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princessfbi · 3 years

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Ok I have got to know what happened with Oliver's character on that one show that makes you rage so hard every time you see him.

WELL NONNIE I'LL TELL YOU!

This is a warning for spoilers if anyone wants to watch this show because my rage cannot be contained.

OK SO...

This show is called Into the Badlands and Oliver's character is named Ryder. Basically the premise of this world is that it's kind of post apocalyptic/alternative universe where humanity got so caught up in trying to one up each other that it sort of imploded and now you have this society where either you're super wealthy (the Barrons), super poor (Cogs and Nomads), or somehow a ninja (The Clippers and whatever the hell MK was supposed to be). ANYWAYS....

Ryder is the son of Barron Quinn. Now the surviving land is either divided into like factions run by Barrons (who control a majority of major trade) or there's these lawless lands that are run dredges of society. You either become a Barron by killing another Barron (which is what Quinn did) or you are an heir apparent. Ryder is more an heir presumptive because Quinn won't outright name him his heir even though everyone just assumes it.

This is because Quinn is batshit crazy and thinks he can just live forever through sheer stubbornness and will alone. This is especially hard to do because he has a massive brain tumor that's dwindling down what little bit of sanity he has leading him to make questionable choices such as killing the only doctor they have in the lands who would've been useful pretty much for the rest of the series but go off Quinn. Ryder has a lot of resentment towards his father, which I will get into in a minute, and at the same time has gone out of his way to prove to Quinn that he's a worthy heir. Except Quinn keeps comparing Ryder to his second and regent, Sunny, and he's just all around a shitty person in general.

NOW HERE'S THE AMAZING BACKSTORY WITH RYDER:

So, when Ryder was a child, he was kidnapped by these nomads who were trying to blackmail Quinn. Ryder's mother begged Quinn to pay the ransom and save Ryder. Quinn... refused. So the nomads tortured Ryder and (Gross warning) like cut off part of his toes and disfigured his foot in the hopes of crippling him and scaring Quinn into giving to their demands.

Quinn, again, refused.

Eventually Quinn's regent at the time, Waldo, defies Quinn's orders and goes to rescue Ryder from these nomads. Waldo defying Quinn is a big deal because he's a clipper which is basically a soldier (often brought in from the slave faction called Cogs) and they take their oaths to their Barrons very seriously. Barrons trust no one but their regents because again you can become a Barron by killing them. But Waldo always had a soft spot for Ryder.

SO Ryder is saved and eventually nursed back to health but he always has a bit of a tragedy cloud hanging around him because from what we were told Ryder was a very sweet, bright child before he was kidnapped and was brought back as "a broken bird" and he's been doing everything he can to get rid of the broken bird image ever since.

Quinn resented Ryder for making him look weak and Ryder resented Quinn for... Well being a heartless dick.

But here's the crazy part... They both, in their own way, still kind of loved each other.

Now I won't bore you with my rant about how the best antagonists are often the tragic figures who have fallen from grace (Peter Hale, Draco Malfoy, Loki to name a few) BUT I will say Ryder had the PERFECT foundation of showing that fall. He was an asshole and hard and spoiled and super privilege but also soft and still a little broken. There's a whole other narrative involved too with his childhood love and how his dad planned on marrying her but we won't get into that.

ANYWAYS Ryder still had this desperate need to prove to his dad that he was a worthy heir but in his attempts to prove himself (and his dad's fall into madness) his dad started seeing him as competition. Competition and another objects (like Quinn saw with most other characters but especially Sunny). But Quinn has this weird kind of pride when it comes to things that he considers his and an attack on his property is an attack on him. There's a character named the Widow who lured Ryder out and tried to kill him slowly and personally as well as Sunny as an attack on Quinn and he went bananas (sorta).

Ryder was fine eventually but he realized that trying to prove himself to his dad was never going to work so he decides to try the other option: which is killing his dad. Partially because if he doesn't, Ryder is smart enough to know that Quinn's going to get him killed, but also because Quinn's descent into madness is spiraling faster and faster and Ryder wants to protect the legacy. Nothing to inherit if his dad burns the whole thing to the ground!

Long story short, Sunny turns on Quinn and stabs him and everyone thinks Quinn is dead and Ryder takes credit for it therefore succeeding his dad by becoming not only Barron of his father's lands but some other Barron that got murdered by another subplot that was pointless.

Now Ryder is determined to bring peace to the lands (not out of some noble obligation but because he just wants people to chill the fuck out). And for the most part... he's doing okay.

BUT THEN PLOT TWIST HIS DAD IS ALIVE AND CRAZIER THAN EVER.

Basically his dad storms Ryder's house, chases him down in the garden, and they fight. But Ryder's foot that was crippled when he was a child trips him up and the fight gets even messier. Ryder's sword breaks and Quinn points the sword to his own chest and tells Ryder to finish him.

Ryder hesitates and so Quinn takes the sword and stabs Ryder. You know like a rational father would do.

Quinn then asks Ryder why he hesitated and Ryder whispers "because you're my father" before he dies in Quinn's arms. Quinn is... horrified because he realizes that with the death of Ryder is the death of the last parts of his own humanity. He mourns Ryder but also like... takes no responsibility for killing him but neither did Ryder so he can't process it. Later on he's haunted by Ryder but again the man has a giant grapefruit sized tumor in his brain so it's all very reverse Hamlet if you will.

SO LOOK AT ALL THIS POTENTIAL!

THE REASON I RAGE:

Is because Ryder was set up to fail from the beginning. Which is great!....... If that had actually happened. The show worked so hard to tell us that Ryder was a failure and a coward but if you look at it from a story perspective... Ryder was the opposite of a failure. Every time someone told him he couldn't do something, he proved them wrong. Again and again and again. But that was never good enough for anyone. So that vicious cycle would've been amazing to see!

But instead of exploring any of that, we had to watch a storyline that was frankly ridiculous from the beginning that took up way more time than it should. There's a character named MK, who was supposed to be inspired by the myth The Monkey King, but if you don't know that story then you never would've figured that out. Hell, I knew the story and didn't figure it out until I had to google his name because I kept forgetting it. In comparison to everything else happening in the show, this magical mythical storyline just didn't fit and I'm not kidding when I say I watched a season and a half of this show and forgot about MK every time.

Now if you noticed my icon is Buck in a Box. That's an inside joke I have with a friend about this fucking show. The first scene starts off with Sunny stumbling onto a group of Nomads who go absolutely feral about this massive box they don't want him to look inside. Turns out MK was in this box for reasons that were too weak for me to even remember but again MK was entirely forgettable. My friend and I kept talking about how it would've been better if Ryder had been in the box because the Ryder and Sunny rivalry had so much unexplored potential that would've been incredible if we started from the very beginning instead of just being told over and over again that Ryder hates being compared to Sunny.

Sunny is the main character and Quinn, unlike with Ryder, was incredibly proud to have Sunny "in his possession" and Ryder hated him for it.

But did we get to explore that? NO! Did we get to explore the parallels of Sunny and Ryder chafing at being considered possessions by Quinn? NO! Did we get to explore the trauma Ryder was working so hard to shake off? NO!

Instead the show spent so much energy victim blaming Ryder essentially for being the son of a Villain and his Nonsensical Ambitious Mother who had the misfortune of being kidnapped by bandits as a child while telling the audience that Ryder was never going to succeed. That Ryder had no honor and was a coward and weak.

They spent way more time trying to tell us that we should hate Ryder and that he was a bad guy but didn't do ANY of the work to show the fall from grace to prove that. Ryder remained a tragic figure that didn't fall from grace but was rather pushed off by lazy writing because they wanted to focus again on this magical ninja boy with a penchant for getting in the way and ruining everything.

I rage because Antagonist and Villain are not the same thing. Ryder had the potential of becoming a villain and his death by the hands of his father would've cycled him back into the role of a tragic figure. But instead... it was just wasted.

THAT is why I rage. You had the material right there and yet you spent so long telling us that we, the audience, don't like Ryder instead of showing us anything that would make us not like him (besides the whiny white boy thing).

Instead I found myself rooting for Ryder. Like could you imagine if Ryder and Sunny went against Quinn together instead of having the weakest rivalry known to man? Could you imagine Ryder's fall from grace of wanting peace in the lands as it turned to greed? Could you imagine Sunny becoming actual competition for Ryder instead of being manipulated to do so?

WE GOT NONE OF IT.

THIS is why I rage.

#I'm so sorry nonnie #I ranted #But you asked for it #So here it is #Oliver Stark #Ryder into the badlands #Into the badlands #anon #ask #answered

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athys-obelia · 3 years

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summary: the non dysfunctional!imperial family au hcs no one asked for 😳👉👈

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

here's part 2 :)

let’s set our stage, shall we?

first of all claude n anastacius’ dad is dead coz we don’t like him at all ew

so ana is the emperor, and claude is his heir presumptive (aka he’s got the strongest claim to the throne rn, but this can be changed by the birth of someone who has a stronger one - ie, anastacius’ child who would be the heir apparent) also bc “i know my mom and i gave u lots of childhood trauma that you prlly won’t be recovering from because therapists aren’t a thing here but here’s a crown you might get to make it better”

claude’s in a position where after the birth of ana’s kid/direct descendant, he’s gonna be given a duchy that athy should inherit after him while still retaining the title of prince

but after hearing of diana’s pregnancy, ana tells her and claude he doesn’t really plan on having children and wants to make their future kid his successor

he basically reserves a spot for their child in the directory and rather than announcing anything publically, anastacius names her athanasia after the sex is confirmed

then this mf obviously pulls a clown move and gets penelope pregnant and complicates things, ultimately naming her jennette, finding the name fitting - ‘god is gracious’

and really, what could be more evidence of god’s grace than the child he’s now fathering, when he thought his legacy would be ending with him?

anyways!!!

so since athy and jennette are born near the beginning of ana’s reign, both claude and anastacius are wayyy too busy trying to bring back the empire from the literal brink of bankruptcy and a possible war to really spend time w their kids

it’s alright, though!! lily is hired as athy’s nanny, while jennette gets kiel’s mom as hers

they all still live together, though obviously the main palace is for ana + jennette while claude + athy are in a separate one

this 'separate one’ is ruby palace after ana dismisses the concubines and he definitely 100% did this on purpose, and whenever he’s summoning claude he’s such a shit about it and goes about it the way you’d summon a deadass concubine

on a separate note, it’s surprisingly claude who visits athy first - he’s seen her here and there with lily but hasn’t ever had the chance to spend time w her. but now it’s almost been a year since athy’s birth (or diana’s death), her first birthday is fast approaching, and he is drunk

lily is a reallyyyy light sleeper and enters the nursery upon hearing someone inside

she doesn’t expect to see the prince standing above his daughter’s crib, a strand of her golden hair between his fingers as he just…stares at her

she approaches quietly, curtsying in greeting - he’s too absorbed to notice, and after a few minutes of silence lilian tells him, “babies can get lonely too, your highness.”

he glances at her then, confused. “how?” he really can’t understand how this girl, who can’t even speak yet comprehend something like loneliness

“princess athanasia is very responsive to her surroundings, much more than children her age usually are,” lily says, “and i like to believe children are able to tell when their parents are with them.”

he scoffs - what a foolish thought. still, claude sits by her bedside, and before he can register it, he’s taken over by sleep

the next night, claude makes his way towards the nursery and stiffly asks if athy could sleep beside him for the night - it’s fairly late, but lilian allows it

he’s gone to the main palace too early the next morning for athy to be awake, but she spent about two minutes tops worrying about the strange surroundings, saw the shiny chandelier and fancy bed and decided yes, she doesn’t mind this kidnapping

this becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence soon enough, and sometime that week she wakes up in the middle of the night with her nose pressed into something soft and literally falls off the huge ass bed at the realisation that this something soft is actually her papa’s hair (you just know that hair smells great i mean uh-)

this mans wakes up and peeks at her on the ground, reaches out to grab her from the front of her nightdress (he swears it’s exactly how he’s seen lilian do it) and plops her back onto the bed

she backs up OBVIOUSLY, you don’t just wake up with a random ass man in your bed and just vibe together?? lee jihye is dying but he glares at her for disturbing his sleep and athy pulls her act together in 0.000001 secs as claude pulls her closer and goes back to sleep

as athy grows, claude starts allowing her to visit his office during the day until it becomes a sort of ritual - he’d have tea and milk prepared and she’d come, sitting somewhere completing a puzzle or sum while he works

mans nearly tears down the entire imperial palace the day she doesn’t show up until he finds her in the garden, teaching jettie the 'proper’ way to hold a teacup during tea parties while lilian and roger’s wife, vivian, watch

athy emotionally blackmails asks him to join the tea party, so half an hour later, anastacius finds his brother sitting on the grass with a plastic teacup that athy’s filling with hot water as she lectures him to learn to fix his posture from lily so he can sit like a “proper dignified lady”

so in the beginning, jennette actually ends up spending more time with claude than her dad. though one day, the brothers are in the audience hall when athy runs in with felix running after her telling her not to run (there’s a shit ton of guards surrounding anastacius so felix has orders to be with princess athanasia when claude is with ana)

anastacius is used to this sight, and watches, smirking at his brother’s subtle smile as athy offers him this wonky looking flower crown - claude accepts it wordlessly, and ana wants to slap his ass to sanity, who wouldn’t thank their kid when they do adorable things like this??

but then they hear another voice, and in comes jennette with vivian not too far behind her. now jettie has a much cleaner looking crown in her hand, but she glances at her father’s elaborate and beautiful crown all embedded with gems and glittering and then at the one she’s fashioned out of daisies

she's always thought she was much like her uncle - jennette was so fascinated by the plain daises, they weren’t flashy but caught her eye all the same - while athy was shiny and bold like her dad

but now she’s second guessing her choice, how could she make such a simple crown for her dad, the emperor??

claude sighs from beside anastacius and literally picks off his brother’s crown before tossing it towards a very tired felix

athy urges jennette forward, and with a bright red covering her entire face she offers the crown. jennette glances at her uncle for comfort before muttering, “for papa”

anastacius.exe has crashed

this blushly, embarrassed, and apparently talented at flower crowns kid was his?

long story short he forgets to breathe or react and jettie thinks he hates the crown and hates her and won’t ever like to see her again so she starts getting teary

claude pushes his brother’s head down before athy can be convicted for murder

ana 100% almost faints when her tiny chubby fingers delicately place the crown in place, he’ll never admit it but he closed his eyes and almost hugged her instinctively as she shyly adjusted some of his bangs around the new headpiece, muttering, “papa pretty”

jennette rushes back to her sister, who’s glaring daggers at the emperor

anastacius tries to smile to calm jennette a bit and maybe look nice enough for his niece to not kill him in his sleep

right well kiel becomes the royal playmate for both the princesses - athy has her classes with him since she’s advanced and honestly they’ll be going back forth with infodumps one minute and he’s teaching her to make paper airplanes the next

(she writes notes on the paper airplanes the next time she’s in claude’s office and flies them towards him, stuff like, 'does uncle cius also snore loudly like papa?’ and he gets seriously offended like a pissbaby)

jennette first met kiel when he was visiting his mom - vivian had to leave for a bit and she taught him a bunch of flower names and their meanings in the meantime - he makes sure to research a new flower every time he visits her, and brings her a bouquet of said flowers she always knows them but never says anything coz she doesn’t wanna hurt his feelings and he gets so excited as he tells her about their meanings it’s so cute

speaking of jennette - claude and ana may seem worlds apart but they’re at the same level of emotionally constipated

ana watches his brother and niece interact and he craves that, an unconditional, timeless love that can’t possibly be tainted by ulterior motives or the like, but he just doesn’t know how to approach little jettie

it seems easy enough - she’s a smiley, sweet girl and theoretically would be friendly if he is to approach her

but gods he’s just so ashamed - such a sweet babe grew without either of her parents and he doesn’t have an excuse because holy hell, even claude is close to athy

he’s being served food in his chambers when he asks the maid about jennette, and she tells him how among her first words was 'love’ and the brunette would just stroll the palace pointing at people and declare “love you” and watch their face light up

thats so CUTE OMFG

his jaw is touching the floor when he’s told that his daughter knows the names of every worker within the palaces

at this point he’s honestly questioning whether this child is his at all

he’s absolutely horrified at the realisation that this maid, who doesn’t even work in jennette’s part of the palace, knows more about her than he does - hell, he hadn’t even asked vivian to keep him updated on her growth, what right does he have to stick himself into her life now?

now, the maid quietly suggests starting with something small like inviting jennette to tea and

of course he goes about it the wrong way??

poor jettie thinks she’s being tested by the ruthless emperor on her etiquette and spends the entire day practicing with claude after athy guilted him into it

she’s so nervous in front of her dad that he honestly feels even guiltier, and anastacius hurries to grab her hands in his to calm their tremble as she reaches to serve him tea

she apologises lmao and he’s just so flustered himself that he orders for her to sit down and instructs her through a few deep breaths

as she calms down, ana serves her the tea before asking whether girls her age even drink tea

she says no and you can literally hear the crickets

he slides the cup he’s poured for her over to his side before gesturing towards the deserts (it was claude’s daughter-luring pro tip) on her side

“you look like you read a lot,” ana says, before asking whether she’s been reading anything interesting lately

“i don’t, actually,” she tells him shyly

anastacius laughs at how of all things his hate for books is what she got from him - and only when jennette chuckles does he realise that he said that out loud

he lets her go around her bedtime, feeling rather… energized? he doesn’t know how to explain it, but it’s a good feeling

he’s busy again the next day, but has an aide send her flowers - the same ones she had put in her flower crown for him

yes lucas is still sleeping in the palace, yes athy still finds him

so athy sees the flowers from uncle cius and is enraged, literally walks up to her uncle and demands he leave jennette alone if he’s only gonna break her heart by neglecting her

and so we have fifteen minutes of the emperor of obelia stuttering as he explains himself to this seven year old

smfh his cluelessness reminds her of her own dad and she takes pity on ana’s suffering soul

the next morning, to give him a chance to redeem himself, athy asks all four of them to have breakfast together - they accept the invitation, and despite an awkward start, the meal seems to be going well

peace is not written in this family’s fate however, and this is where the first coughing up blood thing happens

ohhhh the palace staff almost gets massacred that day

athy’s limp body is moved to jennette’s room since it’s the closest - lily bursts into tears at the very sight of her princess, jennette refuses to eat or drink until her sister can, felix hears his heart break, claude is barely holding himself together

ana is livid - who dares poison a member of his family? what has he even done to earn the privilege of calling these girls his family, when he can’t protect them, at the very least?

claude absolutely refuses to leave her room and finishes all his work right outside her door, lest she wake up in pain again

anastacius can’t keep his own anxiety about jennette at bay, insisting she sleep with him as long as claude stays with athanasia - he can tell she’s drained, and she ends up sharing some of her worries late at night. he soothes both her worries and her cries, letting her curl up into him despite it being a rather uncomfortable position

the family is thrown into chaos again once they realise it was never poison, but athy’s own magic that caused this

aka when chibi lucas drops by and voodoos her back to 100%, everyone legit starts worshipping the ground he walks on - he saved their precious princess!!

ana insists on making him athy’s royal playmate after hearing she isn’t fully healed yet

what does this give us? well, a very very early lucas vs kiel

since they’ve both got the title of royal playmate, they constantly argue on whether being the future duke alpheus is a better title than the future royal magician

the girls are always dragged into this - athy always takes kiel’s side to avenge blackie, and jennette likes kiel too, but the young magician sir saved her sister!!

so.

when vivian passes away due to an illness, it’s like roger is an entirely different person

jennette + kiel + athy all help with the funeral preparations since she was a mother/aunt to them all

felix seems to be paying extra attention to kiel

it isn’t long after this that roger decides to send him to arlanta for his studies, leaving behind two disillusioned princesses

athy spends her time viciously studying to stay ahead of arlanta’s curriculum, while jennette takes an interest in cooking

(athy tries and fails spectacularly; lucas laughs at her and jettie accidentally serves him his favourite food too salty to be edible)

a/n: this would be the first of the two parts, so stay on the lookout, hope y'all enjoyed n have a great day <3

edit: part 2

#wmmap #sbapod #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #no angst!au ?#well some angst #anastacius de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #jennette magrita #jennette de alger obelia #felix robane #lucas #kiel alpheus #ezekiel alpheus #lilian york #roger alpheus #headcanons

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nazyalenskyism · 3 years

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This Love (Part 1)

This Love (This Love I Have For You) [Part 1]

Summary: A Zoyalai One For My Enemy AU. Two heirs from enemy empires find themselves in the same room for the first time in years. Is their future elastic, letting them fall back into one another or has too much happened since then, causing them to break apart forever?

Ao3: This Love

A/N: While the first chapter of this fic is a scene from one of the early chapters of the book, One For My Enemy, the second chapter will contain major spoilers for the book so please beware if you plan on reading this! cw: blood mentions (nothing more descriptive than the books though)

“Nikolai Lantsov,” her voice was still smooth, the lilt of his name off her lips used to send a shudder down his spine, maybe it still had that effect but nobody would know, not with the way he maintained his languid posture. He was born to be the second son but had quickly made it apparent to the family that he was nothing if not the one who would turn the heir apparent into the heir presumptive. Nikolai was not born to be a leader, though every moment of his life was spent proving otherwise. His curious mind wanted answers to everything, he spent hours deconstructing people’s movements to figure out how he could act to cause another to react in the way he wanted. As a consequence he learned how and when to react himself, a skill he had never been more grateful for than at this moment.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” Zoya slowly slipped her coat off, taking note of how Nikolai’s gaze never wavered from her but his eyes betrayed nothing. He was every inch the stoic prince, every bit the cunning king. Vasily’s eyes slid over her in the way they always did, disdainfully, as if she was there to take what was his. He’d always been a little bit more observant than she’d ever given him credit for, but she supposed that even a broken clock was right twice a day.

“Of course I remember you, Nazyalensky. Do you still know me?”

“I thought I did.”

***

In the past ‘Lantsov’ had been for daily use; it was a name that belonged to most of the people he knew, but when she said it, it was only ever for him.

‘Nikolai’ was for when the world shrunk down to just them, the way her red lips pulled up when she whispered his name, her thumb brushing his cheek bone, a hushed reply to his calling of her name between reverent praises in the dark of the night.

‘Kolya’ was teasing, she knew he hated it so it was always uttered to seek out a reaction. “ Kolya, guess who asked for my hand in marriage? Kolya, Kirigin asked me to accompany him to the theatre again today. I think he likes me, or it seemed like it when he put his hands on my waist.” Kolya always led to consequences but it was like she always purred afterwards, ‘ you’re too predictable Lantsov.’ He knew he was, but that never stopped him, the taste of her was too sweet to turn away from.

In the past ‘ Nazyalensky’ had been for daily use; he'd called her that since they were children. One night, years later he would whisper into her hair that he had always liked the way it sounded, the gentle rise and fall of the syllables, how it demanded to be said slowly, demanded your time and respect for it could never be spoken with malice. She would smile, tracing the letters onto his chest, that’s exactly why she’d chosen it for herself.

'Zoya' was rare; she liked to think she could recount every time it had ever been uttered, though he had said it far too many times for that to be true. Her family called her Zoya, it was always said with unspoken love but she’d never know that someone could say it with the same connotations without being one of her people. In truth, Zoya was only rare when it came from his lips, he was the only one who said it like that. Zoya was used when he needed her, when he couldn’t do without her. Zoya was his, as much as Nikolai was hers… at least that’s how it’d been before.

***

In the after, Zoya lived forever in his mind, a searing image in the dawn light, the brush of icy wind against his face.

In the after, she forbade herself from thinking of Nikolai. She knew that what she’d given to him all those years ago would betray her if she did.

The after was where they existed now, a queen posed across from a king on a chessboard. She had any and every move at her disposal and all he could do was react with the smallest steps. The power was in her hands, though they were in his home, he’d never felt more like an exposed nerve before her than he did now. It didn’t help that she was wearing her signature armor tonight. After years without seeing her, the perfectly cut lines of her dress, the red curve of her lips that he knew she’d reapplied in the car, pressing them together three times to get them just right, the little details threatened to torch him, he was always too flammable when it came to her.

“Oh, Kolya ,” she sighed, crossing one leg over the other, her use of the diminutive threatened to undo him.

“Lantsov,” he corrected. “Why are you here, Nazyalensky?”

“Can’t I pop in for a visit?”

“Is it a friendly visit?” Even when they had been friends, nothing with her had ever been friendly.

“Now, that’s entirely up to you,” she cooed.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Nikolai mused, learning back in his seat. If she was going to toy with him, he may as well return the favour. She was quiet and so he continued, “how’s Kirigin?”

“Emil is as handsome, rich and satisfying as ever.” Her grin was sharp, he could almost see the challenge but he was not the boy she once knew, he would not rise to take the bait.

He pushed past the dig at him wrapped in a compliment to her husband. “Come now, Zoya. Your first visit after all these years can’t just be business related.”

She sighed, those damned red lips pulling into a slight pout. If the sound of her name coming from his mouth phased her, she would never let it show. “You’re right. Genya,” she summoned and her sister who had been standing quietly at her side handed her a small, perfectly wrapped package complete with a bow on top. Zoya’s fingers trailed the length of the package, as if she were weighing her options, deciding where the queen would land. After a brief second, she held it out to Nikolai, seemingly having made up her mind.

He heard Vasily start forward, but he held up his hand and his eyes fixed on her. Tonight was not the night to let his brother loose, everything regarding the Grisha, regarding Zoya required a knowledge of the past, which his brother did not have. Nikolai reached out, his fingers brushing over hers as he took the box from her. The Grisha were clever and Zoya had the lethal combination of being the most clever and most ruthless of her sisters. Whatever was in this box was not good news. “Why,” he murmured, “did you bring me a box of sweets, Nazyalensky?” “You know better than anyone that just because something looks sweet doesn’t mean that it is.” “Are we trading lessons now? I’m afraid I have none to share. What is this?” “It’s something we’ve been working on, a little pick me up, if you will. I won’t bore you with the intricacies, though I imagine you know the rest.” “I don’t,” Nikolai ground out, carefully unwrapping the box. Inside was a set of brightly coloured strips, they looked like pieces of translucent paper. “You know we don’t like to get involved in concoctions like the Grisha.” “That’s interesting,” Zoya hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail to her chin. “I’ve been hearing some disconcerting whispers about how your family is planning on changing directions, though thanks to your assurances, I now know that can’t possibly be true.” Nikolai was concerned at how much she’d improved as an actress in their time apart, though this was pure mockery. There had been a time where they had taught each other everything they learned, but she had always loathed acting. She’d considered it a waste of time, why lie when you could cut harder with the truth? They’d been opposites in that way, though that no longer seemed to be the case now. How else had she changed since then? Would she still sigh if he whispered against her neck, would she pull at his hair if he refused to move his lips further than the corner of her mouth? He’d once seen an infinite number of futures for them and this reality had never been one. Nikolai wished he had seen it, maybe it would’ve made the end easier. “Is that all then?” “Nikolai,” she chided, shaking her head. “I wanted you to be the first to try it. Are we not trusting each other with the truth today? I’m trusting that you are telling me the truth and now it’s your turn to trust me. What’s a little trust exercise between friends, we are friends, aren’t we Kolya?” “Zoya--” Her blue eyes flashed, her tone lashed at him like a whip. “Aren’t we?” She let her eyes drift lazily over his form, but he knew she was calculating again, not actually looking. “Try it, Nikolai.” Zoya’s tone was honey sweet now, it was the voice she used to use to turn nos into yeses, it allowed no room for dissent. He was a fox backed into a corner and he had no way out of this trap.

“Zoya,” Nikolai repeated, “Zoya, come on now, let’s talk about this.” He felt a prickle of fear down his spine. He did not fear her as everyone else did, he feared what she might do. The negotiator’s mein he donned did nothing, however. Her gaze was pure steel, and he felt the looks Genya and Vasily shot at him, he’ll say no. But no wasn’t an option. It never was. His hand floated over the box and he wished now more than ever that he could sense the magic that made them what they were. Would choosing one lead to a worse fate than if he’d chosen the next? Nikolai picked the indigo strip, his hand steady as he tried one last time to find a way to stop the madness. “Do it,” Zoya snapped, she’d never been the patient one. “Zoya, let me explain. After everything, at least give me the chance to explain.” “Nikolai,” it was Tolya, his voice low, urging him to reconsider. “What,” Zoya sniffed, “you’d like to get in on the fun too? There’s more than enough for all four of you to share.”

“Tamar,” he called, his eyes still trained on the woman across from him, “keep our brothers in place. None of you are to move.” “Nikolai,” Tolya tried again, “you don’t have to do this.” “Quiet,” Zoya snapped, pushing up from her chair. “Do it, Nikolai.” She perched herself on the arm of his chair, she was close enough to touch. The Saints were cruel enough to deprive him the chance to determine if this was a cunning illusion or the inarguable end to their story, if he could touch her maybe he’d glean the truth. Zoya leaned over him, picking the strip from his hands, the ends of her hair brushing his collarbone as she did. His breath had left him, he didn’t need it anymore, not when he was sure of his fate. She drew herself back up, her face mere inches away from his. “Open up,” she whispered, and Nikolai had one last second to hope that against all odds, perhaps she had not written for him to die today. If this was one of his last moments, as pathetic as he knew it was, at least he had looked into her eyes one last time. He parted his mouth slowly and she placed her index finger under his chin, her thumb running against his lower lip as she tilted his head back, coaxing him to open up wider. “Good boy,” she murmured, placing the strip on his tongue before getting up rather abruptly. Nikolai wondered why the Saints decided to take what was once the beautiful vessel for life and twist it into the beautiful vessel for death. Was everyone killed by what they loved most, or was he an exception? “The thing that makes these unique,” Zoya turned to the room at large, “is that they don’t sit peacefully on the tongues of liars and cheats. Unless one is virtuous, they’ll find themselves experiencing a different type of reaction, more like pain is being inflicted upon them rather than it being taken away.”

Nikolai blinked once, then twice, her words were muffled, the sight of her was growing fuzzy. This was it then? He felt bile rise in his chest but when he swiped his hand across his mouth, all he saw was scarlet blood smeared across his skin. “Those who deal with us in good faith,” she continued as Nikolai struggled to maintain whatever composure he could. “Know the particular spell that will protect them from the less than savoury side effects. But of course you wouldn’t know, how could you, given that you don’t deal in the business of creation like we do.” He felt a cough rise in his chest, propelling him backwards as blood began seeping from between the fingers he’d clapped over his mouth. He wanted to scream, he couldn’t breathe, but no words could be heard, only the gurgling of blood in his chest as he tried to push air in and out of his lungs. “I wonder who it was then,” Zoya said, “who has been leaking our top secret project and selling it for profit under our noses for far more than we ever planned on selling them for. I wonder who, Kolya.” Nikolai tried to speak again, tried to call her name, he needed her, he needed Zoya, not whoever was standing in front of him now though he knew they were the same woman, he just wished they weren’t, not now at least. He lurched forward in his chair as another round of coughs racked his body, collapsing to the floor, unable to cushion his fall. He felt his body shake but he was already starting to feel a sense of detachment from his body, he barely registered his head hitting the leg of his chair as he convulsed. Was this what a lack of oxygen did to the brain? Or was Zoya’s magic just toying with him, giving him a brief sort of respite before it truly killed him? He was lying in a pool of his own blood, even in his haze he knew to roll to his side so he wouldn’t choke on it as it poured from his mouth. He tried to push himself off the ground but his arms and legs felt locked in place. “This hurts me, Kolya. It truly does,” her lips pulled down at the corners. “I thought we were friends and that friends could be trusted. Unfortunately I see that much has changed over the years, you are not who you once were.” Neither are you. Nikolai wanted to shout, but he felt whatever fight was left in him pull away from the words. Instead he felt his body continue to shake, teeth piercing the flesh of his cheeks. She crouched down to his level, pushing a loose strand of hair back from his forehead. “Nikolai, I trusted you.” He hated how he wanted to lean into the action, how the touch felt familiar, how he wondered for a second if there was an ounce of affection left in those eyes.

I didn’t betray you. Why didn’t you let me explain? There were too many words he wanted to say, they were all queued up in his mouth but when her fingers continued stroking his hair back he felt her lift her magic for a second and only one word came out. “Zoya. Zoya. Zoya,” he cried out, his hand reaching out for her as she drew hers away, causing his insides to continue to crumple. He wished he could see her face one last time, wished he hadn’t listened to her all those years ago when she’d withdrawn. He wished he could call for her one last time as he felt a blinding wave of pain wash over him. Nikolai fell still on the floor, collapsing in a pool of his own blood, his arm outstretched towards Zoya Nazyalensky. “Well,” Zoya said, rubbing her palms together as if she were dusting them off, “that’s finished then.” She picked her coat up from her chair making her way towards the door with Genya at her side. Tolya dropped to the ground, seeking out Nikolai’s pulse as Tamar turned to the woman who’d rendered their golden prince powerless. “Why?” “The Grisha send their love. It’s the Lantsovs’ turn now.”

#zoyalai fic #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai x zoya #kos #kos fic #zoyalai au #my writings #grishaverse asks #tgt #s&b

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gallivantingheart · 4 years

Photo

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | next

⏮️ chapter 1: no way ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2195

genre/s: fluff, humour

warnings: none

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: thanks for your patience everyone!

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

The doorbell rings with the stupid song your dad picked and you flinch, jostling your coffee. Too early for any of that kind of noise. Still, you look at your mother, brow quirked. “You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?” She shakes her head. “Mingyu wasn’t picking you up?” You don’t have a class with him today. The doorbell switches to knocking, becoming a touch more firm and impatient. Your mum turns the corner to the short hallway. Her voice is muffled and stilted, making you shrink with your hot drink in hand. Obviously not a warm welcome. When she gets around the corner, you’re shocked when two others follow. A chic elderly woman and a tall man you swear shouldn’t have been able to fit in the doorway. The pastel dress blazer alone makes you feel underdressed in your own house. There is a sharp glint to your mother’s eyes that you don’t like as she glances at them.

“It would have been better if you called beforehand. We would have made a bit more time.” There is a downward turn to her lips as she says it over her shoulder, rounding the kitchen counter to return to her tea. “I know you, dear. I would never have seen you, had you been notified of my arrival.” The elderly woman says. You stand silently, watching the strained conversation pass back and forth. You note that the woman has the same eyes as your mother and that the man dressed in black hasn’t left the entry to the hallway. Your mum pulls out two more mugs, one plain with strict edges, the other quite stout yet sophisticated. “Please, sit. Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee?” “Tea. One sugar.” You gape as she pours one coffee, black into the taller mug, pushing it across the bench to the man. He takes it with a nod. The elderly woman sitting at your dining table eyes you heavily, squinting and scanning your half-asleep frame. It makes your shoulders crawl as you look away. You’re a bit confused as to the small talk; it was something your mother hated. Why is she suddenly letting this woman in and indulging her every whim? Your phone vibrates over the bench - Minghao. You’re going to be late for class if you keep at this any longer.

You turn to sneak to the back of the house to get ready, ignoring the fact you hadn’t even been introduced. Frankly, you’re pretty sure you have been forgotten. “Ah-ah. Not so fast. Come here.” You screw your nose up at your mother’s tone. Turning, you seat yourself next to her tentatively,. She sighs. “Y/n, this is your grandmother. My mother.” You have to consciously keep your teeth together so your jaw doesn’t drop. No one talked about your mother’s side of the family. Your dad avoided it on a weak presumption of ignorance. You could see why now. The pastel woman holds her thin hand out across the table. “Y/n, my name is Park Soonhee. A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone of voice booked no argument and you shake her hand firmly despite your trepidation. It’s cold, but not clammy. You’re still too busy watching Soonhee and your mum exchange looks, whole conversations filled between them. Soonhee nods with the breath of a smile, relaxing back to her place. She folds her hands neatly in her lap, her tea untouched despite accepting the offer. The lavender blazer and skirt are still off-putting and you note she has some kind of gold coat of arms pinned to her chest. “Firm handshake. Very good.”

She turns to look between your mother and yourself. “I’m glad you’re both here. This is a discussion for the women of our family.” You hate how dismissive Soonhee is of the tension she creates with every word. The aura around your mother is tensing, stretching to the point of snap. Your mother’s agitation always sets you off as well, far more than you’d like. The more she speaks, the more the questions grow. Soonhee speaks as if you’re already halfway through the conversation. “Mother, what is it?” Your mum sighs. “Younghee, I am asking for you to take your rightful place as queen of our country. As of now, I am a widowed queen with no official heir. You are first in line. You cannot turn your back on your people.”

Snap. You mother pushes up, grabbing her tea and chucking it down the drain. Once she rinses her cup, it clatters into the sink loudly. When she looks back, you swear you can see a fire in her eyes. It distracts from the fact that Soonhee, your grandmother, is saying she and your mother are royalty. “We talked about this years ago. Many times. When I married Sunghoon. When Y/N was born. When my son was born. Every time I have said no. Why do you think it would be any different now? It’s been over twenty-five years. Enough.” She snarls. With fury like that, you expect the man in the entry to make a move. No such action happens, so it seems he doesn’t consider her a threat. A mistake on his part, you think - you’ve seen how violently she can cut carrots for dinner when she’s angry. “Younghee. Our family is a long and proud line of leaders, the backbone and foundation to our country’s existence. Every law and system is in part due to our hand. If you reject this, it may jeopardise the entirety of Amaide’s monarchy and result in the deterioration of the country itself.” Soonhee finally raises her voice and it feels like it should threaten more than it does. “Well, I guess you should have thought about that before coming into my home and expecting your sort of answer.” Your mother is taut in the way she stands, her anger showing her age like no other emotion does. She doesn’t even properly face the queen when she speaks. You have to break the tension - there’s too much going on not to.

“Uh, what are we talking about, exactly? I’m hearing royalty? Mum, we’re not royalty. I can’t even do my hair properly on the best of days.” You murmur. Soonhee spins on you, aghast. “Younghee. Do they not know?” Even the guard looks uncomfortable now, subtly pushing his coffee back to the bench and checking behind him to the front of the house. You hear the heavy sigh from the kitchen, the under breath whispering that your mother does when she’s stressed. Carefully, she sits on your edge of the sofa, sandwiching you between the two women. “You heard right. Soonhee is the Queen of Amaide. That makes me a princess.” She says, eyes steady on you. You gape and splutter, pointing slowly between them. “You, a princess, mum? No way.” She nods, eerily calm. “It’s true. My full name and title are Princess Younghee Park, Heir to Amaide. I passed this title on years ago though, when I met your father. Therefore, the title falls to the next blood heir.” Your mind whirls. You knew your uncle had no children or a partner of any sort, resulting in many a summer spoiled rotten in ways you never fully understood. Your mum has no other siblings other than him. You were the eldest. Which meant … “No. No way. No way! I’m not -” Soonhee nods for you. “Yes. Technically you are. Princess Y/N Y/L/N, of Amaide.”

You stand up. “No, I don’t understand. What about dad? How much - where - what?” “Baby, your father hasn’t done anything. He knows about all of this but I made these choices. When I met your father here and married him, I was supposed to go back to Amaide and take my place as queen. Instead, I chose to step down and abdicate to live a normal life - to give you a normal life. For your father and the rest of our family. But, some people just don’t take no for an answer.” She glares at the queen. “Were you ever going to tell us?” You say in a breath. She shrugs. “One day. When it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But, I would never lie to you if you found out on your own.” She had a point. It was never lied about, just never discussed. Soonhee looks quite disgruntled at the whole situation but you can’t find yourself to be sympathetic, what with the way she barged in.

You stand and shake your head at the crumpled expression turning your mother’s lips. “So, uh, we’re royalty. R-right. This is a lot to take in. I have, um, class. Can we talk about this more when I get home?” Mum smiles and nods. “Sure, baby. Be quick.” It’s a fumbled rush down the hall and through your room to get your bag and your jeans on, not catch your toes in the knee rip. When you get out, the conversation has turned to a murmur, which doesn’t settle you any less. “‘Kay, going!”

“What about Y/N?” Soonhee says suddenly, louder than expected. You still and swallow a sigh. You thought you got out of this conversation for the time being. “What about me?” “Y/N, just because your mother has passed the crown on, doesn’t mean you have to. You could be the queen.” Soonhee says with a trace of smugness settled into her spine on your bowing sofa. Your mum jumps in, waving her hands and all. “Uh-uh. Not so fast, Soonhee. Didn’t you hear her? We would talk about this later. You can’t just spring something like that on us when she’s just found out.” “Which wouldn’t have been an issue, had you told her in the first place. She deserves the right to know about her heritage.” You shift on your feet, socks balled up in a hand as you watch the conversational tennis continue to play out. As usual, you’re on the fence.

“I-I don’t know. Mum’s right. I only just found out about this and I don’t understand any of what’s going on.” You mumble. “Princess Lessons!” Soonhee cries out, reminiscent of a mad scientist - just as persistent as one, too. “I shall be in the country for the next two months for political engagements. Plenty of time to learn about Amaide’s rich history and our family. Give her a taste of the life she was born for. And if all goes well, announce her out to polite society at the Independence Gala.” You hold your socks out to pause the situation. “Okay, hold on. Hold on. To be clear: I do get a choice in all of this, yes?” “Yes, of course. Take the lessons and then make your decision at the Gala whether or not to accept the crown.” Your mother steps up, curling around your side. “Baby, I do agree that I want you to know who your family is, now that you know. But you’re being given the one thing I never had, that I had to take - a choice. You get to decide your future.”

You watch the elderly woman, haughty and still. Something felt too simple. Too easy. “But, of course, no one can know. As of this moment, your existence is a classified, government secret. If the press heard about this-” Your mum gasps, rolling her eyes. “God no. If anybody got wind of this I can’t imagine the mess it would make for all of us. I don’t want the rest of the family going through that, after all the efforts made to keep a sense of normality.” “Oh, but it’s alright if I do.” You grumble, mimicking your mother’s actions. The fire sparks back in your mother’s eyes, stifling you. You nod and mime zipping your mouth with a sigh. “Good. Don’t you have class?” You shrug. “Yeah, I’m gonna be late though.” Soonhee waves over the man still hovering in the entryway. “Junwoo, can you get the car ready? Y/N has class.”

The great hulking man has kind honey brown eyes as he frowns at the queen. His coffee is long gone and you wonder if he’s sweating underneath all that thick black uniform. Honestly, he seems too cool for that inconvenience. “Your Majesty?” His voice rumbles carefully. “Oh, I’ll be here. We still have matters to discuss. Y/N, this is Junwoo, head of my guard and driver. Let him know where your school is.” You nod and wave them off, leaning in to the kiss your mother plants on your cheek. Junwoo walks with a scary amount of grace through your house, waiting at the door while you put your socks on at the step and wriggle on your shoes. You turn the corner out from the walking lane to the street, your jaw hitting the sidewalk at the sight of the small convoy of limousines lining the road. “A-are we taking all of these?” You rasp. Junwoo slides on his shades and shakes his head with a smile. “No, just the first one. We’ll be there before you know it.”

TAGLIST: @amarachi-luv

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #woozi fic #mapsu fic #written

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lady-plantagenet · 3 years

Note

Tumblr History Ask meme, No. 30! (An AU where George was never executed but Edward IV still dies at 40, and his sons both die of the plague or sweating sickness, leaving GEORGE to be King of England! what think you? 😆)

Hohoho ho. I have a lot of thoughts on this. Hell I even wrote an entire fictional AU series on AO3 on this topic - you can find it here (please R&R I’m desperate). So yes sorry for the late reply and I really hope you enjoy my usual bursting out in an essay (as per usual). Mwah x

Without speaking about it anymore and spoiling I’ll just answer your ask straight. Ok so George becomes king. Princes dead or not this may still cause issues because technically speaking Elizabeth of York has a stronger claim to the throne (Edward IV recognised the same in 1469 and before presenting her as his true heir presumptive not George).

While on a practical level George would easily be able to hold the throne against Elizabeth of York (who on her own did not command enough support to overthrow Richard III despite the illegitimacy rumours not really being considered as true by most), if Elizabeth married and got a son it would wreak havoc. Everytime King George fails in any way people will look at Elizabeth’s son as an alternative. Sure he could pull a King John I and keep her unmarried under house arrest until the end of her days (what happened to his niece Eleanor of Brittany) but how will he manage to do this will all 5 sisters?

There are many things to consider, for one, George was popular in London and if there was an outspread plague and he gave the princes a state burial I really think people could believe him that they were not murdered. Not to mention under these circumstances, Richard III would be the protector so the blame would fall on him anyway - pretty excellent for George id say. Hell he could even use the kid’s death as some sort of God’s divine judgment propaganda against his brother’s reign. He would need to continue denigrating Edward because his daughters (as explained above) will continue to be an issue. He would most likely continue with the ‘Edward IV was a bastard’ rumour. Otherwise, George could use the ‘by law I’m Lancaster’s heir’ as some sort of further support his reign and why he can overreach his nieces and their sons.

Another question remains ~ is Isabel dead or not? Assuming you mean this is 1483 and she dies, I am certain George would get remarried once he becomes king because while his part in the Mary of Burgundy marriage shamaz remains unclear I think what it shows is that he was more likely than not to want to remarry. This need would further increase if he became king because two young children (only one of which is a boy) is no secure line of succession. George took no decisive steps to get married to Mary upon his brother’s refusal (eg scheming for a dispensation or trying to go abroad) so I will assume that in this timeline George remains unmarried until 1483 and Mary dies in 1482 as canon. Mary (and his sister Margaret behind her) would have gained him great support in keeping the throne, England and Burgundy would have pretty much united (if Edward of Warwick died prematurely and George and Mary’s son became the next king) and England may have become the dominating European power as opposed to the Habsburg empire.

However since Mary is out of question, I can’t think of some other foreign Princess at that time that would have brought with her considerable power. George seems to have had no wish to war with France so that’s nice. I can’t say that Louis XI had great admiration for him but his place in the Picquiny committee (one of the four) implies that France trusted that he would keep the peace. George (mostly because of Warwick) was hated in Burgundy but Margaret clearly would have guided Maximilian (Mary’s real husband who took up control after she died) towards good relations with England and given Maximilian’s support of the York Pretenders in Henry VII’s reign I think he was the type of man who had no strong opinions towards any individual in England so would have been fine with it.

Anything else is difficult to say. George was described by Hicks (who is very very un-pop-history in his biography/PhD thesis of George) as a man ultimately unsuited to his role because of his temperament. His actions even before Isabel’s death do suggest something like that but the way he was after her death (Dec 1476 - May/June 1477) was just so uncharacteristically erratic and one-after-another that many people (including me) think it was him becoming unstabilised by his wife’s death as opposed to a reflection of his general fortitude and decision-making capabilities. So I ask: was it a phase he would have gotten out of by 1483 or was he permanently going to stay this way even if he did get remarried? I don’t think he was mad - certainly not, but a bit perturbed definitely and I don’t know how it would affect some aspects of his reign eg being merciful, pardoning people who’ve done him wrong, giving patronage of influence to his ministers... etc. However, if he did get out of this phase (or at least calmed down a bit by 1483) I think he could have genuinely been a good king. His role as a regional magnate shows him as generous, pious, eloquent, handsome, popular, refined, extremely knowledgeable of the law and good at peace-weaving. On a downside he also seemed inflexible in his approach, disproportionately harsh on certain penalties (eg Poaching), quick to act in certain aspects yet full of procrastinative habits in others, prideful, vengeful, susceptible to flattery, suspicious and with something suggestive of an overly superstitious personality.

Nevertheless, it is one thing to be a baron and another thing to be king. George had become quite detached from the national stage (let alone the international) towards the end of his life so he would have a lot of catching up to do. And as always is the issue with a king coming from the nobility and not the crown directly, there may be factional issues and the Neville affinity might expect certain favours and privelages from him especially since his heir Edward comes from their line. As we know, Neville support for George waned after Isabel’s death but the few that remained would expect great favour from him - this being at odds with those who were in power during Edward IV’s reign eg William Hastings, Anthony Woodville etc. After all, they really saw him as their earl (Rous speaks of him in the same terms as he spoke of his predecessors the Beauchamps).

George would inherit a country full of administrative issues and as much as I believe he was genuinely concerned with ‘the common weale’ and deserved all the praise given to him by his contemporaries, I see him falling into the same trap as Edward IV. Circumstances would likely force him to strengthen the crown’s authority and people would call him a hypocrite for this. Otherwise, he would let himself become a small centre around which others revolve but I don’t know if his pride would allow that either. Nevertheless, I think he would lead England into the ‘renaissance’ culturally. He would continue patronising the printing press, continue with the previous monarchs’ cultural endowments of colleges, churches and such (as he had done in his own lands), he would also share in Edward’s popularity with the city and trade (he gave great privileges to his burgesses says Rous, his permanent retinue had burgesses in them and many other stuff point to him respecting the place of trade) - though he wouldn’t engage in them because (as according to Hicks and others) he didn’t have a good business sense. This could go at odds against him most likely attempting to retain military retention privelages to the barons which in itself was a factor which worked against the development of a early modern state. This is the odd thing about George, in some ways he appears beyond his time and in other behind his time. All we can hope is that Warwick had tried to cultivate him a bit in national leadership and that it stayed with him.

Will he reign peacefully or get deposed? It could go either way but I am certain his reign would be filled with problems. If he gets his own Bosworth (with his niece’s sons or Henry Tudor) I think he would get romanticised as the last Plantagenet king in case of the latter because unlike Richard III he wouldn’t have nephew killing as his issue. A saving grace of George was that he was a master propagandist so I have bit of faith in his posterity and image and I think it could have made his reign flow more smoothly to a degree.

#george of clarence #don’t be shy anon #🍷❤️#lady plantagenet’s assizes #george plantagenet #george duke of clarence #the wars of the roses #the white queen

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convenientalias · 5 years

Note

For the crossover ask meme: Marco Polo and Swordspoint (because they both need more love)

A crossover ship I’d dig: Oh dear, I’d ship Richard St. Vier with so many people.

So, first of all, I think I’d probably ship him with Khutulun bc they’re both fighters and he might even be able to beat Khutulun (though I’m not sure of that). I don’t know if Khutulun would approve of his profession because I think the twisted Swordspoint rules of dueling would probably piss her off (they’re kind of shady) but she’d definitely be impressed by his skills. And I just think they might easily hook up. (And of course keep their relationship or affair secret forever.)

Then I’d also ship him with Mei Lin. Somehow they’d both get pulled into the same plot and they’d both be really frustrated with the political scheming they’d been pulled into. Then... I can picture them getting together in a variety of ways. Some rich patron who Mei Lin is currently working for (?) tells her to service St. Vier as a reward for him (which he’d probably be pretty eh about), and they end up getting together after this with mutual animosity towards her current patron, whom they may or may not end up killing. Or, Mei Lin gets sent to kill St. Vier to get him out of the way, but he ends up beating her or she ends up deciding not to kill him at the last moment, and she tells him who sent her--and again, they end up teaming against the guy she’s working for. I just see this being a ship with politics and murder ya know.

I’d also ship St. Vier with Marco Polo. Marco has finally run away from Kublai’s court! He’s now kind of a stray on the run, and somehow ends up in Riverside, an odd corner of the Khan’s empire. St. Vier ends up taking him in much like he took in Alec, though Marco is somewhat less of a wild card and at the same time somewhat more restless and likely to leave to go on the run again. Anyways they carry on with an affair for a while until Marco hears about some major political event and decides he must return to Kublai. This is probably a bad idea bc you don’t just run away from an emperor and then return with no consequences, but St. Vier isn’t a guy to stop his lover from making their own decisions, and he lets Marco return, though not without some regrets.

I would also ship St. Vier with Jingim. They meet at court (I guess in this AU, Cambulac has the same weird dueling laws as the city in Swordspoint) and Jingim respects his swordsfighting skills but has little interest in him bc they’re just not on the same social stratum. Then one day St. Vier gets hired to fight Jingim. I can’t picture him doing this of his own accord (he knows better than to challenge the Khan’s son and heir) so he’s probably been blackmailed somehow, as in the Alec getting kidnapped situation. A very fierce duel follows, and somehow both survive, but just barely. Later on... they hook up?? Idk I just want this to happen.

The pattern here is that I want all my faves to hook up with St. Vier basically lols.

More below the cut!

A crossover BroTP I’d dig: Oh dear, I used up a lot of combinations in the ship section. Well, any of the above I’d enjoy as BroTPs as well as OTPs. But also, consider: Vincent Applethorpe & Hundred Eyes.

Hundred Eyes does not consider the modern conventions of dueling as honorable-- he does not approve of the customs current in Cambulac. However, he is incredibly good at both martial arts and swordsfighting, and back in the day he was renowned among duelers. Of course, since he works for Kublai (and before that, lived off in a lonely village doing his own thing), no professional duelist has tried to learn from him. But if only they could....

So Vincent Applethorpe has heard of the legend, but he never thought he’d actually meet Hundred Eyes. Then one day, a strange young man comes to Applethorpe’s school--Marco Polo. Applethorpe doesn’t recognize him right away and begins to teach him, finding he does have the money to pay at least. It’s only weeks later that he finds out that Marco Polo is the Khan’s guest, when Hundred Eyes shows up at the school to scold Marco for coming to learn from someone other than him. Marco insists that he wasn’t learning well from Hundred Eyes, wasn’t learning fast enough--and Hundred Eyes is teaching him how to fight in self defense or in battle but not so much how to duel, and Marco is worried that someone might challenge him soon. He’s becoming rapidly involved in court politics, and he’s seen how that ends for some people.

Anyways Hundred Eyes reads Marco the riot act, but he’s actually somewhat impressed by Applethorpe. He and Applethorpe do a little sparring, and he reluctantly says that if Marco wants to learn from Applethorpe as well as Hundred Eyes that’s fine; only Hundred Eyes will sometimes come and sit in on their sessions. Applethorpe is completely over the moon at this bc again, Hundred Eyes is a fuckign LEGEND.

They become bros.

A crossover Frenemies I think would be inevitable: Ahmad and Alec.

No matter how I form this crossover, I can’t really picture Alec being a native noble in Cambulac; he’s too “Latin”. So in this AU, he’s sort of a traveling scholar. He’s known to be a noble from [insert country name here] and Kublai has invited him to stay in Cambulac. “Invited” him in more or less the same way he “invited” Marco. Alec’s stuck in Cambulac and can’t leave, and he’s kind of grumpy about it, and he’s still a rude, capricious wild card. No one has any idea why Kublai keeps him around and hasn’t yet executed him for his presumption. Especially not Ahmad. (And also Jingim but I’ll get there later.)

Ahmad and Alec have a tendency to make catty comments at each other and they probably shouldn’t be left in the same room. However, they also for some reason enjoy each other’s company. They like playing games together and sharing rumors they’ve heard (though always keeping their own secrets), recognize that they are both kind of treacherous, and generally have a lot of fun. I feel like at some point they may have a threesome with Mei Lin, or just hook up. (....somehow I’ve continued to just keep on shipping things.) Also, Ahmad kind of empathizes with Alec as another of the Khan’s strays--more than he empathizes with Marco in the show, bc while Alec is whiny he’s also just really fun, and also isn’t directly getting in the way of Ahmad’s plans bc he’s not really politically involved, he’s just There.

A crossover badass duo I think would be inevitable: See the shipping section.

Lols but really, can you even picture St. Vier and Mei Lin taking down one of Mei Lin’s patrons (possibly Ahmad? or Jia Sidao?), or. Oh my God. What if. The reason St. Vier challenged Jingim is because Ahmad had kidnapped Alec--Ahmad had ample opportunity for this bc see above, he and Alec are best frenemies. Don’t ask why Ahmad wanted to get Jingim murdered; he had his reasons. Now St. Vier and Jingim must take on Ahmad together, but Ahmad isn’t such a fool as to let Alec go after the duel failed to kill either of them, so the situation is very tricky.

This is an imperfect scenario, however, bc it’s very straightforward for Ahmad. If not Ahmad, maybe the kidnapper was Kaidu? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

A crossover animosity I think would be inevitable: ALEC AND JINGIM.

Why do Alec and Jingim hate each other? Let me count the ways.

First of all, Jingim dislikes that his father keeps on getting new favorites rather than focusing on him. And what did Alec do to deserve his current status as honored guest in Cambulac? Literally nothing! I mean, maybe he’s a decent scholar, but he’s not THAT amazing. In fact, I bet he was rude to Kublai when they first met in hopes that Kublai would kill him. (Unfortunately, Kublai had already heard about Alec and knew he was suicidal, and so could see through this motivation easily, and has been refusing to kill him partly bc he doesn’t like being manipulated into these things.) Jingim just does not understand why Kublai grants Alec so much leeway and spends so much time with him when Alec is a complete bitch!

And then there’s the fact that Alec is also friends with Ahmad. Jingim has always wanted to be closer to his two brothers, but with Ahmad... it’s like there’s a wall there. Sometimes he feels like they’re close, and sometimes he feels like they’re far apart, despite being raised together. Yet even when Alec and Ahmad fight, they clearly get each other in ways that Jingim does not understand.

Why does Alec hate Jingim? Partly just bc he’s the son of the guy who’s holding prisoner (excuse me, guest) in Cambulac. Partly bc he’s kind of stiff and formal, and has been pissed at Alec’s rudeness since Day One. And partly bc St. Vier is into Jingim and Alec knows it. Idk if they’ve hooked up yet or not (I’m really unsure on the chronology of all these ships) but at the very least, St. Vier always has positive things to say about Jingim and is oddly deferential towards him, more than he tends to be towards a noble. Alec is completely certain that if Jingim took up with St. Vier, St. Vier would drop Alec in a heartbeat. Bc Jingim is better than Alec. He’s a noble who actually does his job, he’s incredibly good looking, and he doesn’t get into all the trouble that Alec does. So Alec’s kind of paranoid about that. Even if it doesn’t seem likely that Jingim WILL start an affair with St. Vier anytime soon (Jingim has his wives, and he’s only somewhat interested in St. Vier, and St. Vier is a little wary of starting an affair with the Khan’s son), it doesn’t matter. As long as Alec knows (or thinks he knows) that St. Vier would prefer to be with Jingim over Alec, he will always hate Jingim.

So. Jingim and Alec hate each other. And yet the sexual tension there is very strong.

Anyways. I didn’t think I’d have this many feelings on this crossover but I’m into it! Thanks for the ask.

#marco polo #swordspoint #richard st. vier #mei lin #jingim #thanks for the ask!

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hrhduchessoflancaster · 5 years

Text

Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Fox Protocol - Part One

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments! They really brighten up my day. xx Bea

Disclaimer: see Prologue.

__________________________________________________

The next months into the Summer were turbulent. The immediate shock of the news had faded but the bitter aftertaste still hanged on both Harry and Elle’s mouths, specially the way it was handed to them. After the Christening, the couple, baby Arthur and Sir Lancelot had moved to South Hartfield for the time being. Until the media and the government knew what was going on and even after that, Sussex would be their safe heaven away from the public eye. There, they could spend some quality time with baby Arthur, watching him change and grow.

“ Darling, come and look! He’s said something!”, shouted Elle from the living room. Harry came running and saw his wife sitting on the floor with Arthur on her lap as Lancelot played fetch with a tennis ball that Elle would throw at him. And every time he dashed across the room, Arthur would giggle. He sat down beside her, making Arthur turns his head and give his dad a toothless grin.

“ Come on, little bear. Say it again for daddy to hear it.”, urged Elle. The baby watched his mother then his father for a moment before giggling as Lancelot dropped the ball, anxiously waiting for it to be thrown again. Harry took it in his hand and prepared to throw it.

“ Lancelot… fetch!”, he shouted and soon the Jack Russel was running after the ball. Arthur squealed in delight as the dog came back with the ball and clapped his hands.

“ Good boy, Lancelot!”, said Elle, caressing the animals head.

“ Ya! Ya!”, babbled Arthur, making his parents look at him.

“ You did it! You said it again!”, exclaimed Elle grinning. She looked to Harry who was stunned and had a huge smiled plastered on his face.

“ He said something! He did it!”, he said to her. "You said something! You said your almost first word!”, he then said to baby Arthur, picking him up and and lifting him in his arms, making the boy giggle.

“ Although I can’t believe it was our dog’s name…”, he said to his son shaking his head. Arthur didn’t seem to understand his father so he giggled again, making it seem as if he did. Elle smiled and chuckled, walking towards the duo and kissing both of them on the cheek.

“ My boys…”, she said lovingly, hugging Harry’s waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she caressed Arthur’s back.

In a matter of days, a routine had been stablished in the estate and baby Arthur was thriving. The staff and RPO’s were besotted with him. The little boy had captured every one’s hearts. John had come back from his commanding position to reenforce the security around the estate alongside Leo, Alfred and Ingrid. They, of course, knew about the handover process which was, for the next two weeks, a need to know information.

Out of the records, William had already left the line of succession and moved to Norfolk, where he, Kate and the children would remain until everything was properly settled for them in Wales where he’d resume his work as a helicopter pilot. Meanwhile, Harry had begun filling his brother’s shoes as heir to the heir presumptive. The handover process was being called by the Prime Minister, the Privy Council and the security teams as The Fox Protocol.

However much the Queen tried to make amends, Harry’s relationship to William and Charles was strained. They hadn’t talked for weeks. And while Elle understood where her husband was coming from, she also knew that although a little selfish, her brother-in-law was thinking about what was best for his family, as Harry would too had he been in the same situation. Only now, of course, he was. And even though he wanted nothing more than to do exactly what William had done, he wouldn’t back down from this challenge. His mother had taught him as much. As had his grandmother. Albeit reluctantly, he took the task that was handed to him, as did Elle.

“ I know you didn’t sign up for this but I guess that’s our reality now.”, he had said to her one night, after apologising once again for getting her into the mess that was his life.

“ For better, for worse darling. We’re in this together.”, she had replied, taking his hand into hers and squeezing it.

“ I know, my love. But I’d never want our family to be in the centre of attention as it’s about to be. That’s the last I want to do and you know it. I want Arthur to have a somewhat normal childhood.”, said Harry.

“ Of course, darling. And I understand it. But… don’t you think that… considering how it’s going to be from now on, it’s best if we try to adapt and maybe rethink the way we view the media?”, said Elle and Harry gave her a confused look, ready to protest what she was saying.

“ Just hear me out, okay?, she said and he nodded his head.

“ I’ve seen, time and time again, how the media seeks the Royal Family out whenever they can. Now, I may be wrong but I believe that happens because we’re not more open to them and the public. Take the Swedish Royal Family for example. They make documentaries, televise their celebrations, are more transparent with their meetings. And the media doesn’t hunt them down like they do here. I know, I know that the proportions are different but think about it, Harry. Maybe if we have them closer, we could better control them. And they’d wouldn’t need to chase us so badly.”, said Elle.

Harry looked at her for a few moments and pondered over her words. What she had told him was true, as much as he hated to accept and admit it. “Maybe you’re right. But let’s say we try this. Won't we lose our privacy? Our child’s privacy?”, said Harry.

“ We start small. Baby steps, my darling. We can release some pictures and small videos os Arthur and the Christening. Maybe we should have an Instagram account. That’d help. We can talk to Ronald, Daniel and Lisa about that.”, said Elle.

“ I don’t know, Elle. I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.”, said Harry. She looked at him sighed and caressed his cheek.

“ I know you’re scared, my love. So am I. But we have to think of the future now and how we’re going to manage it. I don’t want us to have to hide or fear paparazzi constantly transpassing our backyard for a picture when we could offer that to them. If we gave the public what they want, and made a deal with the press, we can protect those around us.” said Elle.

“ I need to think about this, okay?”, said Harry and Elle nodded her head. She really hoped he would.

**********

Elle’s parents, brother and Valerie had been nothing but supportive of their current situation. They were, however, concerned about her and her family. After a quick trip to Scotland, Rupert, Victoria and Edward had come for a little stay in Sussex, along with Valerie.

“ I can’t believe this is happening…”, said Victoria as they sat together in the garden, watching Rupert, Edward and Harry walk and play with Arthur.

“ To be honest, it’s been hard to process it, mama.”, replied Elle. “ Will has always been so committed, so focused on his duty and his family that it shocked us all when he told us. None more than Harry.”

“ I can’t imagine what he… what you both have been through. How are you holding up?”, asked Valerie. Elle sighed and looked ahead of her to see Harry giving a smile to Arthur. Nowadays, those smiles were rare and he reserved for Arthur and her.

“ As good as we can.”, she replied. “ We’ve done our best to distance ourselves for a while and focus on Arthur. Meanwhile our staff has been working with the Queen’s and Clarence House’s household to work out the political, social and public process of handover and proper address of the matter.

“ But it’s been hard…”, she continued, bowing her head down and sighing deeply. “ Harry hasn’t really been himself. I know how much this has taken a toll on him. How much he feels betrayed by his brother and father. People he has admired and looked up to his whole life. I also know how much he wants to prove himself…. to prove that he’s capable, that he’s worthy, that he can step into not only into William’s shoes, but also the Queen’s. And that’s a lot to take in.”, she finished with a sigh.

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Elle silently walked to Arthur’s nursery. She had heard him wailing through the baby camera and rushed to his side. The little boy was red faced, throwing his arms up and down.

“ Shhhh… mama is here…shhhh….”, she whispered to him as she picked him up and held Arthur close to her body. She fed him and sang him back to sleep, gently rocking him. Elle held him, watching ad her son slept without a care in the world. She pondered, as she looked at the baby in her arms, at all that had happened in the last year. She had been married, found out she was pregnant, been attacked, her life and Arthur’s life had been put at risk, Colin had been killed in front of her, she and Harry welcomed their baby, they found out Kate had also been a victim of the attack that put her life in danger and finally, William removed himself from the line of succession. Indeed, she could say it had been one hell of a year.

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear or notice Harry entering the room and reaching for her. Once he touched her arm she flinched but sighed, looking at him and smiling.

“ I’ve been looking for you…”, he said, his tone sleepy and worried. “ What’s wrong?”, he asked, sitting on the floor beside the armchair where she currently sat.

“ Nothing, my love. Arthur was crying…”, she replied, making Harry sigh.

“ You had that look on your face when I got here.”, he told her, gently caressing Arthur’s head.

“ What look?”, she asked.

“ That worried, trying to figure out things, look. One that I’ve seen a few times in the last couple of years whenever things get tense.”, he said to her. Sighing, Elle bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“ Hey… hey… look at me.”, Harry said, urging her. “Please, love. Look at me and tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“ I know I've told you I’m here for you and I’ll always be. That we can face this together. But Harry… I’m scared. I’m so scared…”, she said, little teardrops falling from her the corner of her eyes.

“ Oh my love… I am too…”, he confessed, hugging her close to him. “ But we can and we will face this. Where’s my brave wife?”, he said, making her chuckle. Harry kissed her cheeks, wiping away her tears, and gently caressed them.

“ I know with you by my side we can do this. We’re partners, friends, lovers… we can do it. Together.”, he said.

“ You can be so cheesy…”, Elle said chuckling, to which Harry replied with a snort.

“ But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”, he said and she nodded her head smiling at him. They rested their foreheads against each other and sighed. For a while, they remained like so, in complete silence, listening to Arthur’s soft breathing.

“ I’ve given some thought at the media proposal you’ve told me about.”, Harry said breaking the silence.

“ And…?”, she asked.

“ And… I think we can give it a go.”, he said and she smiled. “ But we’ll have to run this through my grandmother, Clarence House and our household first.”

“ Agreed.”, she replied.

************

Over the course of the next few weeks, their staff had met with the Queen’s and the Prince of Wales’ staffs to discuss the handover. It was decided that, by the end of August, Buckingham Palace would officially release an announcement about Prince William’s role and their decision, followed by a nationwide televised message from him. Elle and Harry had two more weeks of peace until then to fully digest what was going to happen. With the Queen’s and Clarence House approval, their household had travelled from London to Sussex to prepare them for the handover, as well as revise the plans for the media proposal Elle had given to their secretaries. Ronald, Lisa and Daniel, along with the key personell in their staff had gathered at South Hartfield to define the details and guidelines of their new policies.

“ Thank you all for coming to Sussex.”, said Harry. “ As you all know, my wife and I will be taking over new roles from now on and we need your support and work to make the process of handover go as smoothly as it can possibly be.”, he continued.

“ That being said, we’ve proposed new guidelines and polices regarding our social media accounts and the public view over our lives. Ronald, Lisa, Daniel… please.”, said Elle.

“ Thank you, Your Royal Highness. It’s been decided that as Their Royal Highnesses will now that seniority over the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge due to Prince William’s removal of the line of succession, new conducts will be set forth.”, Ronald began.

“ Firstly, for the handover of roles and consolidation of the new establishment of Their Royal Highnesses, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex and their heirs, there shall be a meeting at Buckingham Palace where a document will be signed by all senior members of the Royal Family, including her Majesty the Queen, as well as the Privy Council, the Prime Minister and all secretaries of State and ministers of the Crown.”, he continued.

“ Secondly, it’s been decided that there shall be more openness about their daily lives and meetings. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex wish to give the public and the media more transparency in order to avoid chaos and an overflow of paparazzi. Photocalls will be held every summer from now on, as well as during major life events, such as when Prince Arthur starts school. Their Royal Highnesses understand that a certain amount of access goes a long way, especially in keeping the press, and paparazzi on your side.”, Lisa said.

“ With that in mind, Their Royal Highnesses will release a public statement concerning our thoughts and new roles, followed by an interview with Alastair Bruce. All of which, have been approved by the Buckingham Palace and Clarence House.”, said Daniel.

“ Finally, new security protocols have been issued by Buckingham Palace. Sergeant John Morris will resume his post as Head of Security. Sergeants Leonard Jackson, Ingrid Chambers and Alfred Thomas will also resume their services as Royal Protection Officers under his command and will be with the Duke and Duchess at all times in pairs.”, complete Ronald.

“ As of today, this Household will be looking after the future monarchs of the United Kingdom.”, said Ronald.

************

“ You have to talk to him.”, Elle urged Harry as they began packing their things to head back to Kensington. In three days time, the document would be signed, the news would be released and William’s speech would be aired.

“ I… can’t bring myself to do it, Elle.”, said Harry, sitting on the bed and running his fingers through his hair.

“ But you have to.”, she said taking a seat by his side and running her hand up and down his back. “ I know it’s hard. I know you’re still hurt. But he’s your brother. And he’s been going through a lot too. Please, darling… you have to talk to him…”, said Elle.

“ He’s been through a lot? How can he have been through a lot when he had been conspiring for God know how long to throw this bomb over my lap!?”, exclaimed Harry. Elle sighed and shook her head.

“ I’ve been talking to Kate. She said he’s barely sleeping properly, Harry. He feel so guilty for doing that but she said he couldn’t cope anymore. The pressure of being the heir was getting to him. If you think about it, it’s been there his whole life.”, said Elle.

“ Some people aren’t born for this life, my darling and you know it. Was this the best way to opt out from it? No. But I don’t see how William could have done it in any other way. You both never had the choice. Not really. But now, he’s choosing and I think that’s brave of him. To leave all of this behind. You, my love, you could choose to leave it too.”, she said, caressing his cheek, making Harry look at her.

“ But we both know that it has never been an option to you. Backing away is not in your character. It’s part of that duty of a soldier that’s been ingrained into you. And it’s one the reasons why I love you so much. You’re determined and driven to do what you believe is right for the greater good. And that’s why I know you can do this. You can step into your brother’s shoes, and you can make them fit you better. But for God’s sake, you need to talk to him before this goes public. You need to make amends.”, she finished, putting a mobile in his hand.

“ Call him. Please.”, she said, before stepping out of the room. Harry sighed and looked at the phone on his hand. He stared at it for a few minutes before unlocking the screen and pressing William’s contact on the speed dial. It rang a little before he heard his brother on the other side.

“Harry? Harry is that you? Please talk to me… oh God I can’t believe you called…”, William began.

“ Hi Will.”, Harry said.

“ I’m so sorry, Harry… you must know I’ve never meant to cause you any pain… I just…. I just wanted to keep Kate and the children safe…”, William rushed as he spoke.

“ Will…”, started Harry.

“ And I never meant to put you and Elle on the spotlight like that… I… I just need to be out of this… I can’t keep living like this, Harry. It’s too much… too bloody much. And - ”, continued William before Harry cut him.

“ WILL!”, he exclaimed. “ I know. I know why. I understand why. I don’t like how you did it. But I understand it.”, said Harry.

“ Ohhh thank God… thank little brother…”, said William, sounding relieved.

“ However…", said Harry. “ That does not mean I forgive you or will ever forget what you and Pa have done.”

“ I… I understand.”, said William sighing.

“ I’ll support your decision. Elle too. We’ll smile and greet you in front of the cameras. But it’s going to take a while before I can properly see you again. Before we can be a family again. I’m not even sure if we’ll ever be able to be how we were.”, said Harry.

“ Harry I… I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Somehow. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will. We all will. I’m sorry, Harry. And please, take care.”, said William.

“ I will. See you in London.”, said Harry.

“ See you then.”, finished William. Harry pressed the red button turning the conversation off and put his phone to the side. Sighing, he looked around the room and walked over to the window. Outside, he could see his staff and Elle, who was holding Arthur in her arms, moving a few suitcases and boxes to the cars. This is it., he thought. This is when everything starts to change.

#Fates Intertwined #royalfanficcentral #phff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Smingrid Is Ruining My Life

Part 1 | Part 2

Why. They just keep...doing this. Smut incoming tonight after I get home, still haven’t decided how I’m going to post it but whatever. I can’t sit on it anymore. I’m so tired. I need to write an epilogue and smingrid won’t let me. I hate them.

Eret offers to fix Ingrid’s hand about three days after he wakes up, the kind of cavalier offer for help he keeps throwing out there to remind himself that he’s not in bed forever. It should be cheapened by the fact that he’s drunk and his head is on a sleeping Fuse’s lap, but Ingrid can’t help but be offended. Smitelout made her this hand and now she has to fix it, clearly.

But that means Ingrid going to the forge and asking her to and that’s not something she wants to do.

It’s not her problem that Smitelout suddenly likes her. That’s not something she has to deal with. She doesn’t have room for it and even if she did, she’s not sure why she should care. It’s Smitelout. Smitelout who has thrown a million petty little tantrums about losing to her. Smitelout who threatened to spread rumors about Eret’s real dad.

Smitelout who treats Ingrid like she did before she left. Smitelout who makes Ingrid a new hand without even being asked.

Ingrid still appreciates it even if it’s bent now. She didn’t bend on purpose or anything, it honestly surprised her when the healer was trying to set Eret’s arm and he resisted with that much force. And her fingers fit well enough that she just didn’t think about it, she braced him as well as she could and noticed after that they were bent out of shape.

She lives with it for a while. It’s hard to hold her axe but no one points it out until Aurelia is watching her attempt to hit the target in the chief’s front yard. The first two throws clip the side but the third misses entirely and Aurelia narrows those chiefly but less irritating eyes and pauses, bag of tightly rolled scrolls on her hip.

“What?” Ingrid collects her axe, holstering it and adjusting her fingers back to neutral. They still ratchet but not as well, the bend in the first digit making everything in them harder to move.

“Nothing,” Aurelia shifts the weight of the scrolls onto her slim hip and when she cocks her eyebrow, she looks so much like Eret a year ago that Ingrid can’t help but feel like she should listen. “Just that’s not really Hofferson aim.”

“I just lost half my hand, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Aurelia shrugs, “it seems like the new one was working out for you pretty well before it got bent.”

“It’s a grip thing,” Ingrid clears her throat and she knows that a glare won’t help her. Aurelia wouldn’t be so comfortable with the rest of the family if glaring did anything.

“You know, I’m sure Smitelout could fix those.”

“What?” Ingrid hides her fingers behind her and Aurelia shrugs.

“She made them, I bet she could fix them.”

Aurelia was there. She heard all of that. Not that it should matter, because Ingrid doesn’t care, but it makes her feel like she needs to try. Like this stupid situation is something she needs to fix, like all the others were. A Jorgenson telling a Hofferson something like that with no answer is reason for issue.

Or it was, back in the world before Eret was next in line for chief. Ingrid isn’t quite sure how all of that works but she’s sure, at some level, that it’s ultimately in her favor.

“Like I have money for that,” Ingrid rolls her eyes and Aurelia contests Eret’s best deadpan with far less effort.

“Right. That’s the problem. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to her.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to her?” Ingrid reaches for her axe to make an argument ending perfect yak’s eye before realizing it’s not guaranteed anymore and pausing.

“I don’t know,” Aurelia shrugs, “I’m just thinking about how many weapons you have that need sharpening occasionally. And if Eret isn’t working in the forge anymore, are you planning to leave Berk to get that done—”

“No,” Ingrid scowls. “You were there, do you think I could just walk in and ask Smitelout to do something for me?”

Ingrid hates the idea that she could. That Smitelout might do it just because she likes her, and that’s fake too. If Smitelout really does like girls and she hasn’t minced words before so why would she start now? And that means that Ingrid is the only option Smitelout has ever known, aside from Spitleaf. And Spitleaf never had the same problems that Ingrid did with the forceful proposals. Her face isn’t so loud and people aren’t so presumptive.

“I don’t know,” Aurelia shrugs and for a moment, Ingrid sees how pretty she is and how firmly she guards it. It makes Ingrid jealous, suddenly, because her looks are still causing problems for her and she doesn’t know how to stop them. But with Aurelia, it’s all words and no bite and somehow it works. “Have you tried?”

“My hand is fine,” Ingrid lies and Aurelia knows it just how Eret always used to. It’s irritating, she really didn’t need another Eret running around, especially one who seems to need less advice.

“Yeah, I can see that.” She rolls her eyes and Ingrid tries not to seethe.

Before her fingers bent, they were almost as good as the real thing as far as her axe was concerned. A good solid throw was a single ratchet and it happened perfectly halfway through the swing, just in time for the axe to release at the right angle. It felt alright if not perfect and that’s all she can ask for. Except she didn’t ask for it, Smitelout just decided to give it to her.

It was nice before Ingrid learned why. It kind of felt like maybe they could be friends or at least consistent rivals, the way they used to be. But now she knows that Smitelout wants something from her.

“It’s just bent.” Ingrid ratchets her fingers, acting like it’s not difficult and Aurelia blinks.

“Just a suggestion,” she rolls her eyes before starting down the hill without finishing the argument, like she knows she won without dealing the final blow, and Ingrid can’t say she’s currently overjoyed with having a new sister.

She knew it was an inevitability, what with having so many brothers, and Rolf’s wife is great but also more attached to Spitleaf than Ingrid wants to be. And it’s complicated, like everything is. But mostly, Aurelia is annoying and pushing her when she doesn’t want to be pushed. And that’s new too, she’s never had pressure feel so oppressive. It always felt like something to push back against, people who doubted her were just waiting to be proven wrong.

Now everything is a little more daunting and she’s lost her taste for being daunted.

What if Smitelout says no? Does she suddenly have to leave the island to get anything sharpened?

That scares her. She’s not doing that. Fuck that.

“Ugh, fine,” she stalks down the hill after Aurelia, turning before she sees the long red braid and almost jogging towards the forge, because might as well get this over with. It’s not like she’s going to fly off island to get her axe sharpened, that’s a fair point, she has to work this out at some level or she’ll be defenseless.

The forge is quiet and Smitelout is pounding away at some red hot hunk of metal on the other side of the window. Ingrid doesn’t let herself pause, she doesn’t let herself feel fourteen and confused and lonely and see Smitelout as safe, because at least she’s predictable. She doesn’t let herself see Smitelout’s arms, sweat slicked and intentional, or her hands, comfortable around her hammer.

She doesn’t take the hammer as a potential weapon and she doesn’t think of a thousand ways to stop an attack. She definitely doesn’t notice the way that Smitelout’s concentration looks more like avoidance, like she knew Ingrid was coming and didn’t want her to.

“Hey,” Ingrid starts, trying to be neutral and Smitelout fumbles and drops her hammer on the floor. It’d be funny if Smitelout didn’t like her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ingrid tosses her braid over her shoulder, “just wanted to ask if you could fix my fingers but if you’re busy…”

“What needs fixed?” Smitelout doesn’t make eye contact but she moves purposefully, wiping off the counter with a wet, smudged rag.

“They got bent.” Ingrid avoids the eye contact that Smitelout attempts to make.

“So explanatory,” Smitelout rolls her eyes, “I need to see the actual damage to fix it.”

“Here.” Ingrid unstraps her fingers and throws them on the counter, wincing at the thunk of gronckle iron on wood. She didn’t mean to hurt them more. Hel, she didn’t mean to hurt them in the first place.

Smitelout picks it up, ratchets the joints that she made and sighs.

“What’d you do to it?” She glares, heavy eyebrows low over those hostile blue eyes. That look has always pissed Ingrid off and that’s no different now, except for the fact that she’s still preoccupied with the fact that Smitelout likes her.

Why?

She knows why, rationally. It’s always because she looks how she does. It’s because she’s this perfect Viking wife. Except Smitelout can’t be concerned about her line or the heirs Ingrid would make and there’s no carrot of redeeming the Hoffersons through marriage to dangle in front of her. Smitelout can’t have thought that admitting it like that would go well. But she still did it and it doesn’t make sense and Ingrid has no room right now for things that don’t make sense.

“I held Eret down while the healers were setting his arm,” Ingrid shrugs, “he’s stronger than he looks. Don’t tell him, because I can’t take his ego getting bigger than it is but…” She trails off. Smitelout looks between her and her fingers, frowning.

“Why would I tell him?” Smitelout picks up the fingers, quickly diassembling the rivets that hold leather to metal and moving it to her anvil, like she’s actually going to fix it.

“I don’t know,” Ingrid crosses her arms, her bad hand folded under her good arm so that no one looks at it. Smitelout doesn’t even try and that’s worse. “You might think it’s funny that he can gloat, or something.”

“He’s pretty hurt, isn’t he?” Smitelout starts taking apart the fingers, treating each part with delicate care that makes Ingrid feel not only guilty but ungrateful. “Yeah.”

“Is he…” Smitelout looks up at her and then back down, sorting the parts of her fingers into two piles, presumably damaged and undamaged. Not that Ingrid cares. She just wants them fixed. “Is he going to be ok? Or…”

“He’s going to be fine.” Ingrid sighs and she doesn’t remember the fight leaking out of her this quickly. The longer she tries to work this out, the less tainted the gift seems. Smitelout started in on insulting her the second her feet touched Berkian soil. Hel, she charged Ingrid for the hand in the first place. “Scarred up, but fine.”

“He looked pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Ingrid leans her elbow on the window and looks across the square.

Smitelout rustles with the parts on the counter for a second before pausing, her voice rising in pitch and volume when she does speak again.

“Is it because of what I said?” She squawks, kind of like a baby terror and Ingrid looks at her slowly, cocking her head.

“What?”

“Are you acting weird because of what I said?” She clears her throat, slumping her shoulders forward and looking anywhere but at Ingrid. “About the liking you, or whatever. Is that why you’re being weird?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re kind of being weird,” Smitelout snorts.

“I’m not.”

“You—”

“It wasn’t the time to do that,” Ingrid snaps, slamming her good hand on the counter like punctuation. Smitelout doesn’t flinch. “I don’t care that you like me. I’m just here to get my hand fixed—”

“After you broke it.”

“After I bent it.”

“It’s pretty fucked up,” Smitelout holds up one of the finger joint pieces, running her finger along the pale seam where the metal bent. “Like, this used to be flat.”

“I told you, Eret’s stronger than he looks.”

“So are you,” she scoffs, “this took a lot of force from both ends. I can fix it, but it’s going to take a couple of days, I might have to re-forge a couple of parts.”

Ingrid doesn’t feel strong, not anymore, and the sideways remark resonates as a compliment in a way she doesn’t like. It feels like it might matter more because Smitelout likes her, and that’s absurd, because she really doesn’t care.

“How much?” Ingrid tries to bluff and Smitelout hems and haws, inspecting a couple more pieces with squinted eyes. Her face is sharper than it was when Ingrid left. Not lighter, but more purposeful. It’s not a face that can hide things and more importantly, Smitelout has never been tactful. Hel, any bartering she’s planning to try is already undermined by the way that she’s blushing. Ingrid wouldn’t have taken her for someone who blushes, honestly, she never seemed to get embarrassed about anything else. And in Ingrid’s mind, at least, throwing a tantrum about losing Thawfest is a lot more embarrassing than liking someone.

Ingrid catches herself staring and looks away. Smitelout doesn’t comment, for some reason, even though she’s never let Ingrid get away with anything, ever. She’s the one acting weird.

“I’ve got some scrap from making…the bombs,” Smitelout stutters through it, “it’s not good metal but this is just a draft, obviously, if you and Eret can fuck it up this bad. I’ll do it for free with shit materials but you’ll have to pay for the next try.”

“Fine.”

“Really?” Smitelout’s voice cracks again and Ingrid tries not to care that she’s nervous. Even so, it’s a weird thrill to make someone nervous even with her hand off and taken expertly apart in front of her. It makes Ingrid feel significant in a way she’s been missing ever since Haddocks started talking over her all the time. “I mean, it’s a deal, you should take it.”

“I already did,” Ingrid stands up, debating for a moment before leaving her bad hand out of her pocket, “that’s fair. When can I pick it up?”

“I’ll let you know,” Smitelout shrugs, “depends on how busy I get, it’s been pretty busy with kid saddles since the dragons came back. But I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”

“Don’t rush it for me,” Ingrid clears her throat. “I just mean—”

“I’m not going to make it weird,” she tosses the pile of good parts into a leather bag and sets it on the shelf beneath the counter. “I get it, I—”

“Ok.” Ingrid shrugs.

“Ok what?”

“You don’t get it,” she bites her lip and sighs, “but you won’t make it weird. That’s good, considering this is the only forge on Berk.” That’s too harsh and Ingrid sighs, “I don’t know what weird is. Everything is weird. I came back to a different Thor-damned island. You overcharging me for repairs is about the only thing that feels normal.”

Smitelout is quiet for a moment and it’s almost comfortable.

“This one’s free, Hofferson, in what world am I overcharging you? You’re just looking for something to complain about.”

Ingrid can’t quantify her relief and she doesn’t try, standing away from the counter and shaking her head at a very red Smitelout.

“Let me know when I can pick up the hand.”

“Fine,” Smitelout huffs, “don’t expect me to rush on it or anything though. It’s a free job—”

“I get it,” Ingrid takes a couple of backwards steps, heels dragging across hard packed dirt, “you know where to find me.”

“Fine, give me more work, now I have to come get you when it’s done,” Smitelout rolls her eyes even though she basically volunteered for it and if she’s putting on a show to make Ingrid feel better, it’s not exactly failing.

“I’ll come pick it up, you just have to let me know when.”

“Whatever,” Smitelout shrugs, picking her hammer up off of the floor and twirling it absentmindedly. “Are we done here?”

“Sure.” Ingrid rolls her eyes, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Smitelout waves her off and Ingrid pauses another second before turning back towards the chief’s house. She’s not entirely sure what just happened. Smitelout likes her, it’s obvious and she didn’t take it back, but she didn’t shove it forward either. She didn’t expect Ingrid to do anything about it, at least. Maybe that’s ok, maybe it can just exist and Ingrid doesn’t have to do anything about it right now. Maybe it can just hold steady for a while and Ingrid will deal with it when she’s ready to.

For the first time, everyone’s constant advice that she doesn’t have to take everything on at once makes sense. This can wait.

#eret iii #festerverse #smingrid #ingrid hofferson #smitelout jorgenson #aurelia haddock #just gaaahhhhhhhhhhhh #it was a joke ship i swear #i don't know what happened

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tysonrunningfox · 7 years

Text

Who wants to know what Hiccstrid was up to during the last Eret III chapter: Warped Reflections?

I did. So I wrote it, and it’s here.

The Rest of this Dramatic Ass Universe

As soon as Eret’s through the door, Astrid turns to Hiccup, trying not to see anything but this older, chief character she only superficially knows. It’s hard. It’s getting harder. He looks like himself again, parts of the fifteen year old she so wanted to throttle sneaking through and aggravating her like they used to.

“What are you getting at?” She snarls, looking him up and down like he’s hiding something behind his back. His arms are hanging almost expressively limp at his sides and she’s utterly unconvinced that this isn’t part of some grand scheme.

To what? She doesn’t know. But considering that the last plan he had was to marry her so Eret could be heir, whether she liked it or not, and that plan passed almost entirely under her radar until it was basically too late, she doesn’t have much faith in a plot this obvious.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, looking at her evenly, almost shyly, like he feels something she used to looking at her face.

Like he forgot who he is now and what he’s done and everything that’s happened. Like he can just erase it if he sits down for enough family breakfasts.

Like she still cares if he’s retained some of his sense of humor.

“You,” she looks down at the table and thinks of the other day. It makes her blush even though it shouldn’t, because it was nothing, it was anger, it was a physical altercation that just happened to exist in the shadow of some old ghost that used to be romantic. “Joking with Eret, telling him to help me.”

“Being nice?” He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t know how she could possibly be offended.

“That’s never been your strongpoint, don’t pretend it’s accidental.”

“It’s not,” he shrugs, tucking one hand in his pocket and keeps looking at her, like he’s seeing something else underneath the lines her face didn’t used to have. Like he doesn’t care that he looks vulnerable like he didn’t even in the thick of it when she was hitting him with all she had.

Metaphorically, hitting him.

In reality it was different and complicated and not as horrible in her memory as she wants it to be.

The fact is that she made every decision in her life to not be alone, and now she’s here, more alone than ever, and as petty and stupid and destructive as it was, she wasn’t quite so lonely for a second.

“I’m not going to fall for it, Hiccup,” she looks at his lips even though she shouldn’t, even though she shouldn’t be thinking about how his freckles still look the same but the rest of him’s different, a patchwork of a life she wasn’t a part of, “so whatever plan you have, just drop it. I don’t need Eret’s help. I don’t need you to play husband.”

“I know,” he swallows, “and I’m not playing, and I’m definitely not doing anything I expect you to fall for.” His smile is anything but happy and more attractive than Astrid wants it to be, “we’re already married, what else am I going to trick you into?”

He says it like the words taste bitter and it makes her want to ask.

That’s the toxic thing Hiccup’s always done best, isn’t it? He’s made her plow forward when she should back off, made her talk in a way that always blew her cover when she should have stayed stealthy.

“I’m not going to answer that. Or ask what you mean.”

When he makes her dig, he makes her care, and she doesn’t want to care about anything but the crisp angle of his shoulders, rigid inside the leather of his armor.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he shakes his head and looks at the table, like he wants her to think he’s staring at that treaty he hates but really he’s remembering a few days ago, the same way that she is.

“Don’t marry someone if you want them to ignore you.”

“I don’t want you to ignore me,” he says in that soft, honest voice that’s usually reserved for Toothless or reading Stoick bedtime stories. “I do wish you’d look me in the face instead of like you’re choosing a piece of yak meat.”

Astrid looks away, back at the table, feeling like she’s been caught.

She always used to think she was sneaky, that she had to have been really subtle for Hiccup to never notice the way she looked at him. It was later, with Eret, when she couldn’t slip anything by him, that she realized Hiccup just wasn’t paying attention.

She forces that thought out of her head, that memory of Eret catching her staring with a closed lipped cocky smile. It used to be happy but now it’s just bitter. Lonely. Plus, she should know by now that she doesn’t get to peak through doors to the past without ending up with a child, a divorce, and a hasty political marriage.

“You’re so full of yourself.” It’s not really enough to fill the frought silence between them and she wonders what would happen if she just came out with it.

If she just looked at him and said she was lonely and miserable and angry that he’s not fighting with her and that she’d really just like to fuck him now to give her something else to think about.

He’d probably say yes, but if he said no it would feel like rejection and she hates that. He was never sneaky about the way he looked at her, which made it all the more obvious when he stopped.

“I’m just not going to do that with anyone who doesn’t like me,” he gestures at the table, looking at her in that steady, chiefly way that she never got to see evolve. It’s an unknown part of him, like the scars and wrinkles and gray hair, and she hates how it makes her curious, at some level. It’s the newest thing about him that she wants to know more about.

“Unless you’re planning on continuing that old wandering streak, you’re signing up for a long life.” She forces herself to look at his face, just his face, to pretend it’s a stranger say this sort of presumptive bullshit to her.

He thinks that she should care because he’s him, because they had something strong enough to leave a lasting impression still important after fifteen years of ignoring her and all the drama after. She doesn’t want him to know that he’s right.

She should have told Eret earlier, she should have told him more. At least when things fell apart she should have fixed her mistake.

“It’s been a long decade, Astrid, I can handle it.”

She almost asks, again, just…just because she’s not going to ask him for anything else.

He takes a step back from her like he’s reading her mind and she can see why Eret reacts the way he does. Eret’s really always been more her than Hiccup. Part of her wonders if she did this on purpose, traded herself in chief’s clothing to atone for some mistake she made seventeen years ago.

“I don’t care.”

“I didn’t say you have to care—”

“Just stop,” she steps around him, grabbing her axe from the rack by the door, “I—I don’t care what you do.”

He doesn’t follow her. He doesn’t spout a bunch of true but infuriating about being married and the fact that they used to have something. He doesn’t insist that she comes back or that she talks to Eret or that she must feel something for him to take such good care of Stoick.

He lets her go.

She can’t get his voice out of her head, the easy, too familiar cadence of it’s been a long decade, Astrid, I can handle it. Half joke, half honest, half staring at a flawed mirror that shows him a different reflection than anyone else sees.

#festerverse #eret iii #fester hiccstrid #it's its own tag #i feel dirty polluting the happy hiccstrid tag with it #(but it's great)

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