#Royal Sims

[theroyalthrones]

Whatcha call that? Head over heels?

original pic

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟑   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   RENZO'S HOUSE, NAKAWE, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Leonor knew she was imposing. Although with permission, she let herself into the most private circle of Renzo’s life, one from which he had barred her for months. There hadn’t been any negotiating it, and she couldn’t say whether that made it better or worse. Rather, she hadn’t tried to go where he didn’t seem to want her. She also hadn’t tried to discover whether it was a matter of wanting at all. He did want her. He had, with clarity and audacity, from the day they met. She’d seen how he treated people that he didn’t want but had yet to experience that kind of terrible disregard from him.

❧ i don't recall when these ideas came to me and melded together but i'm glad they did also hopefully goes without saying but there's time weirdness that'll be addressed subsequently ! also 2x maybe i’m wrong but there aren’t enough bj fantasies given how much some enjoy giving them, idk idk

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Leonor knew she was imposing. Although with permission, she let herself into the most private circle of Renzo’s life, one from which he had barred her for months. There hadn’t been any negotiating it, and she couldn’t say whether that made it better or worse. Rather, she hadn’t tried to go where he didn’t seem to want her. She also hadn’t tried to discover whether it was a matter of wanting at all. He did want her. He had, with clarity and audacity, from the day they met. She’d seen how he treated people that he didn’t want but had yet to experience that kind of terrible disregard from him.

Still, for all they discussed, the red lines and boundaries of their own relationship went without remark—either unspeakable or so self-evident as to require no demarcation. Leonor believed most of the time that it was the latter. She knew that her life had steadily cohered around his. The rhythm of it attracted her, able to fill the grave-silent vacuum where her own had once been. Although it had, important distinctions remained. Now, waking up in his bed, surrounding by what looked to be all of his worldly possessions, knowing he allowed her to be there because she needed him that much, because he cared about her that much, she suspected at least one distinction had blurred irrevocably. 

Just as quick as the realization took hold, so too did the understanding that it didn’t bother her. She noted she was alone in the room. That meant something. She took in the sight of everything bathed in daylight, from the careless stacks of books to the rumpled clothes strewn on the floor to the overflowing boxes shoved into the small room’s corners. It had seemed peculiar to her that he lived in the guesthouse instead of the perfectly suitable villa to which it belonged. Looking around, she began to appreciate why he would make such a choice. For anyone else, it would have been silly or, worse, performative. Leonor, rolling over into the pillows that smelled like him, felt she now unlocked some deeper knowledge of everything he had ever told her about himself—like she could feel what he felt when he claimed to be so uncomfortable and discontent in places other people might kill to experience. In that, yet another distinction dissolved. 

Renzo hadn’t answered the phone when Leonor called, and his flippant prerecorded message sounded cruel as it played. Her hope had been reassurance—comfort, really—in the clarity he tended to offer. Instead, the sound of his voice disheartened her further. Her mind raced all night without guidance to quiet it. It chased away sleep, banging together gut-wrenching thoughts with insistence and urgency. The idea of her mother’s belongings cast out into the world, ripped away before she could claim them for her own sentimental needs, felt just as discordant as the haphazard crashing of cymbals. She had grasped onto half-formed notions of how to retrieve these mysterious belongings, but a plan refused to cohere. Even after crying as she hadn’t in weeks, the burden of emotional exhaustion didn’t slow down the pace of her thoughts.  

She slept much better in Renzo’s bed, even if it was the first time she’d ever been in it. 

He was a private person and, anyway, she had eagerly brought him into her house. His opinion mattered to her as soon as he set foot inside; he liked the artwork in her dining room so much that she'd immediately gifted him one of the large pieces, frame and all. It perplexed him, as if he wasn't sure what he would do with it. 'You don't collect it?' she asked him. He shrugged. 'That's what everyone asks. I should smarten up, huh?' Leonor had imagined his home full of art—obscure, iconoclastic finds, too, not the low-hanging fruit. That exchange and several others kept her curious about what his home looked like.

Luckily, she was the nosy kind of curious. She asked around without shame on a couple of occasions, wondering aloud where he lived and what his house was like. She did know his address. He’d given it to her driver, at the end of long nights or when he left her house in the afternoon. All it told her was that he lived in a quiet, star-studded neighborhood that was the new money equivalent of her own. That wasn’t surprising, even if she imagined him in a trendy downtown apartment rather than one of those high-walled coastal villas. His friends offered less-than-colorful descriptions of what was inside. They seemed confused by the question, even. ‘It’s just a house.’ He wasn’t much for decorating. They went over to drink and smoke and and gamble and watch films. She could imagine it well enough, a gaggle of off-duty actors squished together on a big couch. What kind of couch, though? That was the root of it—she could imagine Renzo’s eyes lighting up at the sight of an old, ugly sofa in a dusty secondhand store, but she couldn’t quite picture him bringing it home with any purpose or intent. In the same way she inherited a house designed for someone else, she supposed he simply occupied someone else’s dream home. 

As it turned out, that was the case. Imposing fences, dense foliage, and locked gates hid all the houses on the street from view. Leonor had initially noted the averageness of the house itself, but she soon found herself more intrigued by the discovery that he resided in the guesthouse instead. She'd cast a glance back at the main house looming large and empty, then laughed as she turned back to the little doll’s home Renzo preferred. Inside, Leonor flipped on every light she encountered as she wandered around. She had felt a strange, sheepish delight that he wasn’t present to observe the way her eyes lingered on every detail. It was greedy, but she wanted to see everything that was his. 

The guesthouse possessed a neutral, modern style that didn’t represent Renzo very well, but he had made it his own. His old shoes piled up in the entryway. The living room, small to her but an open cavern in reality, bore the colorful imprint of his time spent there. VHS tapes clustered around the television set. Evidence of card games past littered the coffee table, along with books, a full ashtray, abandoned bottles of lukewarm beer. Leonor smiled at the little potted cactus. In the music nook, a record collection sat with a couple of guitars. Leonor envisioned him stretched out on the solitary lounge chair, reading the book tossed at its foot, making use of the hard candy or rolling papers on the side table in between chapters. She took one of the candies as she passed by, leaving behind her wrapper with those already discarded. 

The staircase led directly to the single bedroom. Leonor had been able to see in the moonlight, and she soon felt a tug of unease.  Even more than downstairs, Renzo’s bedroom looked like the sanctuary she had suspected his home must be. It was cluttered and overflowed with belongings, some collecting dust and others arranged as if he would return to them any minute. His very life was here. It fit in a single room. Some of it spoke for itself, and others were inscrutable symbols of stories she had yet to hear. What was it like, she wondered, to both live with such sentimentality and to be so without roots? For a moment, she had wanted to turn around and leave, as if she hadn’t earned the right to such an intimate look at him. Instead, she pulled the door shut and crawled into the unmade bed. 

Walking into the house, the nostalgic scent of stale smoke sunk into fabric greeted her. A fleeting recollection of climbing into her mother's personal car sprung to mind in response. The same smell clung to the sheets and pillows, melded with the sweet, earthen scents Renzo wore. She could all but hear her grandmother’s voice ranting about the acerbic stench she loathed, for reasons both hygienic and spiteful, but Leonor found the familiarity comforting. It smelled like her mother’s embrace the morning after a big fight, when she came inside from the balcony with a tired, apologetic smile on her face and last night’s smoke still in her hair. An ocean breeze blew inside from the open doors, and it ruffled Leonor’s hair as she turned to face the view. The water was barely visible through the foliage, but its shimmering in the distance was unmistakable. She listened to the wind, and the quiet city whisperings it carried, and soon felt at home.

As Leonor descended the spiral staircase the next morning, the sound of voices alerted her yet again to the fact that she was imposing. Renzo’s plans for the weekend hadn’t included her. She was supposed to be away and, in any case, he had mentioned meeting a friend. It didn’t occur to her as she’d pulled on her underwear and selected a shirt from the floor to wear—and only that, crucially—that he could be meeting someone at home, right now, while she slept her way from morning to early afternoon. Possibilities flashed through her mind as her steps down the staircase slowed. It could be someone important, like his agent, who sounded dour even on the telephone. Or, it could be a familiar face who would see her bare legs and just laugh. She decided to risk it and managed to pad all the way over to the sunken sitting area before Renzo looked up at her. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked as she regarded his guest, a stranger, with a quizzical look.

“Hard,” she replied. "Knocked out.” 

Renzo chuckled, and the man sat across from him piped up, “Hey. I don’t know if you remember me. Jim.”

Leonor stared at his face. He was possibly the most non-Uspanian looking man she had ever seen, and his accent supported that notion. Still, she couldn't remember where she might have seen him. His was a forgettable face, too. “I don’t, sorry. Nice to meet you—again.” 

“Jim’s a photographer,” Renzo added. 

Leonor nodded. He looked like a photographer, and he looked like the kind of photographer that Renzo would befriend. Nonetheless, she feigned dismay, announcing, “Oh, no, I better go hide, then—!”

“Editorial, mostly,” Jim clarified with a laugh. “Yeah, I dabble in photojournalism, but strictly the kind that’s, you know, real news.” 

The conversation lulled while Leonor turned her attention back to Renzo, nudging him with her toes until he reached up to help her climb down onto the couch. Although Jim watched them, he may as well have not been present at all. Leonor wished he wasn’t. Buoyed by the satisfaction of having achieved a new kind of intimacy, Leonor hoped to float down the stairs and right into Renzo’s arms. She wanted a tour of the house, and she wanted to take her time in every part of it. In a sense, the day was halfway over, and it could have progressed like all of the sleepovers before it, making up for lost morning hours with late night ones. Renzo maintained late-rising night owl's hours, and Leonor was happy to follow him into bed and out of it irrespective of where the sun might’ve been sitting in the sky. Today, he was awake early with a friend, and Leonor had to settle for conveying her disappointment through expression alone. He smirked at her while he squeezed her thigh, and she took that as a wordless promise. 

Nestled between him and the couch, Leonor turned her attention back to Jim. “Jim, have you done anything I would recognize?” 

“Maybe,” he began, “But—”

“And you’re from Simerica, too?”

Jim chuckled, and Leonor felt Renzo react to that with his own amused scoff. 

“I met Renzo at the Beverly Hills Hotel,” Jim explained. “He walked into my shot and then told me to go fuck myself. Southern charm, this guy.”

Although there was affection in Jim’s tone, Renzo protested this characterization while Leonor snickered. It was believable, but perhaps that was the problem. “He was being a bitch about it. I wandered by. So what?”

“It was my first Interview job! I can admit I was a teeny bit on edge,” Jim retorted.

Again, they fell quiet while Renzo tended to the cigarette he’d been holding and Leonor observed from where she lay against his chest. 

Jim looked on. His expression shifted into one of careful concentration. He asked without any prelude, “Can I photograph you?” 

It wasn’t a question she couldn’t have anticipated, but Leonor was still surprised. She wrinkled her brow and cast another glance to Renzo before trying to clarify what Jim wanted. “Me?”

“Both of you. Together.”

“Um … When?”

“Now? Today. I have my camera right here.”

“It’s up to you,” Renzo murmured to her.

Indeed, Jim’s camera sat on the coffee table, perched atop a stack of tapes leftover from whatever difficult movie-watching decision Renzo had last made. Leonor looked at it, imagining the shuttering of its lens as it pointed toward her. What kind of photographs did Jim have in mind? She didn’t know what his work looked like, although his association with Renzo offered clues. He wouldn’t have befriended someone whose art he didn’t respect, and Renzo was just as well-acquainted with posing for cameras as Leonor herself. Had Jim taken photographs of him before, aside from whatever unintentional cameo he’d made when they first met? Polaroid flashes went off constantly during their nights of partying, but that, much like the hounding flashes of paparazzi, differed from what Jim was proposing. He wanted to photograph them in Renzo’s home. He would want a performance of candidity, that elusive desire of everyone in his profession. They would be relaxed, together, his object being their relationship, not either of the two individuals that formed it. It wasn't lost on her that he asked for a photo shoot while they ignored him in favor of each other.

Jim’s question, with Renzo’s gentle and immediate yielding, brought yet another once-sharp distinction into soft focus. 

“Well …” Leonor meant to forestall announcing a decision, but her tone gave it away. Jim smiled as she said to Renzo, “We do look good together. Not too many good quality daytime pictures, are there? Hm.”

Jim was eager to seal the deal. “Just a casual offer,” he insisted. “Just for fun. Perk of having interesting friends.”

Leonor nodded. He must have taken pictures of Renzo before. He acted like a bashful schoolboy with a surprising report card whenever she found photos of him to coo over. 'Put it away! It's embarrassing.' Those photographers had success with him, managing to coax out the version that played well with others and didn't resent his blessings. Fancy pictures taken by a friend would be something different. Perhaps Jim's photos had been monochrome closeups that turned his large, green eyes into a soft, warm gray and made even more pronounced the sharp lines of his face. Although she had seen countless photos of herself, she couldn’t fully see how she would fit into that frame—what they would look like together, through Jim’s mechanical eyes. 

“No publication? Nowhere?” she asked, forcing herself back to the concrete specifics. 

Jim shook his head. “I’ll give you prints to keep, and you can do whatever with them.” 

She felt a flutter. It was the kind of ingenuous excitement that always appeared with embarrassment nipping at its heels. What would she do, frame one and put it on her bedside table—stick it to her refrigerator with a cute magnet, tuck it into the sun visor of her car, keep it in her purse alongside her credit cards and notes-to-self? Even if they felt silly, there was nothing ridiculous in those suggestions. Her desire for what Jim offered was sincere. That, coupled with the subtle feeling of Renzo nuzzling his cheek against her hair, confirmed the suspicion she had awoken with less than an hour ago. Somehow, today was different. Every day after would have to be as well.

Surprised by the softness of her own words when she spoke, Leonor affirmed, “Okay, then. Sounds like fun.”

TRANSCRIPT:

[Leonor murmurs]

[Camera shutters, indistinct voices]

RENZO (O.S.) | Open your mouth—

[Birds chirping, Leonor laughs]

RENZO | How’d you sleep? LEONOR | Hard. Knocked out. [Renzo chuckles]

JIM | Hey. I don’t know if you remember me. Jim. LEONOR | I don’t, sorry. Nice to meet you—again.

RENZO | Jim’s a photographer. LEONOR | Oh, no, I better go hide, then— JIM | [laughs] Editorial, mostly. Yeah, I dabble in photojournalism, but strictly the kind that’s, you know, real news.

LEONOR | Jim, have you done anything I would recognize?

JIM | Maybe, but— LEONOR | And you’re from Simerica, too? JIM | I met Renzo at the Beverly Hills Hotel. He walked into my shot and then told me to go fuck myself. Southern charm, this guy. [Leonor snickers]

RENZO | He was being a bitch about it. I wandered by. So what? JIM | It was my first Interview job! I can admit I was a teeny bit on edge. [Laughter]

JIM | Can I photograph you?

LEONOR | Me? JIM | Both of you. Together. LEONOR | Um … When? JIM | Now? Today. I have my camera right here. RENZO | It’s up to you. LEONOR | Well … We do look good together. Not too many good quality daytime pictures, are there? Hm.

JIM | Just a casual offer. Just for fun. Perk of having interesting friends. LEONOR | No publication? Nowhere? JIM | I’ll give you prints to keep, and you can do whatever with them.

LEONOR | Okay, then. Sounds like fun.

[bridgeportbritt]

Willington Palace | Sage, SimDonia

Friendly chatter

Diana: Hello everyone. Thanks for joining me here today. I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here...

Spencer: I hope it's not because we're all in trouble!

The group laughs

Diana laughs dryly: Well, not exactly. But there is a serious matter that I need to speak with you all about.

Silence

Diana: As you know, there have been quite a few changes taking place within the monarchy. New rules, new procedures and such. One of those changes included regular visits with a monarch physician. While we were ensuring that all family members were healthy and receiving the best care, there was another reason why everyone was required to do this.

Diana: You see, we've known for quite some time that there is something affecting this family - an illness. Previously, we've only focused on monarchs and heirs and how they were affected. But this approach proved ineffective. So, we began testing other members of the family to get better results. You're all here because the testing we've done shows that you or your children or spouses are affected.

Surprised and concerned murmer

Lydia clears throat: Let Her Majesty continue!

Diana: I know that this is concerning, but there is good news. The testing has not only helped us discover who is affected and why. But we've also discovered a short-term treatment. The goal, of course, is to find a cure, but this is a step in the right direction.

Ian: May we speak, Your Majesty?

Diana: Of course.

Ian: What exactly is the illness and what is the cause you discovered?

Diana: The illness is actually a genetic defect passed down from King William ll likely due to his time as a locksmith before the war. What happens is certain cells in your body are attacked especially when under chronic stress. That is why so many monarchs were tested and treated most as the stress of the job often triggered the illness causing other issues. My father included.

Sarah: Is this the illness that killed King Parker?

Diana: ...Yes. It has caused a lot of harm to this mainly to monarchs and heirs. My father, brother and I included.

Spencer: This has caused a great deal of harm to our family. It is the reason Elizabeth and I were never able to produce an heir. My brother the late King William lll was also affected. Abdicating early was likely the only thing that prolonged his life even for the short time it did.

Emmitt: My grandfather... What about my father?

Spencer: As far as I know, he was not affected, but there is no way to know for sure as he was never tested since he wasn't a monarch or heir.

Bria annoyed: Okay, let me get this straight. There is some secret family illness that has been literally killing people, you guys have known about it, started testing on us and our kids without our knowledge, and know you have some major treatment that we know nothing about, and we're just supposed to trust this?

Diana: I understand how this sounds, but this is something that could not have been widely known. Especially when we didn't have all the information.

Lydia: And Your Royal Highness, it's 'Your Majesty' when you address the Queen!

Diana: Lydia, it's alright. Bria, please understand that the last thing I've wanted to do is keep this from all of you. But if this got out, it would reflect negatively on the royal family.

Bria: No, Diana. I don't think you understand. You're telling me that you have withheld medical information from me about my children. As a mother, I'm sure you can understand how that crosses a line!

Diana: Bria, your children are a part of this family, this monarchy. That information was only withheld due to the damage it could cause the entire family including them.

Bria angry: I don't care about this monarchy! This institution is clearly why my kids and husband could be sick!

Spencer: Okay, I think we all just need to take a breather. Everyone in this room is affected here. Bria, you have to know that it was not up to Diana to keep this secret. Even she didn't know until recently. Previously only monarchs held this information and that's only if they were affected.

Bria: Ugh, this whole place is insane! Don't you see how crazy that is? You people care more about the monarchy than the people in it!

Diana: That's not true, Bria. I care...

Bria: No, it is true, Diana. I know very well. You care only when it serves you. That's how this whole monarchy game serves works. And I've played it long enough! I will not let me kids be victim to this machine.

Diana: Bria, what are you saying?

Bria: I expect all my family's medical records to be sealed and sent to us personally. We will be finding our own outside medical care. And as far as I'm concerned, my kids are done with whatever this is. Emmitt, Ella, let's go.

[empiredesimparte]

Live broadcast of ‘Le Sacre de Napoléon V’ on the national channel Francesim 2, hosted by Stéphane Bernard

(Another journalist) We see the imperial couple's carriage leaving the Palais des Tuileries, the ceremony is starting! (Stéphane Bernard) Yes, my dear, here we are. This is a historic day for all of Francesim!

(Stéphane Bernard) Look at these images of the majestic Notre-Dame Cathedral, where the heads of state are taking their places. They are the first to enter, as per His Imperial Majesty's wish. Of course, this is excluding the journalists and cameras. We live in the era of communication. (Another journalist) It's also the first time under the French Empire that the coronation is taking place in the presence of foreign leaders. (Stéphane Bernard) Yes, if you like, it's a completely different atmosphere compared to the coronation of Napoleon IV in 2001, or year 209.

(Stéphane Bernard) His approach was more traditional. It was necessary to win back the French people. Thus, all the guests – around ten thousand – were French. It was also necessary to "introduce" oneself, which is why the emperor focused all the images on his person, the new aristocracy, and the imperial splendor.

(Stéphane Bernard) Today, in 2022, 21 years later, Emperor Napoleon V enjoys a popularity that nearly reaches 80%! You understand, the issues are completely different now. Napoleon V's coronation is a soft power operation. It's subtler than with Napoleon IV: by using symbols of the monarchy like the orb representing universalism, the splendor, and traditions, he strengthens the image and cultural influence of Francesim worldwide. This grand event showcases the stability and grandeur of the nation while cultivating a sense of national pride.

(Another journalist) Is it also a way for a young emperor like Napoleon V to assert his legitimacy in front of other crowned heads? (Stéphane Bernard) No, I don't think so. Allow me to say that this would be a very mistaken interpretation of the ceremony. The Emperor of the French derives his legitimacy solely from the French people. The other heads of state, or God, have absolutely no role to play in this process. It is a solemn moment where the sacred bond between the sovereign and his people is celebrated and renewed, without external interference. That is why the heads of state and ambassadors are not filmed during or after the ceremony.

(Other journalist) Wait, Stéphane, let me stop you right there. Le sacre is a religious ceremony. What do you mean? (Stéphane Bernard) I will delve into this more during the ceremony, but it is crucial to distinguish the different moments of the coronation. Religion, while important, constitutes only a part of it: the anointing. Note that there are few sacral monarchies in Europesim today. The Empire of Pierreland is one of the rare countries that have preserved this grand religious tradition. In Francesim, Emperor Napoleon IV chose to reinstate the coronation for reasons other than legitimacy. Emperor Napoleon III, for example, was never crowned! (Another journalist) The imperial procession is now on the Champs-Elysées. Oh, look, Stéphane, the first images of Their Majesties!

(Stéphane Bernard) Admire Their Majesties in their Petit Habit de Sacre, an outfit elegantly inspired by the coronation of Napoleon I. This traditional French attire, reserved for the most solemn occasions, is today enhanced by a touch of originality unique to Napoleon V: he proudly wears the famous bicorne of his illustrious ancestor, Napoleon I. (Another journalist) I must say, it's quite something to see a Simparte wearing that famous hat! (Stéphane Bernard) For the most fervent Simpartists, it is truly a relic.

(Stéphane Bernard) Empress Charlotte, on the other hand, is adorned with the prestigious ruby set of Marie-Louise of Austria, created by the renowned court jeweler, François Regnault Nitot. She is also wearing the famous diamond necklace of Queen Marie-Antoinette. A curious choice, considering the tumultuous history associated with this piece, but it remains spectacular nonetheless. If my memory serves me right, this necklace is composed of 650 diamonds. (Another journalist) Yes, about 2800 carats in total. Their Majesties appear to be in exceptional form. Our colleagues at the Palais des Tuileries this morning reported that the emperor was particularly cheerful.

(Stéphane Bernard) Yes, a lot of emotions will affect him today. Right now, before our eyes, he is still a secular figure like all of us. But when he takes his oath to the French People shortly, he will no longer be the same man. Numerous rites will transform this private individual into a mystical figure: the Emperor. This is what we will witness today, the transformation of our dear sovereign.

(Stéphane Bernard) The imperial procession is now in front of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile, this emblematic monument of Napoleonic heritage. Built under the orders of Napoleon I, magnified by Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann, this grand edifice embodies the glory and victories of the Empire. Let us not forget the famous promise of the Emperor to his soldiers: "You will only return to your homes under triumphal arches". (Other journalist) Indeed, this is a very symbolic step in the procession.

(Stéphane Bernard) Absolutely. The imperial procession recently passed the Palais Royal, which was once the seat of the Tribunat during the Empire. Today, this iconic place houses the Ministry of Culture as well as the Constitutional Council. Now, the procession is about to cross the Pont-Neuf to reach the cathedral through the grand west entrance. On this sacred day, the imperial couple is the only one granted the honor of entering through this majestic gate. The guests, on the other hand, enter the cathedral through the north facade.

⚜ Le Sacre de Napoléon V | N°7 | Francesim, Paris, 28 Thermidor An 230

The imperial cortege made its way to Notre-Dame cathedral in Paris, while the coronation guests took their seats. It was broadcast live on television by Stéphane Bernard, the famous journalist for the crowned heads in Francesim.

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

⚜ Guests at the coronation

TIM, Emperor David I and Empress Katalina of Pierreland (@officalroyalsofpierreland)

HRH, Prince Oliver, Duke of Rothsey (@officalroyalsofpierreland)

HIM, Queen Viviana II of the Ionian Union (@funkyllama)

TM, King Arnaut and Queen Lorraine of Uspana (@nexility-sims)

HM, Queen Anastasia of Carrington and HRH, Prince Hisirdoux, the Duke of Clois (@royalhouseofcarrington)

TRH, Crown Prince George, Duke of Everton and Crown Princess Anne, Duchess of Everton (@crownsofesha)

HRH, Margaret, the Princess Royal of Corrilea (@theroyalsofcorrilea)

HM, Queen Diana and HRH, Prince Gerhard of SimDonia (@bridgeportbritt)

HRH, Madame Royale Eleanor de Thornolie (@theroyalthornoliachronicles)

TM, King Giovanni and Queen Consort Cassandre (@royalhouseofcardsleyts4)

TIM, The High King and High Queen of the Presean Empire (@stthomaspalace)

TM, King George I and Queen Elizabeth of Illyria (@the-lancasters)

TRH, the Duke and Duchess of Marseille and Saint-Lyon (@sosa-royals)

HM, Rosalind II, Queen of the Armoricans (@armoricaroyalty)

HM, King Arthur of the United Kingdom of Prydain and Voltadelmar (@prydainroyals)

TRH, The Prince and Princess of Belen (@housekonig)

HIH,  The Princess Imperial Eliana of Alexandria (@thealexandrianroyals)

TM, Queen Najwa and King Abeni of Oasis Springs (@hrh-the-royals)

TRH, Crown Princess Emeline and Crown Prince Cedric of Whitmore (@whitmoreroyals)

TM, King Oliver and Queen Charlotte of Cedoria and the Isle (@thebaillieroyals)

TM, King James II and Queen Alibhe of United Kingdoms of Great Briton and Ériu (@trhor)

Her Majesty Queen Irene and HRH Prince James (@albanyroyals)

⚜ Traduction française

(Autre journaliste) On voit le carrosse du couple impérial quitter le palais des Tuileries, la cérémonie commence ! (Stéphane Bernard) Oui mon cher, ça y est nous y sommes. C'est une journée historique pour la Francesim toute entière !

(Stéphane Bernard) Regardez ces images de la majestueuse cathédrale Notre-Dame, où les chefs d'État prennent place. Ce sont eux, les premiers à entrer, selon le souhait de Sa Majesté Impériale. Bien entendu, si l'on met de côté les journalistes et les caméras. Nous vivons à l'ère de la communication.

(Autre journaliste) C'est la première fois d'ailleurs sous l'empire français que le sacre s'effectue en présence de dirigeants étrangers. (Stéphane Bernard) Oui, si vous voulez, c'est une tout autre ambiance que le sacre de Napoléon IV en 2001, ou l'an 209.

(Stéphane Bernard) Son approche était plus traditionnelle et orientée vers un nationalisme assumé. Il fallait reconquérir les Français. Ainsi, tous les invités – environ dix mille – étaient français. Il était également nécessaire de 'se présenter', c'est pourquoi l'empereur a focalisé toutes les images sur sa personne, la nouvelle aristocratie et le faste impérial.

(Stéphane Bernard) Aujourd'hui, en 2022 soit 21 ans plus tard, l'empereur Napoléon V bénéficie d'une popularité qui frôle les 80% ! Vous le comprenez bien, les problématiques ont radicalement changé. Le couronnement de Napoléon V est une opération de soft power. C'est plus subtil qu'avec Napoléon IV : en utilisant les symboles de la monarchie comme le globe qui représente l'universalisme, le faste et les traditions, il renforce l'image et l'influence culturelle de la Francesim à travers le monde. Cet événement grandiose permet de montrer la stabilité et la grandeur de la nation, tout en cultivant un sentiment de fierté nationale.

(Autre journaliste) Est-ce un moyen aussi pour un jeune empereur comme Napoléon V d'asseoir sa légitimité devant d'autres têtes couronnées ? (Stéphane Bernard) Non, je ne crois pas. Permettez-moi de vous dire que ce serait une interprétation très erronée de la cérémonie. L'empereur des Français tire sa légitimité uniquement du Peuple français. Les autres chefs d'État, comme Dieu, n'ont absolument aucun rôle à jouer dans ce processus. Il s'agit d'un moment solennel où le lien sacré entre le souverain et son peuple est célébré et renouvelé, sans ingérence extérieure. C'est pourquoi les chefs d'états et les ambassadeurs ne sont pas filmés durant ou après la cérémonie.

(Autre journaliste) Attendez, Stéphane, je vous arrête tout de suite. Le Sacre est une cérémonie religieuse. Qu'est-ce que vous voulez dire ? (Stéphane Bernard) Je reviendrai sur ce point plus en détail pendant la cérémonie, mais il est crucial de distinguer les différents moments du sacre. La religion, bien qu'importante, n'en constitue qu'une partie : celle de l'onction. Notez qu'il y a peu de monarchies sacrales en Europesim de nos jours. L'empire de Pierreland est l'un des rares pays à avoir conservé cette grande tradition religieuse. En Francesim, l'empereur Napoléon IV a choisi de rétablir le sacre pour d'autres raisons que la légitimité. Napoléon III, lui, n'a jamais été sacré par exemple ! (Autre journaliste) Le cortège impérial est maintenant sur les Champs-Elysées. Oh, regardez Stéphane, les premières images de Leurs Majestés !

(Stéphane Bernard) C'est un moment marquant de cette journée historique ! Admirez Leurs Majestés dans leur Petit Habit de Sacre, une tenue élégamment inspirée du couronnement de Napoléon Ier. Cette tenue traditionnelle française, réservée aux occasions les plus solennelles, est aujourd'hui sublimée par une touche d'originalité propre à Napoléon V : il arbore fièrement le célèbre bicorne de son illustre ancêtre, Napoléon Ier. (Autre journaliste) Je dois dire que ça fait quelque chose de voir un Simparte porter ce célèbre chapeau ! (Stéphane Bernard) Pour les Simpartistes les plus fervents, il s'agit d'une véritable relique.

(Stéphane Bernard) L'impératrice Charlotte, quant à elle, porte la prestigieuse parure de rubis de Marie-Louise d'Autriche, créé par le célèbre joaillier de la cour impériale, François Regnault Nitot. Elle porte aussi le fameux collier de diamants de la reine Marie-Antoinette. Un choix certes curieux, compte tenu de l'histoire tumultueuse associée à ce bijou, mais il n'en reste pas moins spectaculaire. Si ma mémoire ne me fait pas défaut, ce collier est composé de 650 diamants. (Autre journaliste) Oui, environ, pour 2800 carats. Leurs Majestés semblent dans une forme exceptionnelle. Nos collègues qui se trouvaient au palais des Tuileries ce matin racontent que l'empereur était particulièrement enjoué.

(Stéphane Bernard) Beaucoup d'émotions, oui, vont l'affecter aujourd'hui. Là sous nos yeux, il est encore un personnage profane comme nous tous. Mais lorsqu'il prononcera son serment au Peuple français tout à l'heure, il ne sera déjà plus le même homme. Si vous voulez, de nombreux rites vont transformer cette personne privée en figure mystique : l'empereur. C'est cela qu'on va vivre aujourd'hui, la transformation de notre cher souverain.

(Stéphane Bernard) Le cortège impérial se trouve maintenant devant l'Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile, ce monument emblématique du patrimoine napoléonien. Construit sous les ordres de Napoléon Ier, magnifié par Napoléon III et le baron Haussmann, cet édifice grandiose incarne la gloire et les victoires de l'Empire. N'oublions pas la promesse célèbre de l'Empereur à ses soldats : « Vous ne rentrerez dans vos foyers que sous des arcs de triomphe ». (Autre journaliste) C'est en effet une étape très symbolique du cortège.

(Stéphane Bernard) Absolument. Le cortège impérial est passé il y a peu devant le Palais Royal, autrefois le siège du Tribunat sous l'Empire. Aujourd'hui, ce lieu emblématique abrite le ministère de la Culture ainsi que le Conseil constitutionnel. À présent, le cortège s'apprête à traverser le Pont-Neuf pour rejoindre la cathédrale par la grande porte ouest. En ce jour sacré, le couple impérial est le seul à avoir l'honneur d'entrer par cette majestueuse entrée. Les invités, quant à eux, accèdent à la cathédrale par la façade nord.

[trentonsimblr]

Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor, Princess of Westburg

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Ello lovelies! I’ve finally set up my computer post move. I haven’t had a chance to to work on story posts but I did have fun trying out all of the cc that’s been released. Im hoping to get back to story screenshots this weekend which means we will be one step closer to story posts!

[crownsofesha]

[ruthplaysthesims]

Could this be a sign..??

Tasara Donovan, Crown Princess of Willow Creek, was spotted in the Imperial garden with Matthias Leone, the Crown Prince of Windenburg. There are rumors the two young Royals, despite being teenagers (16 and 17) are betrothed, and are set to marry after Tasara's coronation as Empress of Willow Creek. There has been no confirmation from either family, so this remains a rumor. They were also spotted holding hands. Could they be dating? We do not know..

The actual truth: No, they are not dating. They were just trolling the paparazzi 🤪🤪🤪

[rococo4thesims]

Featherington House

Sorry, this has taken so much longer than expected! While editing my screenshots, I couldn’t help but feel the whole build was lacking. 

After rewatching Season 2 of Bridgerton, I expanded this build to include the study as seen in both seasons. I didn’t realize how much green was used in their set design, and I tried hard to stay true to the set design for the interior. 

A huge thank you again to the fantastic and talented cc creators @themarblemortal @thejim07 @the-regal-sim @felixandresims @harrie-cc @strangestorytellersims @historicalsimslife @cliffou29 @anachrosims this build would not have been possible!

Click HERE to download the tray files and view the complete cc list used in this build.

Let me know what you think! Happy Simming!

[thebaillieroyals]

Women of Cedoria (4/7)

Queen Mary Victoria Marie Baillie- the youngest Queen (18) 1878-1907

[stereo-91]

Baroque Castle WIP

Since I have created new baroque CC I have decided to make a new baroque castle interior. It is not finished yet as I may start work on more baroque interior. It is available for download in its current state but you will need certain castle recolours in the Link below 

https://simfileshare.net/folder/187735/ 

https://simfileshare.net/folder/187728/

The Recolours will simply add swatches to pre existing CC and not override anything except for ZX-TA’s castle Caps. I apologise about this but I made the recolours for personal use a long time ago when I first figured out how to recolour CC. 

You will also need my staircase and painted hall CC

https://simfileshare.net/folder/172486/

https://simfileshare.net/folder/186172/

and Gothic Vault set

https://simfileshare.net/folder/187181/

And Pictures and Portraits (Original Mesh)

https://simfileshare.net/folder/187737/

I have also recoloured regalsims flat ceilings - These are optional but I have added new swatches and smoothened out any graininess in the previous textures. I have also included my long gallery ceiling in this file with 3 swatches. 

   https://simfileshare.net/folder/187740/ 

Other CC includes 

The Jim 07 

https://modthesims.info/d/661440/ionic-door.html

https://modthesims.info/d/656506/ionic-order-set-part-i.html

You will need all of TheJim07′s Pedestals and Sculptures found here: https://thejim07.tumblr.com/

I’d recommend just downloading all of this creators CC as it is great quality and I always use it in my builds.

SSTS

https://simfileshare.net/download/2985498/

Felixandre

https://felixandresims.tumblr.com/post/676551499985387520/gothic-revival-set-exterior 

You also need - Felixandre’s Berlin Trim, Berlin arch, Florence Doors and items from Felixandre and Harrie’s Orjanic set - https://www.houseofharlix.com/orjanic 

I’d recommend just downloading all of this creators CC as it is great quality and I always use it in my builds.

Anarchosims

Country Manor Rugs - https://www.patreon.com/posts/72965511

Golden Sanctuary Sims

You will need all of this creators fireplaces - https://www.patreon.com/goldensanctuarysims

Simverses

clock tower and Fence - https://www.dropbox.com/s/ion6fkujym2y9c0/IngeliSDAChurchSetPart3.zip?dl=0 

Garden Stuff - https://simverses.tumblr.com/post/695531624820080640/wfs-rose-garden

Medieval Fireplaces -  https://simverses.tumblr.com/post/669589195929583617/winterfest-day-3-sda-fireplace-for-kitchen

Aggressive Kitty

Medieval Shields - https://aggressivekitty.tumblr.com/post/636623312442818560/this-is-sims-4-medieval-pack-it-contains-more

MelonSloth

Sentry Box - https://simfileshare.net/folder/117889/

MarbleMortal

Royal Flags - https://www.patreon.com/posts/72112943?pr=true

Bakie

National Flags - https://modthesims.info/d/578694/animated-country-flagpoles-pack-1-updated-march-19.html

I’d also recommend the royalty mod for this lot - https://www.patreon.com/posts/royalty-mod-2-6-48723623

This lot is available in my gallery in the sims. This one may take e some time to complete as I may be creating new CC to fit this lot in the future. Fell free to complete this lot in your own style if you wish.

It is named as WIP BAROQUE CASTLE - My name in the gallery is ROTAMETERS91

As usual, any questions then just ask. 

[theredpalaces]

Sims of Huáxià - Part One - Part Two

Who everyone is is under the cut

Consort Wu Xiaolei - Fēi

Consort Song Quihuan - Fēi

Imperial Concubine Wen Zhengli - Pín

Imperial Concubine Dong Huibao - Pín

Noble Lady Yuan Xuefei - Guìrén

Noble Lady Chen Liying - Guìrén

[theroyalthrones]

Her Imperial Highness, The Lady Heir, Tsesarevna, and Grand Princess Alina Artemonvna Vasilovskaya, of Varaždin and The Ostrovas

original pics

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟗   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   CANARÍS, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

In Canarís, something shifted. Arnaut perceived it as subtle, and he struggled to name it when he wondered aloud to Lorraine. He danced around it, grasping for meaning in observations, but there was a simple explanation. In his gut, he felt that people had been happy to see him. Their family arrived at the train station as the work week ended, emerging like generations before them to a crowd of locals eager to greet royalty. German and Abelina were becoming accustomed to the rhythm of life in Uspana. It was cause for optimism that the newborns would grow up without the adjustment pains that the rest of the family faced. Just as well, their birth inspired a deluge of good press. Arnaut quickly learned the public more readily embraced him as a father than as someone capable or even destined to lead them. Yet, at the train station, the tenor of their shouts was different. The questions they asked were different. He embraced them, old women and teenagers and grinning toddlers, and they gazed at him with what struck him as new—changed, even—eyes. 

❧ we're back !!!!!!! gonna post the magazine covers separately :^) as a reminder, large text will be below the read-more going forward, for ~readability~

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Such welcomings happened everywhere, but residents of Canarís understood themselves to be reenacting a kind of ceremony when it was their turn. A century after abandoning Canarís, the House of Tecuani remained seemingly divided on where its capital lay. The seat of government was in Nakawe. The ancestral home was in Yaas. Many members preferred in recent decades to live by the sea in Canarís—or to buy second homes, at least. This was where the Hunter went when he descended from the mountains to build the kingdom of Uspana, joining seafaring families whose names were subsumed into the clan they chose to lead them. It was the capital until revolting Uspanians many generations later burned and razed much of it, including the king’s palace. There were no palaces in Canarís anymore. There were still magnificent estates, but everyone politely called them villas or cottages, speaking as if belief alone could render the enduring resplendence quaint and inoffensive. 

It was possible the crowd’s warmth felt so palpable because Arnaut had spent the entire train ride stewing in desperation. This vacation was unearned, he had decided. The Crown positioned holidays as indispensable. Beatriz herself set aside a few days each month to feign relaxation away from the capital; Arnaut held fond memories of those childhood getaways spent in Initizara, surrounded by their ever-expanding family. No one much had the stomach for Initizara these days, but the schedule of vacations remained.

Yet, Arnaut felt anxious. Didn’t it teeter on the dangerous edge of presumptuousness—promising to work hard, to change minds, and then sacrificing time to pleasure instead? He wrote the accusatory headlines in his head. More than just knowing their names, he listened to news commentators enough to conjure up imaginary criticisms in their voices. Should I smile? he wondered. Or would that make it worse, looking sour and ungrateful? They would ask what he had to complain about. They would think, ‘I’d lose my job if I ran off to Canarís for a week!’ Disapproval had a face in his mind. It was an older woman who watched daytime television while her grandchildren played nearby. She was a clan mother. She voted. She used a backstrap loom. She had looked into a television camera and insisted with dismay, ‘People don’t change at forty.’

Still, that was the sense he got as he interacted with the crowd. Some wanted to fawn over him. They said beguiling things about how excited they were to see him, how happy they were he had come to Canarís, how they prayed for him. The mood was distinct. These people were not just eager for photographs and stories to brag about; they hadn’t all joined the crowd amassing at the station for want of afternoon plans. For some of them, enough to matter, Arnaut inspired something positive. He wasn’t an unwanted pretender masquerading as their crown prince. His visit meant something to them because, in an undeniable way, he did. 

Later, he would finally blurt out to Lorraine, ‘I think they were proud of me—really, who knows why or if it’s true, but I believe they were.’

It wasn’t implausible. Arnaut had been hard at work for months, single-minded in his pursuit of improvement. Managing a crowd with charisma had never been an issue for him, but they were too often overcast by a cloud of suspicion and disappointment. On some level, he understood that the smiling faces and enthusiastic waving spoke for themselves and, in reality, his own insecurities were to blame for any misgivings. It was the litany of surveys and polls that shaped his reality, however. He obsessively watched the news, and his head swam with a flood of data pinpointing all the ways the nation found him lacking. It represented the millions of people who didn’t turn out in hopes of having their hand held by a prince for one brief, fleeting moment. Of course, those millions didn’t closely follow his real work, either—weren’t regular readers of tabloid rags like the National Exchange or newspapers of record like Relay. They responded instinctively to what was in the water. If the politicians at Nakawe Palace and the reporters who circled it and the royal family’s true fans found him lacking, the distaste became unimpeachable truth. It was truth to the faceless millions, and it was truth to him.

Lately, he had begun to feel like there was less blood in the water. 

They were joining Martin in Canarís, and the two families spent the time frolicking on the beach and dining under the stars. When they went out onto the water together, Martin confirmed Arnaut’s hunch. He suggested in his characteristic brusque way that Arnaut wasn’t as much of a laughable embarrassment as he had been that spring. Martin's wife was frail and almost a stranger, but she laughed heartily and smacked Arnaut’s arm after teasing out the admission that, yes, he was finally feeling likable. She was kind and likable herself, and her slow but steady decline was one of two dark spots on the vacation.

One morning, Arnaut found Martin out on the deck with remnants of breakfast and pages of print news splayed on the table. He only glance at them long enough to register what they were and remarked, “I thought we weren’t reading the news here,” as he sank down into an open seat. 

Martin’s nose was in a copy of the Fiscal Register. He replied without looking up, “Not really news, is it?” 

Examining the pages, a series of similar headlines grabbed Arnaut’s attention. He slid one of the papers, reorienting it in his direction, and absorbed the cover story with wide eyes. It wasn’t unusual to see Leonor on the front page of tabloids. She had become an exciting subject, and the loyal pack of photographers that trailed her around Nakawe ensured a steady supply of intriguing, occasionally outrageous, exploitable pictures. Arnaut remembered those days. Or, he remembered something akin to what her life was now, so limitless and delicious as to be out of control, with the crucial distinction that the press felt less hungry in his memories. His bad stories came from trustworthy leaks given to reputable journalists, not from candid photographs that spoke—screamed, really—for themselves. He had also never found himself in the mess Leonor appeared to have fallen into almost overnight. These covers offered grainy but unmistakable pictures of her, and Arnaut didn’t need to believe the sensational headlines and captions to be troubled by what the images suggested. 

“Did you see this?” he demanded of Martin, his tone incredulous. He flipped the paper around and pointed at the picture dominating the page. 

Martin lowered his paper. “Obviously. These aren’t here to be decorative.” 

Slowly, Arnaut blinked. “Is that it?” he asked. “You don’t—what, really, no thoughts? It’s shocking, isn’t it? Does anyone know—they do, they must, but what are we doing?” 

He might have continued with this attempt to process the news aloud, but Martin interrupted him. “We’re not doing anything.”

“Aren’t you concerned?” 

Martin shrugged. “It’s a little dramatic, huh?” 

“Is it?” Arnaut shuffled the papers together and read from them. “‘Princess L’s Big Plunge—Almost,’ ‘“Wanted to End It All,” Friend Says,’ 'Drug-Induced Psychosis? Our Expert Speaks on Page 3—’” Arnaut huffed. “I mean, look!”

“We’d know if it was that serious,” Martin replied, untroubled. “You see her all the time, don’t you? Either you can’t be that surprised or it’s all nonsense. You tell me.” 

At this, Arnaut frowned. It was a stretch to say they saw each other that frequently. Leonor’s preference was to behave like coworkers, not like relatives and certainly not like people who had always been bound together by deep love for the same remarkable person. Her hours were erratic at best, but it was difficult to complain when no one else did. The people on their team knew her; she had been gifted their unshakeable trust at birth, it seemed, and he struggled with envy for that. When she jeopardized the infallibility of that trust, she would do something to shore it up—impeccable contributions on the policy front, experience-informed insight in a meeting, effortlessly leveraging valuable connections that Arnaut still bumbled his way through. She was living a double life of sorts, so was the problem that she did it too well?

“Maybe she’s fine,” he ventured, folding his arms on the table. Martin had set aside the Fiscal Register and was looking at the papers Arnaut had reorganized. As he did, Arnaut continued, “You know, she looks thinner, but she seems better? I suppose it seemed inappropriate to comment on that kind of thing—everyone else does, so why would I? Someone would say, if she wasn’t healthy. And, she’s there, she’s present, except for when she’s literally not there, which, frankly, is often, but—” At this, Martin snickered. “Even if she’s not actually—uh, what would you say?” 

“A drug addict?” Martin offered, grinning.

Arnaut groaned. “Right, okay. Even if she's not doing that badly, then ... She's going to get in trouble for this. I haven't talked to Mama lately, but—”

Martin sat back in his chair. “Oh,” he said, making a show of the pause in a way Arnaut found obnoxious. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” Arnaut retorted. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

“Well!” Martin exclaimed, raising his hands. “Look, it’s a mistake to think that this isn’t ... part of the plan.”

“Plan?”

Looking solemn, Martin nodded. “You know Mama reads the tabloids every day. She’s worse than anyone. I think she likes getting mad, or maybe she just likes the gossip that much—” Arnaut waved a hand, and Martin sniffed. “Anyway, she knows what’s going on. Absolutely. I guarantee she knew about this story before either of us did.” 

Their mother was a voracious consumer of lurid slop, Arnaut knew. It was a hobby of hers in the same way other people read literature or advice columns. Copies were delivered nightly, and she read them alongside her stack of briefs and letters. Broadly, she was part of their target audience. Uspana’s gossip rags, especially those with an emphasis on royalty, targeted women of a certain age who had grown up alongside Beatriz, who felt empowered by her unprecedented reign, and who saw themselves as equivalent matriarchs in their own communities. They were gatekeepers. They dispensed advice. They protected order, tradition, and the future itself. In all gossip, they found tools to aid their missions, whether it was identifying local problems or raising new national specters to be exercised from their communities. On a baser level, one that was just as real for Beatriz, witnessing other people’s private messes spilled in public gave them an enjoyable reprieve from cleaning up those that were their responsibilities. 

Arnaut nodded. “But ... This is a problem, Martin. It looks terrible for all of us, and Leonor is—she’s official, not someone on the sidelines.”

To Arnaut’s surprise, this elicited a knowing smirk from Martin. He nodded and said, “That’s right. Think about it, okay? I know this isn’t your strong suit, but there’s a logic here. It’s a simple idea. Give someone enough rope, and they’ll hang themselves, eh?” Martin mimed the tug of a noose, sticking his tongue out. Arnaut winced as he asked, “Does that ring a bell?”

It did, but it wasn’t clarifying. Arnaut frowned. “I don’t ... Why would that be helpful?” 

Martin shrugged. “Mama’s from the old way. Competition? Neutralize it.”

“What?” Realization dawned on Arnaut as Martin sat staring at him, pleased with himself, and he struggled to beat it back. It was the kind of awareness he didn’t want to have, that would be a burden on his heart, but Martin was determined he have it. 

“What? What!” Martin laughed, mocking, before concluding, “It makes you look better. If our little niece is out ruining herself, less people are going to be daydreaming about the alternate universe where she does a Beatriz and—”

Arnaut held up his hands. “Alright, I get it. That’s horrible.”

“That’s Mama,” Martin quipped. “But, you know—”  

Perhaps as no coincidence, Lorraine and German appeared in the doorway behind Martin’s shoulder. She offered a greeting, and Martin waved before picking up his paper again. The conversation was over. Arnaut looked up at her with gratitude in his eyes, and German leapt over on cue with a large kite in his hands. 

“Can we go?” he asked, looking briefly at his uncle before tugging Arnaut’s hand. “The wind is perfect, and Julian is saying I don’t have the right ‘energy’ for flying kites. I don’t even know what that means. They’re not alive, are they?” 

Arnaut chuckled and stood up. “Let’s go find out, huh?”

TRANSCRIPT:

[Crowd clamoring]

ARNAUT | I thought we weren’t reading the news here. MARTIN | Not really news, is it? ARNAUT | Did you see this? MARTIN | Obviously. These aren't here to be decorative.

ARNAUT | Is that it? You don’t—what, really, no thoughts? It’s shocking, isn’t it? Does anyone know—they do, they must, but what are we doing? MARTIN | We're not doing anything. ARNAUT | Aren't you concerned? MARTIN | It's a little dramatic, huh?

ARNAUT | Is it? "Princess L’s Big Plunge—Almost," "'Wanted to End It All,' Friend Says," "Drug-Induced Psychosis? Our Expert Speaks on Page 3—”

ARNAUT | [huffs] I mean, look! MARTIN | You see her all the time, don't you? Either you can't be that surprised or it's all nonsense. You tell me.

ARNAUT | Maybe she's fine. You know, she looks thinner, but she seems better? I suppose it seemed inappropriate to comment on that kind of thing—everyone else does, so why would I? Someone would say, if she wasn’t healthy. And, she’s there, she’s present, except for when she’s literally not there, which, frankly, is often, but— [Martin snickers]

ARNAUT | Even if she’s not actually—uh, what would you say? MARTIN | A drug addict?

ARNAUT | Right, okay. Even if she's not doing that badly, then … She's going to get in trouble for this. I haven't talked to Mama lately, but—

MARTIN | Oh. You don't get it, do you? ARNAUT | What? Don't be an asshole.

MARTIN | Look, it's a mistake to think that this isn't … part of the plan. ARNAUT | Plan? MARTIN | You know Mama reads the tabloids every day. She’s worse than anyone. I think she likes getting mad, or maybe she just likes the gossip that much—Anyway, she knows what’s going on. Absolutely. I guarantee she knew about this story before either of us did.

ARNAUT | But … This is a problem, Martin. It looks terrible for all of us, and Leonor is—she’s official, not someone on the sidelines.

MARTIN | That’s right. Think about it, okay? I know this isn’t your strong suit, but there’s a logic here. It’s a simple idea. Give someone enough rope, and they’ll hang themselves, eh? Does that ring a bell?

ARNAUT | I don't … Why would that be helpful? MARTIN | Mama's from the old way. Competition? Neutralize it. ARNAUT | What? MARTIN | “What? What!” [laughs] It makes you look better. If our little niece is out ruining herself, less people are going to be daydreaming about the alternate universe where she does a Beatriz and—

ARNAUT | I don't … Alright, I get it. That's horrible.

MARTIN | That's Mama. But, you know—

[bridgeportbritt]

Creeksbrey Ballroom | Umbrage, SimDonia

Here comes the bride all dressed in white! Olivia walks up the aisle unescorted to greet her fiancé. She wears a custom Victoria Becksim column style dress with intricate floral detail along the dress and the lace sleeves. The dress is accessorized by a bowed waist and full length veil that gives her the angelic bridal look. The floral theme continues in her jewelry and hair accessories.

At the alter, Grayson and Olivia exchange vows. Grayson speaks on how their love has persevered and could withstand anything while Olivia gushes about being apart and creating a new family together. Next, the couple exchange rings, and finally go in for the big kiss before walking down the aisle as husband and wife!

Introducing Grayson and Olivia Wu-Ravikumar!

[empiredesimparte]

Live broadcast of ‘Le Sacre de Napoléon V’ on the national channel Francesim 2, hosted by Stéphane Bernard

(Stéphane Bernard) This is an exercise rarely undertaken by the French imperial family. In truth, few could have imagined that this ceremony would take place on the occasion of the coronation, especially considering the recent turmoil. However, His Majesty is determined to deliver a powerful message to all his detractors and to strengthen ties with the French people.

(Stéphane Bernard) Emperor Napoleon V must establish his style and herald change to win back his people. After the coronation ceremony, will we witness the swearing-in of all the bodies that constitute Francesim, thereby renewing their allegiance to the Emperor? His Majesty must make a successful entrance into his reign and, I believe, in some way, significantly transform Francesim.

(Stéphane Bernard) He will need to find the right words, gestures of appeasement, and an attitude that will bring about national unity. Many skeptics doubt his abilities due to his young age, barely 19 years old. Yet, this walkabout evokes the image of a thaumaturgic emperor, soothing ailments through direct contact with the people. This, in fact, is one of the foundations of the Napoleonic idea: the Emperor and the People. Of course, thaumaturgy is irrational, and hardly anyone truly believes in it nowadays. Nonetheless, the people display a strong desire to form a connection with this young emperor, in whom they can see themselves.

(Another journalist) What do you think, Stéphane, about Empress Charlotte? Will she live up to the role that awaits her? She's only 19 too

(Stéphane Bernard) Empress Charlotte will undoubtedly be an essential pillar for His Majesty Emperor Napoleon V. Already, she enjoys immense popularity among the French. She is a woman of great intellect, full of charm, and remarkable beauty. Strangely, she gives the impression of having always been part of the imperial family. She understands the role: sacrificing her private life on the altar of the monarchy. The couple must now take up the mantle and embody modernity.

(Stéphane Bernard) On screen, you can see the majestic entrance gate of the Château de Versailles. It is here, in this historic location, that the gala is being prepared, where tonight all the greatest heads of state in the world will be present. Choosing Versailles is not incidental. It is about showcasing French culture and refinement, a heritage to which we are all deeply attached!

(Stéphane Bernard) A glimpse of the famous Hall of Mirrors where the Imperial Household is preparing for the arrival of the Emperor's guests. It's an unconventional coronation, for several reasons. Tomorrow, Francesim will become the center of the world. The young imperial couple, in the spotlight, will seize this unique moment to assert themselves brilliantly on the diplomatic stage. The Emperor has wished to showcase all the splendor that Francesim is capable of. His Majesty has spared no expense to ensure that these days are truly unforgettable.

(Stéphane Bernard) Allow me to tell you about the regalia, these symbols of power that are currently safely housed in the Palais des Tuileries, in the heart of Paris. They will soon be transported to the cathedral for the grand ceremony. I must confess, I have been preparing for this event for nearly ten years, and like all of you, I am eagerly awaiting the realization of this historic moment!

(Other journalist) Isn't a coronation somewhat outdated today? Couldn't it be "simpler", like republican ceremonies?

(Stéphane Bernard) Yes, it's quaint. However, it remains an indispensable rite for the Nation to commune and identify with. In these times of identity retreat, the monarchy provides a path to overcome these divisions. As long as this symbol endures, it will continue to serve as a unifying force – and the Napoléons, better than anyone, have understood this well. Unfortunately, our Presidents of the Republic have never managed to accomplish this mission with the same grandeur.

⚜ Le Sacre de Napoléon V | N°1 | Francesim, Paris, 27 Thermidor An 230

The imperial couple took a walkabout on the eve of the coronation. It was broadcast live on television by Stéphane Bernard, the famous journalist covering crowned heads in Francesim.

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⚜ Traduction française

Le bain de foule demeure un exercice fort peu usité par la famille impériale française. En vérité, bien peu parmi nous pouvaient imaginer que ce cérémonial se déroulerait à l'occasion du couronnement, surtout en considérant les tumultes récents. Cependant, Sa Majesté, avec une détermination à toute épreuve, aspire à délivrer un message puissant à tous ses détracteurs et à resserrer les liens avec le peuple français !

L'empereur Napoléon V doit arriver à imprimer son style et à annoncer le changement pour reconquérir son peuple. Après la cérémonie de couronnement, assisterons-nous à la prestation de serment de tous les corps constituant la Francesim, renouvelant ainsi leur allégeance à l'Empereur ? Sa Majesté doit réussir son entrée de règne et, je crois, d'une certaine manière, bouleverser la Francesim de manière significative

Il va devoir avoir les mots, les gestes d'apaisement et d'attitude qui permettront de ramener l'union nationale. Bien des sceptiques doutent de ses capacités en raison de son jeune âge, à peine 19 ans. Pourtant, ce bain de foule évoque l'image d'un empereur thaumaturge, apaisant les maux par le contact direct entre le peuple et le souverain. C'est d'ailleurs, l'un des fondements de l'idée napoléonienne : l'Empereur et le Peuple. Bien sûr, la thaumaturgie relève de l'irrationnel, et plus personne n'y croit réellement de nos jours. Néanmoins, le peuple manifeste un désir ardent de créer un lien avec ce jeune empereur, en qui l'on peut s'identifier

(Autre journaliste) Que pensez-vous Stéphane de l'impératrice Charlotte ? Sera-t-elle à la hauteur du rôle qui l'attend ?

L'impératrice Charlotte sera sans doute un pilier essentiel pour Sa Majesté l'empereur Napoléon V. Déjà, elle jouit d'une popularité immense auprès des Français. C'est une femme d'esprit, pleine de charme et d'une beauté remarquable. Etrangement, elle donne l'impression d'avoir toujours appartenu à la famille impériale. Elle a compris le job : aliéner sa vie privée sur l'autel de la monarchie. Le couple doit désormais prendre la relève et incarner la modernité.

A l'écran, vous voyez le majestueux portail d'entrée du château de Versailles. C'est ici, dans ce lieu historique, que se prépare le gala où seront présents ce soir tous les plus grands chefs d'état du monde. Choisir Versailles n'est pas anodin. Il s'agit de mettre au premier plan la culture et le raffinement à la française, ce patrimoine auquel nous sommes tous si attachés.

Une vue sur la célèbre galerie des glaces où la Maison Impériale prépare l'arrivée des invités de l'Empereur. C'est un couronnement atypique, pour plusieurs raisons. Demain, la Francesim deviendra le centre du monde. Le jeune couple impérial, en pleine lumière, saisira cet instant unique pour s'affirmer avec éclat sur la scène diplomatique. L'empereur a souhaité mettre à l'honneur toute la splendeur dont la Francesim est capable. Sa Majesté n’a pas épargné la moindre dépense pour que ces journées soit véritablement inoubliables

Permettez-moi de vous parler des regalia, ces insignes de pouvoir qui, pour l'instant, reposent en toute sécurité au palais des Tuileries, au cœur de Paris. Ils seront bientôt transportés à la cathédrale pour la grande cérémonie. Je dois vous confier que je me prépare pour cet événement depuis près de dix ans, et comme vous tous, je brûle d'impatience de voir ce moment historique se réaliser !

(Autre journaliste) N'est-ce pas un peu désuet aujourd'hui, un couronnement ? Ca ne pourrait pas être plus "simple" comme les cérémonies républicaines ?

On peut penser qu'un couronnement est une tradition désuète de nos jours. Oui, c'est désuet. Cependant, il s'agit d'un rite indispensable pour permettre à la Nation de communier et de s'identifier. En ces temps de repli identitaire, la monarchie offre une voie pour surmonter ces divisions. Tant que ce symbole perdure, il continuera de jouer son rôle de rassembleur – et les Napoléons, mieux que quiconque, l'ont bien compris. Nos présidents de la République, hélas, n'ont jamais su accomplir cette mission avec la même grandeur.

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