#King Edward's Chair

[thepastisalreadywritten]

The Coronation Chair: Anatomy of a Medieval throne

The Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II prompted the first comprehensive archaeological study of the Medieval throne on which British monarchs are crowned.

It has been battered and vandalised over the ages, but unpicking this majestic artefact’s evolution shed new light on both its original form and that of the enigmatic Stone of Scone, as Warwick Rodwell reveals.

10 August 2013

The Coronation Chair has been illustrated and described since the 14th century, and is renowned the world over.

For hundreds of years, this piece of Medieval furniture has played a seminal role in the anointing and crowning of English monarchs.

It was last used at the coronation of HM The Queen on 2 June 1953, the Diamond Jubilee of which was celebrated this year.

To mark the occasion in 2010-2012, the Chair underwent a long-overdue programme of cleaning, conservation and redisplay in Westminster Abbey.

Concurrently, a detailed archaeological study was carried out and the Chair was comprehensively recorded for the first time.

The project led to a radically new understanding of its construction and decoration, and of its relationship to the Stone of Scone, which was embodied in its seat.

Spoils of war

The origins of the Chair are well known. Indeed, the documentation accompanying its manufacture in the 1290s is still preserved.

Following Edward I’s victory over the Scots in 1296, state documents and items of regalia were surrendered and taken to London as spoils of war.

One of those items was a ceremonial block of sandstone upon which Scottish kings had hitherto been inaugurated at Scone Abbey in Perthshire, the last being John Balliol in 1292.

The Coronation Chair and Stone of Scone.

Constructed in the 1290s on the orders of Edward I, this famous throne recently received its first comprehensive archaeological study.

The results emphasise how the current form of the Stone of Scone can only be understood alongside the evolution of the chair that held it.

Edward I treated the Stone of Scone as a relic and presented it, along with the Scottish crown and sceptre, to the shrine of St Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey on 18 June 1297.

He ordered the construction of a great gilt-bronze chair to incorporate the Stone as its seat.

The chair was cast but was scrapped before it was finished and a new one made of oak, thereby reducing its weight from three-quarters of a ton to one-quarter.

St Edward’s Chair, as it is properly known (‘Coronation Chair’ is a relatively recent naming), was designed as a liturgical furnishing that would stand close to the shrine altar, where it served as a seat for priests officiating at masses.

Opinion is divided as to when the Chair was first used in the coronation ritual, but it was no later than 1399, when Henry IV was crowned.

A manuscript illustration of the coronation of Edward II in 1308, however, shows the king seated in what is almost certainly the Coronation Chair.

It is an extraordinary fact that, like a surprising number of artefacts and structures of first-rank importance, the Coronation Chair had never been systematically studied and recorded until now.

John Carter’s sketches of 1767 provided the basis for all known drawings but neither he nor any other antiquary recorded how the Chair was constructed or unravelled the vicissitudes of its later history.

Like most ancient artefacts of complex construction, it has undergone fundamental alterations as well as suffered deterioration over the centuries.

In fact, very little has been written about the Chair at all, as opposed to the Stone that it encapsulated.

The Chair has been the subject of a dozen books, scores of articles, Parliamentary debates, a commercial film, theft, hoaxes, and much political posturing.

Myths and misdirection

The Stone has accrued a huge mythology, but that is wholly of Medieval or later invention, as Nick Aitchison demonstrated in his study Scotland’s Stone of Destiny (2000).

The block is made of Lower Old Red Sandstone and has a geological signature that confirms it derives from the Scone Formation.

It did not originate in Egypt, Ireland or the west of Scotland, as the Romantic tales would have led us to believe.

Indeed, the Stone’s spurious biblical connection (as ‘Jacob’s Pillow’ – the stone on which, according to the Book of Genesis, the sleeping Jacob had a vision) was already being ridiculed in 1600 by William Camden.

Much of the Stone’s pseudo-history is of even more recent invention.

The first archaeologically objective study of the Stone took place in 1996, when it was removed from the Coronation Chair and sent to Edinburgh Castle, where it currently resides on loan from the Crown.

Under the direction of David Breeze and Richard Welander, Historic Scotland carried out a detailed examination, the findings of which were published by the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland: The Stone of Destiny: artefact and icon (2003).

The Stone’s intimate relationship to the Chair has never been explored, however, resulting in the wholly unwarranted assumption by past commentators that the physical features exhibited by the block today relate to its pre-1296 history in Scotland.

This in turn has given rise to the invention of historical scenarios to explain these features.

Some writers have pronounced the block to be a Roman building stone or part of a pagan altar; others have claimed a Bronze Age or Pictish ancestry.

The iron links and rings that are attached to the two ends of the block have given rise to much comment, as well as claims that they were inserted for the purpose of carrying the Stone from site to site in Scotland, or alternatively for transporting it to London.

Finally, there are the conspiracy theorists who would have us believe that the Stone is fake.

These contentions can be refuted without exception. When we study the Chair and the Stone as archaeological artefacts, not just individually but jointly, and marry the findings with reliable historical evidence, a clear picture emerges.

The most fundamental misapprehension is that the Stone (as we see it today) was brought from Scone and placed in a made-to-measure compartment under the seat of the Chair, and that it simply sat there for the next 700 years.

In reality, the Chair and the Stone were made for one another, and both have been subjected to significant change over the centuries.

Made for each other

There is no basis for casting doubt on the authenticity of the Stone of Scone, or for claiming it as a Roman ashlar or a Pictish symbol-stone.

The upper and lower faces are natural bedding planes and are untooled, although the former is well worn through its prolonged use as a seat.

The four vertical edges were all crisply dressed in 1297 to create a close-fitting, rectangular seat for the new Chair.

One of the revelations of the 2010 study was the fact that the Coronation Chair did not have a wooden seat-board until the 16th or 17th century: the Stone itself was the seat.

The Chair frame is made of oak and comprises four corner-posts, and a series of moulded horizontal rails.

The sides of the Chair have upswept arms, which were originally decorated with carved lions.

The joints are mortised-and-tenoned but are inherently weak. The frame gets its structural strength from the lining of thick planks.

Below seat level, the sides are pierced by large quatrefoils – that is, four partially overlapping circles creating a shape akin to a stylised four-leaf clover – each of which originally had a painted heraldic shield at its centre.

By the 1820s, the shields had all been lost, and the quatrefoil grille at the front had gone too.

The gang that stole the Stone in 1950 also smashed the front rail and further weakened the frame. A replacement grille has now been fitted to restore its structural strength.

The Stone of Scone rested in this compartment and could be glimpsed on all sides; its top was fully exposed.

William Lethaby’s 1906 reconstruction of the gilt figure of a king in the back of the Chair. He is depicted seated on a low throne, with his feet resting on a lion. Only the lower part of this image survives today.

Externally, the sides and back of the Chair were carved and moulded with Gothic arcades.

The corner-posts too were embellished with blind, pointed – lancet – arches, and surmounted by pinnacles from which decorative foliage or ‘crockets’ sprouted.

No timber was originally visible, though, as the surfaces were entirely covered with decoratively punched gilding and pseudo-enamels.

There were also many pieces of coloured glass inlaid into the carved decoration. These inserts would have carried painted and gilded motifs, similar to those found in profusion on the altarpiece of Henry III known as the Westminster Retable (c. 1270).

Internally, the Chair was uncarved but was covered with gold leaf. It bore finely punched decoration - showing birds, animals, vegetation, and Gothic motifs.

Dominating the centre of the back was the seated figure of a king with his feet resting on a lion, almost certainly Edward the Confessor.

It was the work of Walter of Durham, principal painter to the court of Edward I. Unfortunately, most of this impressive display has been lost over time.

A detail of the punch-decorated gilding surviving inside the Chair’s left arm, showing birds amid vegetation.

The conservation programme of 2010-2012 was undertaken by Marie Louise Sauerberg, then of the Hamilton Kerr Institute, but now Westminster Abbey’s Senior Conservator.

Her work was key to unlocking the history of the Chair’s decoration, particularly by demonstrating that the all-over gilded appearance was primary.

In the 1950s, it had been suggested that the Chair was initially white in colour, emulating King Solomon’s ivory throne.

Royal pride

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the Coronation Chair today is the gilt plinth on which it is raised, comprising four magnificent lions with Oriental features.

These were fitted in 1727 by the royal furniture-maker for the coronation of George II and replaced an earlier plinth, which also incorporated lions.

That plinth may have been made in 1509 for the coronation of Henry VIII.

Since both lion-plinths were fixed to the Chair frame, the Stone could only be inserted into the seat compartment from above, but this was not the original arrangement.

Walter of Durham’s exquisite gilt decoration would have been wrecked by manhandling a close-fitting, 3-cwt block of sandstone through the seat compartment.

Every time the Chair was required for a coronation, it had to be taken from the Confessor’s chapel through a narrow doorway, carried down steps, and repositioned in the Abbey.

Four operations were involved in extricating and replacing the Stone.

Almost certainly, the original plinth was a separate construction that rested on the floor. The Stone was placed on it and the Chair lowered over that.

Iron links and rings are attached to the ends of the Stone by staples set into lead plugs.

Various theories about their date and purpose have been advanced, all based on the assumption that they were used for lifting or carrying.

But nobody seems to have noticed that their fixing points are below the Stone’s centre-of-gravity, which means that it would instantly rotate when lifted.

Also, the links are not long enough for the rings to clear the top of the Stone, making it impossible to thread a carrying-pole of adequate diameter through them.

It is now clear that the ironwork was attached to the block in c. 1324-1327, on the instruction of Abbot Curtlyngton, expressly for the purpose of chaining it to the floor of the chapel.

At the time, he was under pressure from Edward III to relinquish the Stone so that it could be used as a bargaining counter with the Scots.

The abbot refused and the chronicler Geoffrey le Baker tells us that ‘the stone was now fixed by iron chains to the floor of Westminster Abbey under the royal throne’.

Since enforced removal of an object gifted to a shrine would have constituted sacrilege, the king backed down.

The 13th-century marble and glass mosaic pavement in the Shrine chapel has been meticulously recorded by David Neal.

During his work, we noticed that a square area to the south of the altar, where the mass priest’s seat would have stood, had been destroyed.

Almost certainly, this marks the place where the pavement was broken through in the 1320s to embed anchors in the floor for the chains that secured the Stone.

When the Chair was fitted with the first of the lion plinths, a new means of manoeuvring the Stone in and out of the seat compartment had to be found: the only route was from above.

The iron fittings were now pressed into service as lifting devices. Channels were crudely cut into the ends of the Stone so that the links could stand up, rather than hang down, and ropes could be passed through the rings.

The tendency for the unbalanced Stone to rotate was largely mitigated by the links being constrained in channels.

It was a clumsy compromise but it worked, albeit inflicting damage on the gilded interior of the Chair, as the Stone was hauled in and out.

The institutional history of Westminster Abbey in the two decades following its dissolution in 1540 is complex, but remarkably, the shrine of St Edward and the royal tombs survived.

The later 16th century saw a fashion for attaching historical labels (tabulae) to features around the Abbey, including the shrine, tombs and St Edward’s Chair.

These were generally painted either directly on the object or on a board, but in the case of the Chair, it seems that there was initially an intention to insert an inscribed brass plate in the upper face of the Stone.

The rectangular outline for the plate was roughly chiselled. The matrix was never fully cut and the project aborted. A painted label on a board was provided instead.

The change of plan most likely resulted from a decision to fit a timber seat-board over the Stone that had two further consequences.

First, battens had to be fitted to the sides of the Chair to support the seat-board, thereby reducing the size of the Stone compartment opening.

The block had to be shortened, and both ends were cut back by c. 15mm.

Second, the iron rings projected above the top of the Stone, obstructing the fixing of the seat.

To solve this problem, housings were hacked into the top of the Stone, allowing the rings to lie flat.

13th-century survival

Since the late 16th century, travellers and antiquaries have written accounts of the Chair, from which we learn that it suffered casual abuse until Queen Victoria came to the throne.

All the glass inserts were prised out, scores of slices were removed from the frame with pocket-knives and taken as souvenirs, names and initials were liberally carved in the wood, and the shields were stolen from the quatrefoils, exposing the sides of the Stone, which was then scraped with knives to acquire samples of its dust.

Three shallow scoops scored into the front edge result from this activity.

In the 18th century, when the second lion-plinth and new seat-board were fitted, further modifications to both the Chair and Stone occurred.

Although the latter had been shortened, the iron staples to which the rings were attached projected awkwardly, gouging the sides of the Chair every time the Stone was moved.

To ease this, the crowns of the staples were filed down. Something even more barbaric happened between 1727 and 1821: the lower edges of the Stone were broken away with nine hammer-blows.

There is no obvious explanation for this – perhaps the pieces were sold as souvenirs.

Even in more recent times, the Chair has suffered periodically.

In 1887, the Office of Works painted it brown for the celebration of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.

A public outcry ensued and great damage was done to the gilt decoration when trying to remove the paint.

In 1914, Suffragettes attached a home-made bomb to one of the Chair’s pinnacles, causing more damage.

In 1939-1945, the Chair was stored in the crypt of Gloucester Cathedral, where it narrowly escaped destruction by an infestation of dry rot.

Finally, as well as vandalising the Chair, the gang that stole the Stone in 1950 dropped it and broke it.

Given this long and varied history, it is perhaps remarkable that the Chair survives at all.

Yet our study makes it clear that, despite having fallen victim to neglect, politics and the whims of fashion, St Edward’s Chair and the Stone of Scone – in the form we know it today – are two components of a single artefact, made in the 1290s.

They have an integrated physical history, and shared archaeology: one cannot be understood without the other.

[agir1ukn0w]

Eddie Bluemel being unable to sit in a chair properly to save his life is my roman empire.

[nobletruths]

Saint Edward's Chair - the Coronation Throne of Britain | 1296 - with the Stone of Scone inserted into the throne.

The Stone of Scone (Stane o Scuin) - Sacred Scotish Coronation Stone | c. 841

King Charles III will be crowned on the throne in this configuration.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Dust

Sydney King Russell

Agatha Morley

All her life

Grumbled at dust

Like a good wife.

Dust on a table,

Dust on a chair,

Dust on a mantel

She couldn't bear.

She forgave faults

In man and child

But a dusty shelf

Would set her wild.

She bore with sin

Without protest,

But dust thoughts preyed

Upon her rest.

Agatha Morley

Is sleeping sound

Six feet under

The mouldy ground.

Six feet under

The earth she lies

With dust at her feet

And dust in her eyes.

"Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle... And Other Modern Verse" - compiled by Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders, and Hugh Smith

[munsonluhvr]

where might an enemies to lovers but reader only really pretends to hate him because she thinks he hates her and she can’t stand that because he’s so kind and nice with everyone else but her and then one day after him just being so mean to her whether it was joking or not she just breaks request get me

A SERIES OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS

thank u for this request, I hope u like it! it's such a cute concept bc I can actually see a scenario like this happening w Steve in real life. also, once again, I used a movie to influence the one-shot.. this week it's a scene from twilight where Bella and Edward are in biology class hahaha. shout out to everyone who gets it.

synopsis: king!steve harrington x fem!reader - sfw. after seeing steve be kind and nice to everyone except you, you crack and confront him. word count - warnings: bullying (?), kinda rude, stereotypical king steve. light cursing.

There he is. So sweet, so kind to everyone but you. You watch from across the hall as Steve greets his friends with a slap on the back, offering a friendly smile. The girls of Hawkins High provide flirty smiles, small handwaves in Steve’s direction as they pass by; giggles falling out of their perfectly glossed lips when he returns the pleasantries. It makes you sick to watch; you roll your eyes in response to the scene playing out in front of you. 

You turn, swiftly unlocking your locker to switch your textbooks out for your next class. Laughter behind you causes you to turn and looking over your shoulder, watching as Steve leans against a row of lockers, telling a story animatedly. Just then, Steve glances over in your direction, his eyes connecting with yours. A passive looks brushes across Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he makes eye contact with you, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.  The group standing all around Steve towards you, their eyes following Steve’s. They look equally displeased, wondering why Steve is looking at you and not them. 

You turn quickly towards your locker, slipping your biology textbook out and shutting the door of your locker shut. As you walk away, towards your classroom, you hear snickers following you, Steve’s voice low and critical. You clutch your textbook to your chest, wondering what you did to Steve to hate you. 

It was only recently that you began taking note of Steve’s behavior towards you. It was very simple and clear – he was nice to everyone else but you. You racked your brain, attempting to figure out why Steve would be holding a grudge towards you, you two didn’t typically interact on a regular basis, so the reason why remains unknown. 

You trudge forward, heading towards your next class. You sigh to yourself, thinking how Steve is also in this class and you will be forced to face him once again today. You make your way down the busy hallway, dodging past people who are in a hurry to get to their next period. In only a few minutes, you make it to your classroom, greeted by a low murmur from the students that already are seated. You take a seat in the backrow at the lab tables that serve as your desk. 

You bend forward in your seat, keeping your head down. This is your last period of school, the relief of being able to go home on the horizon. All you have to do is make it through Biology. Unfortunately, life has other plans for you today. 

Chatter begins to pick up suddenly and you assume it’s either your teacher or Steve. You peek through your lashes in the direction of the classroom entrance – it’s Steve. After lingering for a few seconds with other classmates, he sits himself on the other side of them room, but not without one last glance in your direction. Your eyes flick down as his eyes take you in briefly, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“All right class,” Mr. Lewis, your biology teacher, says. He shrugs his jacket off, folding it neatly over the back of his chair.  “We’ll be doing pair work today. I’ve already made the pairs, if you all want to come up and see who you’re working with.” 

Stools squeak against the floor as your classmates scramble to Mr. Lewis desk to see who their partners with. You don’t move, you know who ever you’re paired up with will find you. In the front of the classroom, you hear people giggle with excitement that they’ve being paired up with their friend. You sit patiently, head bent over your biology textbook, waiting for your partner to come join you. 

You hear a cough, someone clearing their throat, right beside you and you look up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach as you make eye contact with Steve. “We’re partners, I guess.”

You say nothing, turning back to your textbook, breaking eye contact with Steve. Steve sits beside you awkwardly, silence setting in between you uncomfortably. Tension makes you feel like Steve is a million miles away even though he’s right beside you. Your head begins to ache, wishing the hour-long class would end quickly. 

Once everyone is settled in their seats, with their new partners, Mr. Lewis begins to describe the task at hand – looking at different cells through the microscope and organizing them into categories. Already you’re bored to death. 

Steve sighs, reaching out to pull the microspore that sits at the end of the table between both of you. “Let’s just get this over with,” Steve mumbles under his breath. 

You look at Steve, pushing down the emotion to yell out and ask him what you ever did that made him hate you so much. You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles tense together. Not having a shy bone in your body, you pull the microscope in front of you, taking the slides that Mr. Lewis passed out to each table, and placing one under the lens. “I’ll just do it since you’re always late to this class and probably don’t even know what a cell is supposed to look like under a microscope.” 

Steve gapes at you, your abruptness sudden. “I-I know what a cell looks like, y/n.” Your heart flutters to your dismay; you hate to admit it, but the sound of Steve saying your name is heavenly. 

You scoff, pinching your eye to look into the microscope. “Uh huh.” 

“Whatever, this assignment is bullshit anyway.” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans onto the desk, his eyes wandering around the classroom, looking at how everyone else is progressing through the assignment happily. Steve attempts to stay preoccupied, distracting himself from the way his heart beats rapidly as he sits next to you. 

Silently, you work by yourself to organize the cells correctly, ensuring that you get it right. Steve, on the other hand, sits beside you silently, his eyes trained away from you. 

You look up, distracted, as Heather, one of your classmates and Steve’s biggest fan, turns in her seat. “Steve?” she says, her eyelashes fluttering. “Did you finish already? Wow, you’re so smart.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, Heather’s attempt at flirting with Steve failing miserably – at least to you. Steve leans forward, a large grin on his face as he drinks up Heather’s compliments; disregarding the fact that you sit beside him, doing all the work by yourself. 

You listen as Steve flirts obnoxiously with Heather, and you start to really see how different Steve treats you compared to everyone else. He’s so friendly with everyone, yet so dismissive of you. You sigh, louder then you expected to, and Steve glances at you but says nothing. 

In the front of the class, Mr. Lewis claps, signaling that the pair work is over. One by one, he goes through the correct order of the slides, and you’re pleased to find out that you did it all correct. Class continues, uneventful at most, and you notice how tense Steve is sitting beside you, his long legs confined to the narrow stool he sits on, his body leaning away from you. You frown, attempting to pay attention to class. 

Once class ends thirty minutes later, Steve is quick to slide off the stool, sauntering over to the other side of the classroom where he originally chose to sat – far away from you. By the time you pack your backpack up again, waiting so that Steve is the first to leave. Steve lingers around after class, conversing with some of the boys in the class. Though, Steve eventually stands off, beginning to walk out of the classroom and down the hallway. 

You’re close behind, not wanting to be in Steve’s line of eyesight. You walk out after Steve and watch as he turns left out of the door, you turning right to go back to your locker. However, you pause, contemplating your next move. 

It’s become unbearable to try and dodge Steve every day of school, being tense within every class you share with him. Truthfully, you’ve racked your brain on numerous occasions to understand why Steve doesn’t like you, why he treats you poorly compared to everyone else in Hawkins High. He even treats Jonathan Byers better who now dates Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy. So, what issues does Steve have with you? 

Quickly, you turn on your heel, beginning to trail Steve in the hallway. Your fists clench as you quicken your pace to reach Steve. “Steve!” you call, gathering strange looks from others passing by in the hallway. Steve looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees that you are who called his name. 

“What?” Steve says as he watches you approach him, wedging himself against the row of lockers that line the wall to allow other people to pass by. 

“What do you mean, what, you have to explain to me what I’ve done to you to make you hate me,” you say with a huff. 

Steve frowns, his mouth pouting a little. “What are you talking about?” He says, bending towards you, his voice low. “I definitely don’t hate you.” 

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, please, Steve. You constantly give me dirty looks, dismiss me while you flirt and be nice with other girls. I don’t understand, I’ve thought back to all the times we’ve talked, which aren’t that many by the way, and I don’t remember where I could have made you mad.” Your voice raises with each word you say, your cheeks beginning to fluster with heat. “Just tell me, Steve.”

Steve looks away from you, noticing that people pause to look at you and he standing, essentially bickering. Steve sighs, grabbing your forearm, his long fingers warm against your skin. “Come with me.” 

You reluctantly follow Steve, watching as he pushes a darkened classroom door open, dragging you inside. “I don’t hate you.” He mumbles, his eyes connecting with yours. They’re big and brown, twinkling against the dim lights. 

“So, then what’s the problem?” 

Steve leans against the desk at the front of the classroom, his head shaking as he looks towards the floor. “I like you, okay?” 

You frown, suddenly at a loss for words. He likes you? Who likes someone and treats them terribly? “You like me?” 

Steve nods, not looking at you still. “don’t you remember I tried to hand you a flyer to my party, and you ignored me? I just assumed you thought I was an asshole and I guess I started acting like one.” 

You think back, remembering the instance Steve references. You had been walking out of biology class a few weeks before, and Steve had been handing out bright orange flyers to one of his famous parties. Sure, he had tried handing you a flyer as you passed by, but you weren’t into parties, and you didn’t think he was specifically trying to invite you to one of his parties. You two didn’t really know each other so that assumption made sense. 

“Funny way to show that you like me, Steve. I didn’t think-“ you begin to say, beginning to get discouraged. “I didn’t think you were inviting me to the party, I thought you were just handing them out. You didn’t have to act like an asshole, we could have just talked.” 

Steve sighs again, running a hand through his now messy hair. “I know, I’m an idiot. I guess it was a misunderstanding and I read it wrong – it’s my fault.” 

Silence falls between you and Steve, his apology lingering in the air. You think about this, how boys are just so stupid sometimes. Though you can’t help but smile, Steve’s affection making you blush. Now that you understand Steve’s mindset and why he’s treated you in such a way, you have to acknowledge that you find Steve attractive, his boyish looks making your heart flutter. 

“So, you like me, huh?” 

Steve nods, his cheeks beginning to flush with a tint of pink. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” You smile, biting at your own lips. What a revelation this is. You’re glad you followed Steve. 

Though you’re sure Steve is about to ask you out, you decide to beat him to it, knocking his ego down a few pegs. “Then you should definitely take me out. Preferably this weekend.”

Steve nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does picking you up at 7 sound?” 

You nod, folding your hands in front of you. “That’s perfect.”

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Dating King Ben Would Include…

Holy shit,

This is a lot.

Def NSFW

Warnings: sex, language, not proofed, I’m a slut

- r u actually kidding this man

- Idek where to start

- How about this

VK

- the moment he lays eyes on you

- Fuck

- When he smiles at you for the first time???

- Bye.

- Falling for the king-to-be was NOT part of the plan

- But he’s so goddamn cute

- You slip into the stands at his tourney game

- He makes a great play and you let out a cheer

- Surprising everyone around

- And he just grins at you

- There’s a party that night

- You show up in your most flattering dress

- And Ben cannot take his eyes off of you

- (The beast inside is awakening)

- He asks you to dance

- his big hands fit on your waist so perfectly

- Your hands loop around his neck and your fingers play with his hair absentmindedly

- You’re so nervous

- He pulls you closer to him and whispers into your ear

- “Relax.”

- Hello???

- He’s so in love with you UGHHHHAGGGA

- not following plot anymore screw it

- “You coming to the game tomorrow?”

- “Why should I?”

- “I can think of a pretty good reason.”

- SHAMELESSLY FLIRTS WITH YOU

- “If we win, I get to take you out on a date”

- “And if you lose?”

- “We won’t.”

- Ben fucking winks at you and just

- Up and leaves

- Someone take the confidence juice away from him!

- You go see another one of his games and after he wins, he runs up to you, sweaty and grinning, gorgeous as ever

- Before you say anything

- His head dips down to your ear, hands slipping around your waist

- “My car is waiting for you. I’ll be there soon”

- The mf had no fucking doubts that they’d win

- He gives you another million dollar smile before jogging away

- Leaving you flushed and a little turned on?????

- The date is absolutely wonderful.

- He changes ur perspective on everything

- Makes you his queen eventually

AK

- He’s such a gentleman omg omg

- PRINCESS TREATMENT OMFG

- Opening doors for you!!!

- Pulls out your chair for you!!!

- Ur a cheerleader

- He’s def the kinda bf to score and point at you like

- “Scored that for you, baby!”

- You wanna roll your eyes but can’t bc of his damn smile

- Don’t even get Ben started on your fucking uniform

- He’s down bad fr fr

- You in the colors of his kingdom??? HELLO?!

- He’s gone

- Such a fan of public PDA

- will kiss you ANYWHERE

- seriously

- Always has to be touching you

- The beast in him tbh ur his

SEX

- everything this guy does is

- Always turning you on fr

- At the worst times too

- He’ll just look at you and give you the smile he only does while balls deep inside of you while at dinner with his parents

- And he knows it too

- The way you blush and look away?

- He KNOWS

- Please he gets weak in the knees when you say his name/title

- “Benjamin”

- “King Ben”

- “King Benjamin”

- “Your Majesty”

- Bye

- I imagine that he’s so sweet at first but you can tell that he’s holding back (beast boy HELLO?!)

- You have to convince him to finally just let it out

- What does that entail?

- Let’s make a list!!

- Scratch marks on your thighs

- So so many hickeys (he doesn’t fucking care who sees, he’s the king)

- Finger print bruises on your waist and hips

- BITE MARKS

- shit

- This man has a heightened sense of smell

- So like… beware

- Low key high key loves the way you smell

- Will not stop sucking and biting on your neck bc of it

- BEN IS A DOM IM SORRY NOT SORRY

- it’s such a stress relief for him!

- Seriously as king he needs to release his stress somehow

- You luv when he’s rough with you

- A full on Edward Cullen breaking the bed moment and he’s scared to even touch you

- And ur like “Ben do it again”

- He’s all 😮 “wut”

- “Please?”

- And bam thinking with his dick again

- You love it when he fucks you in his office

- In between meetings

- When anyone can walk in

- “Don’t want everyone in the castle to hear your dirty sounds, now do we?”

- BEN IM SORRY

- HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KEEP QUIET WHEN UR LITERALLY REARRANGING MY INSIDES ON YOUR DESK

- Riding him while he’s in his desk chair

- The staff is quite confused when he asks for a mirror to be hung as a decoration on the opposite side of his desk

- It’s so you two can watch obvi but they don’t know that

- OMG the two of you at formal events and he cannot keep his hands off of you

- The things he whispers in your ear my GOD

- looks like the two of you are just innocently dancing but if they really knew the dirty things he was saying to you

- “What would everyone think if they knew how turned on you are right now?”

- “You taste better than all the food here.”

- Like r u kidding me he’s the dirtiest guy

- MASSIVE DICK ENGERY

- Its unfair

- Him pulling you out of the ballroom to absolutely ravish you with his parents and subjects a wall away

- Him just fucking you while wearing his crown omg (cant stop thinking about this)

- He’s so needy all the fucking time

- Anyways back to office sex

- It’s his fav

- Literally you’ll be on his lap and he’s fucking up into you and he will get a phone call

- Motherfucker GRINS at you

- “don’t make a sound”

- And then ANSWERS IT.

- KEEPS FUCKING YOU THROUGH THE PHONE CALL

- NO MATTER HOW LONG IT IS

- Oh and def makes you keep eye contact with him the whole time with his hand on your throat

- Ben with a beard????

- Between your thighs??

- With the fucking fangs?????????

- DEAD

- DECEASED

- BYE

- GONE

- Is always down to eat u out

- Such a golden retriever bf about it

- Def fingers you in the car

- If ur driving??

- “Eyes on the road”

- 💀

- If he’s gone?

- You best BELIEVE he’s calling for phone sex

- “C’mon let me hear you. You sound so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

- Soft mean Dom soft mean Dom

- Will hop in the shower with you just so he can wash your body

- Also makes you come with the shower head

- Loves boobies

- Loves ass

- He can’t decide which he likes more

- Loves making you watch what he’s doing

- If he’s going down on you?

- Eyes on him at all times

- Fingering you?

- You better be watching it

- That’s why the mirror comes in handy

- When you lock eyes through the mirror?

- His crown is lopsided and he’s just

- He’s just

- You know

- FUCKING KING BENJAMIN

- And he’s always smiling at you

- He knows what that smile does to you

- Uses it to his advantage

- He knows he’s pretty

- He loves waking up before you after a long night of straight up fucking

- He sees the damage done

- By him

- And it just gets him going!

- You wake up with his head between your thighs

- “Morning”

- It was in fact a good morning

- his morning voice adds to it

- You loooooove to tease him

- Low key flirting with another guy, if it’s fucking Chad you better get prepared

- Wearing an outfit you know he loves in a public place when he’s with his parents doing his king duties

- Putting your hand on his inner thigh during a meeting

- I hope you know what you’re getting into!!!

- He storms into his room that night where you happen to be lying on the bed, oh so innocently

- Wearing his jersey or a button up of his

- You don’t bother looking at him, already trying to hide the smirk on your face

- You can feel the glare as he shrugs off his suit jacket

- And removes his tie

- And loosens his collar

- And pushes his sleeves up

- (your favorite Ben look)

- He knows this ofc

- Sets his hands flat on the bed and just stares at you

- Finally you look up, a giggle escaping immediately

- “You think it’s funny, do you?”

- His hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you towards him

- His knee settles between your legs as he leans over you

- “Answer your King when he speaks to you”

- “Yes, your majesty”

- His head drops back and something (THE FUCKING BEAST) ignites inside of him

- He laughs

- Not like his true laugh

- A dark, sinister laugh

- Coming from Ben?

- Noble, brave, and good Ben?

- When he’s about to fuck you into oblivion?

- Good. Fucking. Bye.

- What’s Bennyboo up for??

- So much

- He’s horny ALL THE TIME

- highest sex drive ever

- Esp with the fucking beast

- He can go for hours

- King (lol) of stamina

- “You can do it baby”

- “C’mon, one more for me”

- “Fuck you’re doing so well”

- “Good. So so good”

- He’s loud as FUCK

- not embarrassed about it all

- No fucks given

- Will walk out of his office he was just bending you over in to greet his father in the next room like MAN ISN’T PHASED AT ALL

- And you’re catching your breath like 😳😳😳

- On one hand, he’s so nice and genuine and so well mannered

- And then when it comes to you, he’s a cocky little shit who can’t keep it in his pants

[simpfordemetri]

Sit down- Volturi Kings X Reader

⟳ & ♥︎

Reques by Anon: Can you make a short story for the kings? Aro and Caius get into an argument and reader was fed up and told them to stop but they didn't listen so reader straight up yells at them to sit, and they do immediately, even Marcus does even though he didn't do anything and he's just looking at reader like 🥺 and Aro and Caius are both terrified?

-I told you brother, those Cullen’s need to dissapear from our world ,they are a danger to our specie!- Caius voice was raised ,as Marcus just listened quietly and you tried to read your silly little romantic book.

-Some of them have valuables gifts ,we can not get rid of them! At least not from Alice and Edward…- Aro finished mumbling to himself.

However,Caius let out a loud growl ,closing his book hardly, almost breaking the tape of it .

Finally you raised your eyes to them ,your expression serious as you grow mad ,tired of hearing always the same argument.

-I do not give a bloody damn about their gifts!We already have Jane and Alec!What about Chelsea?We have powerful gifts here, stop being a pest!- Caius shouted .

-Aro ,Caius ,that’s enough- Your voice was low but threatening,you were mad ,tired and loosing patience.

However ,and as always ,none of them seemed to listen ,or at least to care ,and their stupid argument continued ,getting bigger and their voices louder with each word.

It was when Caius slammed a hand on the desk breaking it in two when you got up from your chair throwing the book to somewhere in the room.

-I said stop, you two look and sound like childs ,crazy to think you are millennials old uhm? Who will believe that? Not me if i didn’t knew you two. If i hear one more word coming from your mouths i swear on my self there will be hell to pay- Your voice was not even raised, not even loud, but somehow it came like if you were the most dangerous creature in the room even though you were the weakest one.

Marcus stopped reading his book and observed the show in front of them ,low key proud of you . Caius was now picking up from the floor pieces of the wood table he just broke in two while apologizing.And Aro sat down on his throne with his hand interlaced and looking down with embarrassment written on his face.

If it was something they admired about you ,its how mature you are and how you always stop their shit when their dumb arguments get out of hand . However you couldn’t help but stay mad at them for a few hours.

Marcus was the only one approaching you while you drink your hot tea near the fire ,sitting down next to you and cuddling you by the side ,carefully to not overwhelm you ,but finally you allowed him to.

Finally Aro and Caius arrived too, apology smiles planted on their faces as the handed you their hands to make you stand up ,ready to show you a real apology.

[eddiesxangel]

GIRLIE IM BACK HI I MISSED UR WRITING SM (and my brain was working)

MUNCHER EDDIE GOING UNDER READERS DESK WHILE SHES DOING SMTH (idk what she's doing... maybe reading or smth 😭) TO 'HELP' HER FOCUS BUT HE RLLY JUST WANTS ATTENTION

-🦇

HI BBY! 💖

You’re sitting at the kitchen table meticulously wrapping your friends baby shower gift when you hear one of the kitchen chairs squeak. It’s startled you because you’re suppose to be alone downstairs.

You feel a hand trail up your shin and you scream but Eddie shushes you letting you know it’s just him.

“Eddie what the fuck are you doing? you gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m gunna help you focus on your wrapping”

“How are you going to do that from down there?you asked, still annoyed he scared you.

“Just trust me” you can hear the smirk in his voice. The cocky SOB.

You choose to unhinge him until you feel his warm hands splay over top of your upper thighs and running up to your ok hips. He suddenly grips them and jerks your body to the edge of the chair so your ass is just hardly in the edge.

“Edward I swear to—“ you cut your self off when you feel his face pressed into your clothed cunt.

Eddie’s head is under your sundress and his hot breath is fanning over your inner thighs as he kisses your soft skin.

“We don’t- oh fuck-have time” you’ve been stressed about this party for weeks. Your. Been the sole planner of the entire party and the fifth completely slipped your mind until today and the party is this afternoon.

“Yes we do, and your schedule says it’s Eddie and y/n time”

“No it doesn’t “ your breath was shaky.

“Sure it dose” later you would find Eddie’s chicken scratch marking up your daily agenda.

“Gotta take care of my girl, she takes care of everything else.” He mumbled as he pulled your cotton panties aside.

You tired so hard to fight it, you’re so stubborn but Eddie knew you needed to relax. He ravaged you like he hadn’t eaten in days, his skilled tongue was so fast as he flicked your clit over and over until that oh so familiar feeling built.

The gift was long forgotten as your weeping pussy dripped on Eddie’s face. Your grip now in his hair instead of folding the wrapping paper. Your dress flipped up and you could see Eddie’s big brown eyes gazing into yours as he tongue ducks your pussy.

“Baby! Fuck I’m so close” you cry. The coil was about to unravel within you. Eddie didn’t let up, he know your body like the back of his hand. He knew he would have you cumming on his tongue in 3…2…1, one last flick and your body contacted into Eddie as you hinged over, pressing his face even further into your pussy.

Eddie pulled back after I king you clean and he sees the smile of the dazed fucked out look on your face.

“There’s my girl”

[eamour]

edward art's "i am the creator" meditation

in this post, i wanted to share with you one of the meditations from edward art's spiritual series. this meditation is once again all about "feeling". now, edward distinguishes between "understanding something intellectually" and "feeling as a deep level of knowing" — and this meditation shall help you to realise that you are indeed the creator of life!

here is the link to the original source !

steps

1 ⋮ lay down or sit up on a chair. just relax.

2 ⋮ now for this meditation i want you to close your eyes. just sit with your eyes closed for a minute. just see the blackness. now i want you to pretend that the outer-world does not exist anymore. ALL you have is your awareness and this blackness. keep repeating something like this: "the outer-world no longer exist. i am just here now." this means there is nothing to achieve or get or be afraid of in the outer-world because it does not exist.

3 ⋮ now that you starting to feel yourself to only exist in your mind. start to tell yourself that this is your home. your mind is your home. home meaning it is SAFE. start to FEEL you are completely and entirely safe in your mind. there is absolutely NOTHING to fear, ONLY what fearful things you create. start to FEEL that you are the CREATOR in your mind. but just FEEL this and keep sitting in the blackness. FEEL and repeat this: "there is nothing to fear in here. i can have what i want in here." in here, simply meaning your mind.

4 ⋮ you by now, should start feeling safer and safer. you might want to fear the outside, but simply remind yourself it does not exist. now, start to FEEL the possibility of what you can be and have. IF IT WAS SIMPLY YOUR AWARENESS AND YOUR MIND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? i hope you can by now see and feel where i am getting at. if the outer-world did not exist at all, and it was just you and your mind, wouldn't you feel free to do anything and have anything? you might start to feel excitement. maybe the fears are starting to melt away and are starting to be replaced with safety.

5 ⋮ now that you are starting to feel yourself to only exist in your mind. start to see yourself where you want to be. become a king, or have your desire. it does not matter, it is your creation. you have no rules here. there are no rules in your mind. no consequences because the only consequences you have are the ones your create! if you want to FEEL that nobody can hurt you, then they can't! if you want to feel that you no longer have to fear this or that, you don't have to! If you want to feel that everyone loves you, you can! it is all yours in your mind! the outer-world does not exist.

6 ⋮ now that the FEELING of safety, freedom and fulfillment of your desires start to stir up in you, INTENSIFY them! FEEL them and then raise up it. FEEL deeper. FEEL the safety deeper and deeper, and then the freedom deeper and deeper. keep intensifying it until it overcomes you. the key to do this is to remember there is NOTHING to fear if you intensify it! when you intensify it and start fearing, you will see how limiting and useless fear is. it stops you from FEELING deeper. you say you deserve the upmost love? then FEEL that you do on a DEEP DEEP level.

7 ⋮ this mediation is to show you that when you imagine, you should imagine as though the outer-world and all its limitations does not matter. YOU ARE THE CREATOR. you might struggle to feel these things but it is only because you are afraid to imagine what you truly want. once you let go that fear, then you will see what i am saying. you will feel the freedom that was there all along. this is what changes "self." neville would always "turn his back on the senses." he would completely ignore the world, as though is never even existed and he would fall sound asleep in his MIND.

with love, ella.

[inhuman-obey-me]

The Design of Solomon's Room

OM tends to have pretty strongly consistent visual theming for its characters: Asmo gets florals and pastels, Lucifer has a lot of deep red and black, Levi is frequently depicted with water, etc.

For Solomon, they've changed it up from time to time, but generally, they've stuck to blues, stars, or rainbow. So why does his room look like this?

Well, for anyone else who has also thought that Solomon's room design seems a little out of place to the rest of his visual theming, here's a fun thought on why it looks that way!

This painting is The Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon by Edward Poynter, from 1890:

You'll notice some strong similarities to this painting - the reds and golds, the composition of the pillars vs the bookshelves, the greenish peacock feathers and the dark green lampshades. The chandeliers, too, could be to represent the opulence in the painting, and the chairs may also be a reference to the fact that this was a depiction of his throne room -- he was a king, after all.

So, while it doesn't really match his visual themes in the rest of the game, it seems likely that Solomon's room was designed as a reference to this painting!

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You go. I go.

James Wilson x peds!reader

Season 1 episode 18 - Babies and Bathwater

description - Vogler is on the warpath, his only goal; the termination of Gregory House. James won't let this happen. But when his career is put on the line, your heart only tells you to do one thing.

warnings - angst, spoilers for s1 ep18, slight misogyny, crying, shouting

requested - no

word count - 1k

authors note - I remember this scene was the first time I actually screamed at the TV watching House. Also watching it back you can actually see his lip quiver when he mentions firing him.

a/n 2 - also props to the extra who offers Rsl pastries when he sits down for no reason - you give your all to that role girl!!

Masterlist

Requests open - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

“As most of you know, Dr Gregory House recently did a speech about me-“

I looked up as James entered the room and took his place next to me. He slotted our hands together under the table.

“-and I’m going to return the favour.” Vogler continued, acknowledging James’ tardiness. “Dr Wilson, I was hoping you were going to miss this one.” I furrowed my eyebrows at this. James was the Head of Oncology and a respected member of the board. Why would his presence be a hindrance?

“Here are some of House’s actions. Violation of a DNR, charged with assault. He brought a termite into the OR and spat on a surgeon. He accepted a corvette from a patient who was a known member of the New Jersey mafia-“

“Come on Ed look-“ one of the doctors cut in, trying to prevent him boring us with details of House’s antics that we were all well aware of. I was already counting down the minutes till I could leave, thinking this was going to be another failed coup at removing House. He would never be removed. He was too brilliant.

“Edward.” Vogler’s tone was sharp. Offering no room for argument. My blood suddenly ran cold. This wasn’t going to be a normal meeting.

“You look at anyone’s career you’ll find—”

“These are the last three months. He has personally had more complaints lodged against him than any department in this hospital.”

“Okay, he screwed up.” James finally spoke up. “He’s miserable. And he should probably re-read the ethics code.” I softly chuckled at this.

“Something funny Dr Y/l/n?”

“No, excuse me.” I shrunk back down in my chair.

James continued. “It works for him, he’s saved hundreds of lives- “

“He is a drug addict who flaunts his addiction and refuses to get treatment.” I suddenly became alert. I glared at Vogler for his surface level assessment of House.

“How do you know what he’s been through!” I spoke up despite James’ warning grasp of my arm.

“He is a disgrace and embarrassment to this hospital. I am going to keep this simple. Either House goes or I go.” Cuddy and I scoff at this. He would take away his money, that could save millions of lives, just because House doesn’t play well with others. James looks to Cuddy, waiting for her reaction.

“You gave us that money for a reason.” Cuddy attempted to bring the conversation back to medicine and the hospital. “You’re really going to throw it away over one doctor.”

“Gregory House is a symbol of everything wrong with the healthcare industry.” I wrapped my hand around James’ thigh as I could see it jumping up and down. He was getting angry. I had to keep him calm. “Waste, insubordination. Doctors preening like their kings and the hospital is their own private throne room. Healthcare is a business and I’m going to run it like one.” I loudly exhaled at this statement. Right there. His true colours shown. He was about business, not care.

“I hereby move to revoke the tenure of Dr Gregory House and terminate his employment at this hospital, effective immediately.”

“Don’t you think we should discuss this-“

Vogler shot me a threatening glare. “We just did.” James moved to rise from his seat, and I clamped my hand down harder. He compromised by placing his elbows on the table, directed towards Vogler. As if he was shielding me.

“The vote is on the table. All in favour?”

A hush fell over the room. But one by one, the doctors relented. Dollar bills were practically glittering in their eyes as they each raised their hands in favour. James and I looked around in disbelief. My colleagues, people I would consider my friends. Turning on one of their own, and for what? Money? I waited patiently for Cuddy. I tried pleading with her through my eyes, willing her to put a stop to this. Her hand went up.

Vogler owned them and he knew it. But he didn’t own James, and he knew that.

He noticed the stillness of James and me.

“The motion is defeated. Dr Wilson would you mind stepping out of the room?”

“Excuse me?” James couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“We’re gonna take another vote.”

“Well, first of all, you can’t void my vote by making me stand in the hallway. Second, you should check the by-laws. You need notice and at least one business day before you can reconsider any matter.”

“We’re voting on another matter over which you are conflicted out of. Actually, you’re little girlfriend too--”

“Address her as Dr Y/l/n.” James’ voice raised to indicate his seriousness. “And how can we be conflicted?”

“This vote is whether to dismiss Dr James Wilson.” I saw the light leave James’ eyes. This job was his life. He worked so hard; he didn’t deserve this. His lip quivered as if he was going to speak. But after looking around at the lowered heads of his colleagues, he relented and got up to leave.

“No!” I pushed my chair away harshly. All eyes were on me, including James’ which were soft and pleading.

“y/n, don’t do this. Not for me.”

“Yes, for you.” I turned back to Vogler, with unmatched anger. “Dr Wilson is the best oncologist in the whole damn state, you can’t just fire him, not after his years of service.” My voice was beginning to raise. “And what are you going to do just fire every doctor who disagrees with you? Where’s the ethics in that?”

“Y/n let it go. It’s over.” His voice was quiet, but I could hear it shake.

“Dr Y/l/n, you should listen to your boyfriend. He knows what’s good for you.”

“He goes. I go.”

“Nooo, Dr Y/l/n, this hospital will be lost without your crafting skills and tea parties.” He sarcastically said.  “Frankly, if I get rid of you, I’ll save money on resources and supplies. Don’t worry, I will find another head of paediatrics, one more focused on medicine rather than babysitting.” The tears were welling in my eyes, but I was stopped in my tracks by a sharp yell.

“HEY! Don’t talk about her. Ever.” I placed my hand on James’ chest before the termination was elevated to a restraining order.

“Let’s go.”

“No, you need to stay.”

“No. You go, I go. That’s the way it is.” I placed a gentle kiss on his lips and grabbed his hand. We walked out of the meeting. I made sure to slam the door on the way out just to be petty.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Vogler strutted into House’s office, pleased with the news he was about to deliver.

“How’s your soap?”

House refused to meet his eyes.

“Uneventful.”

“Really? Because I heard today, they fired the handsome Head of Oncology and the pretty princess of Paediatrics.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Edited

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 18

Part 17

He’d heard stories from Dustin and the others about the tales Eddie made up for them. But hearsay was different from actually experiencing it. There was a quick review, a recap that Steve could tell was purely for him, someone who hadn’t been present for the previous tellings. And then they were off.

Eddie started off sitting but didn’t stay still for long. He moved like a man possessed as he weaved the next part of the story. His voice and his mannerisms changed depending on who he was speaking for. An old innkeeper had a withery tone and moved like a frail elder. But then he was a seamstress, with a soothing voice and an elegant way about her movements and gestures. The only time he stopped was when he paused to ask the others what their characters would do in the situation they found themselves in. 

“Stop trying to tell Will what to do, he knows what he should do”, Lucas said.

“Obviously he doesn’t if he hasn’t made a move yet”, Mike said, not backing down.

“You guys aren’t considering every angle”, Will said. “If I go on the offensive, we can cut through, but at the risk of all our stamina. If I go on the defensive, we risk running out of time.”

“And we NEED to save Max and El”, Dustin reminded them.

Max scoffed. “Who said we need saving? El’s working on the lock right now and I can zoom us out.”

“Your confidence is admirable, but misguided”, Mike deadpanned, flinching when Max lunged forward for a fake out punch.

She snorted and gave him a five finger love tap anyway. Eddie watched them all with a devilish grin, probably the most mischievous Steve had ever seen him before they finally came to a decision. The story moved on and ended with a cliffhanger of the boys making it to the wizard’s tower just as the girls broke free of their cage.

“And that is where we shall leave things tonight”, Eddie said, his smile only widening at the groans and boos thrown his way.

“We’re literally crashing through his doors! You can’t end it there!”, Dustin exclaimed.

“You always do this”, Lucas agreed. “You get some sort of fun out of leaving us hanging off the edge.”

Eddie stood up and brushed some imaginary dust off his pants. “That’s my creed, always leave them wanting more. Now off to bed with you.”

With more groaning and moaning, the kids trudged off. Rubbing their eyes and biting back yawns despite denials of being sleepy. Steve stood as well, hanging back just a bit until they were alone.

“So this is a bedtime ritual?”, he asked. “Seems counterintuitive to get them so riled up before bed.”

“Started out that way”, Eddie said. “Grew into this. And what’s wrong with filling their heads with visions of adventure and feats of bravery before they go off to dream land?”

“Well, I must say you’re a master storyteller.”

Eddie moved from his chair and around the table. “We could make a character for you as well, little prince.”

Steve thought about how involved the children got with the story and how there seemed to be rules on who they could interact with and how. It all appeared very technical. He was rather certain they were performing equations in their head while doing it too. 

“I think I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to ruin the flow of your story.”

When Eddie came to stand near him, Steve started towards the door and they easily fell into step next to each other. Standing this close no longer struck fear in his heart. Steve was beginning to understand that regardless of all else, King Edward, Eddie… was just a man. A man who cared about his subjects, about those in his care. Who did things to make them happy. Things like ordering tailored outfits for them.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to learn more about you-your kingdom. And how it all works.”

“How what all works?”, Eddie asked.

“The beasts at your disposal. The conflict between our two lands is mostly because of them. But your people don’t seem to be afraid despite living closer to them.”

“I know just the perfect teacher for you”, Eddie said as they got to Steve’s door.

Steve imagined Eddie taking him out into the woods again, allowing him to see the beasts face to face and learn first hand what made them so unique. He imagined also getting to know Eddie better. Many parts of him were still a mystery.

So he was a little disappointed the next day when a knock came on his door and it was not Eddie.

“You’re not Eddie.”

“No, I’m Scott Clarke. His Majesty has tasked me with your education. You can call me Mr. Clarke, the rest of the kids do.”

Steve had heard that name here and there from the kids, one of the castle tutors, the one they liked the most. Even so, it felt a little juvenile to be sat down in the library and looked over books and diagrams of something he had already seen with his own eyes.

“You might notice, Your Highness, that tensions rise between our lands mostly in the fall and winter. That is no coincidence. Demobeasts go into hibernation once spring begins and the weather starts to warm up. That doesn’t mean you won’t see the odd one out, perhaps to get a little snack in between its long sleep, but for the most part…”

Steve tried his best to pay attention, he really did. But he wasn’t much for book learning. He got by long enough to learn the basics, but he learned better by doing. Hands on sort of experiences. He tried sitting in Clarke’s lessons for a few days before getting sick of it and finally seeking Eddie out himself.

“You know, when I asked to learn more about your kingdom, I expected to learn from the king”, Steve said when he caught Eddie in the hallway.

“Ah, a king’s work is never done. I thought to give you a man whose knowledge rivals my own. If you wanted some special attention from me, all you had to do is say so.”

They were at least three feet apart and yet Steve felt pinned down by that gaze. It had been a while since he and Eddie had been alone. What would a private tutoring session even look like? Would Steve be able to focus on the actual lesson or…

“I wanted to learn about you too”, he admitted quietly before clearing his throat and speaking more confidently. “So you won’t teach me yourself?”

“I think if you really want to learn, you need to open your ears”, Eddie said. 

----------------------------

Steve took to asking others about Eddie instead. About his abilities, about his past, about everything. He spoke to Robin first, hoping to get the most straightforward answer.

“What’s there to say? He’s super old, he’s been ruling since forever, he can shapeshift and control beasts. You know the rest, total joker underneath it all.”

“How long have you known him?”, Steve asked.

“A few years. My mom was less than thrilled that I share affections with other women and I had to find a place to stay. Eddie let me in and the rest is history.”

When he asked Dustin it would’ve been easier to list the things Eddie wasn’t capable of. Changing into any creature imaginable, the power of flight, of sight beyond sight, whatever that meant. It got to the point where Steve was sure he was making things up.

“Next you’re going to tell me he’s an incredible dancer and can cook too.”

“Actually, he can’t do any of those things”, Dustin said. “He does this weird jig that makes his legs look broken and everything he makes comes out either under or overcooked.”

Well, that was a couple supposed flaws. But it didn’t really give him a better image of Eddie. He thought to question the other kids and got very similar answers. The boys practically worshiped the ground he walked on. El spoke reverently as well but didn’t really talk about how she and Eddie had met. Max was less impressed by the feats Eddie had accomplished but despite everything, she respected him.

It wasn’t lost on Steve that most of these children rarely mentioned their parents. Dustin’s mother worked in the kitchen and only after asking directly did Lucas reveal he had a family that lived in the town. But the others were still an enigma. Just as he thought to press deeper, Nancy shoved him against the wall.

“Hey what-”

“Why are you interrogating everyone?”

“Interrogating? Does it look like that?”

“You’re asking personal questions. A lot of them people might not want to answer”, Nancy said, glaring at him.

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Everything? Everyone? People have always said I’m an idiot and for once I’m trying to fix that.” 

Nancy glared and crossed her arms. “Sometimes people aren’t so open to sharing. I hope you understand that.”

“I do.”

Her expression softened just a little. “A lot of us have things we want to hide. That’s why we’re here-Eddie-he-he lets us live the way we want. Without fear. That’s the most important thing. At least in my opinion.”

Steve nodded. “I understand.” 

And he did. He just wished to know, to really know, to be…well a part of it all. Sometimes it still felt like he was on the outside looking in. He was sitting by his window, gazing up at the stars, wondering what else was missing. Just about all his needs were being met. He was getting closer with everyone. And yet there was still this itch under his skin. He felt silly the next morning, but it took a hazy dream of hands and lips and then waking up to his own erection to realize what he had been hungry for.

Part 19

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

[wolven91]

thinking about a watchmaker in your universe. someone who's job was to repair small, extremely intricate devices that are redundant in space. i mean, why would you spend so much time and effort finding and fixing a watch when an ai can do it without having to be wound every couple weeks and fixed every couple months? even if you do want a watch you can just get a digital one that has more functions and is more durable at a fraction of the price and effort.

so they change jobs. maybe to a more useful one that still uses their skills in manipulating small, intricate parts. maybe repairing and replacing the small chips and processors in those very same electronics that replaced those mechanical watches they love so much.

their job pays very well, and eventually they save up quite a bit of money. they're constantly checking all sorts of places, both legal and illegal, for anything from earth. when suddenly they find it. a collection of old and "new" earth watches. most of them are broken or damaged, but with a reference now they can start making new parts. they start selling the refurbished watches to earth collectors, and they eventually make enough to start their own small business making brand new designs. it doesn't make a ton of money, but they can finally return to the thing they love, making and fixing watches.

Time Flys

Edward sighed quietly as he sat on the raised balcony, overlooking the promenade. The general buzz of the hustle and bustle was too far below him to be of bother to the human. 

It was a nice view, the end of the street opened up into the park area where rolling hills and artificial waterfalls gave an idealist appearance. Glancing up, he could see the edge of the Mar'Tor's Vow nebula slowly moving over head through the great glass dome.

The old man ached for home and sighed again.

He was getting on in his years now and he was struck with a wave of nostalgia. How he wished he could see Orion's belt from the place he remembered it from. He didn't want to *go* see Orion's Belt, he wanted to see it as he remembered it. Clear as a bell, the three bright dots that sat in the centre of a familiar constellation. His chest hurt from the memory.

"Hey Old Dog." Rumbled a firm voice from behind him, causing his heart to jump just a little. Quiet little blighter.

"Morning Young Pup." Edward growled back with a smirk on his face. The human leaned back in his chair and let his head roll to the side as the canid stalked around the seat to plonk herself down on the chair to his side.

"You're early for your ass wuppin'?" Edward teased, referencing how Snarlp had yet to beat him at Chess since he had taught her the rules. The canid solider wasn't dumb, she had even taught him a few things about bold tactics and how it was indeed possible to punch through a strong defence to put a king on the backfoot, but the canid had yet to figure out subtle tactics.

"I *will* beat you old timer. You've been winning by the fur on your nose these last few games... But... No, that can wait. I got something you might like." The youthful creature grumbled back, her firm tone like gravel in a blender. She wasn't aggressive with Edwards, well she was, but not physically. She was challenging him for his 'place' in the friendship between the two of them. Just as Edward liked it.

Honestly, it was just good fun for him, definitely kept his mind sharp. It felt like he was a captain of a pirate ship; the moment he let his guard down one of his 'salty dogs' would bloodily tear control of his ship from him; it was life and death that he kept his wits. Edwards sighed and smiled, all metaphorically of cause. Snarlp would see her arm torn off before she laid a single claw on the human, Edward knew this.

"You know I'm not interested in that VR nonsense. It was fad before and it's a fad now." He dismissed, more alarmed that Snarlp could be back on the track of trying to have Edward 'try new things'. Edward was happy in his rut. He didn't *like* the new things.

As a human, Edward was old fashioned. Back home, he'd been a watch maker. He could recall off the top of his head how to pull apart and putback together any number of models of watch. At night, to get to sleep, he would mentally repair or build watches for himself.

But alas, amongst the stars, there was no need or desire for mechanical watches. The aliens all wanted digital, with bells and whistles that no clockwork watch could match. Not to mention that Edward couldn't get the printer to work the way he wanted. He needed a scan of some kind. Snarlp had been the one to explain it to him which had broken his heart somewhat. Still, she'd meant well, and it just solidified that his generation, the first off planet, were the last humans that remembered Earth as it was. They were dying out.

"It's not 'Virtual Reality' Old Dog, it's Simulated Environments, and *no*, I'm not showing you something new. I know it'll have your heart attack you or something." The canid growled as she picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the table between them, causing the ice and strange purple fruit that floated in it to 'clink' against the glass. Edward watched her as she sniffed at it, sneered, then downed a large gulpful, straight from the pitcher. There goes having another glass of that any time soon.

Well... He'd need to go get another one anyway.

"It better be nearby. It's forty-two steps to the toilet and that's a 'tactical' decision for me these days. I ain't going on an adventure." Edward warned. The walking stick next to his chair alleviated the pains in his hips, but it still hurt something rotten. He had sworn the canid to secrecy once she had figured out that he was in agony when he walked. Edward wasn't about to let no scientist near him again. He'd let them sire countless bastards from his genetics once already and he wasn't about to let them do it a second time.

Poor things didn't even know he was their father.

"Good thing I brought it here then, isn't it?" Snarlp replied, bouncing up and out of the chair with the energy of a creature that had yet to wake up four times in one night.

"But you couldn't bring it out here?" Edward questioned, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes.

"By the *moons* do you want your surprise or not?!" Snarlp snapped. Putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward with a glare. Despite being decades younger than him, the aura she had was of Edward's disapproving mother. The tone still made his blood run cold.

"Ugh, fine. You're getting me one of those 'bear wraps' if this isn't worth it." Edwards grumbled as he leant forward and snatched up his stick in a huff. Snarlp stepped forward and ignored the slap across her hands from Edwards as he tried to bat her away. She persisted in helping and he was grateful. Her strength was mighty, pulling him up as if he were no more than a small bag of spuds, yet she was gentle enough that not even her razor-sharp claws broke the man's thin paper-like skin.

"Firstly, it's worth it. Secondly, you *know* you're not allowed the ursidain food anymore. It'll... it's not good for you." Snarlp retorted as Edward found his feet and began to shuffle towards the building, warming up his limbs again so he could move with purpose. They both ignored the genuine tone of fear in her words.

"Bah. You sound like that fool of a guardian." He dismissed, referencing the diminutive taurian the government had assigned him. Edward had no time for that wet blanket. Everything was sniffles and 'eh hem' before the little bull spoke. It drove Edward up the wall.

"Yeah well, they've basically made me your guardian now." Snarlp admitted, much to Edwards shock, but secret elation.

"Now I *know* they want me to keel over. You might win a game then as well." He jabbed, grinning as they got to the door into the apartment.

"I could just throw you over that balcony you know?"Snarlp suggested, briefly thrusting a thumb back the way they came. Edward just chuckled while Snarlp grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The pair entered Edward's apartment and in the centre was his dining table. A huge monstrosity, but necessary in the event an ursidain came to dinner. On top of the giant table however was something new. A massive metal crate. It looked like a chest, oblong in shape with a hinged lid. The red light over the lock on one side showed that it was currently sealed.

"I knew it. You don't see old folk around here because you liquidise them!" Edward hollered, trying to pull his arm from the canid's grip while staring at the box that could hold him within with ease. He didn't actually believe that, but had joked with Snarlp that, that was what they did with people who got too old and just mixed them into the food.

"Will you shut it; you stale fart! *You* don't see old people because *they* are smart and move to paradise worlds! Nobody would want you but me anyway! Now, sit down and let me open this thing!" Snarlp ordered, easily handling his little outburst and guided him to the head of the table. To be fair to the young canid, she had always had him sit in a chair of importance or priority.

He settled and eyed the box, unsure what she was about to spring on him. Snarlp ignored Edward for the moment and placed her thumb against the biometrics. The man paid attention to what was on the side of the crate, a stencilled version of the Galactic Community Administration office emblem. This crate was their property, something they loathed to give up. Edward eyed it wearily.

"I saw this going very differently, do you know how hard it was to convince them to give me this? I expected you to be like a pup getting into their first bit of trouble."

"Can you blame me? You've stuck me into firefights before!"

"In a simulated environment! You were perfectly safe."

"I got shot!"

"You should have kept your head down instead of shouting at me, not my fault a separatist sniper got you."

The lock clicked, silencing them both and the crate hissed as the lid popped open a fraction. Hermetically sealed? Whatever was inside had been sat in stasis. Snarlp lifted the lid and carefully made sure it didn't damage the table once it was fully open. From Edward's position, he couldn't see what was inside, but Snarlp reached in and gently, so gently that Edward had never seen her move with such care, plucked an item from within.

At first, the old man didn't know what he was looking at, so cradled as it was in her palms as she brought it to Edward. But as she carefully placed it on the polished table in front of him, he was struck with understanding.

The man's heartbeat in his chest at a pace not felt since he was 'shot'.

It was a small, cheap, watch.

With shaking hands, he picked it up and turned it over, to inspect the clock face. The second hand ticked by the battery life saved thanks to the stasis. According to the hands, it was 10:32.

While he was merely staring at the device, shocked to his core for seeing such an old artifact of Earth, a second one was placed in front of him by Snarlp, who merely reached for a third out of the box.

Edward stood sharply, sending the chair toppling off the raised platform that meant Edward could sit at the table at the same height as any guest. Snarlp's head whipped round but froze, her hand inches above the crate, holding a digital watch. It showed 12:32 AM.

"How many..." Edward began, unable to ask.

"Loads. It's what intake collected from whoever was rescued." The canid replied softly, aware of the significance.

"What?"

"When you humans were rescued, there wasn't really a plan. Intake was messy. Some counters collected personal items, some didn't. This box is full of those timekeepers you were on about." She explained, plucking two more from the box. It was full to the brim with watches. Just watches.

"H-how... I thought they'd all be...?"

"Sold? Yeah, most human stuff was. But this crate was labelled wrong. They think it was because whoever labelled it was going to sell it on, but chances were they were arrested before they got a chance." The canid knocked a knuckle against the foreign text on the side, next to the stencil. "Storage folk saw the label, did their job correctly and bam. A veritable Lithium Mine left to gather dust."

"I take it we can't keep these." Edward asked, turning over the first watch in his hands. Cheap, but now priceless. It did its job nearly forty years later, ticking away.

"We can't no." Snarlp agreed, and Edward's heart fell. "You can though." She finished, deliberately taking a second to complete her sentence. Edward snapped his head back up at the now grinning canid.

"You're a cruel bitch! What are you saying?!"

"These are yours now. Government can't sell them and returning human artifacts to a human is a easy win in the PR department."

Edward had to brush his sleeve against the corners of his eyes whilst sniffing, but the canid didn't jab him for his display.

"Saying they're yours... You could... scan one?" Snarlp suggested. "I can think of more than a few people on this station alone that would want a mechanical watch. You could teach me to repair them too... You said you would..."

Edward sighed and smiled, he felt like he had a purpose again.

"They're not anything fancy... you can't get VR from them like your consoles."

"Oh my *moons*!! It's not 'VR' and you can't get SE from *just* a console!"

[i-was-today-years-old-when]

i learned that King Edward VII had a special chair made for... Well, for his free time.

When Edward VII was still a young prince devoid of any responsibility for the crown, he travelled far from the British capital in search of leisure and pleasure. On one of his visits to Paris, he approached Le Chabanais, one of the best-known brothels in Paris. It was located relatively close to the Louvre Museum.

Edward VII was assigned his own room whenever he frequented the brothel. The prince's main problem was his overweight. To overcome the physical impediment, the cabinetmaker Louis Soubrier made what he called "the chair of love".

The chair was made in such a way that the future king could act without getting too tired. Also, the shape of the chair suggests that it was made so that the man could lie with two women at once.

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

King Edward

In the months that followed King Wilhelm's demise, Windenburg seemed to be on a brighter path. One morning, King Edward called for an audience at The Tower of Windenburg, and the crowds gathered eagerly, their eyes filled with anticipation. At only 12 years old, King Edward wasn't even tall enough to reach the podium, so he stood on books to make himself appear taller. He was flanked by his mother, Dowager Queen Cordelia, who stood with a sense of quiet pride.

As the young king prepared to speak, there was a hush that fell over the crowd. Edward's voice, though young, carried a weight of authority and determination. "In a time of crisis, we must show compassion and resolve. Thus, I announced the conversion of The Tower of Windenburg and The Palace of Westsimster into infirmaries for those afflicted by the plague. Furthermore, I pledged to hire 1500 new plague doctors to aid in this dire hour. My vow is to protect my people, not to condemn them. Through employing more doctors and fostering care, we witness the slow return of hope as our afflicted brethren begin to mend." Edward stated. He employed more doctors, and slowly, people started to get better. The plague had seemingly run its course, though many people had died, it seemed that no one new was getting infected.

By summer, traces of the virus had vanished, and many of the traveling plague doctors went on their way. The streets of Windenburg were bustling with life once more, and the people rejoiced in the newfound sense of hope and optimism. King Edward's swift and decisive actions had not only saved countless lives but had also restored faith in the monarchy. The young king's compassion and determination had proven that age was no barrier to leadership, and his reign was marked by a sense of unity and progress.

On the fifth day of summer, 1350, crowds gathered around Westsimster Abbey for the coronation of King Edward. The Abbey was heavily guarded, and only nobles and a handful of lucky citizens were allowed to attend the ceremony. Edward, dressed in his finest clothes and wearing his custom-knit coronation robe that was 9 feet in length, walked beside his mother, Cordelia, toward the coronation chair. The robe trailed behind him as he moved, a symbol of the weight of the crown he was about to bear.

As they approached the coronation chair, Cordelia helped her son remove the robe, her hands trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. She looked at Edward, her heart filled with a mixture of pride and fear. Pride for the son who was about to become king, and fear for the challenges that lay ahead. "He is but a mere child," she thought to herself, her mind racing with worry.

"As my son ascends the throne, I can't help but fear the weight of the crown upon his young shoulders," Cordelia whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd. "Will he be strong enough to withstand the challenges that lie ahead?" Her mind was clouded with uncertainty, and she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in the air. Edward sat in the coronation chair, a place where many of his ancestors had also sat before him, and waited for the crowning to begin. The High Priest of the Jacoban Church, Paul Leudemond, would be conducting the ceremony, despite his biases. Facing the crowd, Paul began his speech.

"Your Majesty, esteemed nobles, and beloved citizens of Windenburg, today marks a significant moment in our history. We gather to witness the coronation of King Edward, a young ruler who, despite his tender age, has shown remarkable wisdom and courage. As the high priest of the Jacoban church, it is my honor to preside over this sacred ceremony and to bestow upon our young king the blessings of our faith. Let us begin."

"I am here to affirm that Edward is not merely ascending to the throne by birthright, but by divine will. The Jacoban faith has long held that kings are chosen by the grace of the Almighty, and in Edward, we see a beacon of hope for our kingdom."

After saying a prayer to St. Jacob and anointing the new king, Paul placed the crown upon Edward's head, and everyone in the building bowed before their new king. Following that, Edward stood up to the side, and Cordelia was guided to the chair. Paul placed the Imperial Orb of Windenburg in Cordelia's hand and stated , "Your Majesty, it is my duty to present you with the imperial orb of Windenburg, a symbol of your regency. However, I must also remind you that this orb is not yours to keep. It is a temporary token of authority, entrusted to you until King Edward comes of age."

"I trust you are aware of the weight of this responsibility. You are not the rightful ruler of Windenburg, and your reign is but a temporary measure. I urge you to remember that, as you hold this orb, you are merely a steward of the throne, not its true sovereign. It is my fervent hope that you will fulfill your promise to relinquish the throne to King Edward on his 18th birthday. Your Majesty, I implore you to set aside any personal ambitions and act in the best interests of our kingdom."

Cordelia held the orb out in her hand and stated, "I vow to uphold the regency of Windenburg with unwavering dedication, ensuring the prosperity and well-being of our kingdom. I pledge to guide and nurture King Edward, preparing him for the responsibilities of the throne. On his 18th birthday, I will gracefully relinquish the regency, allowing him to ascend as the rightful king of Windenburg. Until that day, I will serve as a steadfast protector of our realm, honoring the trust placed in me by our people."

After that, Cordelia stood up, and both of them headed towards the crowd, stopping on the ledge to wave as many monarchs have traditionally. Behind them stood Paul, a look of resentment on his face. He would do anything within his power to remove Cordelia from her position. The crowds roared as Edward and Cordelia exited the Abbey, parties in the streets broke out, the people were overjoyed by their new King, despite his age.

Back at The Parish of St. Jacob, the Jacoban clergy met again in secrecy to discuss their plans of ambush. Paul, with a solemn expression, addressed the gathered clergy. "My brethren, the ascension of King Edward, a mere boy, and the regency of Queen Cordelia, a woman of Bagley blood, are affronts to our faith and to the very fabric of our society. It is an insult to the Jacoban church and to the traditions that have guided our kingdom for centuries."

Paul then turned his gaze to a guest he had called to the meeting, Lord Richard of Windenburg, the current King's first cousin once removed. "Your Grace," Paul addressed him, "The regency of Cordelia is a blight upon our kingdom, a threat to the very fabric of our society. We cannot allow her to continue to wield power unchecked. We must take decisive action to protect the sanctity of our kingdom and to ensure that King Edward is guided by the true principles of our faith."

Richard, with a furrowed brow, listened intently. He knew that the Jacoban clergy were prepared to go to great lengths to achieve their goals, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect the kingdom. "Your Holiness," he replied, "I understand the urgency of the situation. Cordelia's regency poses a significant threat to the stability of our kingdom, and we cannot afford to let her continue to wield power unchecked. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to protect the kingdom and to ensure that King Edward is guided by the true principles of our faith."

"As for Cordelia," Richard continued, "I propose a swift and covert operation. We'll stage the ambush when she's least expecting it, perhaps during a royal procession or a visit to a remote estate. The goal is to take her into custody without causing a scene, ensuring she's held in a secure location away from the influence of the crown. As for her fate, I advocate for keeping her alive but in captivity. Killing her would only escalate the situation and lead to further unrest. By keeping her isolated, we can neutralize her influence while avoiding unnecessary bloodshed."

Paul and Richard rose from their seats, their hands meeting in a firm handshake, a silent agreement passing between them. Their eyes held a steely determination, knowing that the ambush they planned would soon be set into motion. With a shared nod, they reaffirmed their commitment to the cause, understanding the weight of their decision and the consequences that lay ahead.

In Tartosa, the aging Dowager Queen Margaery of Windenburg sat in her chambers at Thebe Castle, a sense of nostalgia and longing filling the air. She sifted through the letters and correspondence that had arrived from overseas, her heart heavy with the weight of the past. The news from Lady Dorothea, a trusted confidante, struck her like a bolt of lightning. King Wilhelm V, her son, had passed away. Margaery's hands trembled as she read the words, her mind racing with memories of her son's troubled reign.

As she absorbed the news, a mixture of emotions washed over her. Grief for her son's passing mingled with a profound sense of relief. For years, she had borne the burden of his actions, the weight of his tyranny. Now, with his demise, she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders, a newfound freedom she hadn't experienced in decades.

Margaery's thoughts turned to her daughter, Empress Mary, who was unaware of the news. She called for Mary to join her, the urgency in her voice evident. As Mary entered the room, Margaery's eyes met hers, filled with a mix of sorrow and resolve.

"My dearest Mary," Margaery began, her voice trembling with emotion. "I have received news that will change our lives forever. King Wilhelm, your brother, has passed away. While I am stricken with grief for his loss, I also feel a sense of relief. For so long, I have carried the weight of his actions, the burden of his reign. Now, with his passing, I am free from the shackles of his tyranny."

Mary listened in stunned silence, her mind reeling from the news. She had not seen her brother in years, nor had she witnessed the turmoil of his rule. Her memories of him were from their childhood, a time when they were close and carefree.

Margaery continued, her voice filled with determination. "This moment marks a new beginning for me. For thirty long years, I have been estranged from our family in Windenburg. It is time for me to return home, to mend the rifts that have divided us, and to reconnect with our loved ones. Would you accompany me, my dear Mary? Let us reclaim our rightful place in the embrace of our family."

Mary's heart swelled with a mix of emotions as she looked at her mother. She knew that this journey would not be easy, but she also knew that it was necessary. With a nod, she replied, "Yes, Mother. I will accompany you. Let us begin this journey together, to heal the wounds of the past and forge a new future for our family."