arrive in the castle in the first or second episode, and then being all “oh, Dracula is cooped up in his throne room, and we need five McGuffins to open the magical seal!” and then have the rest of the show be the heroes fighting cool monsters in epic boss battles to get those McGuffins? You could still have character- and worldbuilding. You could still have flashbacks, or have Alucard talk about his time in the castle, or whatever!

The Fallout comparison I made earlier wasn’t just chosen willy-nilly. Because when looking at Fallout 3, one gets the impression that Bethesda just wanted to make a post-apocalyptic game, and thought that including stuff like Super Mutants, Power Armor, and Deathclaws was enough to make it a Fallout game. And just like that, I kinda get the impression that the creators of Netflixvania wanted to create a dark fantasy show, and thought that including stuff like Slogra & Gaibon (literally the only iconic CV monsters they used), Bloody Tears (literally the only iconic CV music they used) or the Morning Star whip would make it a Castlevania show.

Again, it’s a good show. I enjoyed watching it, and I’m curious what they’ll do in future seasons, if there are any. But...well, let’s just say it like this:

As a fan of dark, fantastical horror media, I really like it. As a fan of Castlevania, I’m severely disappointed.

#Castlevania #castlevania netflix

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xellychan040 · 5 years

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DBZ Fic Saiyan History: An Overview by Daokin, 3rd Class

Fandom: Dragon Ball (Z, GT, Super) Characters: Yamoshi (mentioned), The Vegeta Lineage (mentioned), Bardock (mentioned) Word Count: 5704 Warnings: Character death. Referenced violence and warfare, Massively AU, Canon vs Fanon, Akira Toriyama Has No Sense Of Scale (And I foolishly try to fix it)

Summary: May Rutaba and Yamoshi guide our race to glory among the stars.

Notes: I wrote this in around three days motivated solely by spite. Did you know Saiyans only ruled planet Vegeta for, like, half a decade? And the Vegeta line only stretches back TWO generations? I did. And now I'm filled with nerdish anger.

I always felt slighted that DBZ never really had a space traveling arc outside of the Frieza saga and maybe GT, and any time space was talked about in show the scale was ridiculous. You could reach the edge of the universe in a day, in one of the movies.

Anyway, this whole silly endeavor started because I wanted to write a Planet Vegeta never explodes/The Saiyans don't work for the PTO AU. And when I went to research the Tuffles and Yamoshi's legend I stumbled upon the official Daizenshuu timeline and had my very delicate suspension of disbelief shattered utterly. And thus...... This. It's all fanon and conjecture on my part, with a dash of abusing sub/dub inconsistencies (like yamoshi appearing either 1000yrs ago or 3000yrs ago), but for my purposes, it works. Take it all with a grain of salt.

Final note. I'm ignoring all the time patroller stuff for the most part. So Xenoverse and Heroes don't apply to this au. Read it here or on ao3 for better formatting

Salada Golden Period(circa. 3000 years ago)BCA 2240

Modern, pre-space faring period.

In terms of advancement, it’d probably be half a century or so more advanced than humanity’s current society on Seeded Planet 359, colloquially known as Earth. Incidentally, there are some similarities with Earth’s ancient pre-space faring cultures, namely Roman and Greek city-states in terms of infrastructure and politics.

At this point, there's no central government. Large clans absorb smaller clans in a complex fiefdom of constantly rearranging territories.

BCA 1840

Some 400 centuries after, Overlord Yasai conquered and unified most other clans and their territories after a prolonged period of infighting. It pacified the infighting for several decades, but Yasai’s brutal, totalitarian policies caused their own internal problems.

BCA 1790

An upstart Warlord named Rutaba challenged Yasai for change. It’s not clear if he won, but his actions contributed to a unified central government in which Saiyan citizens could participate.

Salada and Saiyans

Brief overview

Modern evolved Saiyans have been on Salada 400,000 years. Civilization, as it was known before their mass exodus of the planet, was around for an estimated 12,000 years.

Salada native, pre-Dark Age Saiyans had long life spans, with particularly powerful, healthy Saiyan’s living to at least 800. Loss of information and vital data archives makes it unknown if lifespan estimate can be lengthened.

It was during the last 3,000 years of Salada’s existence that many advancements and cultural shifts took place.

In the Saiyan home solar system, Salada was the perfect distance from its parent star to reflect a perfect amount of Blutz waves from the moon. Adding to the rarity of full moons, coming once or twice every century, Saiyans transformed into Great Apes retain all sense of self. Though naturally and culturally conditioned to seek improvement and challenge through battle, the balanced intake of Blutz waves made Salada Saiyans less aggressive overall than compared to their Planet Vegeta and post-Dark Age descendants.

Planet Salada itself was naturally abundant with resources and wildlife. Its large size supported a plethora of climates, regions, and a diverse terrain. Even during population and technology booms, along with massive Saiyan appetites, Salada remained able to support its occupants.

Birth of Yamoshi

BCA 1540

Not enough information remains in Data Archive to accurately confirm, but Yamoshi seems to have come from a distant branch of the Yasai Clan tree. Possibly related to Overlord Yasai.

A hypothesis from historians posits Yamoshi’s lineage also includes a link to the Rutaba Clan

Separating Fact from FictionAccounts of a Golden Warrior from the post-Golden AgeFrom the files of Daokin, 3rd Class Historian. Age 729

Little is known about Yamoshi, despite his long, varied life. In the chaos of Salada’s last few decades, not all historical accounts made it into the Saiyan Ark’s data bank. Time, distance, and outside influences have corrupted certain data files and entirely lost others.

What data has survived bolsters certain empirical evidence from witness accounts, though possibly somewhat embellished with folklore elements.

Considering his possible lineage, Yamoshi is hypothesized to be the son of lesser royalty. Though there are many accounts of his varied travels, it’s impossible to determine if he was an Ambassador of sorts or merely a renegade aristocrat looking for adventure.

What is known, however, is Yamoshi’s actions gained him five companions, each powerful Saiyans of note. Much of their backgrounds are lost to time, but what survives suggests they were all from varying clans and castes, but extremely respected in their endeavors.

There are many testaments to Yamoshi having an honorable disposition, yet a few accounts hint at a mischievous and determined personality.

During Salada’s most turbulent years, Yamoshi and the five other Saiyans are the ones responsible for managing to suppress the initial aggressive outbursts from Blutz wave infected Saiyans.

Space EraTechnological Boom (200 years later)BCA 1590

Evidence of an Advanced Race is found. Further investigation reveals Advanced Race as possible Seeders, releasing their DNA on viable worlds in hope distant descendants will evolve there.

Saiyan spacefaring begins to close-by neighboring planets in the solar system and star system. Scientists work to learn more about their Seeder Precursors.

Cosmic Disturbance Looms

Renewed civil unrest

BCA 1240

A neighboring sister sun in the closest solar system begins to give off an unprecedented amount of energy. Solar flares and emissions begin to have disastrous effects on Salada’s home solar system, shorting out technology and disturbing the delicate Blutz wave output.

Any plans to colonize planets in the current solar system and star cluster is put on hold.

The unpredictable surge of Blutz waves creates an uptick in aggressiveness. Pockets of infighting begin away from capitals. Fear for the future spreads.

A massive lash of solar energy during a rare lunar event sends the 1/4 of the population into a berserker state. Mass casualties. Panic and anger sew the seeds of a civil war.

Attempts to pacify populous is met with mixed results.

Exoplanet colonization plans are reopened when scientists discover a star map left behind by Advanced Seeder Race. Locations of viable, possibly genetically compatible, evolutionary similar life-supporting planets are found. As the civil unrest grows and star system situation worsens, a new plan for a large, race saving Ark is drawn up.

The scramble for resources to construct an unprecedentedly large starship capable of voyaging through unexplored dark space begins just as war breaks out.

Certain individuals of strength from various walks of life band together to stifle the fighting. As the Blutz wave influx gets stronger, their efforts become less effective.

The Saiyan Ark is finished just at the peak of fighting, which is beginning to have a disastrous impact on the planet. Scientists estimate the neighboring sun’s next massive energy outburst will have dire consequences for the entire cluster, Salada will not be spared, even if it survives the fighting.

The rush to fill the Ark with a varied populace begins. Resources and gear to survive the long voyage and subsequent landing on Seeded planets are loaded.

A direct Yasai clan successor is among those chosen to go into cryo.

Ascension in DeathYamoshi Becomes LegendBCA 1190

Yamoshi, leader of the pacifying group is nearly overtaken by Blutz wave affected Saiyans. To protect the Saiyan Ark while finishing preparations, he had led a full assault on the devolved, berserker state Saiyans infected by overexposure to Blutz waves. By now, most of the population not protected by Salada’s capital were afflicted by Blutz waves, the odds Yamoshi was up against were astronomical.

Many of Yamoshi’s pacifying group were killed in the conflict, but he and his five companions managed to lead their soldiers into pinning back the aggressive Saiyans far from the capital’s borders, holding the line far away from the Ark.

The standstill did not last long, a break is formed in the protective circle as several Saiyans reach an unnatural Great Ape transformation through the Blutz waves despite no full moon. With no other alternative, Yamoshi and his five companions return to the Ark and warn the remaining unaffected Saiyans to take off while they launch another assault with no hope for survival.

Determined and set on course for what is almost assuredly a suicide mission, Yamoshi and his companions band once more together to buy as much time as they are able.

Just before take off, Blutz wave infected berserker Saiyans nearly destroy all hope of take off for the Ark. It is saved only when Yamoshi unlocked an unprecedented level of power, ascending forms into a Golden Warrior that the Ark can safely leave Salada.

A 787 Year Long Voyage BeginsUncharted Dark Space, Salada Home System Destruction, and Near ExtinctionBCA 1180 - BCA 403

Though Saiyans had been beginning to explore their solar system and star system with a fair degree in success, they were nonetheless ill-prepared for a venture such as this. Even with revamped FTL engine designs based on Seeder Precursor technology found and the translated star maps, without any warp gates or reliable knowledge of what lied in wait in the darkness of the stars, there was slim hope they’d all survive the centuries-long drift.

Harsh galactic elements, dwindling resources, and other obstacles make space travel fraught with chances of utter failure. Even running on revolving skeleton crews while the rest of the population sleeps, there was little that could be done in the event of a disaster.

Even with lengthy lifespans and hearty physiologies, Saiyans skeleton crews were not mentally or emotionally equipped for prolonged, comparatively slow space travel. With much trepidation, they eventually set the Ark on autopilot, following the preprogrammed charted path towards the nearest seeded planet. The Ark’s population monitoring programs were also adjusted; in the event of critically low supplies, life support will cut off non-critical persons and redirect resources to both younger civilians and important crew.

This turned out to be a wise choice when several centuries in the Ark collided with space debris and lost valuable resources along with a batch of sleepers.

Anomalous Energy Detected Est. BCA 975

About 200 years into the voyage, the Ark’s sensors pick up a massive explosion of energy originating from Salada. The cause of the energy is unknown, but consensus says the unstable neighboring sun wasn't the culprit.

Point of No Return, Saiyan Home System is Destroyed Est. BCA 844

Unstable Sun gives off another dangerous flare, the energy readings far eclipsing previous outputs, triggering a chain reaction. Entire star system takes massive damage. In the unlikely event Salada managed to survive the infighting and previous energy emissions, there was little hope the planet would survive that final pulse.

Planet Fall on Planet Plant10 years after reaching Tuffle Home SystemBCA 393

Destination reached at last. The Saiyan Ark has finally made it to a Seeded world, there was hope for survival after centuries of strife.

However, the landing had its own complications. The Ark had sustained massive damage on it way into the system, losing several hundred sleeper pods, some housing leaders and Saiyans in positions of authority or holding critical knowledge. Though pre-take off designs had implemented each sleeper pod with its own nav system towards the Ark’s destination and its own limited resources, there was no guaranteed chance of survival. Of the pods lost, only 34% made it to Planet Plant intact. Of that number, only 28% of their passengers survived.

Upon atmospheric entry, the Saiyan Ark collided with the in-progress Tuffle orbiting Dyson band, inflicting damages and casualties to both races. The collision veered the Ark off course causing the massive starship to crashland in the arid red deserts of Plant, several Kilometers from a large Tuffle metropolis.

Saiyan Dark Age400 years of lost culture, costs of acclimatization.BCA 394 - BCA 3

The journey through Dark Space had taken its toll on the Saiyan Ark and its inhabitants.

Not only was a sizable percentage of the limited population lost, but electrical storms and the rough landing had damaged many of the starship’s computers, losing large chunks of valuable information. What resources were left that didn’t get used or lost en route was wouldn’t support the surviving population, even small as it now was.

Another unforeseen, problem was the effects of the latent Blutz wave overexposure. Combined with the prolonged cryo sleep and depleted nutrients meant generations of unprecedented Saiyan health problems that would linger at a genetic level.

Increased aggression, mental and hormonal imbalances, drastically shortened lifespans, and reduced fertility were among the most prevalent ramifications.

From a cultural perspective, many things were lost as well. A majority of lives lost en route to Plant had been older Saiyans through a combination of resource rerouting and other factors. 67% of the sleepers that awoke on Planet Plant were Saiyans in their early adolescence to early adulthood.

On top of the changes brought on by unbalanced hormones on a new planet, young Saiyans were left without enough elders in authority who could offer guidance through this turbulent period of settlement. Few of the survivors were mature enough to help the younger or new generations cope with natural biological and emotional changes, let alone the unnatural changes brought on Blutz wave overexposure and prolonged cryo sleep.

An even greater detriment would be insufficient technically skilled Saiyans. While on Salada, many Saiyan’s had lived partly on the fat of the land, yet modern, technological convenience still played a major part in even the most simple aspects of society. The rough reentry had damaged part of the Ark hull where Saiyan’s most suited to help the population settle had been sleeping.

Though they had brought along DNA banks of viable food sources like livestock and produce, they had little means to produce them, even if they had landed in a more fertile area

While the surviving Ark crew attempted to salvage what they could, there was little to do for the star ship’s damaged computers and archive banks. Art, sciences, family trees and bloodlines, key documents, and various more would be lost for years to come.

Stripped of the advantage of several millennia's worths of knowledge, the Saiyan survivors would have to make do with word of mouth instruction, hard work, instinct, and the goodwill of their new world-mates.

Settling In and Continued Losses

Planet Plant was not kind to its new residents. For the Saiyans of Salada, who were used to an abundance of natural resources brought by plentiful jungles, the harsh, barren deserts of Plant could provide little.

Already weakened from the prolonged sleep, it didn’t take long for several Saiyans to go into critical condition due to starvation and malnutrition.

And still, others had begun having unexplained, violent outbursts. It was quickly discovered those with more moderate to severe cases of latent Blutz wave overexposure were susceptible to heightened ambient Blutz waves generated by Plant’s twin suns. Already pumping out an imbalance of aggressive hormones from the increased exposure back home, the surviving Saiyan’s biology had no time to slowly acclimatize to Plant’s sudden assault on their endocrine system. Over time, the increased Blutz waves would affect every Saiyan on Plant, continuing on to affect subsequent generations as well. It was an unideal outcome, but one they could do little about.

From insufficient food, shelter, and medical care, Saiyan numbers began to falter. Lifespan estimates soon followed.

However, Saiyans are resilient. They pushed on through by whatever means necessary, yet it would be generations before they could truly make Planet Plant a hospitable home.

First ContactForging RelationsBCA 394 - BCA 3

Tuffles were not unmoved by the plight of their new neighbors, yet they were still cautious. The average Saiyan stood a full head and shoulders above most Tuffles, possessed large predatory fangs, and were several times stronger, even weakened. Still, the Tuffles sent out aid in the form of food, water, and supplies.

Eventually, due to the Saiyan’s current inability to repair their Ark, the Tuffles negotiated a trade: Ark components in exchange for Tuffle technology (namely food processors, agriculture and livestock based genetic modification, and small-scale terraforming tech).

While the Tuffles had already mastered limited space flight, they’d yet to perfect FTL engines. The Ark along with recovered Seeder Precursor data would launch their technology decades ahead. So much so, that their ambitious Dyson band was completed in half the time of their previous best estimate. Within this time period, Tuffles would advance even beyond their own expectations, converting the singular energy harnessing Dyson band into two gigantic scale orbiting stations. If Planet Plant was viewed from their moon, it would appear to have two planetary rings.

In a show of good will, the Tuffles had used a combination of replication and cloning technology to salvage, and in some cases cross breed DNA of Salada life forms, slowly introducing it to Plant’s ecosystems. Several species of Salada livestock and plant life were once again made available to Saiyans, genetically improved to support Saiyan metabolism even while on emergency rationing. The Saiyan starvation epidemic was drawn to a slow halt now that they had a limited, but nutrition and calorie-packed food source.

It not only gave Saiyans a chance to be self-sufficient, but it allowed the two races to maintain a respectable distance from each other. There was much to do before either side would regain some semblance of normal.

Tuffle ExpansionReaching the StarsAge 217

While combing through the Ark’s recovered databanks, Tuffle scientists restored as information as they could. By orders of their King, they were to especially be on the lookout for references to The Seeder Precursors, seeing as they were possibly the Tuffles’ ancestors as well as the Saiyans’.

Seeing as their Technology Age was already far eclipsed many other sapient species around their current age, the Tuffles decided to combine the wealth of information they received with their advanced capabilities and literally reach for the stars. While certain aspects of the Saiyan technology were less advanced, the fact that only several generations ago Saiyans were once seasoned star voyagers and colonizers put the Tuffles behind several centuries.

It was a gap they were most eager to close, for various reasons.

With the completion of their two orbiting stations and the harnessing of near limitless renewable, clean energy, the Tuffles set their sights high. Close by, just beyond the solar system they had surveyed and marked several exoplanets with habitable atmospheres; each an excellent opportunity to expand.

Starships when under construction, routes were charted and teams underwent exceedingly difficult training all in preparation for the upcoming journey. It wasn’t long until the first fleets and Exploration teams left the safety of Plant in search of an expanded frontier. Every Tuffle left on Planet waited with bated breath as the Exploration team sent back data compiled from the journey as well as each individual landing.

While given longer to prepare under favorable circumstances, along with a much smaller distance between destinations, the Tuffles found colonizing new planets to be more of a challenge than previously expected.

Some planets had climates and terrains that, while technically livable, would be difficult to settle. When scientists back home got word of the slow progress settling, they got together with politicians, financial backers, and the Exploration teams to come up with a plan of action to speed things up.

The answer came in the form of the Saiyans.

Upliftment or ServitudeAge 224

Despite the unbelievable strife the Saiyans had gone through, they showed marked improvement. With Plant as their new home, both pre and post-Salada born Saiyans would never quite be the same as their ancestors, yet their eventual adaptation to their surroundings was nothing short of phenomenal. Due to the extreme climates of Plant’s vast desert areas and dangers associated, Tuffles never bothered to settle far beyond the natural borders of their plentiful oases, and yet Saiyans, once the starvation crisis was addressed, had managed to nearly adapt overnight. Blutz wave overexposure or no, all Saiyans were sturdy and survivalist, taming the harsh lands and building small if low-tech, villages that were meant to last.

That adaptability, along with their immense strength gave one Tuffle scientist an idea.

After the initial first contact and aid given in return for valuable data, Tuffles and Saiyans seemed to have come to a mutual, somewhat unspoken agreement of indifference towards one another. It was somewhat exacerbated by the races’ first shared full moon, many Tuffles made wary by the Saiyan’s large, imposing transformations. But it seemed it was time to once again open up methods of communication. Another deal was struck, the rerelease of reconstructed Archive Data from the Saiyan Ark in return for help on the expansion of the Tuffle Frontier.

With their powerful bodies and quick ability to adapt to various environments, the Saiyans would act as the heavy movers and shakers in paving the way to settle more unruly landscapes. As if controlled by muscle memory from another time, Saiyans seemed to slide right back into the motions of space travel and territory expansion despite most Saiyans having never even set foot on a starship before.

It was an exciting time for all parties involved. Once again, progress marched forward at a speed Tuffle scientists never dared dream of. As for the Saiyans, the chance to test themselves against new challenges and return to their place beyond the stars beckoned them forward with little hesitation.

Things were moving for the Saiyans who stayed in the desert as well. Even with the Saiyan Dark Age officially ending just over 200 years ago, the release of data files was the most effective balm on Saiyan culture. From technical blueprints and scientific dissertations to a surprising amount of literature and history texts, the Saiyans were awash with the rediscovery of their culture. In fact, the emergence of the Cultivar Historia— a data drive containing notable lineages and bloodlines or cultivars — would soon play a major role in the future of Planet Plant.

And yet, what goes up must come back down. Back on the expanding frontiers, the Tuffle exploration teams were being urged to speed up their already incredible progress. Much of their speed in settling frontier worlds depended on the skill and effort of their Saiyan counterparts once Tuffle teams finished time extensive terrain scanning to ensure the safest route of action. But at the behest of their superiors, the exploration team slowly began to lessen the amount of preliminary scanning on new worlds, sending out Saiyan teams without extensive knowledge of potential dangers or obstacles. In the end, Tuffle superiors got the numbers they wished for, exoplanets settled and viable at an exponential rate, but at the cost of dozens of Saiyan teams.

While Planet Plant, and in particular Tuffle cities, were being flooded with resources and myriad of cosmic treasures, the Saiyan death toll began to quietly rise.

A New LineageThe Rise of the First VegetaAge 276

Since their landing on Plant, Saiyans had adopted a more tribalistic way of life, with descending from a combination of modified military ranks and individual skill level. The higher in rank you were on the Saiyan Ark, the more likely you were to assume a leadership position after landing, with a similar outcome if you were equipped with skills that would help the population survive various obstacles during difficult periods. It was a lifestyle that more or less remained unchanged as the centuries rolled by on Plant, however, the appearance of the Cultivar Historia brought another, more obscure facet to leadership:

Bloodlines.

It was revealed that, barring a few cases, most of the Saiyans currently holding positions of authority were able to trace their family history to cultivars listed in the Historia. However, none would hold so impressive an ancestor to their name other than Vegeta the First, an off-world team leader on a particularly treacherous exoplanet. An exoplanet that had claimed the lives of at least half a dozen Saiyan teams in the process of settling it. When Vegeta returned home to Plant bearing the news of more losses, he was informed of his connection to Salada Royalty. Fitting, as his name was a modern translation of Overlord Yasai’s.

Burdened by the loss of many strong Saiyan lives and now in possession of this new information, Vegeta would formulate a plan for the future of his race.

Not even half a year later would Vegeta set his plan into motion, rallying both on-world and off-world Saiyans together under one goal: Saiyan Dominance.

Saiyan RevoltClaiming the PlanetAge 277 - Age 287

When news of a Saiyan in the frontier had been killed by a Tuffle after an unexpected complication during a routine mineral site survey, Vegeta used the resulting outrage to spark a mass protest against the Tuffles’ continued disregard for the Saiyans.

Leaving the deserts to march into the Tuffle metropolis where the Royal Tuffle family ruled, Vegeta, backed by the flames of Saiyan discontent from his large group, challenged the king to a formal audience to listen to their grievances. However, the Tuffles took this as an act of aggression and stopped their advancement with a large cadre of guards. Vegeta, out of patience and taking this as a refusal to hear his people out, decided there was no possible avenue for diplomacy and signaled his group for a preemptive strike.

That was the start of a war that would last ten years. Both sides would take heavy casualties, however, Tuffle cities and civilians would take the brunt of the carnage as the entire planet became a battleground. While the Saiyans had sheer power and increased durability to their advantage, the Tuffles compensated with their far greater numbers and technology.

Particularly detrimental to Saiyans were the Scouters, which the Tuffles used to avoid and prepare for sneak attacks or ambushes. Another crucial tool on the battle feild was Energy Siphons, technology that absorbed Saiyan battle energy in a limited radius and converted it to power barriers and heavy artillery.

Saiyans fought back with scorched earth tactics, targeting manufacturing facilities that weren't yet protected by the Tuffle military, either ceasing or slowing down production of arms and materials. They also employed pack hunting strategies to corral and guide Tuffle squads into pinned positions, after which they placed the Tuffles under continued fire, systematically destroying their Energy Siphons until they were stripped of all protection.

When word reached those who were stationed off-world of what was happening on Plant, there was an immediate divide between Saiyan teams and Tuffle Explorers, smaller scale battles ensued over the control of the outposts. There was a mixed bag of wins and losses on both sides, with the resulting winners taking command of the starships stationed on the exoplanets, loading it with resources and materials, before returning to Plant to aid their people.

The war waged on, both sides in a deadlock with contested territory constantly falling in and out of hands.

However, the stalemate wasn't long to last. Nearly 8 years into the conflict a major tide would turn as the moon reached its zenith, rising full in the sky and unleashing its full force of magnified Blutz waves, triggering transformations for Saiyans everywhere on the field. In a strange echo, Vegeta was once again en route to the Tuffle King’s encampment when the moon broke cloud cover. Breaking through the King’s protections, Vegeta slaughtered the guard station there, eradicated the royal line and took the crown. A decisive victory for the Saiyans and a death knell for the Tuffles.

Tuffle resistance became scattered and thinned out. With their king dead and a majority of their cities devastated, the Tuffle army began to lose all sense of cohesion as they were picked off. Finally, in another ironic echo, having lost all ground, the Tuffles scraped together as many survivors as they were able and made their escape off the planet in a fleet of starships. They ran to the far edge of the star cluster, to a small planet they had surveyed with long distance scan but were years away from any settlement plans.

Planet Plant now belonged to the Saiyans. Vegeta was hailed as the new King for his strength and roll in their victory and Plant was renamed in his honor.

It was now time to rebuild.

Neo Saiyan RenesainceA new culture is born from the ashesAge 337

From the day of the Saiyans’ victory, there came a 50-year long renesaince. As they rebuilt the planet and moved into abandoned Tuffle metropolises, the Saiyans also worked to blend rediscovered culture with their current culture.

First order was establishing the royal court with the newly crowned King Vegeta at its head. Those that proved themselves in battle were made generals and commanders of the newly made official Saiyan Army. Those with impressive Cultivars were also given impressive titles, such as advisors or councilors with wide jurisdiction. Still, more Saiyan individuals would make names for themselves as they repurposed Tuffle technology or updated designs on Salada blueprints.

Outside of the court, many common Saiyans began to explore a wealth of new opportunities.

Even with the long war, the material and resource surplus from off-world remained in decent condition, and Saiyans from all walks of life took advantage. The newly named Planet Vegeta was once again flooded with unceasing progress.

As the skylines rose higher, quality of life became comparable to Salada during its Space Age. Birthrates and life expectancies were also on the rise. It wasn't long into his rule that the next Vegeta was born, thus setting the stage for the new Saiyan royal line.

War on the Frontier The Start of 200 Years of Conflict Age 339

Of course, the animosity between the Saiyans and the Tuffles would not be so easily forgotten. Far off in the edges of the star cluster where the Tuffles had been forced to run, they came into contact with roving bands of unaffiliated space mercenaries. Trading what they could spare for new technology and expendable men, the Tuffles began a slow campaign to reclaim their lost exoplanets and the resources there. The aim was to build a stockpile of material in hopes of sieging Planet Vegeta to reclaim it in the future.

During the time spent rebuilding on Planet Vegeta, the Saiyans hadn’t paid much attention to their claimed exoplanets, only sparing a handful of soldiers to be stationed on each outpost to continue mining for resources. But as the Tuffles began to make their way back to their home system, the lightly guarded outpost turned out to be excellent listening posts. The stationed Saiyans sent back word of incoming hostiles, after which generals sent back reinforcement towards the various outposts.

This would be one of the first opening volleys of a series of prolonged skirmishes. The Tuffles and their occasional mercenary allies would keep the Saiyans on high guard but would fail to make any decisive wins against them. Any and all plans to launch an orbital bombardment, while occasionally working on an outpost, failed when it came to Planet Vegeta. Vegeta the Second, now a decorated general himself, had commissioned the retrofitting of the Tuffle Dyson Band into serving as the Saiyan Space Fleet’s barracks and deploy station, but also an anti-orbital defense turret.

Once again, Saiyans and Tuffles came to a deadlock in the form of a series of back and forth ground wars on various exoplanets. The Saiyans growing stronger with each battle as the Tuffles raced to make their technology more devastating, building prefab military bases with ginormous Energy Siphons that stifled battle power in large, kilometer-wide radiuses.

Though the less bloody than the first Saiyan-Tuffle war, it was no doubt costly.

ArmisticeBrokered PeaceAge 709

During the birth of Vegeta the Fifth, the intergalactic community could no longer allow things to continue as they were. Merchant and civilian class starships were being caught in the crossfire, dealing millions of credits in damages and loss of uninvolved lives. The fighting was beginning to seep outside of the star cluster, causing major disturbances in the progress in construction of a warp gate.

After an unfortunate incident in which a cruiser class starship carrying an important figure was blasted over the atmosphere of a Tuffle controlled exoplanet, the Galactic Patrol was called in to negotiate a ceasefire.

Though several generals and advisors called to show the full force of Saiyan might against the Galactic community at large, the King and his moderate members of court worried over an extented war theater while they were already locked into a conflict. Finally, after months of tense negotiation, an Armistice was declared.

At least in an official capacity. Unofficially, the Tuffles and Saiyans still fought small, undeclared skirmishes, but only on exoplanets not belonging to either side or isolated dogfights between starships.

Current Era

Age 710 - ongoing

On Planet Vegeta, progress still marches forward but at a much slower, organic rate. School and military training are heavily linked, with young Saiyans receiving a general education until their 12th year, after which from the onset of puberty onwards far into adulthood, most continue on into the military.

Birth castes factor into a Saiyan’s individual projected career path within the military, with 3rd classes typically filling in as infantry or leading small infiltration squads. 2nd class Saiyans are usually promoted to officer rank fairly soon, with the 1st class and Elite typically groomed and trained to become generals and councilmen from birth.

Should a Saiyan decide not to follow a military career, there’s some light stigma against the individual not being “Saiyan enough”, but as time lowers the genetic aggression brought on by Blutz wave overexposure, the stigma has lessened into generally light-hearted teasing. There’s also a practical reasoning in that a society would function very long with no other infrastructure beyond a military arm. And thus various other careers and academic ventures are offered elsewhere.

As our Saiyan society stands now, we are at a precipice of joining the galactic community at large. Though some argue for continued isolation from the Intergalactic Government, other say it’s only a matter of time.

Author Notes and Dedications

Daokin, 3rd Class Historian. Age 716

Well, this textbook has been a long time in the making. Since before the birth of my son Bardock, even. He’s five now, and a handful, just as brutal as his mother ( haha ). Not a day goes by that I don’t need my mate to rescue me from his roughhousing.

Speaking of my mate, thank you Commander Parsni for putting up with me as I whined more than our toddler when my deadlines loomed. I know more than once you were tempted to ( and nearly did ) frag me out my misery. Yes, but even this un-Saiyan recluse has something to live for, and my passion has always been our lost history. I hope it serves our next generations well.

May Rutaba and Yamoshi guide our race to glory among the stars.

Resources

The Salada Canticles, Vol. 3

Conflict Chronicles: An overview of notable wars in the cosmos, Argus Nox

Tracking the Past: Ancient Civilizations, Dar Ech

Cultivar Historia, Potaro, 2nd Class

Beyond Our Reach, Straba, Tuffle Scientist

#xelly writes #dragon ball z #dbz #saiyans #yamoshi dbz #saiyan culture #meta or reverse meta #please read it on ao3 or gingko

2 notes · View notes

orangeshipper · 6 years

Text

A Downton Holiday

First of all- wow I can’t believe I was so lucky to get you as secret santa. You wrote some of the very first fic that I read in the fandom YEARS ago and I’ve always admired you as a writer. So truly, this is a give that you genuinely deserve for all the wonderful stories (and fantastic smut) that you’ve imparted on this fandom over the last few years.

Second- I’m SO glad you love The Holiday, because I’ve been dying to write a “The Holiday AU” for ages now and I was so happy to finally have the occasion to write it.

I hope you enjoy!! I might repost it on my page as well so I can attach a banner with it (for some reason you can’t submit images and text together in the submit area), but I’ll do that after you get a chance to read and enjoy. Until then- hope you are having the loveliest Christmas!

XO Megan (AndThenWeDance)

–

A Downton Holiday

Word Count: 12917

Rated: T

A Mary/Matthew Fic

–

If this was a film directed by Matthew Crawley, two time Oscar nominee and one time Golden Globe winner, it would definitely start with a sweeping shot over a exquisite manor house in Yorkshire on a misty morning, with a few windows lit. The next shot would be of a bright Los Angeles mansion, with a pristine pool and a tiled roof. Elaborate real estate and transatlanticism were trademarks of his films. It would be accompanied, as always, by emotional soundtrack masterpiece made by his usual partner in filmmaking, Tom Branson.

This would create a nice transition to the composer in question who’d be seen in a studio hunched over a stack of sheet music, busily scratching away. He’d frown, crumple up the paper and chuck it into the rubbish bin, before taking out another paper and beginning anew. Through the window of the studio, one could see the waves of the ocean washing against the shore.

The next shot would show one young woman, her dark hair in a neat braid down her back, fixing a bouquet of flowers. She’d smile at the bouquet, then place it in the window of a small flower shop. The shot would zoom out to show the façade of the flower shop on a winding street of tiny English village. “Violet’s Village Booms” would be written over the door in swirling letters against a purple storefront. The sign at the door would be flipped to read “open” and a new day would begin.

Following this, would be a shot of the young filmmaker waking is his sumptuous, cushy white bed as his electric curtains rise from the window, letting the faint light of early dawn in. The man would turn, frown at the empty space beside him in bed, sigh, and then get out of bed to start the day. The camera would focus on the details of him running his hands through his golden hair, that caught the morning light. Then focus again on the mesmerizing blue of his eyes.

Then the final shot of the opening montage would feature another raven-haired woman, clearly the older sister of the florist, sitting in armchair by the window of what must be the elegant house featured earlier in the montage. The woman sips tea from a delicate teacup while reading over a used book in her hands, a gentle grin on her face as she flips the withered page. A blanket is tucked over her knees and in the window behind her, snow is just beginning to fall.

With the main players of the story introduced, the soundtrack fades out as the leading lady’s phone rings and the story begins.

–

“Hello? Ms. Crawley. It’s Daisy,” A voice on the phone piped up.

Mary tugged on the tartan blanket that was covering her. A phone call from Daisy on a weekday morning could only mean one thing- something had gone wrong at the shop.

Ten years ago, at only twenty years old, with the diploma still in her hand, Mary Crawley founded Downton Books Publishing. The idea for the company began when her grandmother Violet died. Violet had had two loves: flowers and books. Whereas Sybil had inherited her love for flowers, Mary had been bestowed her love for literature. At their grandmother’s passing, Mary had inherited her grandmother’s entire book collection. The old shelves of the abbey library contained so many of her favorite stories, most of them dating back to the turn of the century. Stories of aristocratic young ladies deciding to wed lower class boys with now prospects because of love. Stories of girls who run away to new countries to become governesses and create spectacular new lives for themselves. Stories that were more adult fairytales than real life stories. But well, life was hard and Mary thought that adults needed more fairy tales.

Which is what had prompted her idea for a business. It started as an online thing. She worked with old college friend Anna Smith who designed a series of beautiful new covers for three of Mary’s favorite old books. With rights secured, they republished three of the books with beautiful new covers and new life. With a bit of keen social media marketing, the business started to take off and they re-published five beautiful old stories their second year. In the third, Mary discovered some of her grandmother’s old journals and decided to put together some excerpts of those into a book. It was an instant hit. It was from there that the business really took off. Mary and Anna ended up opening a shop in York, close enough to Mary’s old inherited house in rural Yorkshire and not horribly far from where Anna lived in Leeds.

Mary spent most her time pouring over old books, trying to decide which new treasures to publish. This was a truly privileged career to have because it ideally meant she could spent most her time at home curled up in an arm chair with tea and an old book. In actuality, it meant more time for her to spend chasing after her four-year-old son. However, early mornings and late nights were her privileged reading time. People now sent books to her from around the country requesting publication. Her grandmother’s library remained her favorite place to find her new publications. Old Grandmother Violet, rest her soul, had immaculate taste in literature.

“What’s up, Daisy?” Mary asked.

“The store is completely packed,” the young shop clerk explained.

“Seriously?” Mary asked.

While her store did well as sort of a women’s literature cult sensation, it wasn’t particularly the kind of place that gets packed.

“Apparently, The Sunday Times wrote it up on an article about visiting York for Christmas markets. They said Downton Books was a must stop for anyone looking for a good ‘hot water bottle book’ for the holiday season,” Daisy said.

“Did they really say that?” Mary gasped, smiling. She could hardly believe such a good write up.

“Yes and it’s more than I can manage myself,” Daisy complained. “Can you come to town immediately?”

Bless her soul. While Daisy was a competent clerk and thoughtful literary critic, she could be easily overwhelmed.

“Yes, of course,” Mary promised. “I’ll even call Anna and have her come up as well.”

“Thanks so much,” Daisy sighed.

“I’ll have to bring George,” Mary added.

“It’s no problem.”

It was fifteen minutes later when Mary was dressed in a professional looking short black dress, tights, ankle boots, and a wooly holiday jumper. She’d had the unfortunate task of having of wake up her son, dress him, and take him out of the house early. For a small child, he was distinctly that wasn’t his favorite thing. She threw on her Longchamps purse and grabbed her car keys. She dashed out the door of the old abbey and made for her car.

After putting George in his car seat, she began scraping the snow off her car. She looked up at what the family affectionally referred to as “the old pile.” It had been in the family for years. Somewhere down the line, the Crawley’s had been a prominent family. They were still wealthy today, better off than most, but certainly not inordinately rich as they had once been. Mary’s parents lived in a humble apartment in London. Her sister resided in a quaint cottage on the abbey’s grounds. Mary was the only one who chose to reside in the old abbey still. Well, her and George. To Mary, it felt like being a character in one of her books. An elegant lady living in an old estate.

The only thing she was missing was a love story.

She thought of years before: a diplomat who loved literature, who gave her a ring just before getting on a plane to Poland, and then never returned. Not because he’d passed away, but because he’d found another woman- a younger blond who was more worth his time and affection. Grief, mourning- they were all emotions she promised years before. She was just grateful for George, her beautiful, tiny son that made the whole haunting ordeal worth it.

“Mummy,” He asked. “We go to York?”

“Yes, love,” She told him.

“We get cake?” He asked.

She smiled. Her little boy had her sweet tooth.

“Maybe after. I’ve got to go to work.”

“Okay Mum,” George said.

It was a busy day at Downton Books. Mary, Anna, and Daisy were occupied gift wrapping books, giving recommendations, and selling stacks of books. Mary smiled at each copy of her Grandmother’s journal she sold, happy to see people were still reading her zestful musings. She had never seen the store so alive, full of faces made rosy from the cold, the front window fogged up, and bits of evergreen peeking out from shelves. George stumbled around the building, playing with Daisy’s cat and drawing all over a copy of a book. It was a worthy sacrifice for the success of the day.

Afterwards, she treated Daisy, Anna, and George to cake and tea at a nearby café.

“We’ll have to get some extra help in for the Christmas season,” Mary said, spooning George a bit of chocolate cake. “I’ll put up a posting and see if we can find another clerk before next weekend. I’m sure we can find a literature student home from Oxford for the holiday or something.”

“Certainly,” Anna agreed. “Oh Mary, this new business is terribly exciting.”

“And the online orders have been insane,” Daisy remarked.

Mary pressed her lips together, practicing the particular English art of trying not to look too pleased with herself.

“That’s always a good thing,” She agreed. “I should head home though. George needs some real dinner and I think I deserve a glass of wine by the fire after a long day. We all do.”

The women bid their goodbyes, before heading to their cars. George fell asleep on the drive back, snow falling around the car, and Christmas music playing softly on the radio. Mary herself felt ready for a nap when she arrived home. She had never been more relieved in her life when she saw Sybil’s car parked in front of the abbey.

Something smelled delicious, Mary noted, as she walked into the old manor. George tottled sleepily over to the couch in the salon where some of his teddys were sitting, launching into some sort of game with them. Mary followed the smell into the kitchen where her sister was lingering over the stove.

“Sybil, darling, what a lovely surprise,” Mary remarked, crossing the room to give her sister a kiss on the cheek.

“Anna texted me,” Sybil admitted. “She told me I simply must come over and cook you dinner after your long day. I had a long day too, so I figured I could use some sister bonding.”

“Oh no,” Mary asked. “What happened?”

“Auntie Sybil,” George exclaimed loudly, running into the kitchen, his socks causing him to slide across the tile. Sybil caught him her arms, laughing.

“Play with me! Play with me!” He declared.

“I’ll keep cooking,” Mary told her sister. “You go play!”

“If you insist,” Sybil said with a cheeky smile, passing Mary a spatula.

Mary finished cooking the dinner, a vegetable curry that was one of Sybil’s specialties. She pulled out a few plates and dished it out. For George, she gave him just a plate of plain rice with some veggies picked out on the side. His palette wasn’t quite ready for curry and to be honest, she would be lucky if he ate some of the vegetables.

Tonight, he surprisingly did. Mostly because Sybil was feeding him. George adored his Auntie Sybil. Whereas Mary sometimes struggled parenting her son, he always listened to his lovely, young aunt.

“I’ll wash the dishes, if you tuck him in?” Mary offered.

“Come on George, off to bed,” Sybil cooed.

“Will you read me a story, Auntie?” Asked George.

Mary rolled her eyes as she watched her son trot off to bed. If only she could get him to be so excited to go to bed without Sybil here.

When she finished washing and drying the dishes, Mary poured two large glasses of red wine and took them to the salon, where Sybil was just arriving from putting George down.

The two girls settled on the couch.

“So you want to tell me why you’re so down?” Mary asked.

Sybil had mentioned it earlier and Mary knew that her sister hadn’t just popped over for dinner. She always wanted a good life talk.

The younger woman sighed. “You remember that accountant who works next door to the flower shop?”

Mary nodded, remembering the man that her sister had been crushing on for years. Personally, Mary didn’t think he was attractive or interesting, but she wouldn’t tell her sister that.

“Well today he came in and asked to buy some flowers. I was so excited, totally flirting and everything,” Sybil began. “I asked if the flowers were for his mum. That’s who they are usually for. But instead, he said they were for his fiancé.”

“Oh Sybil,” Mary sighed.

Her sister took a large gulp of wine.

“I feel so stupid,” Sybil said. “I mean, I never really made any moves. I just crushed hopelessly and painfully. I deserve it.”

“No, what you deserve is someone better, not a dry accountant with buggy eyes,” Mary told her sister seriously.

“If only, right?” Sybil said. “This is miserable. There aren’t many eligible bachelors in a small village in Yorkshire.”

That was exactly why Mary liked it. Her heart could hardly be broken if she was far away from any men.

“Have you thought about getting out for a bit?” Mary suggested.

“What like take a holiday someplace?” Sybil said.

“Sure, why not,” Mary said. “It’s been ages since you’ve taken a proper holiday, ages since you’ve left Yorkshire really.”

“That’s not true,” Sybil said. “I went to London for mummy and daddy’s anniversary last November.”

“Exactly,” Mary said, “You haven’t left the village since last November.”

“It’s the flower shop,” Sybil explained. “I can’t leave it for long, you know? Especially now at the holiday season. It will be packed with orders for poinsettias for Christmas.”

Whereas Mary had Daisy and Anna to help her with Downton Book, Sybil ran Violet’s Village Blooms all on her own. If she left the shop, even for a bit of time, it’s future was in jeopardy.

“Hmmm that is a predicament,” Mary said, wondering what could be done to help her sister.

She took a sip of wine, mulling it around in her mind.

“I have it!” Mary exclaimed. “What about a swap?”

“A what?” Sybil asked.

“A house swap,” Mary told her. “I was reading about a guy who does this house swap thing in Scotland. He’s got a bookshop and whenever he wants a holiday, he swaps houses with someone. The person who stays in his house gets to run his bookshop for a few days. It’s kind of a novelty thing and it books up straight away.”

“Oh Mary, I don’t think I could trust the business to a stranger,” Sybil sighed.

“I’ll be here,” Mary told her. “I can help if anything goes wrong.”

“But you’ve got enough to do with your business booming and holiday season,” Sybil told her.

“I’ve got enough time to help you,” Mary said. “I’m honest. You need a break. Take a holiday.”

Sybil rolled her eyes, chugged the last of her wine, and put down her glass.

“Fine, I’m in,” She agreed.

“Excellent!” Mary said. “Let me get my laptop. Let’s find the village a new florist.”

–

Matthew Crawley really needed to stop dating actresses. Particularly mean actresses. Particularly ones that were going to break his heart.

Ugh.

It had been a week since Lavinia had stormed out, chucked a shoe at his head, and slammed the door. It was weird that she was the one throwing shoes, considering she was the one who had cheated on him. The bruise on Matthew’s head had just faded, but the pain in his heart- well that wasn’t quite so mended.

He dressed and headed down the stairs, determined to make the biggest mug of coffee possible and throw himself into work for the day. He got in his car, heading for the studio and the crowded LA streets. He arrived at the soundstage just as the sun was rising, pulling into a parking spot and taking note of the usual flurry of activity.

“Good morning Mr. Crawley,” said an attendant as he got out of his car, the man passing him another mug of coffee and his notes for today.

“Good morning, William,” Matthew said.

“Filming the big love scene today I see,” William noted.

“Indeed,” Matthew said. “Big day today.”

“Good luck, not that you need it, you’re the master of love stories,” William said.

“I wish that was true,” Matthew said under his breath.

If he was actually the master of love stories, he wouldn’t be heartbroken right now. Would he?

He pushed the thought away as he made for the soundstage, looking through his notes for the day and trying to rev himself up for the big love scene.

It was an hour later when everything was finally in place to shoot the scene. It was the moment where the leading lady was finally vulnerable enough to admit her love for the leading man. The scene was going to end with a steamy love scene was just discrete enough to keep the ratings PG-13. Matthew knew it was important that this scene was perfectly acted as the whole film rested upon it.

“I’ve never said this out loud before,” The woman said, sitting on her bed in a low-cut red dress, running her hand through her hair. “But, I love you. There, I said it. I love you.”

“Cut,” Matthew announced, getting out of his seat to approach the actress. “You’ve got to be more nervous. You look like you are going to seduce him, but we aren’t there yet. This has got to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

“Right, okay,” The actress agreed.

“Let’s go again,” Matthew said, settling back in his head.

The scene started again. This time the actress seemed much more nervous, authentically stuttering through her words and fidgeting with her nails. Matthew was impressed. He loved this feeling of watching his vision come to life. That’s why he loved directing.

“I love you too,” The man replied, “Endlessly, thoroughly, always, forever. I love you.”

“Cut,” Matthew called again, moving from his chair to approach the actor’s again.

“I want you to try it again, but this time not as a speech,” He suggested. “I want you to sneak each line in between kisses. Her hair, her lips, each corner of her face. Make it adoring.” He turned the woman. “And you, as he does that, I want it seems like your worries are being washed away. Let’s see the relief pour out of you. Go again, shall we?”

The scene continued on like this, becoming increasingly more real and vibrant. Matthew’s heart began to soar as he watched the love scene play out, the leading man unzipping the woman’s red dress. All of sudden, he could only think of Lavinia, just two weeks ago when he unzipped her dress after a film premiere they’d attended. She’d been flirty and saucy. How could he expect to have the rug pulled out from underneath him? How was he supposed to know that she was cheating on him the whole while?

He shook his head, burying his face in his hand.

“Cut,” He said, his blood stirring.

“Are you sure?” The actor said. “I thought that was our best so far.”

“I still don’t think the scene is authentic enough.”

“What do you mean?” The actress asked.

“I mean, so what he takes your dress off. So what, you have sex. But then what? She’s probably cheating on you already,” Matthew began. The jaws of the actors started to drop. “I mean, let’s be realistic. She’s a bit too pretty for you. She’s probably dating another guy back in London. I mean, you are probably just expendable. You are probably just worthless. Love is worthless. All of this pointless and nothing is real.”

At this point, everyone in the studio stared at him, aghast. Looks of disbelief were etched into each of their faces.

“Uh, Mr. Crawley,” William pipped up. “Maybe you need a glass of water? And a break?”

Matthew sighed. This was insane. He was making a fool of himself.

“You’re right, William. I’m not in a good place right now,” He admitted. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Let’s stop for the day. I’m not in the right mindset to do this.”

“You want to stop filming for the whole day?” William asked, a bit of shock in his voice.

Matthew frowned and nodded. “Sorry, tell the cast sorry. I just can’t.”

With that, Matthew left the soundstage as quick as possible. He knew it was wasteful and selfish to end filming for the day, but he wasn’t in any state to make art. He got back in his car and turned it on. As he drove out of the lot, he used his Bluetooth to called Tom.

“What’s up, mate?” His friend asked as he picked up the phone.

“I left work early,” Matthew admitted, as he pulled onto the highway.

“Oh no, because of Lavinia?” Tom asked.

“How can I direct a love story when I’m heartbroken?” Matthew asked.

“Well, it’s your job, so you just do it anyway,” Tom’s voice tells him.

“I’m having trouble with it,” Matthew admitted.

“Sounds like you need a drink,” Tom told him.

“That’s for sure,” Matthew said.

“Meet at the pub in 40 minutes?” Tom offered.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Matthew and Tom met at The Pub eight years before. They were both young hopefuls in the film industry, both freshly arrived from UK. In their initial culture shock, the local Irish pub became a place of comfort for both of them, which led to their friendship. The friendship eventually grew into a partnership. Matthew directing, Tom composing. They started with a few short films. Then finally a few feature length films that appeared in a few festivals. By now, at 30, Matthew was now comfortable in his film career and Tom had made a career by composing the scores to his films. It was a partnership made in heaven as the two men got along so well and almost always saw eye to eye on the plans for the films.

40 minutes later, when Matthew walked into the pub, he felt the stress and sadness that had been weighing on him previously roll off him. Just knowing he would be talking to Tom made him feel better.

Tom was already at their favorite booth with two pints. Matthew slid across from, took two gigantic gulps before even looking at his friend.

“Rough day?” Tom said.

Matthew nodded, downing another gulp.

“Easy there,” Tom warned.

“I just am feeling a little burned out,” Matthew sighed.

“A little? Do you think?”

“Okay, massively burnt out. Massively heart broken.”

“When was the last time you took a break?” Tom asked.

“What do you mean break?”

“I mean a holiday? A proper holiday?” Tom repeated.

“Like a sun holiday, laying about on the beach?” Matthew scoffed, “You know I’m not fond of wasting time, not being productive. Besides, I’m in LA. I have more than enough sun.”

He took another gulp.

“Well maybe you need some time off,” Tom said. “Get over the girl, get some peace and quiet.”

Matthew scowled into his pint. He hated the very idea of vacation.

“It’s Christmastime,” Tom pointed out. “You deserve a holiday. You know, I read about an Airbnb in Scotland where you can stay in someone’s bookshop. You get to run the bookshop. I’m sure you can find some sort of workaholic vacation to take.”

Matthew didn’t answer, but Tom took out his phone and started searching.

–

“Have you had many takers for the florist holiday?” Mary asked, a few days later when Sybil stopped over for an afternoon tea.

George was playing in the snow outside and the two women were able to watch him play through the wall of glass windows in the library.

“Several actually,” Sybil replied, pulling a laptop out of her tote bag. “Want to help me decide?”

Mary smirked as George threw a snowball at himself. He wobbled on his feet, but stayed standing, giving his mum a wave through the window. She waved back.

“So there is one girl and she actually has experience in flower arranging,” Sybil remarks, “so I think she should be the one.”

“Mmm, let me see,” Mary requested, looking over at her sister’s laptop.

There was a very nice written letter from a young women with a smiling face.

“Oh she looks so lovely. Ooo, look,” Mary remarked, “here is one from an M. Crawley.”

“Is it really?” Sybil asked. “Have they a picture?”

Mary shakes her head at the application, one of the more vague ones.

“I think your best choice is the flower arranging girl,” Mary told her. “That way you know the show will truly flourish.”

“Flourish? Clever,” Sybil remarked. “I’ll offer the swap to her.”

“Where is she from?” Mary asked.

“Uh, Cornwall,” Sybil said.

“Ugh, dreadful,” Mary said. “I changed my mind. Don’t offer it her.”

“Cornwall is lovely,” Sybil said.

“You need something with sunshine,” Mary told her, pulling the laptop closer to herself. She flicked through the options. There was an older woman from Nice and that sounded much more promising. There was another from North Carolina, which might do in a pinch. Mary had been to Florida once and she thought that the Carolinas might be around there, but she wasn’t particularly sure.

Her eyes fell again on the mysterious M. Crawley with the grey little mystery face. The details of the account were vague- works in the entertainment industry, wants a peaceful holiday in country. Swap locations: Los Angeles, California.

“You’re picking M. Crawley,” Mary decided.

“You’re self-absorbed,” Sybil said, dramatically rolling her eyes.

“No, M. Crawley lives in Los Angeles,” Mary said. “You are definitely picking M. Crawley.”

“Cornwall could be nice,” Sybil murmured.

Mary clicked on M. Crawley. “Too late, deed is done! You are going to California!”

–

“Hey, what did that vineyard in Italy say?” Tom asked, as the two sat out on Matthew’s pool deck with a bottle of wine.

“What vineyard?” Matthew asked.

“The AirBnB where you got to help make wine and taste it and stay in Tuscany?” Tom said, recalling their holiday rental hunting from a few days back.

“It’s a no-go,” Matthew said, pausing for a sip of wine. “All booked till next May.”

“Yikes,” Tom remarked. “So no holiday then?”

Matthew cracked a smile at his friend. “I’m actually going to Yorkshire.”

“Yorkshire?” Tom dead-panned, clear unenthused.

“Yes, to work at a small flower shop.”

“You? Arranging flowers?” Tom laughed.

Matthew stood up and started to pace beside the pool. “Well, I figured that Yorkshire would be the best choice. It’s a small town named Downton, not far from Ripon. There is a small cottage on the grounds of larger estate. The girl who runs it now says that it should be easy enough- most just people picking up poinsettia orders.”

“Sounds utterly boring,” Tom commented.

Matthew turned to him, “But that’s the thing right. I just need to get away from LA, from the memories of Lavinia. I just need some quiet time to be myself. And, if I’m in Yorkshire for a holiday, that means I can visit Mum in Manchester for Christmas and I know that will mean everything to her.”

“I suppose it’s your choice,” Tom lamented. “When do you leave?”

Matthew grabbed his wine glass and took a sip, before spinning the glass in his hands. “Tomorrow.”

“Brilliant,” Tom said.

“Just take care of Sybil, will you?” Matthew said.

“Who is Sybil?”

“The girl who is staying here. The one doing the swap. Maybe you could show her around or something?”

Tom gave Matthew a cheeky grin, “I mean I suppose I could.”

–

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she was so alone in Downton. She was always surrounded by George and Sybil, that she wasn’t quiet used to the solitude of her abode. But Sybil was off to America to spend two weeks in the LA sunshine and she had dropped George off in London on her way out of town. George would be spending a few days with his grand-parents Christmas shopping in London. So, for the first time in quite a while, Mary was alone.

She had spent the day in Yorkshire working at Downton Books. It was easy to stay distracted with the store packed for Christmas. Mary had hired another clerk named Ivy to help out for the holiday rush, but it seemed as if she and Daisy didn’t get along particularly well. She had spent most of the afternoon sending the girls off in different directions to attend to costumers so that they wouldn’t have to interact with each other.

Now Mary was home in her quiet abbey with a stack of books to sift through and see which would be the next “Downton Book” to be published. A third of the way into a new book, she received a text from Mabel Fox. Mabel was an old childhood friend, who spent most of her time in America working in the fashion industry these days. Back in Secondary School, Mary had sort of accidentally stolen a boyfriend from her (long story) and they had spent two years not speaking to each other. Luckily, they eventually got over their differences after a few years of uni. Now, they always met up for a pint or two when Mabel was back in the village for Christmas.

Hey u hoe! Let’s get drinks! Xo Mabel

It was this text that led Mary to Grantham Arms, the local pub. Mary was normally the kind of woman who enjoyed a nice glass of wine or maybe some whisky on a cold night. But with Mabel, things always tended to get out of hand.

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she had had a shot. And now she was pretty sure she’d had at least 4. Besides, George wasn’t home. She didn’t have to be a mum for just a moment.

“I’m going to call you an Uber,” Mabel babbled, throwing an arm around Mary. “I’m going to call you an Uber and you are going to go home and sleeeeep.”

Mary rolled her eyes and pushed Mabel’s arm off her shoulder. “I’m fine, truly Mabel, I’m quite fine. I can walk home.”

“No, no, I’m getting an Uber for you,” Mabel announced.

She pulled out her phone and jabbed some buttons. Mary felt herself sway a bit and held on to the bar for support.

“Oh no!” Mabel whined, “There aren’t any Ubers in fricken Downton, England.”

Mary laughed, “Looks like I’m walking home!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine,” Mary said, taking an uneasy step towards the door. “I bet the cold air will sober me up.”

Mabel put a kiss on her cheek, “We’ll have to do this again before I leave!”

Mary wanted to protest that she was likely to never to get another opportunity and that she was far too old for this party life anyway. But she nodded and said, “Of course, darling. Text me, won’t you?”

With that, Mary stumbled into the winter air. She loved the walk from town back to her estate. It was a twenty-minute stroll, which was a lot of time to spend in the cold, but it looked magical with each tree dusted in snow. She pulled her coat close around her and closed her eyes, feeling the flakes brush her face. Merry Christmas me, she thought dreamily, the alcohol still tingling in her veins.

As the turned into the drive to the estate, she realized that she really needed to pee. There was still another ten minutes till she reached the old abbey and that seemed like torture.

In the distance, she noticed the lights in Sybil’s cottage on. Brilliant! Brilliant, brilliant Sybil!

Mary bounded through the snowy hills, snow dampening her boots and socks and the hem of jeans, as she made for her sister’s cottage. She skidded to a halt at the door, puffing a bit for air and still quite dizzy. She rapped on the door.

“Sybil! Si-BELLE!” Mary sing-songed. “Open the fricken door door door!”

She giggled to herself. She was never the kind of person who sang. God, she really was totally wasted. So much for the colder sobering her up, she was seemingly more intoxicated than before.

The door to the cottage opened and Mary was very surprised to find herself face to face with one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. He had golden blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an attractive smattering of stubble over his jaw.

Wow. What did she even say to him?

“You’re not Sybil,” Was all she could come up with.

“Afraid I’m not,” The man said. “I’m, uh, Matthew.”

“Oh God! Right!” Mary gasped in a sudden moment of realization. “M. Crawley! You’re M. Crawley. I’m also M. Crawley. Sybil’s gone. God. I’m so stupid.”

“It’s quite alright,” Matthew said, “Would you like to come in and warm up for a moment?”

“Yes, and use your loo if that’s quite alright?” Mary said, shuffling through the door. “Well, Sybil’s loo. Sorry I’m so pissed. I really never get this drunk. You’re really lovely looking. I don’t mean to push in, honestly I don’t, but can I use the loo?”

The attractive man chuckled and gestured towards the toilet, “It’s all yours.”

Mary rushed in to relieve herself. As she washed her hands after, she took herself in. She was dressed in a pair of dark jeans that framed her legs alright and didn’t make her look like a mum. And a cozy tan jumper that didn’t really make her look that lumpy. Her hair was neat in loose waves, in her somewhat outgrown Princess Kate lob that she had cut a few months ago. Her eyes held the tell-tale glassiness that was a clear sign she was drunk off her arse.

She emerged from the bathroom and back into Sybil’s living room.

“Sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing,” Mary said.

“It’s no bother,” Matthew replied, giving her a shy grin. He nodded at the fireplace where a glass of wine and a book sat. “I’m just reading a book and having a night in.”

Mary wandered over to the book and twirled it in her hands, smiling at the familiar cover, “Oh nice choice.”

“I found it on the shelf,” Matthew admitted.

Mary smiled, “I figured as much. I published this and gave Sybil the first copy.”

Matthew gave a second glance, “Did you really?”

“I know it’s surprising when you meet me and I’m totally sloshed,” Mary said. “But, believe it or not, I am in fact a mildly successful publisher.”

Mary wobbled as she put the book down.

“Would you like to sit?” Matthew asked. “I’m afraid you might fall over.”

She nodded and plopped on the couch. “Thanks for that M. Crawley.”

“No problem,” He said. “Do you have a name?”

“Oh my god! I’m so so sorry,” Mary rambled. “I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Sybil’s sister. Mary. I live in the old abbey up the road.”

“Oh, you’re Mary,” Matthew said. “I got a note saying that if I needed any help with anything her or at the flower shop to just ask Mary.”

“Well, do you need any help?” Mary asked, propping her chin up with a hand.

Matthew smiled, “No, I think I’m fine so far. But would you maybe like some water or toast? To sober up a bit before you’re walk up to your house?”

“Am I that bad?” Mary asked.

“I mean you were just singing outside the cottage,” Matthew pointed out.

“Oh god. I was, wasn’t I?” Mary said, shaking her head. “Yes, please then.”

Matthew walked out of the room and into the kitchen. Mary found a blanket on the couch and pulled it around her, trying to warm up from the walk. She picked up the book again, trying to see what part he was at. Ooo, a very good part indeed. The meet cute where the main couple meets for the first time in an endearing, abet embarrassing way. She snuggled down and started read, her eyes fluttering immediately.

–

When Matthew arrived back in the living room, Mary was sound asleep on the couch, the book half covering her face. He chuckled softly to himself and removed it from her face. She had a very beautiful face, he thought, smoothing out a bit of her hair that the book had jostled. He placed the cup of water and toast next to her, before going back into the kitchen to get a few pain relieving tablets for when she woke up. After leaving those beside the water, he smiled at the lovely young woman’s sleeping form before turning off the light and heading up to Sybil’s bedroom.

In the morning, Matthew woke with a smile. The room was bright from the light reflecting off of the snow outside his window. Here he had worried that Yorkshire might be too grim for the holidays, but with the snow and cozy cottage- he found it to be great. And the unexpected visitor last night. She was certainly great. Her silly drunken rambling had charmed him. Her literary prowess had impressed him. And she was undoubtably attractive.

Getting out of bed, he changed into some jeans and a button up shirt. He briefly stopped in the bathroom before he trotted downstairs softly, remembering that he had a sleeping visitor below him. Mary stirred at his steps, her dark eyes blinking awake.

“Oh fuck. What am I doing here?” She asked, sitting up, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“Aspirin tablets right beside you, love,” Matthew said.

Mary mechanically grabbed the medicine and downed it. “God, my head is killing me.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said. “You’ll feel better in a bit.”

Mary blinked again, her forehead crinkling. “You’re M. Crawley? I somehow thought M. Crawley was a woman.”

“Matthew Crawley,” He introduced, for the second time, waiting for the moment of realization of hit her. But there didn’t seem to be any recognition in her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matthew Crawley,” She said. “I’m also M. Crawley.”

“You said that last night,” Matthew told her.

“Did I? I don’t remember much,” Mary admitted.

“I can remind you if you like,” Matthew laughed. “Sybil. Sy BELLE!”

Mary ran a hand through her hair. “Well, that is embarrassing.”

“Not to worry,” He said. “We’ve all been there.”

Mary made a moaning noise and chugged the rest of the water.

“Would you like a coffee?” Matthew asked, wandering into the kitchen and smiling at Sybil’s shiny Nespresso maker.

Mary shook her head and standing up. She pulled on her coat. “I really should be going. I’m so sorry for ruining your holiday.”

Matthew turned back to her. “Please don’t apologize. You definitely did not ruin my holiday.”

He watched her leave and create a path in the snow up to abbey. He truly hoped that it wouldn’t be the last he saw the other M. Crawley.

But in truth, he didn’t have much time to pine after Mary, because well, running a flower shop was quite the full-time job. He had people constantly coming in and out picking up orders of poinsettia. There were plenty of people looking for centerpieces for holiday parties. Matthew had fun with these. He was quite the amateur at making flower displays and he knew some of them were truly dismal, but he crafted a good amount that he was rather fond of.

He kept hoping that Mary would stop by the flower shop to check in on him, but there appeared to be no such luck. He was happily reading his way through Sybil’s bookshelf, reading the beautiful copies of “Downton Books” that lined them. Each volume was full of cozy story that could be read perfectly next to the fire. He was finding a fond place in his heart for each of her publications.

Yet, he never got to see their illustrious publisher. That was until his fourth day on the job, when he accidentally locked himself out of the flower shop. There were several families lined up outside the shop already, looking to pick up wreaths and poinsettias.

“Dammit,” Matthew cursed, worried he was going to single-handedly ruin Sybil’s business.

He found the note from Sybil with Mary’s contact information on it in his pocket and dialed her number.

“Sorry to ring you,” Matthew mumbled. “But I’ve accidentally gotten locked out of the flower shop. Could I bother you to let me in?”

“Oh,” Mary said. “It’s no problem. I’m just at the abbey. I’ll be right there.”

“Oh you are brilliant,” Matthew said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

–

Mary ran into the bathroom to change. She couldn’t believe she was going to see him again.

Mary had been avoiding M. Crawley since they met. She was completely mortified that she’d been basically black out drunk, stumbling around the cottage, and actually singing. Mary never sang. Not even on Christmas. What had gotten into that night?

Well, vodka. Obviously way too much.

Since then, Mary had gone out of her way to avoid Sybil’s cottage and its handsome occupant. That was, till two nights ago, when she’d decided to enjoy her solitude with a cozy Christmas movie. After making a large cup of cocoa, she picked one of her good old favorites films off the shelf and popped it in. She loved the story, a beautiful transatlantic romance, but what made it even better was its sweeping score and practical real estate porn.

At the end of the movie, she was feeling oh so snug and nearly was ready to drift off, when she caught the credits.

A Matthew Crawley Film.

Matthew Crawley? As in M. Crawley?

She had grabbed for her laptop, quickly googling the director. There he was, the dashing man from Sybil’s cottage two days before. His blond hair slicked and dazzling smile glittering on the red carpet. She looked through his films, several of them she already adored, but several more she had yet to see. She immediately started binging them on Netflix. As she watched, she researched more about this mysterious tenant. An article told her about his recent break up with Lavinia Swire, a Hollywood actress who had starred in his previous film. No wonder he was in Downton. He was doing the same thing that Sybil was trying to do- escape unhappy memories and mend a broken heart.

Mary’s heart softened for the man. After all, he’d been nothing but kind to her when she’d been an embarrassing drunk mess on his doorstep.

Still, she her plan remained to avoid seeing him again, at least in person. Until ten minutes ago when he called and told her he’d been locked out of the shop. Apparently, another encounter with M. Crawley was inevitable.

Dressed in a loose grey dress, tights, and ankle boots, she pulled on a coat and scarf before heading into town. She was just grateful that George was still in London for one more day, so she didn’t have to worry about bringing him around.

Mary saw the crowd outside Violet’s Village Blooms before she even saw the building. She felt a feeling of dread. This was the kind of thing that Sybil had been worried about happening when she left. Mary hoped that the customers hadn’t left because of the wait.

She parked and worked her way through the crowd to where Matthew was standing awkwardly outside the door.

“Oh, you goddess,” Matthew exclaimed.

Mary almost laughed at his acclamation, her cheeks blushing. “Oh please. I’ve just got a spare key, that’s all.”

She opened the door to flower shop and a stream of people began to pour in. She knew that she couldn’t maroon Matthew to the chaos of all the customers.

“I’ll take the wreath orders; you do the flowers?” She suggested.

He flashed her a grateful look. “Thank you.”

The morning turned into a busy blur. They fretted over orders, helped load wreaths and flowers in older customer’s cars, and tried to make sense of all the money. Finally, after a few hours of work every initial customer seen to.

“I think we’ve earned quite the lunch break,” Mary declared.

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to join me? I feel like I owe you after your dashing rescue this morning.”

They made their way to the tavern next door. It was decorated for Christmas, with evergreen garland strung around the room and lights over the fire it. It was very cozy indeed.

They both got glasses of warm mulled wine and sipped them by the fire as they waited for their food.

“I feel as if I should apologize for the other night,” Mary told him. “You truly saw a side of me I’m not sure if I’ve seen before.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, it was the most interesting thing that’s happened so far to me in Downton,” Matthew laughed.

“I couldn’t even tell you the last time I was drunk. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever been that drunk,” Mary admitted.

“Not even in uni? Well, then you do live a quiet life,” Matthew commented.

“I can’t say the book publishing and editing world is that raucous,” she said.

“So, what kind of editor are you?” Matthew asked.

“A very mean one,” Mary teased, making a surly face.

Matthew laughed.

“No, actually, we publish lesser known works of women’s fiction from the early 20th century,” Mary explained.

“Oh that’s brilliant,” Matthew said. “I’ve read a few the books of your collection that I found on Sybil’s shelf and I really like them.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mary grinned.

“How did you end up working there?” Matthew asked, taking a tip of the warm wine.

“Well I inherited my grandmother’s love of books and her therefore her entire library. I wanted to share some of my favorite books from her library with others, give them new life. And my old friend Anna wanted to design covers,” She explained, “So truly it was a match made in heaven.”

“Wait, sorry, let me get this straight,” He said. “You founded the publishing company?”

Mary nodded, “I know. I usually don’t tell people. It can be a bit intimidating.”

“Consider me very intimidated,” Matthew said.

“But I figured that since you are a film director, you probably work alongside lots of endeavoring women and therefore won’t be intimidated by me,” Mary told him.

He gave her a sideways smile. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“I didn’t when we met,” Mary admitted. “I was watching one of your films a few days ago and made the connection.”

“And did you like it?” Matthew asked.

“Like what? The connection?”

“The film?” Matthew laughed.

Just then a server arrived with two plates of food and laid them before the pair. Mary took a chip off the plate and nibbled it.

“I did,” She said. “A very cozy Christmas film. And the soundtrack was gorgeous.”

“Well, all of that credit goes to my friend Tom Branson,” Matthew explained. “He’s the mastermind behind the music.”

“You’ll have to give him my full compliments,” Mary told him.

“I told him to give Sybil a tour, help her out,” Matthew said, picking up a chip from his own plate and dabbing it in vinegar.

“Hmm,” Mary said, “I’ll have to ask her about it.”

There was a moment of silence where they both picked at their food.

“So, how did you end up in Los Angeles?” Mary asked. “You sound like you’ve got a bit of a Manchester accent.”

“Only a bit,” Matthew said. “It’s sort of faded a bit in LA.”

“Only a bit,” Mary nodded for him to continue.

“But yes. I studied film in Reading for uni and then got offered a chance to work on a set in Los Angeles. It was all grunt work at first, fetching brews and the like. Then slowly I worked my way up, did some short films on the side, met Tom, did a quite successful indie film- and well. Then the whole thing was history.”

“That’s impressive,” Mary remarked. “Consider me intimidated.”

He laughed.

“Is there anything you’d like to do while you are here?” She asked. “Got anything on your Downton bucket list?”

Matthew took a sip of mulled wine and his forehead wrinkled.

“I’d actually quite like to see more of your estate,” Matthew remarked. “The abbey. The grounds.”

Mary smiled gracefully, her mind quickly calculating how much time she’d have before George arrived home. She’d have to show it to him today.

“Of course. What time do you finish in the flower shop today?” She asked.

“Just after three,” Matthew told her.

“Good,” She said. “Come up to the abbey after and I’ll show you around.”

“Really?” Matthew asked, smiling. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Nonsense,” Mary teased. “I’m just hoping you’ll feature my house in your next film.”

“I am quite keen on lovely bits of architecture,” He commented, his voice a bit lower now.

“Good,” Mary said, “I look forward to seeing you later.”

–

Later arrived soon enough. Matthew made his way up to the old house as soon as he finished in the flower shop. He made small bouquet to give to Mary- dark red roses and springs of holly. The sun was just beginning to fade as he made his way up to the old house. The winding road through the soft rolling hills was quaint and calming. He could see sheep from neighboring farms wandering through the distant fields. It was the exact pastoral tonic he needed to save him from the Los Angeles toxicity.

Mary was standing at the door when he arrived. He gave her an awkward wave as he approached. She was still dressed in the fetching outfit from earlier, a few flakes of snow decorating her hair.

“Are these for me?” She asked, raising her delicate eyebrows, when he presented her with the flowers.

“Only Violet’s best blooms for milady,” Matthew said dramatically.

Mary smiled and took the flowers. “Shall we walk? There isn’t much daylight left.”

They started walking across one of the lawns.

“How did you acquire such a lovely estate?” Matthew asked, fascinated by this beautiful woman.

“A gift from my grandmother,” She explained.

“The same one who left the books?” He asked.

“Exactly,” She said. “Violet.”

“Oh I see,” Matthew said.

“Technically, the abbey should have gone to my parents. But they live in London and have a nice apartment there. And Sybil loves that little cottage. But I like old and grand things. I love antiques and the stories behind the little details of the abbey. So, everyone knew it made sense to be mine,” Mary explained.

“I look forward to seeing all the details,” Matthew said.

“Well if you look over here,” Mary laughed gently, “You’ll actually see one of my favorite follies. It’s an old Grecian style ruin.”

Matthew walked up toward it, climbing up the steps of the old ruin.

“It’s obviously not a Greek ruin,” Mary said. “But it was added when that was the sort of thing in vogue.”

Matthew ran his hand up along the pillar slowly.

“It really is remarkable,” Matthew said softly.

He turned slowly, to see Mary leaning against a pillar. He walked slowly towards her. He let his hand move along the pillar, just to the side of her head.

“There are lots of remarkable things about Downton, in my opinion,” He said, his voice but a whisper.

Mary shivered and her eyes fluttered close. All of a sudden the mood had completely changed. He was totally aware of what he was doing and the soft smile on Mary’s face encouraged him to keep going.

“And what are those?” She asked.

“Excellent flower shop,” He said, leaning in, placing a kiss on her right eye.

“Excellent Grecian ruins,” He said, kissing her other eye.

“Excellent old abbey,” He whispered, pressing a kiss on her nose.

“Hmm, that all?” She asked, her eyes opening again.

Rich, dark chocolate, he thought of the color.

“Beautiful book publishers too,” He said, kissing her lips.

Her hand slipped down to grip his, a smile on her face.

“Let’s keep this tour going?” She said, her voice a whisper. “It’ll be dark soon.”

–

She had kissed him.

Okay, well he had kissed her. The beautiful film director who randomly showed up out of the blue. M. Crawley whom she’d totally made of fool herself in front. Matthew Crawley whom she totally adored.

Mary was smitten. And of course, this meant that she should apply her tried and true relationship technique- play coy. She ducked her head and nodded him on the tour.

They walked through the grounds. She showed him the rose gardens, now frosty with snow, and the greenhouses, still warm inside. They bid Happy Christmas to the neighbor’s sheep. They climbed the largest hill to another of her favorite follies- a domed observatory.

“Do you actually see stars here?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I heard that my great-grandfather kept a telescope here. And maybe one day we’ll bring it back.”

“I can see it being rather nice, all curled up in the little observatory, looking at the stars,” Matthew told her.

“Well, if you want to buy me a telescope, be my guest,” she said.

“I mean, technically, I am your guest already,” He told her. “So I might actually owe you one.”

She laughed and look her head. “You aren’t a guest. You’re welcome here.”

“Are you cold?” He asked, reaching for her hand.

“A bit,” She shrugged.

“Why don’t you show me the abbey now?” He suggested.

They headed down the hill, down towards the house, snow just beginning to fall. The sun was nearly entirely below the horizon now.

Would they kiss again? Mary really, really wanted to kiss him again. Honestly, she wanted to do more than just kiss him. But she would certainly settle for kissing.

It was warm inside the abbey. Mary was constantly grateful that she could enjoy living in an old abbey in a modern age where she didn’t have to worry about lack of indoor heating or plumbing.

“Welcome to Downton Abbey,” She told him.

His eyes were wide, taking in the foyer, where the large tree lingered in the center of the house, the stairs encircling it.

“Did you decorate this yourself?” He asked, stepping forward to look at the tree.

Mary nodded, “A mix of my grandmother’s decorations and things I found at antique shops.”

“It’s lovely,” He said. “You can see whole stories on this tree.”

“We have that in common, don’t we?” She said, toying with a vintage angel ornament.

“What?” He asked, pulling his eyes from the tree to look at her.

“We both like stories,” Mary said.

“Oh yes,” He said.

They moved into salon. She put on a few low lights, revealing the garland hung around the room and the string of cards that she and George had worked to put up together. Mary bent to light the fire, luckily a gas fire and easy to light.

She straightened to find Matthew right behind her. Very close.

Oh God. He was going to kiss her again. She knew it. She very much wanted him to.

“It’s quite cozy in here,” He said.

She nodded, her nose brushing his, as he hands fell to her waist.

“One of the best qualities of Christmas,” she murmured. “Excellent coziness.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way,” He said, looking at her in the eyes.

His stupid disarming bright, bright blue eyes.

Then their lips were on each other- all over each other. Mary felt silly at first, her coat still on. But, she soon realized, coats, like other things could be quite easily removed.

Was this really happening? She thought dizzily, when Matthew lowered her down before the fire. The old ornate Persian rug felt funny beneath her bare shoulder. But he put a kiss behind her ear, then at the crook of her neck, then tip of her shoulder, then at this part of her stomach that made her positively squirm. And by the time his lips reached the jut of her hip, she was quite sure of three things:

1) Her life was slowly turning into a Matthew Crawley film.

2) If not that, her life was definitely a more risqué version of a Downton Book

3) She was a hundred percent okay with this.

–

The next morning, she awakened in her bedroom to feel a warm body beside her and a phone ringing.

Matthew. Right.

The night before had been nothing but excellent and she was still both dazed and sore from the whole affair. In fact, all she wanted to do was stay inside and avoid snow and responsibilities with him.

But alas, her phone continued to ring.

She slipped out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, and grabbed her phone, ducking into the corridor.

“Hello,” Anna’s voice pipped up. “I just thought I’d tell you that I’ve got George in the car and we are headed towards York.”

Anna had been in London visiting friends that past couple days and was able to pick up George from his grandparents. Mary was grateful that her friend was able to save her a trip.

“Oh that’s delightful,” Mary said. “So I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Definitely,” Anna said.

Mary smiled, “I’ll start making a pot of soup and you can have lunch when arrive.”

“Oh brill. Here, I’ll put George on,” Anna said.

“Hello George darling,” Mary cooed.

“Hello Mummy!” George replied.

“Did you have fun in London?” She asked.

“Lot’s of fun. Grandmama took me to the museum and then ice skating and then we got lots of toys at the great big toy shop,” He rattled.

“That sounds quite lovely,” Mary remarked.

“I missed you, Mummy!” He said.

“I missed you too, my darling,” She soothed.

“See you soon? With lots of hot chocolate?” He asked.

“See you soon,” She told him.

She ran a hand through her hair.

Shoot, she definitely had sex-hair. She was going to need a shower before her son and best friend arrived. And unfortunately, she was going to have to kick Matthew out.

No matter how much she just wanted to just climb back in bed with him.

She reentered her bedroom, hoping to make a b-line for the en-suite, but Matthew was awake and lounging on the bed. She took a deep inhale. He looked like some sort of Greek god stretched out, naked, his hands behind his head.

“Good morning,” He said.

“Good morning,” She replied.

She sat gingerly on the side of the bed.

“I heard you on the phone,” He said. “Who is this Mister George? Anyone I need to be jealous of?”

Mary let out of a snort of laughter. “Oh no. He’s- He’s my-“

But she couldn’t bring herself to tell Matthew the truth. It was easier this way to just be Mary. Mary, 28, book publisher, light-weight, abbey dweller, lover of stories and old things. Not Mary Crawley, professional mummy.

She wouldn’t trade George for the world and would gladly live her life with just the two of them in their large house without complaint. But she also knows that when it comes to dating, children are baggage. As soon as you mention a child, everything becomes serious. All of sudden there are excuses like, “I don’t want to meet George in case things don’t work out,” or “I don’t know if I’m ready for a family.” And then just like that everything fizzles out.

Mary knows because she’s done this time and time again.

It’s probably better this way. Matthew is just a blip in her life. A famous film director dropped into her world for the holidays, but to be whisked off in the New Year. He’s not permanent. He can’t be. There isn’t any point in him knowing about George.

“Never mind,” Mary said, shaking her head. “What do you say about hot shower?”

Matthew smirked and followed her. She was grateful for men and their one-track minds.

–

A few hours after Matthew had left Mary’s cottage, he found himself curled up in a corner of Sybil’s cottage. More snow was falling outside and he was thumbing through another Downton Book he’d pulled off his shelf.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Mary. About her soft brown hair, as it fell just over shoulders. About her easy smile once you got to know her. About how deliciously wonderful she’d looked naked against that Persian rug.

She was smart, driven, and beautiful. Who would have ever thought he’d find someone like that in a small country town? After his break up with Lavinia, he hadn’t thought that anything remotely resembling affection was in his future. But for a brief moment, in her lovely abbey, Matthew had seen a bit of future worth having.

It was as the sun began to dip low that he made his mind. He was going walk back up to her house and tell her what he thought. Sure he’d just met her, but he had to give it chance.

He put his book down. It was now his fifth Downton Book completed since arriving and his favorite, a collection of Mary’s grandmother’s journal entries. He grabbed his coat and scarf. The snow was still falling. He didn’t think it actually snowed this much in England, but this week seemed to be an exception.

His stomach tingled as he walked up to the house. He shouldn’t be nervous, hardly anything made him nervous, but yet he was. He hoped that she wouldn’t be put off by his frankness in just showing up, but he thought she might like it. She was a quiet woman alone in a large house, maybe she needed something to shake her life up.

He knocked at the main door and paused as he heard footsteps approach and then open the door.

“Hello,” a voice said.

He looked down and surprised to see it belonged to such a small individual. A small blonde boy was at the door of the abbey.

“Hello,” Matthew said uncertainly.

“George,” Mary said in the distance, the sound of her feet padding to the door.

George, Matthew thought suddenly. How silly had he been to think that George was some sort of man to be jealous of.

But wait- if Mary had a son, did that mean she had a husband as well?

Matthew all of a sudden realized he knew nothing about Mary Crawley. He felt disoriented, as if his time with her was all a lie.

“Oh, sorry Matthew,” She said. “Is everything alright at the cottage?”

“Who are you?” George interrupted.

Matthew laughed, shifting awkwardly. “I’m, uh, my name is Matthew.”

“I’m George,” the boy said, putting out his small hand.

Matthew shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Would you like to come in? Mummy and I were just making hot chocolate! You can have some if you like.”

Matthew agreed and walked into the foyer.

“George, darling,” Mary said. “Can you set out some biscuits for us?”

George have a little salute and ran into kitchen, slipping on his wooly socks.

“Are you married?” Matthew asked quickly, as Mary fussed over his coat.

She shook her head.

“Divorced?” He asked again.

“Abandoned because he went on a diplomatic mission to Poland and never returned. He found a pretty young thing and forgot all about his knocked up fiancé back in England,” Mary said quietly.

“Oh Mary,” He hushed.

Matthew felt his face wrinkle with concern. Poor, poor Mary. She didn’t deserve that. Raising a child on her own, feeling abandoned. Mary should have a life full of love with a man who undoubtedly loved her.

“It’s okay,” She said, lifting her chin. “I don’t need pity. It’s been almost 5 years.”

Matthew nodded, “Of course.”

George’s feet came tapping back.

“Cookies complete!” He announced. “Time for cocoa?”

Mary smiled at the boy and turned to Matthew. “Are you at all interested in hot chocolate?”

They walked into the kitchen. Mary went for the fridge and took out a carton of almond milk, which she poured in a sauce pan and began to heat up. Matthew sat with George at the table as the small boy began to assault him with questions.

“What do you do?”

“I direct films.”

“Do you get to be in films?”

Matthew shook his head. “No, I tell people where to go and what to do.”

“That sounds very boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Matthew said.

“If I worked in films, I’d want to be on screen,” George told him.

“I think you’d do very well.”

“Will you make a movie about me?” George insisted.

“I’m not sure,” Matthew said, “have you got any talents?”

This launched George into some of singing-dancing-footballing act that he did around the kitchen. It took just enough time for Mary to finish mixing in chocolate, before heading to the table with three mugs filled with marshmallows and sprinkles.

“Here we go,” she said.

Matthew smiled, taking the cup. The liquid was sweet and cinnamon-y.

“This is superb,” He said, after a few sips.

“You’ve got a moustache,” laughed George.

The boy now attempted to get his own hot chocolate moustache. Even Mary was giggling now. Well, that was until George got a little too out of hand and accidentally spilled the hot chocolate on Mary’s dress.

“Oh no!” George exclaimed.

“Oh no, indeed,” Mary said. “I’ll just go change quickly.”

Matthew watched her walk away.

“Are you going to marry my Mummy?” George asked.

“Oh well, I’m just her friend,” Matthew said.

“Oh,” George said. “it’s just that she gets awfully lonely. Just so you know. Maybe if someone married her she’d be happier. That’s how it goes in fairy tales.”

“Do you like fairy stories?” Matthew asked.

“I like all stories,” George said. “Do you want to go play a game?”

Matthew smiled, “Of course.”

George led the way to living room, where he immediately began setting up a board game on the floor. Upon further inspection, it seemed that this was a game hobbled together with five game boards and a variety of pieces from various board games and a few knickknacks found around the house.

“How do you play?” Matthew asked.

The young boy immediately began rattling off a complicated list of rules and explaining each of the unique pieces.

“Oh no, George. You aren’t not to make Matthew play that game with you,” Mary complained when she entered. She was dressed in just leggings and jumper now. Once again, she looked splendid. “He made it up himself. It takes ages to play and it’s horribly difficult.”

“You don’t like games?” George asked Matthew, a frown already on his face.

“I love games,” Matthew said.

“Good, then you’ll love this one,” the boy informed him.

So, that was how Matthew got sucked into the world of George’s Game. They played the game for hours until it was very dark outside and George fell asleep on one of the game boards.

“I’ll take him upstairs,” Mary said softly, lifting the boy and taking him upstairs.

While she was gone, Matthew inspected the frames that he hadn’t noticed the night before. Mary holding George as a baby. Mary and Sybil and George visiting London. Mary and George drinking tea together. It was evident that they were a family, George and Mary.

“I can’t imagine anyone being a bigger hit,” Mary admitted when she came downstairs.

“But I just can’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” Matthew said softly.

“It didn’t come up?” She said, but then shook her head and sat beside the fire. “No, it did. I suppose. I don’t always like to be the poor, lonely single mother. It’s nice to have a life where it seems like I spend all my time doing proper literary things, being a successful entrepreneur.”

“You are all those things,” Matthew told her, walking over to sit beside her.

“But I’m also a statistic, an un-wed mother,” She said. “The best part about my job is that I can spend my time at home reading a few days a week so I don’t have to send George to a playschool full time. And I get hot chocolate spilled on me. I’m never able to have nights out or date or have much of a life besides running Downton Books and being a full-time mum.”

Matthew nodded, realizing that he couldn’t be upset with Mary. Not for this.

“Do you despise me for not telling you?” She asked, her tone indifferent.

“I could never despise you,” He whispered.

“You aren’t going to run away? Because I have a kid?” She asked.

“On the contrary,” He said, playing with a lock of her hair. “George only endears you to me more.”

She smiled, but looked towards the fire, a rueful look on her face.

“I was actually on my way to tell you how much I like you,” Matthew admitted. “That’s why I came up tonight. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“That’s nice,” Mary said.

“Nice?” He repeated, putting a kiss behind her ear.

Just that morning she’d been flirting and giggling. Now she seemed more reserved.

“It’s just never going to work,” She said finally. “You are going to go back to LA. I’m going to stay here with Downton Books. This is never going to work. You’ll head back to Hollywood and fall in love with another actress or model or something and I’ll just be here, heartbroken, picking up the pieces again.”

“What if we found a way to make it work?” Matthew said.

“Like what?” Mary said, turning to face him.

“I don’t know, but we are both smart people. I bet we could think up something,” He told her, running a hand through her hair again.

“I don’t know, Matthew. You are asking me to take a huge risk Matthew. If you break my heart, I might not come back from it. And I can’t put George through that,” She told him.

He rested his head on her shoulder, resigned that despite how much he absolutely adored this woman, she would never be his.

“Tell you what,” Matthew proposed. “I’m going to spend Christmas with my mum in Manchester before coming back here for a few days. ‘While I’m there, I’m really going to do some thinking about how to make this work. If I can come up with an idea for how this could possibly work, I’ll tell you then.”

Mary nodded, her eyes still trained on the fire. “Okay.”

Matthew grinned, “I’ll think of something. Until then, Happy Christmas.”

–

Christmas came and went. Sybil was still in America. Mary’s parents came up from London. She hosted them in the abbey and they did the usual- presents, Christmas dinner, and a game of charades. It was nice to see them, as always. They doted over George, complained about Mary’s lack of love life, and commented on nice the Old Pile looked for Christmas.

As her parents left the day after Christmas, she knew this meant that Matthew would be returning soon. The thought of him and his proposition made her nervous. In her fit of nerves, she decided it would be best to drive down to York to check on the shop. She took George with her. They took their time in York, walking along the castle walls, wandering through the shambles. Anything to avoid driving home.

However, eventually they really did need to get home to start dinner and bedtime routines. Mary looked out the window as they approached the estate, seeing the lights in Sybil’s cottage on and knowing that meant that Matthew was back.

Just knowing he was there, her heart skipped a beat.

It was silly wasn’t it? To put him off just because she didn’t want to take a risk? It was silly to not give him a chance.

But it wasn’t. The last time she put her heart out there, she got so impossibly hurt. She couldn’t imagine doing it again for a man she had only really spent time with for three days.

So then why was the thought of him leaving already starting to break her heart?

She got home and immediately started on work on dinner. She needed something to throw herself into. As she was putting a chicken in the oven for roasting, she heard the doorbell ring. It was him. Definitely him.

In hopes of not disturbing George, she went outside instead of inviting Matthew in. If he made her cry, well, at least her son wouldn’t see.

“Mary,” he said, when she exited, closing the door as quietly as possible.

“Hello,” she replied softly.

“Will you be alright? It’s a bit cold out here,” he told her.

It was snowing again! She could hardly believe it.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied.

Her stomach flitted with nerves again. What would he say?

“I did some thinking and I know it’s going to be hard and I know we each have baggage and that we’ve each lived separate lives. But I really do think we should try, in some sort of way, to give this a chance,” he declared.

“Okay, but how?” Mary gasped, running a hand through her hair.

Matthew gave a huge grin now. “I have just the idea.”

She pursed her lips together and tried not to smile, but he did look quite excited to tell her.

“Well I found your grandmother’s journals in my shelf of Downton Books and I loved it. Mary, you did such a good job of piecing together her story. It’s marvelous. It’s exactly what I need to do next for my career. Don’t you see? We can work on the film together- you can help with the writing and historical information. I can produce and direct. And best of all we can film it here- this way, I won’t have to leave. At least not yet. But by then, well, we can figure out the details. But what do you think?”

Mary’s mouth opened in a very un-Mary-like gasp.

“Well, I think that that’s quite the proposition,” she told him.

“And?” He said, encouraging her.

And well, she could think of tons of ways this wouldn’t work. What if the filmmakers didn’t treat her grandmother’s journals the right way? What if they cast the wrong person? What if having the film set in her house was a disturbance? She could think of tons of ways this could go disastrously wrong.

But she couldn’t say no.

Not when it was the best and most intriguing idea she’d ever heard.

“Yes,” She said softly, as he swept her off her feet into a spin. Her lips were on his and it all just made sense.

–

“Just letting you know,” Mary said to Sybil over the phone. “Matthew will be here for New Years actually. He’s not staying in your cottage, so don’t worry, but he’ll be here for the party.”

They had actually just returned from sledding with George and the two boys were dusting the snow off of them in foyer while Mary spoke to her sister.

“Oh M. Crawely is staying with you is he?” She laughed. “Interesting plot twist, because um, well I’m bringing Tom back with me as well.”

“The composer?” Mary asked.

“The very one,” Sybil replied. “He’s actually been telling me about an interesting new project him and Matthew are already working on. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

“Hmmm,” Mary said. “Sounds like we’ll have a lot of catching up to do when you return.”

“Oh yes,” Sybil agreed.

–

All that can be said about their New Year’s celebration is that the scene was the perfect ending of a Matthew Crawley film. There was feel good song playing, everyone well-dressed in their holiday finest. There was a lot of drinking and dancing: Sybil swaying with George, Matthew swirling Mary, and Tom ducking into to steal a dance with Sybil. It was magical and happy and the daudience was left with such an overwhelming feeling of togetherness that they couldn’t help but believe the main couple would endure anything and like a fairy tale for grown-ups, would live happily ever after.

~~~~ Thank you, thank you!! What a fantastic scenario, set-up and story - a perfect blend of The Holiday and M/M deliciousness (the ‘proposal’ was a genius touch!). I enjoyed it so much! Happy Christmas!!!

#MM Secret Santa 2017 #Matthew x Mary #andthenwedance #submission

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jisforjudi · 7 years

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'Queen Victoria always liked sex...' Judi Dench and Stephen Frears on making Victoria and Abdul

Jessamy Calkin

2 SEPTEMBER 2017 • 6:00AM

It was a story that was crying out for a film. Queen Victoria, old, fat, bored, widowed and still grieving, had pretty much given up and was slowly eating herself to death. Her dissolute son Bertie was impatient to get rid of her so he could be crowned Edward VII.

It was 1887, her Golden Jubilee year, and she was bracing herself for the onslaught of tributes and fealty from overseas royalty. Britain had ruled India for the past 29 years and as a gift she was sent two Indian servants, Mohammed Buksh and Abdul Karim. Karim, a clerk at the prison in Agra, was 24. He came over for a couple of months and stayed for a decade.

Initially his duties were as a servant, but after less than a year he had become the ‘Munshi’, the Queen’s teacher (she learnt Hindustani from him) and official Indian clerk. Victoria was Empress of India and fascinated by the country, but had never been there. She became besotted with Abdul: there were daily lessons, a salary increase, portraits commissioned and he introduced her to curry, which became a staple on royal menus.

As her infatuation increased, her family and the Royal household grew increasingly resentful. Racism was fairly endemic at the time, and Karim had started to get a bit uppity. The Queen put him in charge of the Indian servants, gave him his own cottage, shipped his wife and mother-in-law over from India, put him in his own carriage on the royal train, and his father – a medical assistant in the Agra jail – was awarded a knighthood.

Abdul was devoted to her, but hierarchy was everything in those days. There was a rebellion in the Royal household and a stand-off with the Queen. (Even her beloved John Brown, despite his closeness to Victoria, had always remained a servant.)

It was a narrative with a lot of charm but it was bound to end badly. And it did. After Victoria’s death, Karim’s house was raided by Bertie and almost all of the many hundreds of letters from Victoria were destroyed. Karim was packed off back to India, where his health declined and he died eight years later, aged 46.

But no one thought to destroy the Queen’s Hindustani journals, a product of her daily lessons with the Munshi. And when writer Shrabani Basu was researching a book about curry she became curious about its prevalence in the Victorian household, and equally curious about the portraits of the striking Indian courtier in the Durbar Wing at Osborne House.

She discovered that 13 volumes of the Queen’s Hindustani journals were kept in the archives at Windsor Castle, and asked to see them. Then, in Agra, she came upon Abdul Karim’s tomb and tracked down his relatives – which led to the inevitable trunk containing his journals, and a whole new light was thrown on the relationship.

When producer Beeban Kidron heard about Basu’s book on the radio, she couldn’t believe her luck. Cross Street Films, the production company she runs with husband Lee Hall (who wrote Billy Elliot), pitched for the rights and won. ‘We wanted to do it from the point of view of Abdul, the stranger looking at the strangeness of court. And to be funny and accessible,’ says Kidron.

Cross Street teamed up with other production companies, including Working Title, to produce the film. Hall wrote the script and Stephen Frears was asked to direct. ‘He’s brave and irreverent,’ explains Kidron. ‘And I felt he would get the humorous, fable-like take on the subject.’

And Frears, everyone hoped, might bring in Judi Dench to play Victoria. ‘Nobody else made sense,’ he says. They had worked together on Philomena (2013), and Dench had famously played Victoria in John Madden’s Mrs Brown, the 1997 film about her relationship with the Scottish servant (played by Billy Connolly). So it was a nice conceit that, 20 years later, Dench might play her again.

Did her heart sink or leap at the idea? It cautiously leapt, Dame Judi Dench tells me on the phone. For several reasons. ‘I have sometimes been back to re-examine something, but not in film, only in Shakespeare. But I did think Lee’s screenplay was really very good indeed, and I can’t resist Stephen Frears.’ She was riveted by the story, and had already done the homework in her last foray as Victoria.

She cites a particular scene, when, to the consternation of the Royal household, Victoria took Abdul to a remote little house called Glas Allt Shiel, on the Balmoral estate, where she used to retreat with Brown, and to which she said she would never return after he died. ‘They don’t understand anything, those stupid aristocratic fools,’ she says of her family in the film. ‘Toadying around. Jockeying for position… They couldn’t bear me bringing dear John Brown here. Yet I was happier here than anywhere in the entire world. Oh, I miss him, Abdul. And Albert… I am so lonely. Everyone I’ve really loved has died and I just go on and on.

‘No one really knows what it’s like to be Queen. I’m hated by millions of people all over the world. I have had nine children, all vain, and jealous and at loggerheads with each other. And Bertie’s a complete embarrassment. And look at me! A fat, lame, impotent, silly old woman. What is the point, Abdul?’

‘It must have been glorious to have somebody to talk to,’ says Dench now. ‘Somebody to learn from, and to exchange ideas with. And she was proprietorial with him; he kind of belonged to her – I’m sure that just having somebody to relax with must have been wonderful for anyone in that position.’

Abdul is played by Bollywood star Ali Fazal, alongside a stellar theatrical cast: Tim Piggott-Smith, Michael Gambon, Olivia Williams, Paul Higgins, Eddie Izzard – there is even an appearance from Simon Callow as Puccini.

Kidron and Frears headed to India to find Fazal. After the audition, Frears said, ‘I can see Queen Victoria being quite taken with him…’, and Fazal came to the UK for a screen test, his first time in the country. Frears instructed him to watch Peter Sellers in Being There as a reference.

‘I remember reading Victoria’s letters,’ says Fazal on the phone from India, ‘the ones that survived, and being unable to describe their relationship – was it love? Was it intimacy? Was it friendship, or maternal? There were letters she signed as “your loving mother”, or she would say, “I miss my friend,” and on one occasion, “Hold me tight.” Those are strong words for a monarch.’

There was no evidence that their relationship was sexual, but there was a romantic element to it. According to Frears, Victoria liked to be held: ‘Brown would lift her down from the horse and put his arms around her, and she liked that very much.

‘Anyway, she always liked sex. It was just the children she couldn’t stand.’

For all that Abdul was devoted to her, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a chancer as well. ‘What appealed to him was the intellectual stimulation they shared,’ says Fazal.

‘But there was a manipulative side to him too, and I still believe he was an opportunist, though I think it was called for to be an opportunist in a world that was not yours, in a country that was not yours. You’re going to have to climb up the ladder with constant obstacles and people against you, and it requires a lot of balls to do that; you have to be a bit street-smart.’

One of the best things about the film is the glorious sets. The court routine would be for the Queen and the Royal household to spend the late summer in Scotland, at Balmoral, then return to Windsor for the autumn, and move to Osborne House on the Isle of Wight for the winter and Christmas, then back to Windsor in February.

In the spring there would be a European sojourn – Florence, say, or Nice. The film was shot in India and the UK. Windsor and Balmoral were recreated at Greenwich, Belvoir Castle and Knebworth, but the biggest coup occurred when the film-makers were granted permission to film at Osborne House, which has never happened before.

This was the Queen’s seaside holiday home, which she and Albert acquired in 1840 (and which was given to the nation by Bertie upon her death in 1901), an Italianate house with wonderful gardens. It added a whole new dimension to the film, and the actors were elated to be there.

‘It was glorious to be sitting at a desk and looking out of a window at the same view Victoria would have seen 100 years ago,’ says Dench. ‘Walking down those corridors and glancing about, you think, well the paint might have changed – but it was still really exciting.’

During filming, visitors to the house were treated to an occasional glimpse of Queen Victoria, or Bertie, which must have been surreal. They must have thought they had stumbled across a historical re-enactment, or an amateur pageant, except the actors were Judi Dench and Eddie Izzard, who had nipped down to the Durbar Room in full costume just to have a look.

Paul Higgins, who plays the Queen’s doctor, Sir James Reid, was the only cast member with a build slight enough to wear real Victorian clothing. He relished walking to the set from his hotel every day, taking the old chain ferry and striding up the hill to the unit base in the grounds of Osborne House.

‘I always walked to the house in Victorian clothes much like Reid would have worn, over lawns that he would have walked over as he chatted to the gardeners – he was very interested in gardening. It was such a great way to get into character.’

Alan Macdonald, who worked with Frears on The Queen and several other of his films, was the production designer. ‘Osborne House would have been the most difficult location to recreate because it’s based on an Italian villa, and within it they created a sort of new fashion, which is a departure from the ornate heaviness and subdued nature of Victoriana wallpapers and textiles.

Windsor Castle and Balmoral were tricky enough, but Osborne House is a whole other world that hasn’t really been seen on screen before – the colours are like Neapolitan ice creams and sorbets, and it was all about letting in light.’

A designer’s job, says Macdonald, is to reinforce the narrative tone of the film. ‘It’s not just creating rooms. Finding the location is a challenge, as is finding the furniture, or building a garden in Hampshire – but the real challenge is in creating this sort of jigsaw puzzle, putting all these pieces together, and reflecting some kind of psychological aspect of the story.’

English Heritage was happy to comply, because of the obvious benefits it will reap from tourism. But there were restrictions. ‘We had people from English Heritage saying, “Don’t step there; no, don’t sit there…”’ says Dench. ‘And if you wanted to move your glass slightly to the left, someone would have to put gloves on and move it for you.’

Some of the furniture was very delicate, says Macdonald. Too delicate to sit on. ‘So you might have a scene where 20 people are meant to be sitting in a room but only three people can sit down. So there’s a bit, for example, where Olivia Williams [Lady Churchill, Lady of the Bedchamber and friend to the Queen] looks as if she’s sitting on a chair but, in fact, it’s a sort of crate.’

One of Macdonald’s favourite moments was during an outdoor tea-party scene in Scotland (filmed in a glen where some of The Queen was also shot), in which the Queen and senior members of her household were having a miserable formal picnic at a table buffeted by the wind. A car pulled up during the filming, the door opened and a high-heeled boot poked out. Eddie Izzard.

He wasn’t required on set that day but, says Izzard, he likes to be where the action is. ‘Film is my first love and it was one of the first scenes we shot, and I just wanted to be there – so I drove myself up.’ It was a cold windy day and Izzard lay down in the heather to keep warm.

He looks like Bertie. How did his casting come about? It was the casting director who suggested him, and Frears went to watch him do stand-up. ‘My character’s interesting – very damaged by his upbringing, and his mother blamed him for the death of Albert. But he was the only one who could tell her to f— off really.’

Bertie was one of Karim’s chief detractors. ‘Victoria was on her way out; she’s eating herself to death – she’s going to go in the next couple of years and the throne will be Bertie’s,’ says Izzard. ‘And then suddenly she gets a whole new lease of life; she’s got something to live for. So you can see that Bertie would be pissed off.’

Izzard gained 26lb to play the part, and was given a beard and a cane. He relished working with Frears and was already a friend of Dench, who often goes to see his stand-up shows. Accordingly, he arranged a show to take place in the Isle of Wight during filming, to entertain all the other actors and raise money for charity.

‘It keeps me match fit, and we all had this great sense of community – we’re on the Isle of Wight for a month – so I thought it would be fun for the locals too. It’s like the circus coming to town for one day. Where I grew up, in Bexhill-on-Sea, the circus never came to town. So if I can ever make the circus come to town, that’s such a good thing to do.’

Dench attended this event, and it was if the Queen herself had arrived, says Macdonald. ‘She is perceived as regal, but she’s so warm and open and amusing and irreverent – not grand at all.’

It sounds like a very entertaining film to work on. The principal members of the cast stayed in a small hotel with 12 rooms. There was much playing of Scrabble and other games. And Dench made them all watch University Challenge.

Frears stayed elsewhere. ‘I went to a holiday camp, which I rather preferred, but I could hear their whoops of laughter while I was there. Judi is very good at all that – she’s Brown Owl. She looks after everybody.’

Dr Reid was a key character. He was in permanent attendance to the Queen, seeing her several times a day, and became her trusted companion. He was a Scot who hated Scotland. Higgins read his biography, Ask Sir James, in order to prepare for the role. ‘Apparently he was an exceptional doctor. Unlike some of her other doctors, he really kept up to date. Victoria gave him time off to travel to London and visit hospitals and keep in touch with technology and learning.

‘She came to rely on him and trust him, except when he told her not to eat so much and so quickly. She had a gargantuan appetite.’ (In one scene, Dench had to munch her way through 27 boiled eggs. Everyone was very impressed by this.)

Queen Victoria died in Reid’s arms on 22 January, 1901, at Osborne House. She was 81. ‘She was a monster, but she was also rather brilliant,’ says Frears. ‘I admire her more and more.’

‘I grew up being very sceptical of Victoria,’ says Lee Hall, ‘but when I read more about her, I found she was a much more interesting character than I had assumed and I really fell in love with her. She was more broad-minded than all the people around her.’

After her death, the Munshi was allowed to spend a moment alone with the Queen as she lay in her coffin. Then, on the orders of the King, came the raid on his house and the destruction of the Queen’s letters. He returned to India, and the land that Victoria had given him in Agra, a wealthy and titled man, and according to Basu, spent his last days sitting by the statue of Queen Victoria and watching the sun set over the Taj Mahal.

www.telegraph.co.uk/films/2017/09/02/queen-victoria-always-liked-sex-judi-dench-stephen-frears-making/#comments

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the part that worries me is the sentence One of the best things about the film is the glorious sets. Makes me think it’s going to be a stinker

#judi dench #stephen frears #ali fazal #victoria and abdul #1841 #2sep2017

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