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luminouslumity · 6 months

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Mainland Boys: A Joseph and Billy Story

From Kendare Blake's newsletter: a snippet set on the mainland during the time that Joseph was banished there with Billy.

By the winter of his sixteenth year, Joseph Sandrin had been away from Fennbirn for what felt like a long time. But only when he thought about it. Most days, he was as any of the other mainland boys his age: concerned with his studies, and the break from his studies for the holiday, concerned with prospects of sport, concerned with whether he and his foster brother Billy Chatworth would merit an invitation to the Governor’s Ball. Most days, he was of the mainland, for that was the ground beneath his feet, and those were the lives that surrounded him.

But sometimes, and more often when he was near the sea, he thought of his old life, the one he had led as a boy on that shrouded island of magic. He would think of hot, steamed clams in butter, and birds perched on shoulders. Dogs and petulant cats with such expressive faces that they could sometimes seem to speak. He thought of fields full of barley that popped at a touch. And mostly, he thought of his girls: a dark little queen with a coal-smudged nose, and the naturalist girl with one green eye and one blue.

That day, at the start of December, he stood at the edge of a frozen pond, edged with dead, tanned reeds. Close enough to the sea, he supposed, to spark the memories of the island. Or perhaps it was only that it was December, when both of his girls would celebrate their birthdays.

“Joseph! Ho, Joseph!”

Joseph smiled, listening to the soft crunching in the snow as Billy approached from the direction of the house. Then a sharp crack, and a laughed curse: his shoe must have broken through the ice. “Stop walking on the pond, dolt,” Joseph said over his shoulder. “The ice isn’t thick enough yet.”

“Damn, my foot is freezing!” Billy threw his arm around Joseph and shook him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking.”

“Thinking of Christine Hollen? Squirreled away in the privacy of the Governor’s stables?”

Joseph chuckled. Christine Hollen was the Governor’s daughter. His oldest daughter. She would not be seen cavorting with the likes of him, a foreigner, a foster-son, not even if his foster family was one of the richest in the city.

They had come north for the holiday, like many of the best, most respected families had, including the Governor. The Chatworth’s country estate, Hartford, was not far from the Governor’s own. It was actually visible from the most eastern hill. Joseph ought to know. Billy had brought him up there plenty of times, dreaming of the day he would buy it right out from underneath the Hollens at half the value.

“I’m not about to play around with the Governor’s daughter. Your father would have my head.”

Billy let go of him and tugged his scarf up farther on his neck. “Well you ought to do some playing at least. The lads are starting to talk.”

“You know I’m…waiting for someone.”

“Ah yes.” Billy grinned. “Waiting for someone. And that would be the infamous Jules Milone, wouldn’t it? The girl you haven’t laid eyes upon since you were eleven? The girl you may never see again if I don’t become king of your home country?” He cocked an eyebrow and burst out laughing. Joseph did as well. Billy Chatworth, the king-consort of Fennbirn Island. It sounded ridiculous, and seemed impossible.

Not impossible, he thought as he looked at his foster brother from the corner of his eye. Difficult. But he must have been sent to the Chatworths to groom Arsinoe’s future husband. Why else would the Goddess have sent him? He had clung to that belief in the early years, clung to it hard, filling Billy’s ears with stories of Fennbirn. His education, in Joseph’s mind. But now that the time of the Ascension drew near, it felt more and more like fancy. Made up by his childhood imagination, to make his banishment bearable.

“Only a few months left,” Billy said. “Finally, after all this time, I get to go to your secret island. I have to admit, part of me doesn’t believe it exists. Part of me expects to board the boat and find you and my father laughing your arses off at your magnificent, five-year practical joke.”

“But we don’t know if it’s ‘we’, do we?” Joseph said. “I’m still banished. You might be on your own.”

“On my own? No, not after so long.”

“The Black Council doesn’t often let go of a grudge. Why do you think I’ve been preparing you all these years?”

Billy shrugged, the carefree mainland boy, even in the face of courting a queen. A queen who would have to murder her two sister queens, no less. But Billy had grown up on the mainland, with no gifts, and no Goddess. No queens and no Black Council looking down over everything. He had grown up with money, and with power, and with ease, and the struggle of the queens would not be real until he saw it for himself.

“You worry too much, Joseph. My father will work something out. He always does.” He blew warm breath into his cupped hands. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go into the village and grab a pint before the party tonight.”

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

The walk to the village was short, but Billy insisted on taking the carriage anyway on account of his cold, wet foot. As they were let out near the pub, something in a shop window caught Joseph’s eye.

“What now?” Billy asked, following as he went to press his fingertips to the glass.

It was a ring. A simple, silver ring, set with dark green stones.

Billy leaned close. “That’s nowhere near fine enough to catch the prettiest girl in three counties.”

“Christine Hollen is not the prettiest girl in three counties. She’s only the wealthiest. And I wasn’t thinking of her.”

“Of course you weren’t. This is more to Jules’s taste, then?”

“When it caught the light, from over there…it looked like the color of her green eye.”

Billy leaned back and squinted. “So it does.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, I did have that old cat, with one blue eye and one green—”

Joseph smiled. “Stop comparing Jules to your old deaf cat.”

“I loved that cat. And I’m willing to bet that I remember the shade of that cat’s eyes better than you remember the eyes of some eleven-year-old girl. She might not even have those eyes anymore. They might have,” he wiggled his fingers vaguely, “darkened and whatnot. It’s unnatural for you to have carried on about her this long when you don’t even know what she looks like.”

“I know what she looks like.” Or at least, he thought he did. He remembered so well that girl of five years ago. Her smile. Her clothes. The sound of her voice. And as time passed, and as he grew up, so did the Jules of his imagination. Her hair grew long and tumbled down her back. Her face thinned and her eyes softened. Her laugh changed from the high, wild laugh of a child to the low, easy one of a young woman.

Of course, anyone who knew her family could have told him that the girl he was imagining was really only the image of Jules’s aunt, Caragh, with a dash of her mother Madrigal thrown in as wishful thinking. When Joseph imagined Jules, he simply conjured up the most beautiful girl he could think of, because to him, that’s what she was.

“It’s nearly her birthday. Sixteen, just like the queens. Born in the same month.”

Billy sighed. “The same month as Arsinoe. My bride-to-be.”

“Your queen-to-be.” Joseph watched as Billy’s eyes lost focus, and the blush crept into his cheeks. Billy imagined Arsinoe the way Joseph imagined Jules. Over the years, Joseph had built Arsinoe up, highlighting her virtues: her bravery, her wit, her fierce, affectionate spirit. He may have left out some other things, like that she was stubborn as an old donkey, sarcastic and secretive. And of course he had told him she was beautiful, when he had no idea. When they were children, Arsinoe was just like Jules: dirty and running about, and she had kept her hair very short. Poor Billy. All queens are beautiful, they say, but in Billy’s mind, Arsinoe must look just like Christine Hollen, only with black hair and eyes. And though Joseph does not doubt that she will be lovely, she will not be lovely like that.

“I can’t wait to meet her for real,” Billy said, his voice wistful. Then he straightened, and tugged on his lapels. “Queen or not, one look at me and she’ll faint dead away.”

“From fright?” Joseph laughed, and Billy tugged him back down the street to the pub.

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

Despite the chilly winter air, the party was warm. It was a dinner party, and so not terribly crowded; certainly not as crowded as the Governor’s holiday ball was bound to be, though that was on more expansive grounds.

Joseph, as usual, stayed back from the dancing, content to stand by himself at the window and imagine what Jules and Arsinoe would make of the mainland dances. The mainland girls in their frilly frocks, with lace at the sleeves and ribbons in their hair. Perhaps he should have warned Billy that Arsinoe would be constantly in trousers. But no. Why ruin the surprise.

“Are you not dancing again, Joseph?”

He did not need to turn to know who that purring voice belonged to, but he did so anyway, to be polite. “I’m afraid dancing has never suited me, Miss Hollen.” Christine Hollen, the Governor’s daughter, stood before him resplendent in green satin that made her blond hair shine like spun gold. Somehow she had managed to get herself alone. Usually she was flanked by a small herd of girls of similar age and social status. Watching them Joseph was reminded of the geese that wandered to and from the pond on the Milone property.

“I could teach you,” Christine said quietly.

“So I could dance at your wedding to Billy?” he asked, and she tossed her head back and laughed.

“Billy Chatworth has not looked at me once since this summer.”

“But he speaks of you often. Just this afternoon he told me you were the prettiest girl in three counties.” She does not blush much at that. No doubt that is a lower number of counties than she is used to. “You know that if he decides not to go abroad, he will pursue you in earnest. And when he does, then I’ll learn to dance.” He excused himself quickly, and ignored her dropped open mouth.

He moved through the rest of the party, making sure to appear to be searching for Billy. If he was idle for one moment, some girl would be upon him, trying to drag him out for a turn on the floor. Room after room and he did not spy Billy; after four rooms he began to search for real. He even poked his head into the drawing room, where the men sat smoking cigars and playing cards. But Billy was nowhere in the house.

“So which girl is also missing,” Joseph muttered as he stepped out onto the porch. The winter air was cold, but still, and an earlier dusting of fresh snow coated the trees and fence posts and made everything soft. Even in the blue light of evening, it was not hard to follow Billy’s footprints.

As he walked, he heard Jules’s voice in his ear like he so often had when they tracked something as children. “Here’s where they started to hurry,” she would have said, and, “here’s where she picked up her dress to stop it dragging in the snow.” They hit a snow drift, and the girl’s prints ended. “Oh, for Goddess’s sake,” he could hear Jules sigh. “Here’s where he picked her up.”

He followed the trail to one of the stables. Not the busy one where the coach drivers were having their own bit of merriment as their horses rested and stayed dry, but the nearly deserted one that housed the horses owned by their host. He opened the door and it creaked, but not before he heard the low laughter and rustling of clothes.

Joseph shook his head. He stomped his feet. He gave them plenty of time to put themselves together before he climbed the ladder into the hayloft, but even then, Billy’s tie was undone and Penny’s dress was askew.

“Joseph!” Billy exclaimed and put his hand to his head in relief. “You gave us a fright!”

“As I should. You’re starting to be missed.” He nodded to Penny, who blushed as she brushed past him.

“Will you—will you make it back to the house all right?” Billy asked, and she paused on the ladder only long enough to glare.

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked when he heard the door open and close again. “Just this afternoon you were dreaming of queens.”

“So I’m practicing.” Billy grinned. “Besides, that festival you keep going on about isn’t for months.” He peered regretfully at the ladder after Penny. “Not terribly gallant, I suppose.”

“Not terribly.”

“I’ll be better. I will.” He threw his arm around Joseph’s shoulder.

“If you ever treat Arsinoe that way…”

“I know, I know, you’ll strike me dead. And I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Joseph clenched his jaw. “Sometimes I don’t know how I expect her to come to love you like I do.”

They walked together back to the house, and upon entering, ran directly into Billy’s father, Mr. Chatworth. Instantly, both boys straightened. Mr. Chatworth was an imposing man, though Joseph could never put his finger on why. He was handsome, but not extremely so, tall, but not towering. It was something in the eyes, perhaps. You always knew that he had the measure of you. That he saw through you, the moment you opened your mouth.

“There you are,” he said, and smiled. “Joseph, I need a moment with my son.” He led Billy without a word up the stairs and into a private office. It did not matter that it was not his house, and not his office. Chatworth did what he wanted, and somehow that earned him respect. Back in Wolf Spring, it would have earned him a punch in the face.

Content to wait, and away from the party at least, Joseph paced slowly at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed a long time before Mr. Chatworth came down again, and smiled at him, and patted his shoulder. Billy followed after, looking a bit dazed.

“What was that about?” Joseph asked.

“He received a letter,” Billy replied, and as he spoke, his face lost its paleness, and his mouth curled into a smile. “From your island. Your banishment has ended early, brother! You’re to go home before the end of the month!”

Joseph could barely breathe. He threw his arms around Billy and they shook each other hard. “I can’t believe it!”

“And that’s not the best part! I’m to come with you, and stay with your family. Get a bit of a head start with the queens.” He punched Joseph in the arm. “I told you my father would figure something out.”

Joseph’s head spun with hopes he had been too afraid to have for the last five years. He was going home. Home to his mother, and father. Home to Matthew and Jonah and Wolf Spring. Home to Jules. And to Arsinoe, with the gift of a fine husband.

Billy reached into his pocket. “And there’s this,” he said, and pulled out a small box. He opened it, and inside was the silver ring that Joseph had admired in the shop window. Even in the dimness of the hall, the green stones glittered. “I doubled back for it when I sent you home ahead.”

“I can’t afford it,” said Joseph, and pushed the box back.

Billy shook his head and placed it in Joseph’s hands. “I’m not going to let you go home with nothing for your girl.” Then he turned him back to the party, his grin wide. “Joseph my friend, we are going to take that island of yours by storm.”

#three dark crowns #kendare blake

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lucreziaborgiagf · 1 year

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#tdc #three dark crowns #i haven’t seen this yet!!#there IS a right answer btw #kendare blake #queen mirabella #queen arsinoe #queen katharine #jules milone #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates

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poisonerrose · 2 years

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Like Mother, Like Daughter

Okay so this fic is part of an ask challenge I posted a month or ago. But I accidentally deleted the ask so I'm making it's own separate post. Enjoy!

Natalia Arron was sixteen years old the last time she felt any genuine guilt over killing someone.

The murder occurred the night after her father's funeral, and the poor soul she had killed hadn't deserved such a fate.

Her father had been slowly dying for months, and nothing could've saved him. However, the maid had gone above and beyond caring for him when the family couldn't.

She took such good care of him that if it hadn't been for the uniform, a stranger could have walked in and assumed that the man was the woman's father.

The poor woman's only mistake was walking up to the heartbroken, angry, and very drunk Arron matriarch and offering her condolences.

Natalia had pleaded with her mother to spare the maid. She had nearly groveled at her mother's feet, begging her to let the woman go and send her off the island instead. But, Atrisia Arron would not be convinced. All the hard work, diligence, and successful attempts to make the dying man comfortable in his final days meant nothing.

She had listened to the screams for nearly three hours. The maid was almost unrecognizable when her mother had finished taking out her anger. Alive but unrecognizable.

Atrisa ordered her to throw the dying maid out into the woods to let the elements and the animals take care of the rest. However, Natalia and the guards her mother had sent to help couldn't bring themselves to allow her to suffer any more than she already had.

Natalia slit the young woman's throat the very moment they made it into the woods.

They buried her next to a bush of wildflowers that she'd bring in to brighten up the now late Arron's room.

When Natalia finally went to bed in the early morning hours, she vowed she'd never be half as cruel as her mother.

---

Queen Katharine of Fennbirn was twelve years old the last time she cried at an execution.

When Natalia usually brought her to witness a private execution, she would bring her to the dungeons inside the Volroy. She'd explain in full detail what crime the condemned soul was guilty of, and then she would perform the execution.

Natalia would carry out the execution emotionless, carefully cutting into the skin or ensuring that the prisoner did not panic as the poison was poured down their throat. Sometimes the executions would be quick and painless. But most of the time, Natalia enjoyed prolonging the prisoner's suffering.

This one had been different, however.

Instead of going to the Volroy, Natalia dragged her down to the cellar in the manor. She hadn't bothered to tell her who the man tied up in the center was. All Natalia had done was push her towards the empty chair in the corner and order her to sit.

She did not tell her about his crime.

As Natalia stalked around the man, laughing when he tearfully begged for mercy, Katharine was nearly sick with the realization that the man probably didn't commit any crime.

Natalia tortured him for hours upon hours. And Katharine watched, silently weeping, until Natalia decided she had enough. After the guards dragged his dead body out, Katharine had been given only one explanation.

"His father betrayed me and died before he could answer for his crimes." Natalia had told her. "This was justice."

Katharine cried once again in the privacy of her room that night. Before she drifted her eyes closed, she promises herself that she will do everything she can to be more merciful and kind than Natalia.

---

Queen Katharine is almost seventeen when she realizes she has failed to keep her promise.

She is not merciful, nor is she kind.

And much to her surprise, it doesn't bother her as much as it once would have.

Natalia was gone, Pietyr was gone, the dead queens invaded every thought and emotion she had, and each day more and more of her own people turned against her.

Katharine doesn't really care about her previous promises anymore.

She knows deep down in her heart that what she's doing to Billy is wrong. Billy hadn't been the one to murder the woman she called her mother. However, she couldn't bring herself to care. Her desire to cause pain, just so she can ease hers a little bit, overrides all rational thought.

Her anger is far too great for her to resist anymore.

#I know this fandom is pretty much dead right now but I hope ya'll enjoy it #Queen Katharine #Natalia Arron #Natalia's mother #Billy Chatworth #three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #Three Dark Crowns fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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teenageread · 2 years

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Review: Five Dark Fates

Synopsis:

After the grim confrontation with Queen Katharine, the rebellion lies in tatters. Jules’s legion curse has been unbound, and it is up to Arsinoe to find a cure, even as the responsibility of stopping the ravaging mist lies heavy on her shoulders, and her shoulders alone. Mirabella has disappeared.

Katharine’s reign remains intact—for now. When Mirabella arrives, seemingly under a banner of truce, Katharine begins to yearn for the closeness that Mirabella and Arsinoe share. But as the two circle each other, the dead queens hiss caution—Mirabella is not to be trusted.

In this conclusion to the Three Dark Crowns series, three sisters will rise to fight as the secrets of Fennbirn’s history are laid bare. Allegiances will shift. Bonds will be tested. But the fate of the island lies in the hands of its queens. It always has.

Plot:

It is the worst battle that Fennbirn has ever seen: Two Queens vs. Two Queens. One side has the Crowned Queen, Katherine, called the Undead Queen by her people, whom the mist that normally protects the island hates, and one that is filled with the dead queens. Where Pietyr failed to get them out of Kat using low magic, he is stuck in a coma unable to wake, and no one knows enough magic to get him out besides Arsinoe. Supporting the crown and Kat in this battle is Mirabella, who despite Arsinoe's beliefs did leave at the rebels with her own free will. Mirabella remembers their time at the Black Cottage, and where she has grown to love Arsinoe, she knows her sweet baby sister Kat is still in there and is determined to help Kat fight the mist as well as the darkness inside her. For the rebels' side of the battle, we have the Legion Queen Jules, blessed with the naturalist gift and the war gift, along with her curse. Yet, with her mother dead, the bonds of her curse are lifted, sending Jules into a frenzy, unable to think or act rationally. Lucky for her, she has Arsinoe by her side, using her low-magic skills taught to her by Madrigal to help save Jules. As these two sides come to meet in an epic battle to determine the chosen queen of Fennbirn, we have friendships ending and forming, lovers leaving, death on both sides, and the age-old tradition of queens killing queens until only one remains is fulfilled.

Thoughts:

Of all the books in the series, this one is the best, and thus, fitting that it is the last one. Kendare Blake keeps the plot moving fast as we switch between the rebel camp and the capital, each side learning information about the other almost simultaneously. Keeping the old-time storybook telling, I am not going to bash Blake again, although I really want to know what the sister queens are thinking about when they interact with each other. Blake does an excellent job at wrapping up the plot points, forming “ends” to relationships, so that it leaves you with a satisfying finish to the series. The confusing part of this novel would be trying to figure out whom the Five Dark Fates (the title) is referring too. Every other title made sense, the tree crowns for the sisters, the one throne for the crown queen, two reins of the legion queen vs. the crown queen. Those all worked, but what are the five fates? Guessing the main characters of Arsinoe, Kat, Mirabella, and Jules - but that is only four so who is the fifth. Divided into two sections of the novel, I feel like Blake should have used the first section, The Fourth Queen, to be the title, and not reference the fifth character whom I am not quite sure whom she met. There is some surprising death in this novel that did make it pick up the pace during the middle chapters, and made every action seem more do-or-die than the previous novels indicated. Overall, if you made it through the series so far, you might as well finish it, and it does give a nice ending to this supposed gothic storybook, about three queens who broke the cycle and allowed Fennbirn to open up to the world again.